The Journey of Filipino Migrant Wives in South Korea

Dreams and Agency: The Journey of Filipino Migrant Wives in South Korea

Stella Jang March 2020

A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of The Australian National University

Declaration of Originality

I certify that this thesis is my own work and that to the best of my knowledge all sources have been acknowledged.

24 March 2020

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to express the deepest gratitude to my panel members. My former supervisor

Professor Hyaeweol Choi, who accepted me as a PhD candidate, helped me to narrow down my research and encouraged me to finish my fieldwork. I am also grateful to Dr. Ross Tapsell and Dr. Yasuko Kobayashi for their continued support and sharing their expertise. I would like to give special thanks to Dr. Shameem Black. Without her, the term reproductive citizenship that is central to my research would not exist. I have the greatest appreciation for my supervisor Professor Ruth Barraclough, who advised me through the toughest moment of my PhD journey on how to shape and finish the writing of my thesis. Professor Barraclough’s attentive reading, thorough and intellectual supervision taught me how to write and think critically as a scholar. I am grateful to be her student.

During my PhD I had many different experiences. After one semester on campus I relocated to Indonesia for three years. During this period I completed my fieldwork in Korea and gave birth to my second child. As a researcher based overseas it often felt like a lonely marathon, but I was able to persevere with support from my panel members and family. Thanks and love to my supportive husband, beautiful children Onyu and Noah, parents and parents-in- law.

I devote my research to the migrant wives I met during my fieldwork. As a migrant wife in

Australia, I am also struggling to fit into a new country and juggling to maintain a balance between raising children and pursuing my career. Thanks to my sisters (Filipino migrant wives) whom I met in the field. They showed me how to be a strong woman and brave mother. They are incredible human beings.

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ABSTRACT

Filipino migrant wives occupy a unique space in South Korean society. They are pioneers of

South Korea’s distinct version of multiculturalism, having been among the first wave of migrant wives to enter Korea. Some have broken through intersectional barriers to become politicians, civil servants and film stars. Many more have pushed boundaries in their marriages and challenged patriarchal and patrilocal expectations that migrant wives should be confined to the home, deferential to husbands and focussed on caring for children and in- laws. This is even more striking given that husband dominance and Confucian values remain embedded in religious practices, education and immigration policies in South Korea. My research introduces the term ‘reproductive citizenship’ to explain how the Korean state encourages migrant wives to reproduce both biologically and culturally, giving birth to biracial children who they raise with Korean cultural values. If migrant wives fulfil the tenets of reproductive citizenship, then they are afforded social acceptance and security over residency. The state’s vision of reproductive citizenship is a gendered concept based on norms of female deference and husband control, designed to disincentivise migrant wives from leaving their husbands. Reproductive citizenship is the acceptable face of multiculturalism in Korea amidst record low birth and marriage rates. It enables Korean men at the bottom of the marriage market to find a wife whom they expect to focus on producing and raising children in a society with deep-rooted cultural expectations, where male maturity is linked with marriage and fatherhood.

My research examines how the state’s framework of reproductive citizenship influences the key decisions and fertility choices of migrant wives. I find that Filipinas face discrimination linked to their gender, race and class regardless of whether they arrive as marriage migrants, migrant workers or as entertainers catering to US soldiers. Each type of migrant is separated by the boundaries of citizenship that divide groups within a society based on their legal and

iv economic entitlements. Migrant workers and entertainers are incentivised to work and refrain from having children as their visas are tied to employer sponsors. For migrant wives, producing a child and devotion to one’s husband is the only way to attain substantive rights, respect and the protection of the Korean state. Reproductive citizenship attempts to push migrant women to maintain marriage as the only socially acceptable form of conjugal relationship. Multicultural programs focus on migrant wives and attempt to control and monitor their bodies, autonomy and agency using legal citizenship, welfare and social acceptance as rewards. However migrant wives, who have come to embody multiculturalism in South Korea, have their own dreams, which in the case of Filipinas extend beyond domestic care and raising children. Filipino wives are creating media and forming community groups to challenge cultural perspectives of Koreans who associate migrants from developing countries as being inferior and a homogenous collective group. Rather than being passive citizens, as envisaged by the state’s ill-conceived frameworks of multiculturalism and reproductive citizenship, Filipino wives are proactively reshaping practices of cross-cultural communication so that different races and cultures can be accepted in a more expansive multicultural Korea.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iii ABSTRACT ...... iv LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ...... viii NOTE ON FIELDWORK, NAMES AND TRANSLATION ...... ix CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION ...... 1 1. Vivian’s journey ...... 1 2. Competing discourses around the identities of migrant wives ...... 4 3. Literature review ...... 9 3.1. The racial, class and gendered nature of cross-border marriage ...... 10 3.2. Korea’s approach to multiculturalism ...... 16 3.3. Filipino migrant wives as a unique and insightful group ...... 20 4. Theoretical underpinnings ...... 31 4.1. The concept of reproductive citizenship ...... 35 5. Research questions ...... 39 6. Methodology ...... 43 7. Chapter overviews ...... 46 CHAPTER II: NEW LIFE BEGINS: BECOMING A LEARNER ...... 50 1. Korea’s immigration system for marriage migrants ...... 57 2. Multicultural Family Support Centres and the moulding of migrant wives ...... 65 2.1. A gendered approach ...... 70 2.2. Learning Korean language and culture ...... 73 2.3. The Centre: a safe space for migrant wives ...... 79 3. Outside of the classrooms ...... 81 3.1. Cooking class in Emart ...... 82 Conclusion: disguised resistance ...... 87 CHAPTER III: DESIRE DRIVEN AGENCY AS AN EARNER ...... 89 1. At first a worker, then a wife...... 94 1.1. Financial autonomy ...... 104 1.2. E6 visa holders: Entertainers, sex workers or trafficked victims? ...... 110 2. Marriage came first, then work ...... 116 2.1. A Korean husband’s assimilation: Jasmine’s story ...... 127 2.2. Failed relationships and employment ...... 129 Conclusion: the agency of ‘earners’ and the disempowerment of ‘spenders’ ...... 132 CHAPTER IV: DREAMING OF A HAPPY FAMILY ...... 136 1. Living the Korean dream: why Filipinas migrate to Korea ...... 138 2. Learning to love an elderly lower-class Prince Charming ...... 141

3. Siti’s story: when migrant wives cannot reproduce ...... 152 4. Remigration: back to the Philippines ...... 159 Conclusion: for migrant wives, love and marriage must equal children ...... 163 CHAPTER V: CHRISTIAN MARRIAGES ...... 165 1. The role of religious networks in cross-border marriages ...... 165 2. Chloe’s story: Christians must embrace in-laws ...... 168 3. Analyn: the third wife of a Korean man ...... 179 4. Food, the glorious! ...... 185 Conclusion: Christian hypergamy: when mission and wealth drive cross-border marriage ...... 191 CHAPTER VI: A NATURALISED MUM AND SPONSOR FOR A FOREIGN HUSBAND...... 196 1. Rearing biracial children: transforming the face of Korea ...... 202 1.1. Multicultural means discrimination ...... 214 2. Immigrant children (Jungdoipgukjanyo) ...... 223 3. Nurturing a foreign husband ...... 229 3.1. Tala’s motherhood ...... 233 Conclusion: the influence of maternal effort on migrant wives’ agency ...... 236 CHAPTER VII: BEYOND REPRODUCTIVE CITIZENSHIP: ACTIVE CITIZENSHIP AND ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MEDIA AND CIVIL SOCIETY ...... 240 1. Media ...... 241 1.1. Mainstream Korean media ...... 242 1.1.2. Alternative online media ...... 248 1.2. Migrants creating their own media ...... 253 2. NGOs promoting active citizenship ...... 257 2.1. Participating and working with NGOs ...... 259 2.2. Starting and running own NGOs ...... 265 Conclusion: collective agency ...... 273 CHAPTER VIII: CONCLUSION ...... 276 1. Promoting a truly multicultural Korea will require a different approach ...... 281 2. Linking the macro to the micro: why individual stories matter ...... 284 Appendix: Policy suggestions ...... 287 BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 293

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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

Asian Women's Community (AIDA Maeul) Cheonansi Multicultural Family Support Centre (the Centre) Employment Permit System (EPS, Koyonghugaje) GIs (US soldiers) Gross National Product (GNP) Industrial Trainee System (ITS) Information Technology (IT) International Labour Organization (ILO) International Monetary Fund (IMF) Migrant World TV (MWTV) Migrants’ Trade Union (MTU) Ministry of Gender Equality and Family (MOGEF) Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs, Damunhwagajokjiwonsente) Non-Governmental Organisations (NGOs) Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) Permanent Residency (PR) Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STDs) Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs) Unification Church (UC) United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) Women Migrants Human Rights Centre of Korea (WMHRCK) Venereal Disease (VD)

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NOTE ON FIELDWORK, NAMES AND TRANSLATION

Prior to commencing my PhD programme I undertook pre-fieldwork from October-

November 2014 to research contemporary multicultural and cross-border marriage issues in

South Korea (hereafter referred to as Korea). I conducted fieldwork from October 2015 to

June 2016 in the cities and areas surrounding Asan, Cheonan, Ilsan, Incheon, Jiksan, Osan,

Pyeongtaek and Seoul. My research involved teaching and socialising with migrant women and their families who I observed and met through Multicultural Family Support Centres,

NGOs, churches, factories and shelters. I visited Cheonan between January - April 2017 and in January 2019, and during these visits, met some of the migrant wives and their families who provided updates on their lives. I remain in contact with most of my female research subjects through social media.

The term multicultural has a limited and unique meaning in South Korea, different to the commonly accepted definition in the West that celebrates cultural diversity, includes both citizens and migrants and promotes shared identities (Meer and Modood 2012, 178-80). In

Korea, multiculturalism (damunhwajuui) is associated with the assimilation of certain classes of migrants who are encouraged not to retain their culture of origin. According to the

Multicultural Family Support Act, a multicultural family only includes unions between a

Korean-born national and a legally residing migrant spouse or child (Kim Anna, 2018). This excludes immigrant-only and single-parent families. Socially, the terms multicultural families

(damunhwagajok) or multicultural marriage (damunhwagyeolhon) denote an ethnic Korean marrying a partner from a developing country or a person who is not white. By contrast, the term international families (gukjegajok) or international marriages (gukjegyeolhon) denote

ix an ethnic Korean married to someone who is considered white or from a developed country1.

The term international families, may also refer to expatriate families comprised only of migrants residing in Korea, who do not meet the requirements to be a multicultural family as none of the members are Korean citizens.

The term multiculturalism has a unique meaning in South Korea. The Korean government has acknowledged there is a coded negative meaning (Korea Immigration Service 2012, 16). In schools multicultural has connotations of poverty and inferiority and is used as a term to discriminate against biracial children. To fight the stigma of being ‘multicultural’ many

NGOs prefer the term ‘cross-border marriage’ to describe when a foreigner (oegugin) marries a Korean national (naegugin). Foreign women who are married to Korean husbands are referred to as female marriage migrants (gyelhonijuyeosung) or migrant wives (ijubuin).

Despite the confusion relating to the terms ‘multicultural’ and ‘multiculturalism’, I still use the Korean terminology when referring to my research subjects and their families, as this is how they are referred to by the Korean government and society.

Among migrant wives, my research focusses on Filipino migrant wives living in Korea, including divorcees. Marriage immigrants or migrant brides refer to women who migrated to Korea for the purpose of marrying a Korean citizen and hold, or at one time held, a marriage immigrant visa. Migrant wives include marriage immigrants, as well as other types of migrants who may have met their husbands while they were migrant workers.

All the names of research subjects presented are pseudonyms to protect their identities. All interviews with Korean research subjects were conducted in Korean, while interviews with

1 This is based on my observation and own experience. When I visited a local public health centre to register my pregnancy I was initially placed in the ‘international marriage’ category as I said my husband was an Australian citizen. However, after the staff learned my husband was racially of South Asian origin rather than Anglo-Saxon or of white skin, my family was registered in the ‘multicultural family’ category that had different health entitlements. This experience illustrates that multiculturalism in Korea does not have clear definitions but only presumptions based on skin colour and nationality, leaving government staff a large degree of discretion. x

Filipinos were mostly in English. Interviews with migrant wives from other origin countries were either conducted in Korean or Mandarin, while interviews with immigrant children of migrant wives were in English, Korean or Mandarin. Quotations or statements attributed to

Korean research subjects are based on my translation as a native Korean speaker. Knowledge of Indonesian, Melayu and Spanish, from time spent living in these countries, was crucial to approach Filipina research subjects as they did not see me as either Korean or Australian, but rather embraced me as a multi-lingual speaker and culturally flexible person. My personal status as a member of a multicultural family, as defined by the Korean government, and having migrated to Australia for the purpose of marriage, helped to break down barriers with research subjects and in most cases avoid insider-outsider dynamics.

In this dissertation, the Romanization of Korean is drawn from the Korean Romanization

Converter, which has been developed by the Pusan University research team, Artificial

Intelligence Lab.2 The transliteration of Korean terms, personal and place names (except for well-established ones such as Seoul) follows the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism’s guidelines.3

2 http://roman.cs.pusan.ac.kr/input_eng.aspx Accessed 20 February 2019. 3 www.mcst.go.kr/english/koreaInfo/language/romanization.jsp Accessed 20 February 2019. xi

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION

1. Vivian’s journey

‘Do you really want to hear my story?’

Vivian (born 1979) asked for reassurance. Within the Filipino community she was a role model, working as a public servant for the Seoul Metropolitan Government, a prestigious and rare position for a migrant.4 However, few knew her story. Vivian was embarrassed about how she came to Korea, having fallen for the false blandishments of the Unification Church

(UC), a notorious international religious cult originating from Korea (Kim Hyun Mee 2016).

The UC, or Moonies, became notorious for organising mass weddings of migrant women to

Korean men, couples who in many cases did not speak the same language (Sim 2015). The

UC was a major driver of marriage migration to Korea in the 1990s and early 2000s, with the central government a disinterested observer, allowing the UC and other unscrupulous commercial matchmakers to take advantage of a marriage migration system with few regulations (Seol 2014, Song 2015). Within Korea the UC appealed to older men or those with disabilities who were of low socioeconomic status and struggled to find a wife

(Abelman and Kim 2004, Freeman 2011, Kim Minjeong 2014), but was ‘vilified’ and considered a last resort for families wanting a bride for their sons5 (Constable 2005, 112).

As a young woman in the Philippines with bright prospects, Vivian reported that her life was turned upside down when she was raped by a family acquaintance, resulting in the birth of

Ruby, her daughter. Despite having a university degree and coming from what she described

4 Entry to the Korean public service normally requires passing an entry exam that is highly competitive, while Yang (2017) found migrant women face higher barriers to entering the labour force compared to native-Korean women due to discrimination from employers. 5 The UC’s popularity waned during the mid-2000s as the church fragmented and its leaders’ lavish lifestyles were broadcast in the media. For a recent history of the UC and analysis of its fragmentation and diminishing popularity see Barker (2018) and Mickler (2016). 1 as a ‘good family’, as an unwed single-mother Vivian was vulnerable and stigmatised.

Shortly after giving birth, Vivian’s family pressured her to consider marrying Ruby’s father.

In the Philippines men are privileged in cases of sexual violence (Constable 2003) and it is socially acceptable for men to have multiple mistresses, but women are pressured to remain chaste.6 Vivian reported that she desperately wanted to get married but hated the prospect of marrying the rapist. She decided to escape and become a migrant worker in Hong Kong, leaving Ruby to be raised by Vivian’s parents in the Philippines. Vivian dated several men in

Hong Kong as she sought a ‘good father for Ruby’, though none of these relationships worked out.

Vivian was recruited by the UC while working in Hong Kong, attracted by the promised combination of religion, migration and prosperity. In Hong Kong the UC deliberately targeted female migrant workers rather than local women. Most migrant workers are unable to settle permanently in Hong Kong (Ornellas 2014), making them susceptible to offers of becoming a ‘rich’ wife in Korea. A UC missionary promised Vivian that in Korea she would find spiritual meaning through marriage and a stable family, as well as redemption from past sins (Vivian blamed herself for being drunk on the night of her rape). Vivian felt she had good prospects in Hong Kong but wished for something more and put her faith in the UC.

Vivian had been led to believe her life in Korea would be full of abundance, romance and spiritual fulfilment. However, upon arrival Vivian was put into a crowded boarding house with other migrant women awaiting a husband, forced to beg for donations and proselytise in the street to Filipinos. While it was relatively easy for men to join the UC and have a choice over who they married (Kim Hyun Mee 2016, Kim Minjeong 2014) migrant women had no

6 An example is the current Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, who publicly declared he had two wives and two mistresses while campaigning for an election he subsequently won and has said that mistresses and extramarital relationships are common among Filipino male politicians. See www.scmp.com/news/asia/southeast-asia/article/2085079/president-duterte-defends-adultery-because-its-non- issue Accessed 25 May 2019. 2 control over their choice of partner and were utterly dependent on the UC. Vivian endured what she described as a miserable existence for one year before she was matched to her husband, 15 years her senior. Vivian agreed to the marriage after hearing her husband was a pious member of the UC, had a good job and owned two properties and a car. Consistent with what she had been originally been promised when joining the UC, marriage appeared to offer redemption, prosperity and romance. But Vivian learned the reality was very different after she met her husband for the first time at their mass marriage ceremony. Her husband was penniless, unable to work due to a vertebral disc injury and only joined the UC to find a wife.

Vivian was angry and left the UC not long after her marriage.

After marriage Vivian moved to the countryside to live with her husband and in-laws. Vivian told me that for several years she suffered from hardship, discrimination and endured physically demanding farm work. She raised their two children with no help from her invalid husband. Vivian recalled, ‘I managed to overcome the many challenges I faced and was determined to not just remain a mum and a wife.’ She moved her family to Incheon where

Vivian learned Korean and became an English teacher. Eventually she became a public servant assisting foreigners with a range of issues. Vivian had become a naturalised South

Korean citizen and established herself as the family’s breadwinner. Despite having emigrated in search of a better life for Ruby, Vivian had not brought Ruby to Korea and felt it was better she remained in the Philippines. As outlined in Chapter 6, there are few support services to help immigrant children integrate into Korean society and many end up excluded from education and employment.

Vivian eventually found ‘love’ in Korea in the form of a Filipino migrant worker, with whom she was having a relationship when I first met her. Vivian said that she maintained her marriage for the sake of her Korean children. Yet family ties did not stop Vivian from openly sharing her stories of romance. While it was not the ‘blessed marriage’ the UC had promised,

3 ultimately Vivian had earned financial independence and regained control by choosing the man she loved and how she lived her life.

For three decades migrant women from Southeast Asia have been brought to Korea as marriage migrants, targeted for their fertility, intimate care work and aspirations to live in

‘advanced’ Korea with ‘modern’ men who value and provide for their families. For women like Vivian who gave their fertility and trusted the UC or commercial matchmakers, the promises made of a happy life were rarely matched by reality. As the influence of the UC waned in the 2000s after the death of its founder and splintered into rival movements, the

Korean state has stepped in to sustain the inflow of migrant wives into Korea. State programs inculcate the belief among migrant wives that their role is to have children, serve the family and raise the next generation. What was previously presented as religious duty and doctrine is now enshrined in state immigration and multicultural education programs. During my fieldwork I engaged extensively with migrant wives as an observer, teacher and guide to navigating a foreign society. After building trust, many felt comfortable to share their story.

Vivian’s story reveals the complexities of cross-border marriages, larger social and cultural contexts, and illustrates the theoretical questions that this dissertation sets out to address.

2. Competing discourses around the identities of migrant wives

Migrant wives play an important role within Korean society and for the Korean state, yet they are poorly understood by the media and government. Simple narratives that other migrant wives as a homogenous group dominate mainstream media reporting and nativist online forums (Yi and Jung, 2015). Two competing narratives portray migrant wives as either

‘trafficked victims’ exploited by commercial matchmakers and violent Korean husbands or

‘runaway brides’ taking advantage of naïve and desperate Korean men to gain access to

Korea’s labour market (Song 2015). These narratives provide simple explanations for the high rates of divorce and relationship breakdown affecting migrant wives, which are due to a range of factors including lack of residency (Choi et al 2019). Migrant wives are conscious of how they are perceived by Koreans, and at least within the Filipino community have collectively organised to combat the ‘runaway bride’ discourse (Kim Minjeong 2013).

The Government’s response to high rates of domestic violence and divorce has been to focus on moulding migrant wives into devoted wives and carers, prioritising maintaining the traditional Korean patrilocal and patriarchal family structure over women’s individual empowerment. Through immigration, education and welfare policies the Korean state attempts to define the identity and role of migrant wives as maternal caregivers devoted to their children, husbands and in-laws. This process begins even before migrant wives arrive in

Korea, as those from developing countries must graduate from a so-called ‘healthy marriage course’ before they can receive a visa.7 Upon arrival, marriage migrant women are encouraged to attend adult education centres catering exclusively to migrant wives and their children. These centres are one of the sites of my research and provide cultural classes that promote Confucian values and a norm of male dominance within conjugal relationships.

What is missing from the government’s treatment of migrant wives and black and white media narratives are the complex stories like Vivian’s above. Vivian arrived in Korea at a time when the state provided very little support or care for migrant wives, prior to a massive scale up in resourcing from the mid-2000s. However, even if Vivian had been able to access the services migrant wives receive today it is questionable if cultural classes would have helped her to thrive in Korean society as the breadwinner for her family. Due to her husband’s health problems she had no choice but to work. Vivian was far from the type of

7 Korea’s marriage migration system is discussed in detail in Chapter 2. 5 migrant wife the government envisioned when they designed systems on the assumption that migrant wives could rely on their husbands for financial security. Several authors have noted that the generalisation of migrant wives as a homogenous group is a fallacy and individual experiences vary markedly depending on country of origin, household wealth and education

(Choi et al 2019, Kim et al 2014). These studies sit within a wide body of research that has covered many topics concerning migrant wives in Korea, including marital satisfaction (Kim and Lee 2013), media treatment (Yi and Jung 2015) and government policies (Seol 2014).

While migrant wives as a group have been the subject of much study, there has been limited research on individual groups examining how migrant wives’ backgrounds affect their experience of integration. Studies of migrant wives from Chosunjok, Filipino and Japanese backgrounds illustrate that their experiences indicate that the different motivations and cultures of individuals are important determinants of their adaptation experiences, which vary markedly between different nationalities (Freeman 2011, Kim Hyun Mee 2016, Kim

Minjeong 2018).

I focus on Filipino wives as they bring the Filipino cultural values of female empowerment and an expectation that female migrants should earn, remit and maintain close relationships with their natal families. These values can conflict with many Korean’s Confucian and patrilocal expectations that dictate migrant wives should be devoted to raising children, as well as caring for husbands and in-laws. When trying to narrow my research and focus on a group of migrant wives, Filipino wives stood out due to their willingness to challenge

Korea’s patriarchal Confucian traditions. Vietnamese and Chinese nationals accounted for the most migrant wives in my initial research sites. Vietnamese and Chinese wives come from

Confucian societies and based on my observations are normally more accepting of Korean expectations that migrant wives’ roles should be confined to producing and raising children.

Filipino wives were open and willing to share their frustrations over what Korean society

6 expected from migrant wives, which involved assimilation and acceptance of Korean gender and racial hierarchies.

My research explores what happens when the desires of Filipino wives do not align with the

Korean state’s prescribed role for migrant wives. Filipino wives are often not persuaded by incentives to be passive citizens adapting to and accepting the expectations of Korean society.

Filipinos enter Korea through a range of pathways, meeting their husbands through social and family networks, religious groups, workplaces and in some cases as sex workers. The path of entry is critical to understanding the expectations and motivations of why Filipinas choose to marry Korean men and how they respond to the pressure to Koreanise. I find that many

Filipino wives are actively engaging with the media and civil society to influence Korean society and create a space for their children to proudly celebrate, rather than deny, their mother’s heritage.

Through presenting the individual experiences of migrant wives, I explore how they interact with ill-conceived multicultural frameworks that subjugate migrants’ rights to encourage them to fulfil a narrowly defined role desired by the state. Multicultural support programs reinforce the cultural biases of husband dominance and patriarchy, failing to educate husbands on the need to respect their wives and adapt to different cultures. Instead, migrant wives are the objects to be shaped as the state deems appropriate, valued for their fertility based on racial, gendered and class biases. Multicultural education is exclusively aimed at migrant wives and their children, who must bear the burden of adaptation (Chang 2012).

Filipinas come to Korea with a different vision of multiculturalism based on mutual respect and understanding between Koreans, migrants and biracial citizens. However, Korea’s model of multiculturalism blocks migrant wives from using their talents to thrive. Migrant wives are capable of being leaders in their homes, religious institutions and workplaces. With a strong

7 desire to work and contribute to their communities, Filipinas can offer Korean society more than a narrow reproductive role. Their presence in the workforce could bring a much-needed transformation to workplace attitudes that disempower women and stigmatise mothers who work. Through presenting the complexity of individual stories and combating simplistic discourses, this thesis argues for a more expansive approach to multiculturalism that would empower migrant women to fulfil their individual potential and be equally represented in society. An inclusive and pluralistic model of multiculturalism advocated for by migrants could transform Korean society, helping it to shift away from a culture of conformity to one where diversity is valued in and of itself.

While there is a broad and rich literature on marriage migration, there are a range of attributes that distinguish my research findings as unique and different to other studies. This thesis offers one of the first full length explorations of how Filipino wives interact and respond to

Korean community expectations and government programs that pressure migrant wives to focus on producing children and raising them with Korean values. There are several features of my work that distinguish it from other studies that have explored Filipino wives’ acculturation in Korea, with my research examining a range of areas that have not been well examined in the academic literature. I provide an ethnographic examination of how the

Korean state is using Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs) to encourage migrant wives to focus on producing children, caregiving and deference to husbands. My thesis also analyses and discusses cases of the Korean state utilising visa processes to monitor and influence migrant wives’ fertility, while education and immigration programs attempt to mould migrant wives into reaffirming a traditional view of the role of a married woman. My study also introduces the emerging phenomenon of transnational Presbyterian Church networks facilitating marriages between Korean men and Filipinas. Any religious network being used to enable marriage migration into Korea faces the challenge of the legacy of the

8 notorious practices of the Unification Church (UC) deceiving Filipinas over who they were marrying and discourses associating marriage migration with human trafficking. In response,

I discuss cases of migrant wives who are forming their own NGO’s to combat discourses that diminish the role of migrants in Korean society and promote a truly multicultural Korea where biracial Filipino-Korean children can understand and be proud of their Filipino heritage. Finally, my study also provides case studies to illustrate how there is no pathway for many mature immigrant children of migrant wives to integrate into Korean society, leaving

NGOs and MFSCs to fill a gap where the state is failing to play a role.

3. Literature review

This thesis provides a unique contribution to the academic literature on female migration to

South Korea through an ethnographic analysis of individual stories. The literature review provides a frame for outlining my conceptual framework of ‘reproductive citizenship’, where migrant wives receive benefits in return for reproducing both biologically and culturally.

These benefits include residency rights, citizenship, welfare payments and respect from ethnic Koreans. As reproductive citizens, migrant wives are positioned by the state as a substitute for modern Korean women who are no longer willing to fulfil this critical role for certain groups of men or certain geographical areas in Korea. The Korean government and society are comfortable with encouraging migrant wives to confine their role to homemakers due to racial, class, gender and collective biases that demean and take a paternalistic view towards migrants and cultures from developing countries.

The literature review is divided into three sections that relate to the core parts of my conceptual framework of reproductive citizenship. The first section establishes that marriage migration in Korea is gendered, class based and racial in nature. The second section discusses

9 multiculturalism in Korea, which only targets migrant wives through an assimilationist framework and excludes other groups of migrants. The final section argues that Filipino wives are a unique group among migrant wives in Korea. Their 30 years of history migrating to Korea through diverse pathways, exercising agency to secure their position within families and society, uniquely equips them to challenge South Korea’s version of multiculturalism.

3.1. The racial, class and gendered nature of cross-border marriage

A large body of literature has documented the increasing phenomenon of women from poorer countries migrating for marriage to wealthier countries, described by Nicole Constable as ‘the commodification of intimacy’ (Constable 2009). Migration from Southeast Asia to Korea is but one part of a globalised market for emotional and family ‘care’, where migrant women provide ‘social reproduction’ or ‘reproductive labour’ (Kilkey, Merla, and Baldassar 2018,

Lan 2008, Le Bail 2017, Piper and Lee 2016). Hochschild (2011) documented this phenomenon in which over many decades women from poorer countries have stopped providing intimate care and family services domestically and emigrated to provide their reproductive labour in wealthier countries. This international market for intimacy is visible in the large numbers of migrants in rich countries working as nannies, cleaners and sex workers.

As Filipinas have gained a reputation globally for providing intimate care work, with over one million women of fertile age working abroad,8 Briones (2009) has highlighted the importance of context in studying agency and power relations of Filipina Overseas Domestic

Workers (FODWs). Her research into FODWs in Hong Kong and Paris showed that both

8 Fertile age is defined as from 15-44. See https://psa.gov.ph/sites/default/files/attachments/hsd/article/TABLE%201.2%20%20Distribution%20of%20Ove rseas%20Filipino%20Workers%20by%20Age%20Group%2C%20Sex%20and%20Area%20%202018.xls Accessed 18 October 2019. 10 individual capability and structural employment relations were critical in explaining why some workers ended up as ‘slaves’ and others did not. Briones’ analysis stressed the importance of considerations beyond agency and individual rights in understanding and explaining a FODW’s situation.

Since the Korean war, large camptowns located on the edges of US military bases have been populated with bars, clubs and other recreational spaces for US military servicemen.

Camptowns provided employment and the potential for relatively good pay for young women during Korea’s industrialisation phase. However, Korean women providing sex work and other services in camptowns were treated with contempt by fellow citizens who viewed their work as shameful (Moon 2010). Marriage to a US serviceman was a way out and it was not uncommon for women from the camptowns to marry US servicemen and accompany them once they returned home. However, life in their new homeland was challenging and some ended up returning to sex work in the US after falling upon hard times (Hye 1999).

It is only since the late 1980s when Korea began to permit immigration that it has become known as a destination, rather than a source, in the global market for intimacy. The number of female migrant workers has risen sharply since the 1990s but they are confined to working in factories, elementary occupations or sales jobs (Jeon 2018, 213), barred from the sort of intimate care jobs such as nannies or nurses that female migrant workers commonly dominate in Western countries. Korea’s importation of reproductive labour and female intimacy has been confined mostly to marriage migration and to a small extent sex work. In the case of imported sex workers, 85 per cent of foreign entertainers are Filipinas who have replaced the

Korean sex workers within foreigner-only clubs in ‘camptowns’ (Shin 2015). Laws and regulations dictate that foreign entertainers should only serve foreigners, but informally many cater to Korean men as well (Cheng 2011, Choo 2016, Moon 2010a).

Filipina marriage migrants and entertainers are assigned very different roles, with entertainers confined to foreigner-only clubs while the prescribed role of a migrant wife is confined to the home. Minjeong Kim (2013) described Filipino wives in Korea as being afforded ‘ethnicised maternal citizenship’ in both legal and substantive terms. Government processes for obtaining legal registration and Permanent Residency (PR) render migrant wives dependent on their husbands for permission to progress applications. To gain some form of independence, Hyun

Mee Kim (2007, 109) posits that migrant wives ‘do not have the choice not to bear children’ as only through becoming the mother of a Korean citizen can a migrant wife gain access to welfare benefits and guarantee her long-term residency. Programs provided to migrant wives under the banner of multicultural support or education are explicitly class-based, gendered and ethnicised, promoting that migrant wives be domesticated and absorb Korean cultural values. Minjeong Kim (2013) concludes that these systems are intentionally designed to promote migrant wives’ biological and cultural reproduction, teaching that the only proper way to raise biracial children is through accumulating and disseminating knowledge of the

Korean culture and marginalising or isolating their own native identity. Korea’s approach to migrant wives and ethnicised maternal citizenship has been described elsewhere in Taiwan and Japan. Bélanger, Lee and Wang (2010), Lan (2008) and Wang and Bélanger (2006) document how government programs, politicians and NGOs in Taiwan promote the idea that migrant wives require assistance and ‘improvement’. Cultural assimilation policies aim to

Taiwanise migrant wives and in the process reinforce the local population’s ethno-cultural biases against migrants from developing countries. Kojima (2001, 204) describes migrant wives in Japan as ‘female migrant reproductive workers’ substituting for Japanese women rejecting ‘conventional forms of marriage based on the ideology of oppressive domesticity’.

Government programs aim to assist migrant wives’ ‘adjustment to a Japanese way of life, or

12 to re-educate them to be “good” Japanese wives and mothers’, broadly described as

‘Japanisation’ (Kojima 2001, 206).

Several instrumental feminist works have also helped to corroborate the gendered and cultural expectations inherent in the Korean government’s approach and community attitudes towards migrant wives. Freeman (2011) investigated how Chosunjok wives responded to pressure from the Korean government and in-law families to fulfil the ideal of a Confucian wife. Korean multicultural programs promote that migrant wives should be deferential to in- laws and confined to work as a homemaker caring for family (Kim Sungmoon 2013).

Freeman’s (2011) research showed that Chosunjok wives had ambitions to work and have control over their lives, as well as support family they had left behind in China. Husbands and the state shared a saviour complex that marriage migrants were receiving a good deal and achieving hypergamy, escaping poverty through marriage. However, Freeman found that in reality Chosunjok wives faced isolation and poor treatment from Korean families. Choo

(2016) explored the barriers to rights and substantive citizenship for Filipina migrants through studying the lived experiences of wives, workers and entertainers. Consistent with other authors’ findings, migrant wives were the only group who had a pathway to PR and citizenship. However, their permanency was contingent on giving birth and citizenship was not assured. Even after becoming mothers of Korean citizens, Filipino wives were treated differently by the state compared to ethnic Koreans, which contributed to a lack of feelings of belonging and prevented the formation of a Korean identity, the only legitimate identity in

Korea’s multicultural society. Each year Filipino wives had to report to immigration officials to have their residency extended or face the risk of deportation (Choo 2016, 152). While

Korea does not allow dual citizenship for most groups of citizens, since 2010, marriage migrants have been permitted to maintain their citizenship of origin after naturalisation (Park

2014, 209), reflecting that many migrant wives lack a sense of belonging to Korea even after

13 becoming citizens (Chung and Kim 2012, Kim Jungsun 2007, Kim Minjeong 2018). The discriminatory citizenship policy implies that once a husband dies or children are grown up and independent, migrant wives may not feel a sense of belonging to Korea and their work is done so to speak. In this way, multiculturalism is restricted to wives who have a child and husband. Many may prefer to return to their country of origin and the ability to retain a dual nationality upon naturalisation provides an easier pathway for this remigration. Dual nationality and the possibility of remigration allows the Korean government to share the responsibility for looking after these migrant wives in their old age with their origin countries.

The Korean state’s special treatment of dual nationality for migrant wives is also reflective of the fact that once a Korean husband passes away and his children are adults, migrant wives are no longer contributing to the state’s goals but rather becoming a burden. Many of the

Korean men who marry migrant wives are generally much older than their spouse and of low socioeconomic status, potentially passing away and leaving a limited inheritance. Joo (2007,

22) reported that most multicultural families had a monthly income less than the cost of living and one in five had foregone medical treatment due to its cost. Local government subsidies and policy programs as well as brokers promoting marriage migration have often targeted rural men of low socioeconomic status (Kim Hyun Mee 2007). In rural areas cross- border marriages peaked at 35.9 per cent of all weddings in 2005 (Lee 2008, 111) and 9.8 per cent nationally, but this proportion had fallen to 6.4 per cent by 2018.9

Many of the men who marry migrant wives have exhausted their options of finding a bride locally. Kim, Yang and Torneo (2014, 101) describe the men most likely to be attracted to marriage migration as being rural and of low socioeconomic status, at the bottom of Korea’s

9 The latest data on marriages to foreigners does not provide a breakdown of rural areas, see Korean Statistical Information Service www.kosis.kr/eng Accessed 7 July 2019. 14 competitive marriage market. Bélanger, Lee and Wang (2010) also found these men ascribe to conservative patriarchal norms and have struggled to cope with increasingly educated

Korean women rebelling against cultural confines and traditional gender ideologies of women devoting their lives to marriage and child-rearing. Cheng (2010, 59) notes that

‘gender ideology in contemporary Korea valorised female purity, women’s reproductive role and the strict division of gender spheres’. Uhn Cho (2005) argues that the phenomenon of marriage immigration is a symptom of a broader trend reflecting the impact of rising economic insecurity and a reassessment of family values that accelerated following the

International Monetary Fund (IMF) crisis in the late 1990s. Higher competition in the labour market, diminished expectations of children to care for elderly parents and rising costs of child-rearing have led to delayed marriages and couples foregoing or limiting having children. Middle and upper class families have responded with strategies to invest in their children’s education through splitting and relocating, with increasing numbers of Gireogi

(wild geese) families where husbands work and live apart from their wives, who focus on children’s education abroad or in a location favourable for education. Lower-class families with bachelor sons have found it difficult to attract Korean wives and often become bride import families (Cho 2005, 26) seeking out women from poorer countries.

Marriage migration has also become synonymous with men who are of low social status due to non-socioeconomic factors. Abelman and Kim (2004) documented that marriage migration was the only potential solution available to a desperate mother trying to find a wife for her son who had a speech impediment. The mother’s struggle reflected a broader stigma Korean society attaches to disability that infantilises and excludes disabled men (Kim et al. 2016).

For Korean men, particularly those who ascribe to the traditional patriarchal values prevalent in rural areas, the failure to marry and extend family lines can result in what Freeman (2011) describes as ‘disabled manhood’. Marriage migration is a way for these men to reclaim their

15 masculinity, becoming in their own eyes and that of broader Korean society a provider and saviour, rescuing their spouse from a life of poverty (Kim Minjeong 2014).

3.2. Korea’s approach to multiculturalism

The Korean government and society’s approach to marriage migration has been driven by a version of multiculturalism that accepts migrant wives and their children as legitimate

Koreans at the expense of other types of migrants who are excluded. According to Jin-kyung

Lee (2010, 187) Korea is ‘governing and controlling various dimensions of migrants’ work, limiting their freedoms and showing two faces towards migrant workers’. On the one hand, the state eagerly encourages migrant workers to serve and power its economy. At the same time, Korea has legislated for migrant workers’ social and political exclusion, prioritising the maintenance of an ethnically homogeneous nation (Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010) over rewarding migrant workers for risking their lives in jobs Koreans are no longer willing to perform.10 Laws and regulations segment migrant workers as temporary and short-term labourers, dictating they must leave Korea at the expiration of their working visa (Seo and

Skelton 2017). While migrant workers have achieved better working conditions since the early 2000s through protests and international outrage over numerous cases of exploitation and abuse, they are still excluded from access to welfare services and at the mercy of employers who control their visas (MacDonald 2015). Migrant workers receive no assistance with integrating into Korean society upon arrival and are treated as temporary and disposable inputs for Korean businesses. In stark contrast, migrant wives are considered potential future citizens, responsible for solving ageing and low birth rate problems (Lee 2008, Piper and Lee

10 See 5,800 migrant workers killed in South Korea in a decade www.thestandard.com.hk/breaking- news.php?id=112012&sid=6 Accessed 18 October 2019. 16

2016) and receive well-funded government programs to support their integration into society under the banner of multiculturalism.

The usage of the term multiculturalism to describe the government’s approach to migrant’s integration into Korean society is a misnomer, as rather than attempting to bridge the divide between races, classes and genders, state multicultural programs accentuate the gaps between migrant wives and society, as well as between migrant workers and wives. Some parts of the

Korean government have been scathing of the state approach to multiculturalism, claiming the term has been used recklessly causing public confusion (Korea Immigration Service

2012, 16-17). Existing multicultural policies are derived from the ‘Grand Plan’ of 2006, which outlined a strategy for the integration of migrant wives and their families into South

Korean society.

Several feminist scholars have critiqued the Korean state’s approach to multiculturalism.

Hye-Kyung Lee (2008) critiqued the ‘Grand Plan’ as only promoting ‘multiculturalism from above’ and institutionalising ethnic Koreans’ feelings of superiority and benevolence over cultures from developing countries, with no effort to promote respect for other cultures among ethnic Koreans. Legally, the definition of ‘multicultural family’, which is the basis for access to Government support programs, only includes those unions between a Korean citizen and a legally residing migrant spouse or child (Kim Hyun Mee 2007, 106). This is very different to the understanding of multicultural family or person in most OECD countries where marital status and visa type do not form the basis of multiculturalism, which is an inclusive rather than exclusive concept (OECD 2018, 3-4). Joon Kim (2011) characterises the

Korean government’s efforts to acculturate marriage migrants as ‘cultural paternalism’

‘premised on the idea that the dominant society knows what is best for the minority group, thereby categorising the latter group as passive objects to be studied and acted upon rather than as active agents of social change’ (p. 1597). Multicultural programs inculcate the notion

17 that migrant wives and their children should respect, adopt and reproduce Korean culture.

The primary vehicle for promoting Korean cultural values is through classes provided by

Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs). Migrant wives must attend these classes to gain citizenship, where they ‘learn to be “multicultural” by learning to be Korean, such that

“multiculturalism” could also mean the stability and authenticity of Korean families, culture and society’ (Cheng 2011, 1640). Byoun and Leung (2015, 130) critique that MFSCs do not provide translation, marital counselling, actively support social networks nor act as an advocate for migrant wives, which are the services that migrant wives actually need.

The exclusive focus of multicultural policies on migrant wives has isolated this group and migrants more broadly from society. Multicultural education has also failed to challenge the myths of racial homogeneity and Korea’s cultural superiority over its neighbours, views that were heavily promoted by the state propaganda and education policies during Korea’s period of military rule (Chung and Kim 2012, Kim Yang-Soo 2016, Pai 2000, Watson 2010). Ahn

(2012, 98) reviewed newspaper articles on the multicultural discourse in Korea and found that the media’s attention and analysis was through the prism of race, with limited discussion on different cultures or the need for cultural acceptance. Many migrant wives actively resist the Korean state’s version of multiculturalism. Hyun Mee Kim (2007) argues that the term multicultural in Korea is a contested space between the government, civil society and migrant women. Kim contends that while multiculturalism is a tool for interpellation of marriage migrants as maternal reproducers of Korean culture, migrant wives actively challenge the boundaries of multiculturalism and ‘resist the coerced processes of Korean family making’

(Kim Hyun Mee 2007, 118). Joon Kim (2011) argues that MFSCs effectively reproduce and sustain cultural hierarchies and differences between marriage migrants and ethnic Koreans, rather than reducing them, directly contradicting what migrants seek from multiculturalism.

The Korean government’s dismissive treatment of the value and cultures of migrants from

18 developing countries begins in schools and is embedded in adult education programs at

MFSCs. In-Sil Chang (2012) reviewed multicultural education programs, finding that aside from teacher training most programs are for multicultural families, teaching them to adapt to

Korean society. Absent were educational policies and programs for Korean citizens promoting respect for other cultures. The only programs that encourage migrants from developing countries to showcase their cultures take the form of film and cultural festivals that do not challenge native Koreans notions of cultural superiority. Joon Kim (2011) critiques these programs as ‘cultural fetishism’ where Korean participants are invited to be cultural voyeurs, with minority cultural representations presented for public consumption rather than instigating an ongoing dialogue. For migrant wives, these types of cultural exchanges often do not help to combat the negative stereotypes that conflate migrant wives with victims of human trafficking or sex work (Cheng 2011). This leaves migrant wives facing a ‘double burden of both overcoming demeaning social stereotypes and responding to forceful assimilationist solutions’ (Kim Joon 2012, 75). It also results in their marginalisation and a lack of affinity and belonging to Korean society, feeling ‘homeless at home’ (Shin

2012, 75).

Many authors have called for a major overhaul of the Korean government’s approach to multicultural education, lamenting the lack of effort to promote respect for migrant wives’ cultures (Chang 2012, Ghazarian 2018, Hwang 2016, Kim Hyun Mee 2007, Kim and Jeon

2017, Kim Joon 2011, Kim Yang Soo 2016). However, the government has refrained from major changes to the existing policies targeted almost entirely at migrant wives and their children. This narrow focus was acknowledged in the Korea Immigration Service’s (2012)

Second Basic Plan for Immigration Policy, which called for a more balanced approach to multiculturalism not solely focussed on migrant wives’ adaptation, acknowledging the need for promoting ethnic Korean’s understanding and respect for different cultures. Ghazarian

(2018) described the second basic plan as acknowledging some of the government’s faults in relation to the failings of Korean multiculturalism and the need for reform. However, in practice there have been no policy changes to promote a more balanced approach to multiculturalism and instead more resources have been devoted to the assimilationist model, as reflected in the continued growth of MFSCs since 2012. Bank’s (1993, 16) critique that efforts to promote closer relations between majority and minority groups mostly overlook

‘institutionalised racism, power and structural inequality’ holds especially true in the case of

Korea.

3.3. Filipino migrant wives as a unique and insightful group

Despite a wide and rich body of literature examining multiculturalism and migrant wives’ issues in South Korea, a major challenge is the lack of input from migrant wives themselves.

Several authors have documented problems that can arise from academic discourses on minorities solely written from the viewpoint of the majority group. Smith’s (1979, 183) work highlighted the absence of ‘black women’s existence, experience and culture, and brutally complex systems of oppression’ in academic literature on US gender and race issues, as well as in white male consciousness. Mohanty (1988 and 2003) later critiqued that Western feminist texts reproduced a homogenised view of third world women and minority women in

Western countries, perpetuating saviour narratives. Feminist academics have responded to challenges of racial or class privilege by attempting to combat inherent cognitive biases when portraying minority groups. One approach has been to use an intersectional framework, explained in Crenshaw’s (1989, 139) seminal paper, which ‘highlighted a tendency (in legal decisions, media and academic discourses) to treat race and gender as mutually exclusive categories of experience and analysis’. This led to a lack of understanding of black women’s

20 issues, which the media and courts treated either through a racial or gender discrimination lens and failed to consider the intersection of multiple issues that led to complex forms of discrimination.

Two approaches that are now viewed as essential in feminist writing are reflective practice and the need for thick narratives. Ortner (1995) championed the need for ethnographic narratives to provide a degree of ‘thickness’ in relation to the subjects of study, specifically calling for: i) contextualising issues regarding the subject’s place in systems of oppression and resistance, ii) explaining political systems of power relations and inequality between different groups, iii) reflecting on the importance of cultural issues, and iv) attending to the individual as a person and agent with human desires and emotions. Naples (2003) advocated for reflective practice, calling for feminist researchers to consider insider/outsider dynamics and use multidimensional frameworks taking into account community dynamics, not least whether a researcher’s standpoint is affected by differences with their subject’s race, class and culture. The need for thick narrative techniques and reflective practice are all the more important given post-modern approaches in ethnographic migration studies ‘stressing the diversity and complexity of human behaviour, and the alleged impossibility of squeezing this diversity into overarching, all-explaining theoretical frameworks’ (Bakewell, De Haas and

Kubal 2011, 8).

Within the feminist literature the concept of agency is a contested space, reflecting differing viewpoints over the values and perspectives of a liberal rights-based framework and culture- relativist perspectives (Borovoy and Ghodsee 2012). Liberal feminism promotes the value of individual rights and autonomy as at the centre of agency. An alternative is cultural relativism that recognises the cultural and social acceptability of certain forms of subordination. These two competing perspectives have been used to frame and understand various contentious issues in feminist studies. For example, a liberal rights-based framework was evident in

Korean state’s approach to marriage migration and migrant workers in the 1990s and early

2000s, where the state’s role was limited and provided a large amount of power to the husbands and employers who sponsored visas. After numerous cases of violence and exploitation, the women’s movement in Korea pushed the state to regulate migration for marriage and employment, recognising migrants were often subject to unfair hierarchies of power with their visa power (this is explored in detail in chapter 7). Choo (2013) examined competing feminist discourses of rights and agency in the context of marriage migration in

Korea, finding that feminist movements and advocacy had largely framed migrant women’s rights from a moral hierarchy perspective where migrants were framed as victims lacking in agency. Choo’s work highlighted the importance of examining individual agency of migrant women in Korea from an intersectional perspective acknowledging their individual circumstances. The insights and evolution of feminist narrative techniques are reflected in academic discourses on migrant wives’ issues in Korea. Individual agency is often put at the heart of narrative accounts which are focussed on specific ethnic or religious groups based on observation conducted over extended periods of time (Choo 2016, Freeman 2011, Heo 2013,

Kim Minjeong 2018). These ‘thick narratives’ illustrate the diversity between groups of migrant wives and their individual agency, helping to combat government and media discourses that homogenise migrant wives and conflate their problems with trafficked victims. A challenge when weaving individual agency into representations of migrant wives is avoiding the trap of romanticising these women’s resistance amidst what are often confronting individual circumstances. As Minjeong Kim (2013) identified, this requires employing narrative strategies of non-judgemental terminology and reflective practice. In addition to these narrative strategies, Kim’s additional insight is that feminist academics should avoid the binary framework of portraying a victim-agent dichotomous relationship in favour of recognising structural systems of power and individual agency in analysing

22 decisions and relationships. Kim emphasises the importance of embedded agency, a concept introduced by Korteweg in 2008, which is based on two ways of understanding agency: ‘as a reaction against forces of domination, or as embedded in particular historic cultural, social and economic contexts’ (Korteweg 2008, 437).

Understanding how migrant wives navigate and utilise their embedded agency is not as simple as looking at individual circumstance but requires a deep understanding of a research subject’s cultural, ethnic and religious background. Jung and Jung (2019, 64) note that ‘the consequences of transnational mobility might differ according to social and economic status, gender/sexuality, ethnicity, age, dis/ability and background’. The importance of understanding embedded agency explains why key studies of migrant wives in Korea have tended to isolate groups based on affiliation. Studies have grouped migrant wives according to religion (e.g. Hyun Mee Kim’s 2016 study of Japanese wives who migrated through the

UC), ethnicity (e.g. Freeman’s 2011 study of Chosunjok wives tracing their journey from

China to Korea) or a type of visa (e.g. Choo’s 2015 work comparing Filipina married migrants, workers and entertainers). The focus on individual groups is necessary given the wide diversity among migrant wives, which is not often acknowledged in studies that treat migrant wives as a single group.

Surveys and empirical research have established a wide range of variation in the key characteristics of migrant wives depending on their country of origin. Many of these studies are based on the 2009 National Survey of Multicultural Families in Korea (Ministry of

Health, Welfare and Family Affairs 201011), which was conducted in 10 different languages and was completed by 73,669 marriage immigrants, of whom 94 per cent were female. Based on the survey information, Kim, Lee and Choi (2014) found that a migrant wives’ ethnicity

11 https://data.kihasa.re.kr/db/subject_view.jsp?grp_seq=64&project_seq=251 Accessed 9 July 2019. 23 had a bigger effect on their likelihood of working than their Korean language ability or educational qualifications, with Filipinas the most likely group to work and Japanese the least likely among the major source countries for migrant wives. Sung et al (2013) found that

Government education and support services were only positively associated with life satisfaction for Han Chinese migrant wives, postulating that because these services emphasise East Asian Confucian beliefs, they may not be consistent with the cultural beliefs of wives from non-Confucian backgrounds. The 2009 Survey revealed a wide variation in the educational qualifications of migrant wives by ethnicity, with 57.2 per cent of Filipino wives having a college degree. This made them a unique group, as the majority of Han12 and

Chosunjok wives only had a high-school diploma, while most Vietnamese wives had only a junior high-school diploma. While Filipinas were the most educated and likely to be employed compared to other groups of migrant wives, they also reported low levels of marriage and life satisfaction and had the greatest sense of perceived discrimination (Sung et al 2013, 233-36). Choo (2016) presented several narratives of Filipino wives who reported feeling discriminated against based on their skin colour and appearance, as well as their language ability, cultural beliefs and career choices. This sense of victimisation may also reflect that Filipinas are more knowledgeable about capitalist processes and have a better command of the English language compared to other migrants (Briones 2009, 36), meaning they are better able to identify when they are discriminated against.

Push and pull factors have been used to explain and isolate the reasons underlying marriage migration (Davin, 2005). Minjeong Kim (2018, 5-6) diagnosed pull factors as attributable to demographic factors, such as a sex ratio imbalance and young women leaving rural areas

12 Han are the majority ethnic group in China, accounting for 91.6 per cent of the China’s population and more than 95 per cent of Taiwan’s population based on the CIA World Factbook, see www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/tw.html Accessed 23 October 2019. 24 creating a need for imported wives to perform unpaid feminine care work for older men unable to find wives locally. Push factors often associated with marriage migration such as poverty, low quality of life and weak rule of law (Yang and Lu 2010, 15-29) are broadly applicable for explaining why Filipinas migrate to Korea for marriage, there are some nuances that are important to note. With most Filipino wives possessing tertiary qualifications, it is questionable whether hypergamy is the main explanatory factor for the large and sustained flow of female marriage migrants entering Korea. Constable (2003) argued that emigration is a way for Filipinas to escape failed relationships and the

Philippines’ rigid gender hierarchies, allowing women to gain (or in the case of failed relationships regain) their agency over whom they marry. Constable (2003) concludes that rather than the common discourse that women from developing countries marry in order to migrate, for many Filipinas the causality is reversed, and they are migrating to escape a failed relationship and reclaim their agency to remarry. This implies that Filipinas motivation for cross-border marriage is from the beginning unique and different to other nationalities. Del

Rosario (2005) examined Filipina marriage migration to the US and found that women choosing to become migrant wives were normally mature, educated and had careers, desiring stable marital relations and romance they perceived as impossible to find in the Philippines.

Their decision to pursue marriage migration reflected a ‘cultural logic of desire’ based on the perceived cultural superiority and benevolence of the US.

Korea’s status as a rich economy and the popularity of Korean dramas and music has made it an increasingly popular destination for Filipinas. Calibao-Valencia (2015) reports that while the US and Japan account for two-thirds of Filipinas emigrating for marriage, between 2007 and 2012 there was a 118 per cent rise in the number of Filipina marriage migrants emigrating to Korea, the fastest growth of any major destination country. The rising trend of marriage migration from the Philippines to Korea has been built on substantial linkages

25 between the two countries. The Philippines hosts around a million Korean visitors each year and has the largest Korean diaspora community in Southeast Asia (Kim, Yang and Torneo

2014, 99). The Filipino diaspora in Korea is also substantial and Korean-Filipino biracial children are referred to as Kopinos, while the Philippines’ embassy website lists 99 Filipino religious and community organisations in Korea providing a wide range of services catering to Filipino migrants.13 Calibao-Valencia (2015, 167-68) highlighted that close bilateral government relations have been evident in the context of marriage migration. Both governments signed a Memorandum of Understanding in 2012 to promote the adjustment and integration of Filipino wives into Korean society following concern from the Philippines over mistreatment and violence against Filipino wives. The Philippines lacks similar bilateral agreements with other destination countries, though they do not have the same reputation as

Korea for violence and mistreatment of migrant wives (Calibao-Valencia 2015). While Korea remains associated with violence against migrant wives, the large network of Filipinos in the country and improving technology means that it is possible for Filipinas to screen potential husbands before deciding to marry. Del Rosario (2005) hypothesised that technological advances and the ability to better screen husbands had helped to reduce cases of trafficking and abusive men attracting migrant wives by misrepresenting their true selves and the life they can offer prospective partners.

Only a few authors have undertaken long-term ethnographic research on Filipino wives in

Korea, most notably Choo (2016) and Minjeong Kim (2018), both of whom embedded themselves in Filipino expatriate communities, observing subjects. The paucity of ethnographic research on Filipino wives has resulted in a lack of critical analysis on their acculturation experiences as a racially and culturally distinct group within Korean’s world-

13 See www.philembassy-seoul.com/filipino_community.asp Accessed 30 June 2019. 26 view of a global hierarchy of nations and cultures that discriminates against dark skinned peoples, less-wealthy countries and non-Confucian beliefs (Kim and Jeon 2017, Kim

Minjeong 2018, 5). The lack of ethnographic research is despite the Philippines being the third largest source country for migrant wives in Korea and Filipino wives’ reputation for pushing the boundaries of multiculturalism, with several Filipina marriage migrants actively involved in national politics (Kim, Yang and Torneo 2014, 99) and mainstream Korean film

(Oh and Oh 2016). My own research and that of Choo (2016) also illustrate the liminal status of Filipinas in Korea, who transition between the categories of wives, workers and entertainers.

Isolating Filipinas as a research group can provide important insights into Korea’s multiculturalism. With culture, race and language playing a major role in determining the adaptation experience of any migrant group into their host society (Berry 2005), different groups of migrants undergo different processes of acculturation14 (Freeman 2011, Seo and

Skelton 2017, Shin 2015). The failure of government multicultural policy and NGO activism to acknowledge the multi-layered and multi-sited nature of migrants’ precarity is one of the reasons that Filipino wives have begun to advocate on their own rather than as part of a broader human rights or migrant rights movement (Kim Daisy 2017). Dicolen and Sanchez

(2016) conducted interviews with 21 Filipino wives and MFSCs, which established the importance of cultural factors in explaining why Filipinas do not tend to utilise Korean government multicultural services. Their conclusions aligned with those of Kim, Yang and

Torneo (2014, 113), finding that Filipinas desire to be active rather than passive participants in government multicultural programs, influencing and shaping Korean’s views rather than

14 For example the acculturation experiences vary dramatically between Nepalese factory workers (Seo and Skelton 2017), Chosunjok migrant wives (Freeman 2011) and Filipina entertainers serving US Armed Forces personnel (Shin 2015). 27 accepting them as given and immovable. Dicolen and Sanchez (2016) found that while

Filipino wives rated MFSC activities as useful, they were only likely to attend and engage if their husbands joined, the skills taught were helpful with finding employment and the centre provided social networks with other Filipinas.

Choo (2016) investigated how acculturation experiences varied between different groups of

Filipino migrants, exploring the boundaries between: i) Filipino migrants in demeaning and more respectable sectors, ii) migrant and naturalised workers, as well as iii) the boundaries between naturalised citizens and ethnic Koreans. These boundaries, both real and conceptual, were explored through anthropological study based on the everyday encounters of three overlapping groups of Filipina migrants: migrant hostesses catering to US military servicemen, migrant workers in factories and migrant wives, with the different groups located in separate and different geographical areas and environments. Choo (2016) used a rights- based conceptual framework to understand citizenship as operating on a continuum with boundaries between groups in a society determined by the exclusion of certain rights.

Examples of rights signifying boundaries in citizenship included freedom of choice over employers or access to government services. Choo found that Filipino hostesses, female workers and wives are distinct groups and often did not transition between categories. They had very different experiences, but shared a common sense of gendered precarity, with workers and hostesses’ dependent on sponsors for their residency while wives’ permanency was tied to their husbands and marriages. Based on her research, Choo (p.166) hypothesied there is a ‘paradox of citizenship—the allure of equality alongside its perpetually unfulfilled promise’, reflecting the lack of belonging that many migrant wives feel even after attaining

PR and citizenship.

The lack of belonging to Korea felt by Filipino wives was also the central theme of Minjeong

Kim’s (2018) analysis, which examined the experiences of rural Filipino wives, the majority

28 of whom had migrated and married through the UC. Kim’s work showed that despite

Filipinas efforts to integrate, they were unable to overcome community biases that questioned the motives of dark-skinned migrants and treated them as culturally inferior. These views were especially prevalent in the UC, where Filipinas were compared unfavourably with

Japanese wives, who have pale skin, share Confucian values, originate from a richer country and tend to be more accepting of gendered hierarchies within the home and UC. Kim found that state projects aimed at promoting multiculturalism reinforced cultural notions of Korean superiority and paternalised relations between ethnic Koreans and migrants. This reflected a racialised approach to the incorporation of migrants and biracial children, demeaning them as subordinate objects, conflating dark skin with being poor. Filipino wives also experience cultural clashes within the home, struggling to gain acceptance for the Philippine practice of remittances. This eventually drives many Filipino wives to seek employment and economic independence, affording a degree of cultural independence from Korean families.

Minjeong Kim’s (2018) research reaffirmed that barriers to interaction often exist between ethnic Koreans and Filipinas, making co-ethnic social networks of critical importance for migrants’ life satisfaction. Many Filipino wives report feeling isolated in Korean society, unable to find acceptance from Koreans no matter how well they excel at the tasks asked of them as part of Korea’s multicultural project. Encouragingly, Minjeong Kim (2018) documented several cases where Filipinas were trying to engage and transform approaches to multiculturalism, with some of her research subjects taking up leadership positions and advocating to the media and government for greater rights and respect. Kim concludes by highlighting that while many Filipino wives may lack a sense of belonging and affinity toward Korea, their willingness to push against attempts to ‘Koreanise’ them and confine their role in society to maternal caregivers presents an opportunity for multiculturalism to become a two-way process in Korea, which is a key theme of my research. Moon (2012)

29 related the desire for belonging among Filipino migrant wives to the formation of community groups. Moon (2012) examined the formation and challenges facing a community group in

Changwon City organised by and dedicated to Filipino wives. This group had strong transnational ties, having been inspired by visiting activists from a women’s rights group in the Philippines that had been invited by a Korean women’s association. Its founders had been motivated to create their own group after feeling a lack of belonging in MFSCs and other

Filipino groups that had a broader focus beyond migrant wives’ issues. The ability for

Filipino wives to converse in their mother tongue with their peers helped to create a sense of belonging, ‘removing the linguistic and cultural barriers’ (Moon 2012, 104) that arise when forced to speak other languages.

To sum up, the main contribution of my thesis has been to explore how Filipino wives acculturate into Korean society and the impact of state and family expectations on them. This fills a gap in the literature as researchers have acknowledged that to understand migrant’s acculturation experiences requires a detailed examination of individual groups who have embodied characteristics that they bring to a new society such as language, culture and religion. There are only a few studies that have examined how Filipino wives acculturate into

Korean society. My work differs from previous studies by examining a broad range of

Filipino wives and their children with a focus on how their experiences are shaped by expectations of the Korean state and families. Other authors such as Hae Yeon Choo and

Minjeong Kim have examined Filipino wives in a specific geographic area and at similar stages in their lives. Their research and my own shows that Filipinas’ experiences differ markedly depending on a range of factors including whether they have children, their marital satisfaction and status, employment and religious identity.

One of the main findings of my research is that the state’s approach of segregating migrant wives and immigrant children from the rest of Korean society is problematic. Multicultural

Family Support Centres (MFSCs) are failing to equip migrant wives with the skills they need to navigate their lives in Korea. Instead, migrant education and immigration policies are reinforcing patriarchal and racist attitudes in a society that treats migrants from developing countries as inferior. Many Filipino wives choose to forego the state’s multicultural education programs and acculturate through finding employment. Finding a job and gaining financial independence is often a better way for migrant wives to acculturate as it means they receive income and a bank account, providing them with the freedom to spend and travel as they please. Financial independence increases migrant wives’ ability to negotiate with Korean families who often prefer to push migrant wives into the role of devoted mother and caregiver.

4. Theoretical underpinnings

The Korean government’s goal of a multicultural society reflects a major change from what was only a few decades ago described as a ‘closed, ethnocentric nationalist society’ (Shin

2012, 71), known for having the national motto of ‘one race, one nation’. Despite researchers having shown that ethnic homogeneity (Danil minjok) was a myth manufactured by traditional elites in order to bring the nation together based on a created collective identity, ethnic nationalism and an ethnic-centred national identity persist (Choe 2003, Cumings

2005). These views of ethno-cultural homogeneity and superiority are echoed in children’s education and entrenched in the older generations’ mindsets, though there is growing public awareness that Korea is no longer racially homogenous (Shin 2012, 74). Treating migrant workers as marginalised others with no right to stay long-term and trying to assimilate migrant wives into a Confucian mould is an approach at odds with what migrants want and is contrary to promoting mutual respect between Korea’s majority and minority groups

(Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010). Many migrant workers and wives have become activists and are challenging old and conservative ideas about migrants’ place in Korea and in doing so, are helping to promote the positive aspects of a diverse society.

The Korean state’s approach to multiculturalism is a by-product of an overriding focus on the primacy of marriage and the cultural imperative of men to marry, especially in rural areas where there is a greater focus on genealogy and the patriarchal family unit. This approach is at odds with the notion of multiculturalism; respecting the differences and complexities embodied in different groups and identities. Filipino wives highly value their culture and dual identities as both Filipinas and new Korean residents. Allowing and encouraging Filipino wives and their biracial children to retain dual identities can help to collapse cultural boundaries. My research subjects entered Korea at different times with some coming before

Korea adopted a multicultural policy and established MFSCs. The migrant wives who came when Korea effectively had no multicultural policy had to integrate with little assistance from the state and had few protections or knowledge of their rights. In some cases they experienced harsh and unfair treatment at the hands of their partners and in-laws, with officials and the state observing and not intervening. Korea’s multicultural policies have attempted to Koreanise migrant wives as a way of placating Korean husbands and in-laws.

This narrow approach controversially confines and controls migrant wives’ role within their family unit and society. It is the opposite of the expansive multiculturalism that migrant wives desire which would incorporate Koreans and allow migrants and their children to speak directly to broader society.

My research extends the academic literature on migrant wives through examining Filipino wives’ reproductive and life choices amid government systems and social pressure to become mothers and carers. Korea has a long tradition of state and community influence over fertility

32 choices. Consistent with other East Asian ‘miracle economies’, the Korean government has transitioned from anti-natalist policies in the 1950s and 1960s when fertility rates were high to pro-natalist policies since the 2000s (Jolly and Ram 2001). The differences have been stark for Korean women, with abortion widely available and even encouraged by the Government from the 1960s to 1980s despite being illegal. This policy was reversed as the birth rate declined, with a turning point being the creation of a Master Plan for the Prevention of

Illegal Abortion15 in 2005, which aimed at banning abortion. The Health Minister in 2005 justified the ban as the country’s fertility rate was too low rather than because of any moral or health concern (Kim Sunhye 2019). The Government may be forced to change the anti- abortion law following a ruling by the Constitutional Court in April 2019 declaring the law unconstitutional and giving the Government a timeline until the end of 2020 to revise the law.16 Regardless of legislative change, socially there is a high stigma attached to pregnancy outside of wedlock as Confucian values exert a strong influence over community expectations of women.

Despite social and government pressure on married women to give birth, Korea’s fertility rate has remained the lowest in the world due to a range of factors.17 These include the high costs of raising children, education and housing, the effects on women’s bodies from pregnancy, women’s mental health and care responsibilities (Tremayne 2001), as well as labour market discrimination based on Confucian ideals that mothers are duty bound to care for children and hence cannot balance demanding work with motherhood (Lee, Jang and Sarkar 2008, Seong

15 Ministry of Health and Welfare (MOHW). 2011. Jeon-gug in-gongim-sin-jung-jeol byeon-dong sil-tae-jo-sa [National research on induced abortion]. Seoul: Ministry of Health and Welfare. 16 South Korea rules anti-abortion law illegal. www.nytimes.com/2019/04/11/world/asia/south-korea-abortion- ban-ruling.html Accessed 1 March 2020. 17 South Korea's fertility rate set to hit record low of 0.96. www.theguardian.com/world/2018/sep/03/south- koreas-fertility-rate-set-to-hit-record-low and South Korea’s birth rate falls to new developed world www.ft.com/content/16505438-c96c-11e9-a1f4-3669401ba76f?fbclid=IwAR0pLQO- HEgjjqMxdkH06bJiWSkbMl00dhLK8GlVClF4XXd2n8GwsAfVy78 Accessed 4 September 2019. 33

2014). Faced with the trade-off between a career and maternal responsibilities, increasingly, educated Korean women have chosen to forego marriage and motherhood for the sake of a career (Cheng 2010, 88-89). One effect of the rising prevalence of working women is a deficit in carers for the elderly. The shortage of women has been particularly acute in rural areas where there are few employment opportunities for educated woman and there exists a patrilineal duty of care, where a daughter-in-law is expected to care for elderly or disabled parents-in-law (Kim Minjeong 2014).

To fill the gendered gap in caring responsibilities, the government and households have turned to migrant wives, with Lee (2012, 192) noting 27.5 per cent of marriage immigrants lived with their in-laws, compared with just 4.4 per cent of Korean families, while 17.9 per cent of multicultural families had a disabled family member, compared to a national average of around 5 per cent.18 Citizenship is the allure that Koreans and their government use for attracting immigrant women to provide care and affection for ageing men and their families.

Citizenship has evolved over time and refers to more than just a person’s legal nationality

(Davis and Constitutional Centenary Foundation 1996, 154-55). Citizenship is considered within academic literature to be an open, broad and fluid concept addressing a range of rights and obligations, marking boundaries that confer entitlements and hierarchies between different groups in a community determining who is inside or outside, included or excluded

(Lind et al 2016, Lister 2003, Plummer 2001). A range of feminist frames have been used to study citizenship. ‘Sexual citizenship’ explores how issues like marriage and sex work affect the relationship between sexuality and women’s citizenship (Hudson and John 2000, 150-51).

‘Intimate citizenship’ focusses more broadly on the plurality of public discourses concerning how personal and intimate lives intersect to understand choices and difficulties with intimacy

18 For an overview of disability in Korea, see www.koreaexpose.com/paralympics-disability-rating-system- south-korea/ Accessed 4 July 2019. 34 in a rapidly changing world (Plummer 2001). ‘Maternal citizenship’ is premised on conservative gendered ideologies defining a women’s status in society as being affirmed by becoming a mother and caring for children (Jolly and Ram 2001, 14). These frameworks intersect in the case of migrant wives, where their duties as ethnicised maternal citizens (Kim

Minjeong 2013) can conflict with desires for individual agency.

4.1. The concept of reproductive citizenship

My research explores how Filipino migrant wives respond to what I term reproductive citizenship. Reproductive citizenship is a set of expectations from the Korean government and society for migrant wives to reproduce both biologically and culturally in return for legal and social acceptance. Filipino wives are trapped in an interdependent reproductive system as they are expected to provide financially for family in the Philippines, including children from previous relationships. To raise funds for remittances they must either find paid employment or request their Korean families provide funds in exchange for their labour caring for aged in- laws and children. Failure to satisfy their Korean family’s desire for intimate care can lead to relationship breakdown, which in the absence of citizenship can mean deportation. The bar to obtain legal citizenship has been raised continuously since the mid-2000s and presently migrant wives must be mothers, loyal wives and experts in the Korean language and traditional cultural values emphasising defined gender roles and male dominance.19

19 As discussed in Chapter 4 to obtain PR and citizenship requires a migrant wife to be ‘well behaved’ (품행이 단정한) which in practice means to be a married mother of a Korean citizen. Kim and Kilkey (2018) outline the process for marriage migrants to obtain citizenship which normally involves a written test that is difficult for most foreigners, but this requirement is waived if they have a child and have completed cultural classes at a MFSC. 35

Reproductive citizenship is reflective of Korea as a subimperial nation20 active in the global market for intimate care, capitalising on a surplus of reproductive labour in developing countries and its deficit in Korea. The Korean state has established transnational programs to facilitate and shape the flow of reproductive labour through establishing adult education centres across the globe and within Korea to ensure migrants meet their defined purpose either as workers or wives. Globally, there are over 180 King Sejong Institutes promoting the

Korean language and culture.21 These centres cater to all types of prospective migrants and those with an interest in Korea. In developing Asia these institutes offer marriage adaptation programs and begin the process of reproductive citizenship for marriage migrants. Since

2015, those from developing Asia must complete a marriage adaptation course before they can receive a spouse visa to enter Korea, which is where they are introduced to reproductive citizenship. Upon arrival they are encouraged to attend MFSCs where their cultural training is continued, though attending courses by itself is not enough to obtain PR or citizenship.

Several authors have identified that migrant wives’ only pathway to legal citizenship is through conforming to the state’s desires for migrant wives to bear children and be devoted to their Korean husband, referring to concepts similar to reproductive citizenship (Freeman

2011, Kim Minjeong 2013, Shen 2017). Choo (2016, 10) commented that compared to migrant workers, ‘migrant wives secured a different set of rights as mother-citizens’. This unique treatment of migrant wives reflects that their designated role in Korean society is to fill gaps that have emerged following a rapid transformation from a Confucian semi-agrarian developing economy to a modern high-income nation. These gaps reflect complex social issues that have manifested in the form of low birth rates, shortages of women and young

20 Jin-kyung Lee (2010) explored in detail the Korean state and businesses usage of a sub-empire of expatriate Koreans and other linkages with overseas economies. 21 See www.ksif.or.kr/ste/ksf/hkd/lochkd.do?menuNo=20101800 Accessed 19 October 2019. 36 people in rural areas and the breakdown of traditional family systems where children were expected to care for elderly parents in the absence of an aged-care safety net. The major changes in Korean society have left behind a cohort of older and less educated men often tied to rural areas by agrarian livelihoods and Confucian expectations that males should care for parents. As women have moved away from rural areas where employment opportunities are limited, the men have had trouble attracting a wife locally in Korea’s rapidly changing and highly competitive marriage market.

With the nation facing a demographic crisis and the Government projecting that the population could fall by more than half by the end of the century (Jeon 2018), the state has turned to female immigrants (Piper and Lee 2016) to satisfy the desire for intimacy from men at the bottom of Korean society. The framework of reproductive citizenship is an expression of the Korean state and society’s expectation that migrant wives should give birth and assimilate. In raising their biracial children, migrant wives are encouraged to prioritise

Korean culture over their own indigenous values, an attempt by the state to maintain

Confucian values that are increasingly being challenged and dismissed by Korea’s youth. The

Korean state and cultural norms prescribe traditional gendered roles within the context of migrant wives’ households, with men considered responsible for working and earning income while women are responsible for managing household affairs (Lee 1998). Whereas ethnic

Korean women can and often do refuse to be bound by Confucian duties of care to elderly family members and children, the cost of resistance can be high for migrant wives.

Relationship problems can lead to the loss of welfare benefits, residency and custody of children due to the legal systems and courts favouring Koreans over migrants in cases of domestic disputes (Le 2016, 175).

High rates of domestic violence22 and relationship breakdown affecting migrant wives are difficult for the Korean state to reconcile with reproductive citizenship, which prioritises the primacy of marriage and male dominance in the family over migrant women’s rights.

Provided they remain married, migrant wives with biracial dependent children receive benefits directly to their bank accounts. However, Korea offers few benefits for single mothers23 and divorce costs are high (Park and Raymo 2013), while the Korean legal system can be difficult to navigate for migrants (Kim, Park and Shukhertei 2017). This can prompt many migrant wives to flee without divorcing or legally separating from their husbands, leaving these women and the children they take with them in a state of transnational legal precarity.24 Other migrant wives may choose to persist in failed or abusive relationships due to poverty. The average household income of migrant wives’ families is less than half that of ethnic Koreans, with 30 per cent experiencing economic hardship (Kim, Lee and Choi 2014).

These statistics suggest that migrant wives could benefit from training that would make them more employable, yet the focus on cultural training suggests that the government and society have prioritised promoting traditional values in multicultural households over alleviating poverty.

While migrant wives are relatively poor by Korean standards, their family incomes are usually just enough to allow for remittances, with the economic disparity between Korea and the Philippines enabling reproductive citizenship. Filipinas seeking a migration pathway to

Korea have limited options, faced with becoming unskilled temporary workers or marriage

22 Daisy Kim (2017, 2) notes migrant wives accounted for eight per cent of domestic violence deaths in 2014. This is a high figure when considering migrant women (the majority of whom are migrant workers) comprised only two per cent of the female population in Korea. 23 www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/stigma-single-mother-south-korea-180226144516720.html Accessed 4 December 2019. 24 Cases of Filipinas in this situation are discussed in chapters 3 and 6, while the scenario has occurred for an estimated 15,000 Vietnamese women between 2008 and 2018. See www.vir.com.vn/assistance-offered-to- vietnamese-women-married-to-koreans-69017.html Accessed 8 July 2018. 38 migrants. Both options only provide temporary visas. However, giving birth to a Korean citizen enables a migrant wife to obtain PR.25 Reproductive citizenship is different to the concept of ‘flexible citizenship’, where wealthy individuals use dual citizenship or residency to build capital in one country while maintaining the culture of another (Ong 1999, 156).

Reproductive citizens do not have this luxury, as they are generally in low income households while the Korean state and society discourage migrant wives and biracial children from adopting shared identities and retaining their mother cultures.

Through using the reproductive citizenship framework illustrated above and theoretical insights noted in the literature review, I analyse the journey of Filipino wives and how they use their agency to navigate community, family and government expectations as they integrate into Korean society.

5. Research questions

My thesis argues that migrant wives are prescribed a special role in Korean society, expected to give birth to new biracial Korean citizens and quickly imbibe the Confucian family values under the name of multiculturalism. The system of reproductive citizenship is a race, gender and class-based approach that treats migrant wives as a collective and homogenous group, objects to be moulded with no distinction as to their unique characteristics. Provided migrant wives biologically and culturally reproduce and maintain their marriages, they are afforded a pathway to naturalisation on the expectation that they will continue to remain as devoted mothers of the nation.

25 It is unclear how an unmarried mother of a Korean citizen obtains a long-term visa to reside in Korea if they have not previously had a spouse visa. Mahalia’s case in chapter 2 suggests that immigration officials who have a large degree of power over subjective criteria for providing visas could make an exception. 39

While Korean husbands and their parents desire a passive and obedient migrant wife, my research explores how migrant wives negotiate the pressure to become reproductive citizens.

This is the question at the heart of my research, reflecting the lived experiences of the 11,415

Filipino migrant wives residing in Korea26 and the many more who have divorced and remigrated, as well as the few who have perished as victims of domestic violence.27 Filipinas come to Korea expecting Korean families to treat them with respect and as equals in decision-making. The rising number of Filipinas migrating to Korea for marriage reflects a belief that Korean men are wealthy and willing to accept different cultural values, which is often not the case. Most of the Filipino wives I met and the majority arriving in Korea are tertiary educated and in almost all cases have more years of education than their husband

(Sung et al 2013, 233). Filipino wives have often educated themselves prior to migrating by taking the courses on marriage migration offered by the Korean and Philippine governments

(Calibao-Valencia 2015, 167). Equipped with this knowledge, Filipino wives quickly recognise that multicultural education programs portray Korean values as superior and teach that migrant wives should adapt to the beliefs of their Korean family. The lack of multicultural education for Korean husbands and wider society causes resentment among

Filipino wives as they often encounter discriminatory attitudes which assume they are uneducated and uncivilised.

Filipinas can and often do break free of the mould of reproductive citizenship, exercising their agency in making decisions over their fertility, child-rearing, work, cohabiting with or serving in-laws and maintaining marriages. However, resistance comes at a cost in terms of risking the withdrawal of their legal status as residents, access to welfare benefits, as well as

26 Based on 2017 data from the Korea Statistical Information Service http://kosis.kr/eng/ Accessed 29 May 2019. 27 Korean jailed 15 years for killing Filipina wife www.asiatimes.com/2019/05/article/korean-jailed-15-years- for-killing-filipina-wife/ Accessed 31 May 2019. 40 acceptance and praise from members of society. The cost of upsetting expectations is necessary if Filipinos and migrants are to challenge notions that ethnicity and nationality cannot be split and that being an ‘authentic’ Korean requires racial purity (Lee Jin-Kyung

2010). Resistance also helps to challenge the stigma associated with being a multicultural person and instead taking pride as a Filipino-Korean. Discriminatory attitudes are prevalent in Korean society and result in many biracial children being teased and shamed about their mother’s heritage.28 Through challenging reproductive citizenship and discrimination,

Filipino wives are creating a space in Korean society where Filipino culture can be celebrated and respected.

Several scholars have noted the fallacy in the widespread usage of the term multiculturalism to describe Korea’s approach to the social incorporation of migrants (Han Geon-Soo 2007,

Han Kyung-Koo 2007, Seol 2010, Shin 2012). Most foreign residents are rotational migrant workers from developing countries who have no pathway to settlement, are given limited assistance with social integration and there is no expectation on Koreans to accept foreign cultures. It is not surprising that Korea’s approach to multiculturalism has spawned confusion amongst foreign observers, with the Central Intelligence Agency’s World Factbook still describing Korea as an ethnically homogenous country, one of only five remaining in the world.29 To promote a more diverse and inclusive society the government has invested heavily in supporting multicultural families through the prism that they must respect, adopt and reproduce Korean families. As reproductive citizens migrant wives carry the burden of

28 See Belanger, Lee and Wang (2010, 1123) and Migrant spouses find acceptance hard to come by in South Korea www.todayonline.com/world/migrant-spouses-find-acceptance-hard-come-south-korea Accessed 19 October 2019. 29 South Korea is one of only 5 countries listed as ethnically “homogenous” and the only country listed without any qualification in the www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/fields/400.html Accessed 31 May 2019. 41 arresting Korea’s demographic crisis and the trend of rural depopulation30 but are also important for presenting to the world that Korea is a modern multicultural society.

My first hypothesis is that the Korean government, families and broader society actively seek to promote migrant wives as primary caregivers in the family within a framework of reproductive citizenship. This builds on the work of several scholars who have established the prominent link between marriage migration and fertility (Jolly and Ram 2001, Kim Andrew

2009, Kim Hyun Mee 2007, Lan 2008, Seol 2014), reflecting the biological aspect of reproductive citizenship. Cultural reproduction has also been established in studies examining the acculturation experiences of marriage immigrants. Cho (2007, 6) identified that multiculturalism programs were in some cases explicitly designed with the goal of coping with the nation’s low birth rate. Hyunok Lee (2012, 179) argues that multiculturalism in

Korea is explicitly linked to social reproduction, noting ‘the concept of multicultural families has been used instrumentally to project an increased openness of Korean society while in fact serving to restore traditional family values and to mitigate current crises in family care and labour’. Han (2007, 27-28) highlights that multicultural has a unique meaning in Korea and policies are based on the notion it is not possible for multiple cultures to co-exist in Korea and instead migrant wives should adopt Korean Confucian values.

My second hypothesis is that at various points along their designated journey to reproductive citizenship, Filipino wives demonstrate agency in resisting pressure to conform and are defining a new model of multiculturalism in Korea that challenges patriarchy and Confucian values. This is shown through the lived experiences of Filipinas presented in subsequent chapters who negotiate that their role in society should be confined to biological and cultural

30 For further information on Korea’s demographic and settlement patterns see South Korea: Settlement Patterns. 2019. Encyclopaedia Britannica www.britannica.com/place/South-Korea/Settlement-patterns Accessed 3 June 2019. 42 reproduction. Some feminist advocacy groups and the mainstream media present migrant wives as victims of human trafficking and sexual violence in need of state protection, dismissing their agency. Several authors have challenged these representations by exploring the power relationships and autonomy of Filipino wives (Cheng 2011, Choo 2013, Kim

Minjeong 2013). Building on previous studies I show that migrant wives exercise agency by rejecting free multicultural training programs, resisting undue pressure from in-laws and husbands over power relationships, taking control of household finances and choosing to leave unsatisfying relationships. Residency status and financial issues can constrain migrant wives’ agency, but once they have legal resident status and achieve financial independence, migrant wives can exercise even greater control of their lives and push the boundaries of multiculturalism, gender equality and social inclusion. In sum, Filipina’s actions are breaking down barriers in Korean society, challenging the accepted role of migrants and women. They are shaping a more comprehensive multiculturalism, refusing to accept that the burden of change should only be on migrant women, with Korea needing to change as well.

6. Methodology

My fieldwork was based on ethnographic research using an intersectional approach to examine contemporary female marriage migration primarily from the Philippines to Korea.

My research involved 248 informants including migrant wives and their family members31 both in Korea and origin countries, NGO staff and activists, MFSC staff, police officers, pastors and human rights lawyers. Interaction with informants in Korea was in-person or

31 Family members included husbands, children born of Korean fathers living in Korea or being raised by relatives in their mother’s origin country, immigrant children from previous relationships accompanying their mothers, children from previous relationships living in their mother’s origin country, migrant wives’ siblings, parents and in-laws. 43 virtually for those who had remigrated or lived in a migrant wives’ origin country. My fieldwork occurred in three stages from October 2014 until June 2016 and was primarily based in Cheonan.32 Interaction with informants occurred in a wide range of settings including MFSCs, NGOs, churches, shelters for migrant wives escaping domestic violence or in one instance for migrant entertainers fleeing employers, private residences, factories and venues where migrant wives would socialise.

My research primarily focused on the lives of individuals and groups of migrant wives who have or were married to Korean men and live in Korea. Filipino wives were the focus of my research, but I also came across several wives from other countries including Vietnam and

Indonesia. After embedding myself as a volunteer teaching assistant at the Cheonansi

Multicultural Family Support Centre (the Centre), I interacted regularly with a wide range of migrant wives and immigrant children from different nationalities and at various stages of their journey in Korea. Most Filipino migrant wives were open and willing to be part of my research study, eager to form a connection with an English-speaking Korean, a novelty the majority had not encountered. My presence allowed them to ask questions of a native without being restricted by a language barrier. NGOs and teachers at other MFSCs I visited were also willing to introduce migrant wives. After building relationships and trust with a few migrant wives I employed a snowball sampling method to meet new research subjects. I collected a substantial amount of data on migrant wives, their husbands, in-laws and children through participatory observation, involvement in a diverse range of activities, group discussions and semi-structured or in-depth interviews. On many occasions migrant wives would introduce me to their families and we would have conversations, but for the most part family members were guarded in their discussions, which I attributed to valuing their privacy. Only

32 The dates of my fieldwork and locations are outlined under the section Note on Fieldwork Names and Translation. 44 occasionally would family members take an interest in my work and be willing to candidly share their views with me, usually at the behest of my key informant.

Ethnographic research methods were important for my research. I spent extended periods within the community groups I researched, utilising Korean and English language skills. My basic knowledge of Spanish and Bahasa Indonesia from living in countries using these languages was also of benefit as they share common words with the Tagalog and Bisayan languages that Filipino wives would occasionally use to communicate among themselves when I was present. My ability to speak Mandarin and understanding of Bahasa Indonesia enabled me to communicate with some migrant wives and immigrant children from China,

Indonesia and Vietnam.33 Catholic and Christian faith was an important part of some of my research subjects’ lives. Knowledge and understanding of Christianity was important for building trust with these wives and their husbands, with devotion and attendance at religious ceremonies a rite of passage in terms of gaining trust and acceptance as to the motives and intentions of my research.

Consistent with the insights from feminist authors discussed in the literature review section, I have employed narrative strategies in my writing to avoid romanticising migrant wives’ lives.

Even though I am ethnically Korean, I had a unique experience with reflective practice as I am also part of a multicultural family by virtue of my husband being of Indian ethnicity. This helped me to bond with the migrant wives I met, as did my experience migrating for marriage to Australia and the difficulty and exclusion my child suffered while briefly attending school in Korea due to his limited Korean language ability and the very little tolerance and support for children with non-Korean linguistic and cultural backgrounds. My son’s experience with

33 Mandarin was the medium of communication I used to communicate with immigrants from China and migrant wives from Vietnam who barely spoke Korean. Korean was the primary mechanism used to communicate with an Indonesian migrant wife, but my ability to understand Bahasa Indonesia assisted as there were many instances where her Korean vocabulary was limited and she would resort to Bahasa Indonesia. 45 the Korean school system also gave me an insight into the struggle migrant wives face every day. Korean schools are poorly equipped to deal with immigrant and biracial children. My son experienced this first-hand and eventually was asked to stop attending his school due to complaints from other parents that as a non-native speaker, he was slowing other children’s learning. These experiences helped me to avoid the inherent cultural, cognitive and ethnic biases that are commonly held among ethnic Koreans and gave me an appreciation of the challenges that multicultural families experience in Korea.

7. Chapter overviews

My research examines Filipino wives living in Korea to better understand the phenomenon of non-commercial cross-border marriage. Each chapter investigates migrant wives’ agency based on their lived experience navigating challenges as wives, learners, settlers, daughters- in-law, mothers and residents striving for citizenship. Using the framework of reproductive citizenship, I explain how migrant wives navigate pressure to procreate and live according to

Confucian values, with their residency, rights and financial security tied to their fertility and husband’s satisfaction.

The diverse stories collected during my fieldwork are grouped by common themes to analyse reproductive citizenship and migrant wives’ agency at different stages of their marital relationships and time spent in Korea. Given the diversity and complexity of marital experiences and outcomes, the selected stories highlight that it is difficult to generalise about cross-border marriages and migrant wives in Korea. The selected stories show the range of ways Filipinas meet and marry Koreans, the obstacles and difficulties multicultural families face and the embedded agency in migrant wives’ decisions as they navigate their daily lives.

Chapter 2 explores how the state monitors and controls migrant wives’ reproductive choices through immigration rules and multicultural education programs. Up until the mid-2000s the state was a disinterested observer in marriage migration, allowing the UC and commercial brokers enormous power to control the destiny of migrant wives. Through a massive investment in MFSCs, welfare payments and immigration reforms, the state has tied migrant wives’ residency and financial security to fertility and husband’s satisfaction. These changes were prompted by prominent cases of domestic violence and high rates of marital breakdown.

To address these problems the state’s response has been to mould migrant wives through an adult education system promoting reproductive citizenship. The Korean state has set up cultural education centres in Korea and the Philippines catering exclusively to migrant wives, teaching them how to be good wives under the broad banner of multiculturalism. This cultural education reinforces Confucian values of husband dominance and that migrant wives should accept intersectional discrimination of the state based on gender, race and class.

Filipino wives have high levels of education and only engage with the state’s teachings to the extent it eases their path to legal citizenship and provides them with material benefit.

Chapter 3 examines the transition between work and marriage. Filipinas enter Korea as marriage migrants, workers or hostesses. Regardless of their entry visa, most Filipinas enter

Korea with expectations that they will support their parents and relatives left behind in the

Philippines. Migrant workers who marry Korean men have a very different acculturation experience to marriage migrants who rely upon MFSCs and their Korean families. Former migrant workers who marry Korean men have had time to get to know their husbands prior to marriage and have experienced financial independence. For marriage migrants who become workers, employment can be liberating and provide some relief from reproductive citizenship. In this chapter I also examine the situation of Filipino hostesses who are subject to exploitation and often end up as poorly paid sex workers working in foreigner-only clubs

47 and bars. For migrant workers and hostesses, marriage offers the opportunity to stay in Korea indefinitely and protection from exploitative employers, influencing their matrimonial decisions.

Chapter 4 explores how reproductive citizenship affects intimacy and marital satisfaction in multicultural families, challenging the common discourse in the mainstream media that dismisses love, portrays Korean husbands as abusive and represents migrant wives as victims or taking advantage of lonely and naïve bachelors. Reproductive citizenship defines migrant wives’ role in their families and Korean society as mothers, nurturers and caregivers. Korean men also have a defined role in society with marriage and having children associated with masculinity and maturity. Many older bachelors who seek out a marriage migrant espouse a saviour complex viewing themselves as rescuing their spouse from a life of poverty.

However, when examined closely it can be argued the migrant wife is saving her husband through marriage and having his children, restoring his masculinity in the eyes of his peers and family. This dynamic is explored through the case of a Filipino wife happily married to a much older man and compared with an Indonesian wife without children in an unhappy relationship. The two contrasting cases are influenced by reproductive citizenship, with migrant wives who do not bear children unable to receive Permanent Residency (PR) and placed in a precarious situation by the Korean state that exacerbates marital problems.

Chapter 5 examines Presbyterian transnational marriages and how the Christian faith affects the dynamics of reproductive citizenship. For many decades transnational church networks have facilitated a flow of funds and missionaries travelling from Korea to the Philippines.

Recently these networks have been utilised for marriage migration as Korean men seek out

Filipinas from the same religious denomination. There are many similarities between

Christian and ordinary marriage migration. The men involved could not attract a bride in

Korea and the women are persuaded to marry by the potential gain in social standing and

48 material wealth associated with marriage migration. While Christianity can help to reinforce husband dominance embedded in reproductive citizenship, a unique feature of Christian couples is that religious identity and pressure to be good Christians appear more important than reproductive citizenship at the beginning of their marriages. Non-religious migrant wives often use the threat of divorce as a negotiating tactic, while unsatisfied husbands can easily end relationships and have their wives deported. These dynamics are not at play in the

Christian marriages I present due to a fear of disappointing church communities. Over time,

Christian wives build trust and negotiate with Korean families to satisfy their desire to enjoy the privileges that wealth affords in modern Korean society. Having children is helpful in this process, with Korean husbands and families granting greater freedom and respect to migrant wives who have extended a family line, highlighting the persistence of reproductive citizenship in Christian marriages also.

Chapter 6 explores Korea’s ongoing transition to a multicultural state and what this means for biracial and immigrant children of migrant wives. Through examining the stories of children, this chapter explores how the state’s approach of segregating minorities and labelling individuals as multicultural hinders their integration into society. In large cities like Cheonan there are no schools catering for children who cannot speak Korean. A lack of government funding and attention means that these children have no pathway to school, limiting their future options in Korea. The state’s approach to educating the children of migrants echoes the reproductive citizenship approach for their mothers. Immigrant children are educated at

MFSCs, segregated from ethnic Korean children who they are denied an opportunity to interact with. Multicultural education in schools is focussed on supporting biracial children to adapt and accept Korean values, rather than teaching Korean children to respect different cultural backgrounds. This exclusionary and narrow approach of labelling and targeting biracial children leads to bullying and attempts to hide and deny non-Korean heritage.

Migrant wives recognise the problems facing their children and some are encouraging them to retain and be proud of their maternal heritage; I argue that this is an expansive approach toward positive multiculturalism and should be encouraged.

Chapter 7 examines migrant wives’ interactions with the media and civil society as a way of combating discrimination and influencing the future of multiculturalism in Korea. Reported as ‘the influx of outsiders’ (Freeman 2011, 12), the Korean mainstream media has presented migrant wives in simplistic terms as either trafficked victims of violence or runaway brides gaining money and citizenship from naïve and desperate bachelors. In response to unfair media coverage, Filipino wives actively engage with Korean society to change the way they are perceived. Through creating media and forming community groups Filipinas are using collective agency to represent themselves and combat simplistic and inaccurate discourses of migrant wives. These activities are facilitating shared identities for Filipino wives and their biracial children, helping them to avoid having to choose between being Filipino or Korean, which I argue is a better model for Korea’s approach to creating a harmonious and inclusive society.

CHAPTER II: NEW LIFE BEGINS: BECOMING A LEARNER

‘Wow! Korea is the best country. They feed and teach us, look after our babies, and provide such a nice space to hang out with Ate [older female relative or respected friend, and means "sister" in Tagalog]. God bless Korea!’ – Chloe, with great excitement at her first day at the Centre

When migrant wives arrive in Korea their agency is constrained by an immigration system that ties residency to biological reproduction and their husband’s happiness. Having children

50 is ‘not enough’ to obtain legal citizenship34 or approval from in-laws and society. This requires migrant wives to learn the Korean culture and language thus receiving a ‘proper education’. The paradigm of cultural deprivation, or the idea that in order to succeed migrants and minority groups must be re-educated to understand and practice the culture of the dominant group, is embedded in Korea’s multicultural program (Ghazarian 2018). Within

Korea there is low public support for multiculturalism and strong support for cultural homogeneity (Kim Joon 2011, Kim and Jeon 2017). Racial discrimination leads Koreans to be overly deferential to white skinned persons while diminishing those with dark-skin or from poorer countries (Kim and Jeon 2017). These dynamics lead to a sense of cultural condescension towards migrant wives, that is reinforced by multicultural programmes not always aligned with the needs of their target audience. Multicultural family support is broad in nature comprising welfare, adult education for migrant wives and special education for biracial children (Seol 2014).

In everyday conversation the term ‘multicultural’ has taken on negative connotations. When female marriage migrants first began arriving in the 1980s they were a rarity and greeted as

‘saviours of the countryside’ but over time community attitudes have hardened as stories of violence, fake marriages and runaway brides dominate media coverage (Freeman 2011, Song

2015). Gradually the term multicultural has come to be coded as inferring backwardness and inferiority.35 For biracial children, acknowledgement of multicultural heritage can be met with ‘prejudice and disdainful looks’ (Kim 2016, 82). While the most commonly used

34 There is nothing in the Nationality Act (the law that covers naturalisation) that states a female marriage immigrant must give birth to a Korean citizen in order to receive citizenship. However, this appears to have become a de-facto rule over the past decade. 35 Chang (2012) documents that ‘multicultural family’ has three different official meanings as used by different government departments. In the broadest definition, multicultural families encapsulate all migrants including North Korean refugees and in the narrowest sense only applies to families that have one or more members aspiring to Permanent Residency (PR). Watson (2010) argues that multiculturalism is a contested space in Korea and used for different agendas by the conservative and progressive political factions, but even the progressive movement and affiliated NGOs equate multiculturalism with migrants’ assimilation. 51 definition of multicultural refers to a biracial person or a family composed of a Korean and migrant (Chang 2012, Kim Hyun Mee 2016), in practice within schools multicultural

(damunhwa) is used as an insult against biracial children and is associated with poverty, dark skin and inferiority. Yi and Jung (2015, 987) helped establish that in public forums the

‘multicultural discourse in Korea is largely concerned with low-skilled migrants from developing countries and mixed-race families’.

State support for multiculturalism is focussed on assimilating migrant wives into fulfilling the role of devoted mother and homemaker, a role that modern ethnic Korean women have shunned. Multicultural training and welfare policies also embody notions that migrant wives are poor, uneducated and in need of training on how to fulfil basic duties as a mother and wife. Hyun Mee Kim (2007, 119) described the government’s support policies for migrant wives as based on ‘the narrow idea that these women are merely dependents of their Korean husbands’. The paternalistic approach reflects the type of men migrant wives typically marry, who are mostly of low socioeconomic status, have low educational attainment and experience material hardship due to an inability to meet living costs (Sung et al 2013). This fails to account for the heterogeneity of migrant wives and that Filipino wives often have high levels of educational attainment and practical work experience,36 which naturally promote ambitions beyond being a homemaker.

The origins of a gendered, racial and class-based approach to migrant wives reflects long- standing discrimination against women and belief in a homogenous racial society where until recently race and nationality were considered indivisible (Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010).

Confucianism was the official state philosophy during the Chosun Dynasty (1392-1910), emphasising male authority and patrilineal customs (Kim Sungmoon 2013, 360-61).

36 Sung et al (2013, 233) find that based on a survey of Filipino migrant wives, 57.2 per cent had a college education. 52

Confucian traditions were challenged but not removed during Japanese colonial rule (Kim

Marie 2007). Seungsook Moon (2005) described how following the Korean war and in the context of hostile relations with North Korea, the government trained men to be soldiers and loyal to the state’s survival through compulsory military service. After military service, men were required to work as hard and long as possible to provide for their households as breadwinners, with any protest forbidden by successive military regimes that from the 1960s until the 1980s branded labour and democratic movements as militant communism. As the country modernised, women stepped out of the household and into the workforce. While

Confucianism was no longer state mandated, Koreans retained and ‘still largely share a

Confucian-grounded public culture’ (Kim Sungmoon 2013, 360).

Women were often subjugated in the workplace and denied the same opportunities as men from the initial stage of recruitment and job training in a labour market designed to ensure men had access to employment that was stable and full-time (Moon 2005, 66). During

Korea’s industrialisation phase women received much less pay than their male counterparts and were primarily confined to unskilled roles in a gender-segregated labour market. Despite progress on reducing gender inequality in the workplace, Korea still has the highest difference between male and female pay among developed economies.37 Within the home women were expected to be deferential to the male head of the household, responsible for reproduction and rearing children, and managing the domestic sphere of the family. This traditional Confucian role of a mother as primarily a caregiver confined to the domestic sphere has been reinforced by the modern Korean economy’s long working hours38 and what

Lee (1998) termed the ‘fatherless syndrome’ where Korean men spent most of their time and

37 Based on a comparison of all 36 members of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, with data available from https://data.oecd.org/earnwage/gender-wage-gap.htm Accessed 13 November 2018. 38 Park and Lee (2009) found more than half of Korean workers worked more than five days per week compared to 35 per cent in the European Union’s 27 nations (EU27), while 45 per cent of Korean workers worked more than 48 hours in a week, compared to only 15 per cent in the EU27. 53 energy outside of the home pursuing their careers, leaving children dependent on their mothers.

While cultural expectations of mothers have remained stable, the approach to women’s fertility has changed in response to economic concerns. The concept of family planning (birth control, population control, contraception and female sterilisation) was introduced to Korea in 1960 as an economic development and growth strategy in line with the theory that lowering the birth rate would lead to a higher standard of living (Moon 2005). State propaganda was used to promote the belief that unchecked population growth would be a drain on public and household resources. The government’s campaign was supported through free vasectomies and IUD (intrauterine device) insertions (Moon 2005, 82-83), in addition to state sponsored cultural, financial and technical assistance from international agencies.

Welfare and tax incentives financially rewarded families that had a maximum of two children and made it unattractive to have more. As a result, in 1988 48 per cent of all fertile married women were sterilised, while semi-forced mass sterilisations contributed to a reduction in fertility and population growth rates in the 1980s (Moon 2005, 84-85). The government’s policy to control fertility worked too well, with Korea’s fertility rate dropping from 4.5 in

1971 to around 1.2 since 2002, the lowest in the OECD39 despite government policies over the past two decades aiming to increase the birth rate. Baik and Chung (1996) attribute the dramatic fall in Korea’s birth rate to family planning policies failing to consider the major economic transformation in Korea’s society and traditional patriarchal Confucian influences,

39 Korea’s fertility rate was 1.05 in 2017 according to OECD Fertility Rates. Available from www.oecd- ilibrary.org/social-issues-migration-health/fertility-rates/indicator/english_8272fb01-en Accessed 12 August 2019. 54 including son-preference and filial piety,40 which contributed to sharp declines in the marriage and birth rates.

With the transition to democracy reducing the government’s ability to control its citizens and efforts to boost low birth and marriage rates among ethnic Koreans proving ineffective, the

Korean state has instead exerted greater control over marriage migrants as a solution to these complex problems. A range of intermediaries help to facilitate marriage migration including commercial brokers and social and religious networks which often operate on behalf of or at the direction of Korean men seeking a foreign bride. Each intermediary channel has become increasingly controlled by the state through laws regulating commercial marriage brokers since 2008 and tighter visa conditions since 2010 (Song 2015). Marriage migrants are a vulnerable group once they enter Korea. With a lack of knowledge of their rights including access to local support services, as well as an inability to communicate in Korean, they are susceptible to exploitation from groups like the Unification Church (UC), abusive husbands or in-laws. Men who marry and sponsor the visas of migrant wives also face difficulties due to language barriers and integrating their wives into a new family and society. These challenges are often accentuated by husbands’ low economic and educational circumstances and remote locations of residence, which Minjeong Kim (2014, 295-98) has documented are common problems among men who marry migrant wives. While these challenges may ordinarily make newly married couples hesitant to quickly have children, this is not the case for multicultural families as these couples respond to residency and welfare incentives to bear children. For those migrant wives who cannot have children, they are excluded from many rights such as the ability to obtain PR, as discussed further in chapter 4. Aside from government incentives, for migrant wives entering a Korean family with traditional values, it

40 The Confucian obligation for sons to care for elderly parents and for children to be good to and listen to parents based on patriarchal family lines. 55 is their duty to provide offspring, especially a son, to continue the family’s lineage. ‘In the patrilineal order, a legitimate son was indispensable to the continuation of the family lineage’

(Moon 2005, 47). The focus on moulding migrant wives to be mothers and caregivers reflects

Confucianism and the dreams of older generations to maintain traditional Korean values through foreign wives, even as younger native Korean women reject this ideology and embrace the liberation offered by Korea’s modern and increasingly open urban society.

This chapter explores how Korea’s immigration policies and multicultural training programs encourage migrant wives to reproduce both biologically and culturally. Biological reproduction is a core expectation of migrant wives and unless they fulfil their duty to bear new Korean citizens, their residency will never be guaranteed as permanent and a cloud of suspicion will remain over their motives for marriage. Upon arrival, migrant wives are provided with special training at MFSCs teaching them to be caregivers and fit the Confucian mould of a ‘wise mother, good wife’, fulfilling the discursive construct of what was traditionally the idealised image of a Korean woman.41 This traditional view of a woman’s role emphasises domesticity based on a mix of Korean Confucian beliefs, reinforced by

Japanese colonial and Protestant missionary views that promoted women’s roles primarily as caregivers (Choi 2009). These traditional beliefs have been shunned by modern Korean women, reflected in birth and marriage rates that have fallen since the 1970s and recently hit record lows. Government incentives to boost the birth rate, promote marriage and encourage young people to remain in or move to rural areas have been unsuccessful. This has left a cohort of Korean men, often fitting at least one or all the categories of being older, rural and of low socioeconomic status who struggle to attract local women, yearning for a ‘traditional’

41 Several scholars (Choi 2009 and Cho 1996) have used historical records to dispute the characterisation and discursive construct of a ‘wise mother, good wife’ that emphasise and evokes male dominance and women’s role as being confined to the home, instead showing women’s dominance within the household and influence outside, but that these aspects of women’s empowerment are often overlooked in social discourses. 56 woman happy to raise children and stay at home. Hyun Mee Kim (2007) has documented that many migrant wives come from non-Confucian cultural backgrounds and the Korean government’s approach to multiculturalism is solely targeted at migrants, with no expectation of adaptation by Koreans. With Filipinas often wanting to work and have an equal say in family decision-making, the government’s approach to multiculturalism and the expectation migrant wives should conform to traditional Confucian gender norms can cause tension for migrant wives in their interactions with husbands, in-laws and the Korean state.

The chapter is divided into three parts that illustrate how immigration and multicultural programs aim to mould Filipino migrant wives into reproductive citizens and reflects a model of one-way assimilation that places the burden of adaptation solely on migrant wives. The first part discusses Korea’s immigration system and the expectations it places on migrant wives to sustain relationships. Through the case of Mahalia’s story, I show that there are limited consequences for a Korean husband who fails to fulfil his duties as a husband and instead it is the wife who suffers and can face the prospect of deportation. The second part of the chapter introduces the multicultural training facilities where migrant wives receive language and cultural training. Most migrant wives attend classes after arriving and demonstrate agency in various ways, including through skipping class while taking advantage of free crèche services. The final part of the chapter is based on an excursion of migrant wives to a cooking class, where the challenges emanating from the government’s segregation of migrant wives from ethnic Koreans and expectation of one-way adaptation are illustrated.

1. Korea’s immigration system for marriage migrants

The Korean government’s approach to migration has evolved since the end of military rule in

1987, transitioning from a restrictive system to one that has seen Korea have the fastest rate

57 of immigration of any country since 1990.42 Several authors have discussed the influx of

Chosunjok (ethnic Koreans from China) brides following the establishment of diplomatic relations between Korea and China in 1992 (Constable 2005, Freeman 2011, Kim and Bae

2012, Sung et al 2013). During the 1980s and 1990s the Korean government encouraged migration for Chosunjok by simplifying entry procedures and providing a large quota for family reunion and other types of visas, including for work and marriage. Regulation and monitoring of marriage and labour migration during this period was loosely regulated

(MacDonald 2015), while the government allowed groups like the UC and commercial brokers to source female brides (Kim 2017, Song 2015). Caren Freeman (2011, 184) documented that in the 1990s and early 2000s it was relatively easy for Chosunjok women to obtain permanent visas with limited and corrupt screening by immigration officials.43 Lee

(2008) described an ‘open door’ policy for Chosunjok marriage migration, where migrant spouses could obtain visas for their parents after settlement. However, not long after Korea had started to accept large numbers of Chosunjok migrants, public attitudes toward this group quickly deteriorated. An official government report condemning Chosunjok vendors for selling fake medicines was widely discussed in the media in the early 1990s. Following many community clashes, in 2002 the Korean government made it harder for Chosunjok to migrate to Korea by tightening visa eligibility requirements and reducing their quotas for family reunion and work visas. Limited screening of marriage migrant visas was also evident for migrant wives from other countries in the 1990s and early 2000s. Belanger, Lee and Wang

(2010, 1114) state that ‘prior to 2004, the Korean government was not concerned about foreign spouses’, with the Grand Plan policy to promote multiculturalism developed between

42 There were 1.7 million migrants, naturalised citizens and children of immigrants in Korea in 2015, up from less than 43,000 in 1990 (United Nations 2017 and Korea Statistical Information Service - http://kosis.kr/eng/) Accessed 29 May 2019. 43 Bribery and visas in exchange for gratuity were documented in Freeman (2011, 182-84). 58

2005 and 2006 a turning point that has seen a sustained increase in government regulation and funding of multiculturalism, as well as tightening of marriage immigration policies.

Until 2015, visa rules allowed for marriage migrant visas to be issued without any requirement that wives and husbands could communicate with one another independently, allowing commercial brokers to match couples who barely knew one another. Several media stories highlighted cases where Korean men had enticed spouses to migrate by lying about their wealth and mistreating wives upon arrival in Korea. One of the worst cases was in 2010 when a husband who had a history of mental illness murdered his 20-year-old Vietnamese wife only a few days after she had immigrated. The wife had been unaware of her husband’s illness.44 This case and others like it triggered protests from migrant wives, Non-

Governmental Organisations (NGOs) and foreign governments (Kim, Yang and Torneo 2014,

112). The Korean government’s response was to regulate and effectively ban most commercial marriage brokers.

During my fieldwork, I heard many stories from migrant wives and staff in NGOs telling of marriage migrants brought to Korea under false pretences. A few older migrant wives told me they had chosen to marry and migrate after their husbands had said they would lead comfortable lives in Korea, but on arrival they discovered their husbands lived in metal shipping containers that had been converted into rooms (keonteineo). These containers lacked heating systems and in winter only electric mats and blankets were available. Another migrant wife recalled her excitement at arriving in the modern Incheon airport giving way to dismay after several hours of bus journeys, the last being over an unsealed road, culminated with her arriving at a greenhouse that her husband lived in and being forced to start tending to

44 Another Vietnamese bride murdered in South Korea https://namvietnews.wordpress.com/2011/05/29/another- vietnamese-bride-murdered-in-south-korea/ and www.hani.co.kr/arti/society/society_general/275536.html Accessed 22 January 2020. 59 his plot upon her arrival. Two common themes of these cases were that men did not have the financial resources to support their wives and wives had no way of knowing in advance what their lives in Korea would be like.

The problems with Korea’s marriage migration system in the 1990s and 2000s led to high rates of divorce among migrant families. Around 19 per cent of marriages between a Korean husband and migrant wife during the period from 2010-2014 ended in divorce within four years, compared to six per cent of marriages between Korean nationals (Choi et al 2019). The government responded to the high divorce rate among multicultural families by reforming the citizenship and immigration regime in 2015, requiring that migrant wives undertake a compulsory course for marriage migrant adaptation before entering Korea if they are from

‘countries where (the) divorce rate is high and where a big number of its citizens have acquired Korean citizenship’ (Ministry of Justice 2014, 274). These changes were formalised through a new visa system for marriage migrants that tightened eligibility criteria for spouse visas from certain countries. The countries listed in the Ministry of Justice (2014, 274) guidance for spouse visas are Cambodia, China, Mongolia, the Philippines, Thailand,

Uzbekistan and Vietnam. This system was revised in August 2019, with marriage immigrants from these seven countries incentivised to complete an international marriage information program,45 unless they already have given birth to a Korean citizen. If marriage immigrants complete the program then they can receive a temporary spouse visa (F6 visa) with two years validity, but those who do not complete the program can only receive a visa with a maximum stay of six months. Korean nationals wanting to sponsor a spouse for a marriage immigrant visa from the seven countries noted above must also complete an international marriage

45 For information on the visa requirement see www.visaskorea.com/getting-a-f6-visa-in-korea and for information on the content of the program see www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2012/12/2012123122810326420.html Accessed 25 January 2020. 60 guidance program (Korea Immigration Service 2019). Korean sponsors must also satisfy an income test, have not sponsored another marriage immigrant in the prior five years and the government is planning to pass legislation preventing those with a criminal record for domestic violence from being able to sponsor a marriage migrant visa.46

The Korean government’s selection of the seven countries designated for special marriage immigration treatment due to high divorce rates reflects racial and gendered discrimination not justified by evidence. For example, the probability of divorce between Japanese husbands and Korean wives is higher than the rate of divorce between Korean husbands and wives from Cambodia and the Philippines (Choi et al 2019, 14). However, only migrant wives from

Cambodia and the Philippines are required to undertake marriage adaptation courses prior to migrating and have their visa stay dependent on completing the course, while Japanese migrant husbands are exempt from this requirement. Upon arrival in Korea, marriage adaptation courses at MFSCs are only open to migrant wives, not migrant husbands.

One outcome of the tighter regulation of marriage migration has been to promote reproductive citizenship. Giving birth to a child (that is a Korean citizen) allows migrant wives to bypass a wide range of criteria required for entering Korea and receiving Permanent

Residency (PR). If they do not have children, migrant wives from developing countries must continually improve their cultural knowledge in anticipation for the day they will have children. The key policy that has facilitated this system was the 2015 reform to marriage migrant visas, which has increased uncertainty for migrant wives. The old system imposed few conditions on migrant wives to enter Korea and offered an easier path to PR and naturalisation. The 2015 changes placed the burden on husbands and wives to demonstrate

46 The plan to pass this legislation came in response to the case of a recording of a migrant wife who was physically abused by her husband in front of their infant child. See https://en.yna.co.kr/view/AEN20191010004600315 Accessed 25 January 2020. 61 they are a good match for one another to justify the migrant wife’s initial entry into Korea and continued residency. Since 1 January 2015, marriage migrants are required to obtain a F-

6 Spouse of a Korean National visa47 prior to entering Korea, allowing for residence of up to three years (Ministry of Justice 2014, 268-74). To obtain the visa the foreign spouse must either pass a Korean language test or demonstrate the couple are able to communicate using another language fluently. The only alternative to the requirement for a husband and wife to speak the same language fluently is for spouses to complete a basic language and living in

Korea course at a Korean government institute in their origin country prior to receiving their visa. In addition, Korean sponsors must submit a financial statement showing they have the financial resources to support their spouses and any dependents in Korea. The income test can be difficult to meet for sponsors, with Joo (2007, 22) noting a government survey found

52.9 per cent of multicultural families earned less income than the cost of living. Attaining

Korean language proficiency can also be difficult for foreign spouses, who must pass an exam to renew their visa.

If migrant wives cannot reproduce biologically, then all their investment in accumulating

Korean cultural knowledge is for nothing. Migrant wives who do not have children face an uncertain and precarious future, with their residency subject to renewal periodically and the renewal process requiring their husband’s active support. Provided that their marriage is maintained, after two years temporary marriage migrants are eligible to apply for citizenship or alternatively after three years they can apply for a permanent resident visa (F-5) (Ministry of Justice 2014, 242-67). The key criteria for obtaining both PR and naturalisation are passing

47 The English translation is in some instances called a “Housewives visa” rather than a spouse visa, see https://overseas.mofa.go.kr/ph- en/brd/m_3277/view.do?seq=684576&srchFr=&srchTo=&srchWord=&srchTp=&multi_itm _seq=0&itm_seq_1=0&itm_seq_2=0&company_cd=&company_nm=&page=1 Accessed 20 October 2019. 62 written and oral exams testing knowledge of the Korean language and culture48. Migrant wives can gain an exemption from the oral test for naturalisation and an easier path to

Permanent Residency (PR) if they graduate from the Korean Immigration and Integration

Program,49 which for most migrant wives I met during my fieldwork required continuously attending cultural education classes for two years. Most of my research subjects hated these classes but attended as they hoped it would make their path to citizenship easier. Several complained that the content of classes is racist and sexist, with texts stating that women should stay indoors and be interested in household duties.50 In addition to passing tests or completing cultural education classes, to obtain a F-5 visa ‘eligible applicants’ must ‘be well- behaved and have basic qualities and good conduct, which the Minister of Justice finds appropriate to continuously stay in the Republic of Korea’ (Ministry of Justice 2014, 242-67).

However, in my experience talking with NGOs and migrant wives, regardless of their Korean fluency and financial stability, Southeast Asian migrant wives cannot receive PR or naturalise without giving birth to a Korean citizen. Academic studies have also reported similar observations (Kim Minjeong 2013, Kim and Majella 2018, 33). In July 2019, the unwritten rule that migrant wives require their husbands support to stay in Korea gained widespread attention following a recent case of domestic violence.51

Mahalia was a migrant wife I met who had been caught in the awkward situation of wanting to stay in Korea and meeting the objective legal eligibility criteria but lacking the support of her husband who had suffered a mental breakdown. Mahalia’s husband had disappeared one day not long after she arrived in Korea and was eventually found in a mental hospital where

48 See www.hikorea.go.kr/pt/InfoDetailR_en.pt Accessed 8 February 2020. 49 Korea Immigration Integration Program (KIIP) www.mcfamily.or.kr/web/hcontents/hcontents.php?Spageno=7&thislangcd=tl&thislangcd=en Accessed 23 January 2020. 50 www.koreaherald.com/common/newsprint.php?ud=20160406000912 Accessed 15 September 2019. 51 www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2019/07/251_271926.html Accessed 15 September 2019. 63 he has remained since. Mahalia held a temporary spouse F-6 visa that required renewal, but her application had been rejected as the Ministry of Justice assessed she did not meet the criteria of ‘well-behaved’, which implicitly meant she had failed to have a child. Mahalia should have been eligible to renew her F-6 visa as her husband’s illness and abandonment was not her fault and her husband’s family was supportive of her staying, having testified she was committed to her marriage and life in Korea. Despite enlisting the help of NGOs and a human rights lawyer, Mahalia was unable to renew her temporary spouse visa. One day she called me for what was our last face-to-face meeting. She had received a letter noting a final date by which she had to leave Korea. The letter stated Mahalia would be deported if she did not leave voluntarily. Mahalia’s story is discussed in Chapter 3, but for the purposes of this chapter illustrates that cultural training and the ability of a migrant wife to culturally reproduce is worthless in the absence of biological reproduction.

Mahalia’s case and several others illustrate that migrant wives are not adequately protected by Korean law and that they are prone to discrimination by government officials who are reluctant to process PR and citizenship applications unless husbands are supportive. Wives on temporary visas with abusive husbands encounter the choice of deportation or enduring domestic violence in the hope of obtaining PR. When children are involved the situation can become even more challenging. In Chapter 7 I introduce the story of Melly, a Filipino mother with two children who fled from her abusive husband and lived in a shelter provided by the

Women Migrants Human Rights Centre of Korea (WMHRCK). Despite strong support from the WMHRCK she was unlikely to retain custody once she formally filed for divorce. As both women and migrants, migrant wives face complex systems of oppression and discrimination. Kim et al (2017) have documented how courts, immigration and legal officials often look favourably on Korean husbands and in-law families in cases of marriage breakdown and custody disputes, arbitrarily assuming migrant wives are at fault. A migrant

64 wife’s designated role is to fulfil the reproductive citizen ideal of an obedient, patient and pliant carer for a family. When they cannot meet this impossible standard, in cases of relationship breakdown, immigration officials and courts deem migrant wives as unqualified to look after themselves or their children in the absence of their husband’s support. When a multicultural couple separates, usually migrant wives who are not naturalised will be deported,52 often before they can complete the legal process of divorce. This leaves them in a state of legal precarity and forced to return to their home countries as both ‘failed migrants’ and ‘failed wives’ (Kim et al 2017, 39).

2. Multicultural Family Support Centres and the moulding of migrant wives

To understand why the government pushes migrant wives to become mothers and caregivers requires examination of the factors that have helped to create a society where many Korean men feel it is imperative for them to marry and continue their family line. Korea has experienced rapid growth in the proportion of single childless women over the last decade as those of reproductive age have delayed or avoided marriage and child rearing.53 The rapid casualization of the workforce and paucity of secure employment has contributed to young

Koreans turning away from reproducing in order to find and maintain secure jobs (Cooke and

Brown 2015). Discrimination in the workplace against women who marry or have children is deep rooted, forcing many women to choose between their careers and families. Song (2014,

52 A Korean sponsor or guarantor of a marriage migrant has the right to revoke their support for their spouse’s residency and even their ability to file for divorce (Kim et al 2017, 42). Migrant wives can also be deported following divorce unless they have custody of children or if their husband was fully responsible for the divorce. See Marriage migrants often at mercy of Korean husbands www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20190724000709 Accessed 23 January 2020. 53 Government efforts to highlight this phenomenon have led to a social backlash and subcultures developing among women choosing not to marry and have children who are challenging social stigmatism. See www.abc.net.au/news/2019-08-01/nomarriage-movement-south-korea-women-reject-marriage-kids/11367488 and www.abc.net.au/news/2016-12-30/south-korea-site-draws-ire-for-map-of-women-of-child-rearing- age/8155034 Accessed 19 September 2019. 65

6) notes that Korea’s rapid industrialisation of the 1970’s was driven by young, single and usually non-tertiary educated women, who were the primary workforce for the national economy. Barraclough (2012) collected the stories of these women, ‘factory girls’, who forfeited dreams of education to support their families. While Korea is now a ‘prosperous’ country and a young woman is rarely expected to financially support parents or siblings, cultural values remain deeply entrenched and contribute to gender discrimination in the workplace. Korea has the largest gender pay gap in the OECD, while working mothers spend a disproportionate amount of time on household chores and childcare. Marriage can carry a stigma for women in the workplace with expectations that wives will have children and ultimately resign due to long and inflexible work hours and practices. Husbands and fathers are expected to embrace long hours as they are the breadwinners and should be afforded more opportunity. These cultural trends are reflected in the labour statistics with married women

40-60 per cent less likely to be employed or looking for work in urban areas compared with single women (Lee, Jang and Sarkar 2008). Discrimination against married women and mothers in the workplace has meant women have delayed having children and in 2018, over

30 per cent of women who gave birth were aged 35 or older.54 While the trend of young working women breaking away from patriarchal marital expectations is happening across the globe, it is particularly pronounced in Korea due to the different cultural expectations of women and men once they marry.

Social factors have also contributed to Korean women and society becoming accustomed to single-person female households and women having lives of freedom outside the traditional institutions of marriage and family. This social trend can be traced back to 1989 when

54 South Korea's Population Disaster Is Coming https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/south-koreas-population- disaster-coming- 81956?fbclid=IwAR0VWYreNA9aJ8b_Y4Hj1zzxRuPbI35z_wNu0wKtwgqLJYbXKnWKt5nFN0E Accessed 24 September 2019. 66 restrictions on Koreans travelling overseas were removed and the government stopped controlling information and limiting access to foreign media. Foreign influences from mass media (such as Hollywood films and TV programmes) and the advancement of Internet

Technology subsequently led to a rapid liberalisation of thought among Korean society and

Korean women in particular. Despite government efforts to promote marriage and fertility, young women have increasingly chosen to pursue ‘individual development and cosmopolitan experience’ (Song 2014, 20), with greater acceptance of ‘women’s spatial and economic independence’ (Song 2014, 17). This phenomenon is not just confined to Korea, but also other East Asian nations (China, Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore and Taiwan), with Anand and

Woo (2015) describing women opting for a ‘flight from marriage’. This has been a major problem for Korean men who are older, rural and from a low socioeconomic background, as

Korean women are often reluctant to marry less educated men or relocate to rural areas

(Constable 2005, 104) where there are few amenities and employment opportunities for educated women.

To fix the ‘marriage crisis’ confronting Korea, the government promoted marriage migration as a solution. This proved popular among rural males. In rural areas men who fail to marry and have children are generally not considered to have matured and reached adulthood, causing shame for these men and their families (Kim Minjeong 2014). Marriages involving a foreign spouse grew rapidly and accounted for 33.9 per cent of all marriages in rural areas in

2010 (Koo et al 2012). The government has attempted to assimilate migrant wives and their families into mainstream Korean society, intertwining this phenomenon with

‘multiculturalism’.

Unlike other developed countries where multiculturalism is a broad term, in Korea it is primarily confined to migrant wives from less developed countries and their families.

Foreigners from developed countries generally are not considered multicultural individuals or

67 part of multicultural families. Even if migrant wives learn to speak Korean fluently and naturalise, they, their children and families are still recorded as multicultural. Shin (2012, 70) notes, the Korean Multicultural Families Support Act arbitrarily defines naturalised migrant wives as ‘marriage immigrants’ and their families as ‘multicultural’, while in Korean society

‘the category “foreigners” is often decided by an individual’s appearance, not by their actual nationality’. Shin (2012, 71) also notes that these stereotypes apply equally to all migrant wives and concludes ‘that by naming them (immigrant wives), Korean society marks them as homeless’, or without a home.

Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs) are government funded and the main mechanism through which the Korean state promotes its version of multiculturalism and the assimilation of migrant wives. MFSCs exclusively serve migrant wives and their children, informally prohibiting migrant husbands and formally excluding other types of migrants (e.g. workers). MFSCs primarily provide language and culture classes, but also offer a range of activities including organising events and festivals.55 MFSCs are administered by the

Ministry of Gender Equality and Family (MOGEF),56 operating with the policy objectives of supporting the early adaptation and stable settlement of multicultural families, promoting sound cross-border marriages and enhancing Korean society’s receptivity to multiple cultures.57 Implicit in MOGEF’s approach is making access to support services for multicultural families dependent on the gender of the foreign spouse, consistent with a focus on boosting fertility and promoting cultural reproduction for migrant wives but not migrant husbands.

55 For more information on the services offered by MFSCs see www.liveinkorea.kr/portal/USA/page/contents.do?menuSeq=3794&pageSeq=119 Accessed 25 January 2020. 56 Ministry of Gender Equality and Family www.mogef.go.kr/eng/index.do Accessed 20 February 2019. 57 www.mogef.go.kr/eng/pc/eng_pc_f006.do Accessed 22 September 2019. 68

The number of MFSCs and their budget have grown rapidly over the past decade leading to criticism, especially from lower socioeconomic sections of society, that the Korean state now provides better adult education and welfare services to migrant wives than Korean citizens.

There were 21 established MFSCs in 2006 (Seol 2014, 87), but this had grown to 159 by early 2010 (Minjeong Kim 2018, 46), while the government’s budget for multicultural family policies also increased from 6 billion Won in 2007 (AU$6.8 million) to 128 billion Won

(AU$145 million) in 2011 (Seol 2014, 87). According to the Ministry of Gender Equality and

Family’s website there were 217 MFSCs operating in 201658 catering to 318,948 migrant wives (of which half were marriage immigrants and half were naturalised Koreans).59

Multicultural families with children are also eligible for special welfare benefits such as medical support and support for childcare (Kim Anna 2016, 86-90), which has led to resentment from Koreans struggling to make ends meet but ineligible for these services

(Moon Katharine 2015, 14).

During my fieldwork I visited several MFSCs and volunteered with the Cheonansi (Cheonan

City) MFSC60 in South Chungcheong Province (Chungcheongnam-do ), which is relatively close to Seoul and has urban as well as farming areas. There were 1,928 female marriage migrants and 285 male marriage migrants residing in Cheonan in 2017.61 The Cheonansi

MFSC (hereafter, the Centre) provides services to over 200 migrant wives and their families in Cheonan and neighbouring cities. I worked as a teaching assistant for Filipino wives in the beginner and intermediate level language classes. In the beginner’s class, my position allowed me to form strong bonds with Filipino wives who had just arrived and needed the

58 As of 23 January 2020 there appeared to be 218 centres, which were located in all nine provinces of Korea, with a centre in each medium and large city. See www.liveinkorea.kr/portal/USA/main/main.do Accessed 23 January 2020. 59 www.mogef.go.kr/eng/pc/eng_pc_f006.do Accessed 22 September 2019. 60 www.cheonan.go.kr/eng/sub04_02_03.do and www.liveinkorea.kr/center/main/main.do?centerId=cheonansi# Accessed 21 October 2018. 61 Based on Statistics Korea data, available from www.kosis.kr Accessed 21 October 2018. 69 most help to develop their Korean. I had the chance to observe and become involved in their adjustment to life in a new country. Wives from the language classes gathered regularly as a group and I socialised with them outside of class. We regularly visited each other’s residences, watched our children play together and met for shopping, eating and drinking coffee. I also volunteered as an assistant teacher or translator in other regular classes (one on cultural education and another on the naturalisation exam) and irregular classes (fire prevention with local firefighters, learning computer skills and cooking with Korean volunteer wives). Some Filipino wives brought their babies to classes as they did not have much help from others and classes were scheduled when babysitting services were unavailable. In these cases, I cared for their babies.

2.1. A gendered approach

Migrant wives are identified for special treatment once they arrive in Korea. Either before or upon arrival migrant wives and their husbands are advised that wives should attend their closest MFSC and register for classes. Migrant husbands also face similar challenges to migrant wives and many policy documents are gender neutral in their treatment of marriage migrants.62 However, I never observed a male marriage migrant at a MFSC and it was common knowledge migrant husbands were unwelcome. Many of the officers from

Governmental Organisations and staff at MFSCs I interviewed, struggled to justify why there are gender biases in the way marriage migrants are treated by the state. For instance, when I asked the Centre whether my Indian-Australian husband could join any of their classes, they seemed confused and answered they would let me know after discussion within their team. A

62 See Korea Immigration Service (2012) and the main Government website concerning MFSCs www.mogef.go.kr/eng/pc/eng_pc_f006.do Accessed 24 September 2019. 70 few days later, they told me that foreign husbands could not attend or access any facilities the

Centre offered. When I asked why, they could not provide any policy or rule that prohibited male marriage migrants and when pressed, justified their decision on the grounds our family did not require help to educate my child well.63 ‘The Confucian notion that a woman’s role is as a daughter, wife and mother (that) has prevailed into the present’ (Jung 2014, 44) and that men should work outside the home, can be traced to a ‘gendered history reflecting patriarchal kinship logic’ (Abelmann and Kim 2004, 108). Implicit in this history is that the male is the head of the household while women are subordinate, with the male as the leader of the household and defining its place in society. In the context of cross-border marriage this has meant non-Korean husbands produce non-Korean households while non-Korean wives are assimilable and can still be part of Korean households. This is reflected in male marriage migrants only gaining the legal right to assimilate in 1998, while female marriage migrants had received these right decades earlier. Choo (2016) notes that discourses in the Korean media and popular debates conflate migrant women and marriage immigrants, rendering invisible migrant husbands who settle in Korea.

Even though most Koreans who marry a migrant would likely have better job prospects than their spouse due to language ability, knowledge of Korean work practices and deskilling due to migration, gender role stereotypes still apply when a Korean woman marries a foreign husband. This was something I experienced regularly as the mother of a Korean biracial child. During my fieldwork most people presumed that I would know better than my husband how to raise our child and that he would naturally work rather than look after children. Due to deep rooted patriarchal family ideology still embodied in family card systems that are used

63 Government documents and websites do not mention that MFSCs are only for women (see ibid), though Chung and Yoo (2013, 241-42) note that the Multicultural Family Support Act of 2008 was focussed on migrant brides. 71 for registering households and identification, biracial children from Korean fathers are more readily accepted in society than biracial children from Korean mothers.64 This gendered notion of acceptance was quickly absorbed by many of the Filipino wives I met through the

Centre. Chloe, a Filipina wife who I met through the Centre said, ‘Our [migrant wives’] children are Koreans, but what happens when the mother is Korean? After all, your child isn’t

Korean.’

Chloe’s definition that paternity determines Koreanness demonstrated that MFSCs are effective in projecting Confucian patriarchal kinship beliefs on to migrant wives. These beliefs promote the idea that reproduction and raising children are women’s responsibility, which is a key concept underlying government welfare and education programs. These programs teach wives from developing countries how to raise children in the ‘Korean way’ as practices from developing countries are considered backward. A 2005 Government survey of multicultural families questioned migrant wives’ ability to care for infants, assist children with homework and interact with teachers. These traits were considered essential for wives but not husbands, with foreign husbands not surveyed (Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010, 1122).

The government’s focus on migrant wives reflects the view that a husband’s dutiful place is outside of the household working, rather than staying at home raising Korea’s next generation. In addition, the interviews and conversation with staff at the Centre reminded me of Ji-Yeon Yuh’s (2002, 9-10) work exploring Korean migrants in the US, highlighting the

‘glaring contrast between Korean poverty and American wealth, which is too often interpreted as the contrast between Korean backwardness and American modernity’. This discriminatory dynamic towards migrants has also emerged in Korea, with many ethnic

Koreans assuming wives from Southeast Asia are poor, uneducated and backward people

64 Until 1998, citizenship by descent was only eligible for children of Korean fathers, not Korean mothers. To acquire citizenship by descent from a Korean mother, the individual must be born after 13 June 1998. 72 who need to learn from advanced, modern and superior Koreans. While parenting classes are useful for first time mothers, experience is often more important than classroom learning. I was surprised to learn from the staff that no matter how many children migrant wives had had previously, the staff strongly encouraged migrant wives to attend parenting classes each time they gave birth, even if they had attended previously. Having had two children and finding that the best educator for raising children was experience, I was curious as to why the staff thought migrant wives needed extra guidance. The response was openly stereotypical and othering, claiming that migrant mothers did not understand hygiene, sanitary and health conditions and did not know how to educate their children properly. After spending time with migrant wives at the Centre I did not have this impression, but staff at the Centre perceived their students as a collective group needing to relearn basic hygiene as they had come from poor countries, backward cultures and were lazy. This attitude of MFSC staff towards migrant wives’ mirrors what Lee (2010) has documented, that Koreans migrating overseas have historically been treated as a subordinate group by the native-born population.

2.2. Learning Korean language and culture

Teaching the Korean language is a major focus of the Cheonansi MFSC (the Centre), part of a broader push by the state to promote the Korean language. Unlike some developed countries where it is possible for migrants to stay permanently while not becoming fluent in the national language, in Korea the acquisition of language is a pre-condition for PR and citizenship. Teachers and staff at the Centre were strict in forcing migrant wives to use

Korean in all conversation. According to the Centre, use of native languages hindered

(gulrimdol) learning Korean, regardless of wives’ arrival time and Korean proficiency. Even wives who had just arrived in Korea and had almost no Korean vocabulary or understanding,

73 were told to only speak Korean. Migrant wives were also encouraged to speak Korean outside of the Centre, with annual public speaking contests for migrant wives sponsored by governmental and civil organisations.

The push to promote the Korean language among the migrant population is heavily focussed on migrants from developing countries. At the Centre it was very rare for a migrant wife from a rich country to attend. Most migrant workers are also required to learn and speak the

Korean language, with a requirement for unskilled migrant workers to pass a Korean language exam as part of their qualification requirements since July 2003. However, this system has recently been shown to be corrupt with widespread cheating.65 Furthermore the merits of asking temporary migrant workers to learn Korean before arriving when they have no prospect of settlement is questionable. Jin-kyung Lee (2010, 214) notes the Korean state has used language education to promote subimperialism which reflects the idea of middle- power states seeking to expand their spheres of influence. To promote the Korean language among those interested in learning and enable migrants to learn Korean prior to their arrival, the Korean government has set up 180 language and culture training centers in over 60 countries.66 However, many migrant workers work in factories or jobs requiring limited conversation and are not permitted to stay more than five years, consequently there is limited incentive to learn and in my experience many are unable to speak Korean beyond a basic level. This was the case for Rosamie and Jaslene, who both came to Korea as migrant workers after 2003, but until recently had not learnt Korean as they both worked in jobs not requiring Korean language ability. After marriage they were finally able to access the language classes at the Centre and improve their Korean. While government policies dictate a

65 Cheating rampant in Korean language tests www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2019/10/181_276818.html?fbclid=IwAR2q- wjxtmkAaxq4cuRGO3_0jWmUqJZ4E4sb7hQKy_lnVKCiIzIRJsupuiA Accessed 18 October 2019. 66 As of June 2019 according to www.ksif.or.kr/ste/ksf/hkd/lochkd.do?menuNo=20101800 Accessed 30 September 2019. 74 common requirement for both migrant workers and marriage migrants to learn Korean, only migrant wives are adequately supported to learn and master it.

Better job and life prospects motivate migrant wives to learn Korean, especially those who have recently arrived. Language ability can help migrants to better understand and integrate into the power structures of Korean society and domestic life. Many Filipino wives have a strong desire to find employment but language barriers pose major obstacles to working, as well as relationships in the home, daily life and understanding mass media. When I asked wives at the Centre why they diligently studied, they often said they desperately wanted to become professional career women and achieve the ‘Korean Dream’ of being rich. Many wives were trying to earn an income while studying at the Centre, including through pyramid schemes (dadangyepanmae) or selling used items online. Their choice to try and make money reflected a desire to have freedom to buy whatever they wanted and send remittances to their families in the Philippines. These were both sensitive topics for many migrant wives and things they did not feel comfortable asking their husbands to provide money for. As reproductive citizens they were expected to make sacrifices for their children and husband in

Korea.

Teachers at the Centre praised Filipina’s work ethic, telling me they learned quickly and actively participated in class. The class I regularly attended was always separated into different groups based on nationality, with Moon (2012, 97) noting that it is common for migrant women to form their own national communities within MFSCs. The ethnic Chinese

(non- Chosunjok) sat on the right side of the first row, while Filipinas sat on the left side.

Cambodian wives sat in the middle row and Vietnamese wives sat at the back of the class.

Sometimes Japanese and Pakistani wives attended, but their attendance was irregular. Filipina and Chinese students were the most enthusiastic to learn and chose to be as close as possible to the front. All the Filipinas had obtained a university degree prior to marriage, while some

75 of the Chinese wives had university degrees and all had at least a high school degree. In stark contrast were the Cambodian and Vietnamese wives, who were younger with ages ranging from 18 to early 20s. They had less education with some having not finished high school. The

Cambodian and Vietnamese wives lacked the desire to learn, but they attended classes for other purposes such as wanting to socialise with other wives and escape from their homes to have free time.

Learning the Korean language and culture was challenging for wives in the beginner’s class, especially for those like Chloe who had recently arrived. Chloe was from the Philippines and lived in Asan (the neighbouring city of Cheonan). She spoke English like a native speaker, but most non-Filipina students barely understood English. Chloe was sociable and tried to bridge the gap between the different ethnic groups in the class, making English conversation with the Vietnamese and Cambodian wives. However, they felt uncomfortable and did not respond beyond acknowledging Chloe. Learning Korean was already too challenging for the

Vietnamese and Cambodian wives, who complained of headaches (murigaapuda) when they heard English. Chloe’s outgoing personality helped her in cultural classes that required interaction with others. Darna67 was the most hardworking student I encountered, praised by her teachers. Darna was smart and good at following rules, an obedient listener focussed on learning. Darna arrived in Korea a little earlier than Chloe and as soon as she arrived became pregnant. Not all students in the beginner’s class were new arrivals. Jaslene had lived in

Korea for more than 10 years. She used to be a migrant worker but married a former colleague who was several years younger. Jaslene was the only wife married to a younger man at the Centre and other Filipinas called her ‘lucky lady’. Jaslene was pregnant and did

67 Her story will be introduced in Chapter 4. 76 not care much about learning, but she attended class to socialise and meet friends prior to giving birth.

Rosamie, Benilda, and Siti (an Indonesian wife) were in the intermediate class and were hoping that improving their language ability would assist with residency and citizenship applications. Rosamie was a migrant worker who had met her Korean husband through a former colleague. She had recently given birth to her second child and her mum had visited from the Philippines to assist. With two children born as Korean citizens Rosamie was determined to naturalise as soon as possible, telling me it was the least she could do for her children. Benilda was a young mother in her mid-20s and had a strong desire to assimilate as a Korean. She cared about fashion and style, conscious of how Koreans looked disparagingly at foreigners. Benilda tried her best to look and act like a Korean and could be mistaken for being a native. During one of our gatherings outside of the Centre Benilda picked up her son from a childcare centre and asked me how she looked, intending to not look like a Filipina.

Benilda often asked me to check text messages to her son’s teacher as she was conscious of making spelling mistakes. Filipino wives were proactive in asking close Koreans for help when needed with language matters, but in most cases, they did not know any Koreans well enough apart from their in-laws. This made life challenging and I was able to help them write anniversary cards for their husbands, letters for mothers-in-law, deal with banks, refund money from supermarkets and with all kinds of translating.

The most common things that Filipinas wanted to learn from Korean classes were skills to deal with in-laws and pass language tests for PR and citizenship. On their social media they shared language tips and useful Korean phrases. These included examples of daily conversation with in-laws and husbands. Phrases included: ‘mum, please don’t yell at me’,

‘please stop drinking honey’ and ‘don’t hit me’. Social media was a way that different generations of migrant wives connected, with older wives advising their younger

77 contemporaries not just on how to avoid violence, but also how to prepare for naturalisation exams. Filipinas who had already passed the exam shared tips and wisdom with those preparing for it. The prominence of the Korean language was felt keenly across each generation of migrant wives. The link between learning Korean language skills, a stable family home and professional success, began at the Centre.

Teachers in the culture class at the Centre were all in their 50s or older and had trouble relating to students who were much younger and often held different values. The teachers encouraged Confucian values and customs including teaching that students should bow to elders, worship ancestors and wear Korean traditional costumes (Hanbok). Cultural classes reinforced migrant wives’ duty to be deferential to their husbands and parents-in-law. For example, during class one teacher said, ‘You ladies must learn how to be proper Koreans, so you can serve your husbands and in-laws properly. Once you have children, you don’t want them to feel ashamed of you, so learn how to behave like Koreans for your children’s sake.’

Teachers often asked students without children to raise their hands and then encouraged them to have children as soon as possible adding, ‘this is your duty as a wife, the best way to please your in-laws and will help with obtaining citizenship’. The culture teachers I interviewed privately criticised the ‘really strange (jinjjaisanghe) family situations’ of students who normally had much older husbands and were often of low socioeconomical status. They believed that in order to promote a ‘normal family’ in these situations, the best way was to train wives from developing countries in traditional Korean values and cultural practices, rather than encouraging wives to ask their husbands to adopt to foreign cultures and values.

2.3. The Centre: a safe space for migrant wives

The Korean government created MFSCs as national spaces and symbols of a multi-ethnic but monocultural society. MFSCs emphasise a narrow version of Koreanness and the assimilation of migrant wives. This approach rejects the notion that multiculturalism requires a two-way sharing of cultures in a single place. There was only one direction in the learning process at the Centre as teachers were not interested in learning from or valuing students’ culture.

Within this space, the Centre emphasised that wives should adopt conservative traditional

Korean ideas of gendered roles, which were presented as a necessary condition for wives to gain PR and citizenship.

Despite its major focus on assimilation, the Centre was used as a transnational and globalised space for migrant wives to escape from their Korean families and find warmth and comfort away from the humble, tiny or cold houses that most lived in. The Centre provided a gathering place to meet friends and a safe space away from in-laws and husbands. Wives from diverse cultures and different countries would get to know each other through trading goods or conducting group purchases. Regardless of their origin country, most wives at the

Centre wanted to save money and this was a unifying topic of discussion. Migrant wives would share their information and normally one person would order goods from the internet before distributing them at the Centre. Using their limited Korean and body language, migrant wives from different countries formed friendships through purchasing cheap items to use in Korea and sending them back to their origin countries. By purchasing in bulk as a group the prices were low. During class break times the goods would be distributed.

Whenever there were goods, the wives were all excited and happy to receive their purchases.

Through exchanging Korean Won they would practice and teach one another how to count, making jokes about the large number of 0s in Korean prices. As newcomers, learners and migrants, they shared a camaraderie. Sometimes, some of the younger (dongseng) wives did

79 not have money and other older (eonni) wives gave them a loan. None of the wives were financially well off, but they helped each other and made sure everybody could participate in a group purchase if they wanted. Through these group purchases, migrant wives were able to use their agency and transform a space of assimilation into a truly multicultural centre.

One of the reasons that migrant wives were able to utilise and enjoy some freedom within the

Centre was because it was non-threatening for Korean husbands. All Korean staff at the

Centre were female, except for two male staff. This made the Centre appealing for husbands worried their wives may run away or leave them if they met another man. Many Korean husbands typically did not let their migrant wives leave their family’s sight when they first arrived in the country. Sometimes wives had to wait a few years until they gained the trust of their husbands and in-laws. Wives mostly resented their controlling Korean families and would lie about going to the Centre when instead they would meet with friends for shopping and eating.

Another way in which migrant wives were able to rebel against their Korean families and socialise with friends was through utilising the free crèche at the Centre and skipping class.

The crèche was only meant to mind babies for a few hours while migrant wives attended their regular classes. On one occasion I heard a carer scold a migrant wife saying, ‘Where did you go after you left your baby here and weren’t in the class?’ Since mothers-in-law and husbands disapproved of sending children to daily childcare services, migrant wives normally stayed with their children at home until they reached school-age. Being trapped at home looking after young children with little support and unable to travel freely was exhausting and depressing for wives. Receiving a few hours of free time to relax made the Centre like an oasis and was worth the risk of being lectured by staff, in-laws or husbands if they skipped classes to catch up with friends.

3. Outside of the classrooms

The opportunity to socialise with friends was a major incentive for migrant wives to attend classes at the Centre. After classes, Filipino wives (Benilda, Chloe, Darna, Jaslene, Rosamie),

Siti (the only Indonesian at the Centre) and I would have regular gatherings at a fast food restaurant to eat burgers or fried chicken, then move to a coffee shop before going shopping.

Sometimes other Filipino wives joined the gathering, but the seven of us met regularly.

Within this group many wives shared the common story of vivid memories and excitement relating to their arrival in Korea, a time when relieved parents-in-law greeted them with open arms. Chloe said, ‘I still remember my parents-in-law (sibumonim), sister-in-law (sinui) and husband (nampyeon) were waiting for me at the airport. Nampyeon was holding a bunch of flowers and others were waving hands and calling my name as soon as they found me. When

I walked towards them, they ran towards me and mother-in-law (eomeoni) held my hand and dragged me into the toilet. She helped me into a thick winter coat which she had bought for me. I’d never worn such thick clothes in my life!’ Darna replied, ‘Yes, my eomeoni also brought a coat, which I’m wearing. I saw snow for the first time in my life once I stepped out from the airport. It was beautiful.’ The wives examined Darna’s coat, feeling the material and checking the brand name. All of the wives shared their first experience of arriving at Incheon airport and their first time experiencing snow and winter in Korea. During the entire winter of

2015/2016, Darna wore the same coat to class every day as it was her only one, but also because she treasured it as the first and last gift from her eomeoni. Almost every weekday and sometimes on weekends as well, migrant wives would gather at the Centre, their houses or somewhere outside for shopping or eating. They did not normally have much money so purchased cheap goods such as make up, T-shirts, Korean snacks and small items they could

81 send to the Philippines or enjoy for themselves. Wives were also excited to meet at the

Cheonan bus terminal, which had lots of small shops and many people passing by. Even though these migrant wives were not able to purchase much, they still managed to enjoy city life and valued the ability to use public transport and have a degree of independence from their Korean families.

Gatherings were an opportunity for migrant wives to freely express themselves away from the judgement and suspicions of husbands and in-laws. When they gathered for food at a home, wives would prepare one or two Filipino dishes and ordered fried chicken that they ate with rice. They giggled and were happy to eat with their hands in comfort. In front of their

Korean family they had to use chopsticks and spoons for meals, eating cold side dishes with hot soup that they secretly disliked. Eating their favourite dishes with their fingers in the traditional Filipino way was a form of subtle resistance and freedom from the confines of

Korean family expectations. Husbands and in-laws were opposed to their wives socialising with other Filipinos, worried they may be poorly influenced and run away. However, Filipino wives highly valued meeting and watching Filipino TV together. This was not always possible as sometimes migrant wives lacked the bus fare to travel.

3.1. Cooking class in Emart

The Centre occasionally delivered training in coordination with local institutions, which were extremely popular with students as they provided a welcome alternative to learning the

Korean language and culture. One of these classes involved firefighters who taught fire safety. During these classes, trainers informed students of basic fire safety rules in the household and how to react when there is a fire, with students quizzed to check their understanding. Migrant wives who answered correctly received gifts such as fire

82 extinguishers, which they happily received, with many saying how much they loved to receive free goods. However, the most popular class was a cooking class at an upmarket shopping mall where they would cook one main dish and one side dish.

For migrant wives who were often confined to the home or classroom and feared to venture to unfamiliar places, the opportunity to visit an upmarket mall made the cooking class highly appealing. Diwata, the sole Filipina staff at the Centre, was responsible for organising the class. One month prior to the class she briefly visited the language classes and asked wives to raise their hands if they wanted to register, with all students raising their hands. Diwata told some of the Filipinas they should give up their spot this time and she would find space next time. One month later the day of the cooking class arrived and wives boarded the bus to take them to the shopping mall. A few had brought their babies despite instructions not to, claiming they could not find care. But the truth was that the wives did not want to have to return with the bus to pick up their children from the Centre and instead wanted to stay at the shopping mall after the cooking class. Diwata initially did not let these wives board the bus, explaining that there were no car seats on the bus and the kitchen classroom was not a safe environment for small children. After the wives began crying and standing in front of the bus,

Diwata scolded them and relented, allowing mothers and their babies to board. Some wives who did not have a spot waited patiently in case extra seats were available on the bus if wives on the list did not turn up. Unfortunately for those waiting the bus was full. The wives who missed out went back to the Centre disappointed and Diwata shouted to them, ‘Next time! I promise you.’

Even in the crowded bus the Centre pushed migrant wives to speak Korean and refrain from using their native language, which had the effect of silencing discussion. Chloe sat next to me and due to her excitement had forgotten the rules, speaking loudly in English, Bisayan

(Chloe’s mother tongue) and Tagalog with anyone around her. Diwata interrupted and firmly

83 told Chloe to only speak Korean on the bus and to practice with me. However, Chloe’s speaking ability was very limited and she became quiet. This was noticed by many around us who began laughing at the situation and the sudden quietness of the bus in the absence of

Chloe’s voice. As we got closer to the shopping mall68 the wives’ excitement increased and many ran from the bus to the mall.

Most of the migrant wives I met during my fieldwork led parallel, yet separate, lives from ethnic Koreans with few interactions outside of those with their families, staff at MFSCs or activists in NGOs. The cooking class provided a rare opportunity for migrant wives to socialise with Koreans, providing a one-hour window for migrant wives to meet and interact with them. Each cooking station had three to five migrant wives with one Korean housewife assisting. At the start of the class the instructor gathered everyone together and explained how to prepare the dishes. The Filipinas stood next to Diwata and I for a translation as the instructor only spoke Korean. However, many of the wives quickly lost interest in replicating the demonstration of how to cook marinated pork (dwaejigalbi) and sliced radish (muchae), instead taking photos and videos. After the demonstration ended, everyone went back to their allocated tables to start cooking with written instructions printed in Korean. Most of the ingredients had been prepared prior and the instructions were easy to follow, but on my table a Korean wife could not wait for the migrant wives to read through the instructions and began chopping radish, castigating them to ‘Be quick (ppallippalli), why are your hands are so slow?’ The Korean wife instead did all the work, providing no opportunity for migrant wives to participate. Chloe, Jaslene and a Vietnamese wife were at my table and a few times attempted to assist, but eventually gave up and just observed the Korean. Chloe was frustrated and asked me to translate to the Korean wife that she should ‘slow down and let

68 https://store.emart.com Accessed 9 September 2019. 84 everyone have a turn’. The Korean wife was fascinated to hear Chloe’s English and with a new-found respect asked me to translate that she really wanted to learn and to ask Chloe if she had any tips. The wife continued to cook independently but simultaneously tried to practice her broken English. Chloe whispered to me that she felt even more frustrated and bothered.

The Korean wives assisting with the cooking class were curious about the migrants and for most, this was their first interaction. Benilda and Rosamie were at the table nearby where a

Korean wife was trying to spread the ‘gospel’, speaking a few words of English to Filipinas and using Korean for the wives from other countries. However, the language barrier made evangelising difficult and the migrant wives were confusing the evangelising with cooking instructions. The religious Korean wife noticed I was translating and dragged me away from my table to facilitate her proselytising. Able to communicate her message, the proselytiser began touching Benilda’s long hair and said she was the most beautiful migrant wife and looked like a Korean, which was meant as a compliment. The proselytiser insisted Benilda should attend her church and wrote down Benilda and Rosamie’s address on a small note.

Both were reluctant to provide their address, but the Korean wife kept pointing her finger at a note pad and pushed them until they wrote them down. Rosamie showed she was not happy, whispering in my ear that her husband had said, ‘Never provide any personal information to strangers.’ On the other hand, Benilda was excited to receive attention and praise from a

Korean. When the meals were ready each group took lots of photos to commemorate the event. Everyone circulated around the class to rate the presentation of each table’s dishes, with the instructor tasting and providing comments. The migrant wives also tried the food from different tables and sent photos to their Korean families to show they were learning to be good wives and uploaded posts to social media.

Everyone seemed happy to share lunch and the barriers between the migrants and Koreans came down as people ate, with attempted conversations using a mix of Korean, English and body language. After everyone had eaten Diwata distributed a feedback survey, but openly announced that all migrant wives ‘should not forget to tick “highly satisfied” otherwise the company providing the cooking class will cancel it.’ Chloe was frustrated at this situation and complained, ‘It’s not fair. I want to put honest feedback on how I felt about the Korean ajumma (married woman)! She wasn’t helpful and made it impossible to learn.’ Chloe approached Diwata to discuss the feedback form and Diwata immediately switched the conversation to Tagalog and pulled her aside. Soon after Chloe came back and said, ‘Well…

I can’t write honestly. If I do, other wives may miss out and get upset.’ She ticked ‘highly satisfied’ for each question without providing any additional comments, submitting the paper to Diwata before leaving the class with other migrant wives to explore the shopping mall.

While the cooking class did little to improve the ability of migrant wives to prepare Korean food or train them to serve their Korean families, peer pressure and a sense of fairness meant it ended up receiving excellent ratings. While frustrated with the Korean housewives,

Benilda, Chloe and Rosamie admitted that they liked the free food, bus ride and most of all, the free time at the shopping mall. They mentioned they plan to attend the monthly cooking class in future. For migrant wives with controlling or paranoid husbands there can be few opportunities to wander around a high-end mall. Despite the class attempting to teach migrant wives to fulfil the role of a traditional Korean mother serving food to her family, the migrant wives used the opportunity to explore beyond their designated role. The Korean wives assisting the class received 30,000 Won, practiced English, met exotic foreign friends and could brag about their experience on social media. Some were on a religious mission to ‘save lost lambs of God’ as the religious Korean wife described. For the conglomerate (chaebol) sponsor and host of the event, the class promoted a positive corporate image, demonstrating

86 to customers their support for a marginalised class (sooegyecheung) and embrace of multiculturalism. Lastly, the Centre benefitted as well by reporting to the government that they provided a successful programme to promote Korean culture in partnership with local communities.

Conclusion: disguised resistance

The Korean government pushes migrant wives to be reproductive citizens through immigration and multicultural education programs, which incentivise biological and cultural reproduction. These programs encourage migrant wives to master the Korean language and culture so they can raise Korean children, serve in-laws and fulfil reproductive and maternal roles in the household. MFSCs are a crucial space for transforming migrant wives into reproductive citizens, promoting that wives should adopt Korean cultural values and ‘filial piety’ (Ong 1999, 114).

The role of a reproductive citizen is not in line with the cultural values of Filipinas, who aspire to occupy sites of authority beyond their domestic sphere. As will be discussed in coming chapters, most Filipinas I encountered were not content to stay at home and rely on breadwinner husbands to navigate major life decisions. Most Filipinas resisted pressure to be reproductive citizens and whenever possible used MFSCs to fulfil their desires to enjoy individual freedom as young women in modern Korea. Filipinas who attended MFSCs were good learners, but as Filipino wives are normally multilingual and tertiary educated, they are at an advantage compared to most other migrant wives who speak only their native language and are not tertiary educated. Rather than focus on learning the Korean language and culture,

Filipino wives would often use the MFSC as an opportunity to escape the control of their

Korean families. At the Centre, Filipinas had transformed a space designed to assimilate them

87 into a truly multicultural space where they maintained their native culture, language and forged a sense of shared struggle with other migrant wives. While on paper the MFSC recorded teaching 15 ‘highly satisfied’ migrant wives to cook dwaejigalbi and muchae at the

Emart cooking class, the Filipinas did not learn much and had mainly attended for the excursion rather than to learn how to cook. In coming chapters I discuss how Filipinas often resent being told to learn Korean culture and cooking when they are the only ones expected to adapt and Koreanise. Instead, Filipinas use opportunities like the cooking class to fulfil their desire to explore new places independently of Korean families, enjoying the modern shopping opportunities Koreans take for granted but are a rare experience for migrant wives confined to the home.

This chapter has argued that Filipino wives resist attempts to suppress their Filipino culture even when they lack security over residency and are just beginning their lives in Korea.

Within the confines of the MFSC and Korean homes, newly arrived migrant wives demonstrate a disguised resistance to attempts to control their dreams and agency. While in front of Korean families they passively eat cold side dishes and soups with rice and are forbidden from socialising freely, they still find opportunities to meet with their friends, where they can freely eat Filipino food with their fingers and retain their Filipino culture and language. Over time migrant wives adapt and integrate into their new society, able to selectively choose the lessons and ideologies they adopt from the classroom and everyday lives, which will be explored in coming chapters.

CHAPTER III: DESIRE DRIVEN AGENCY AS AN EARNER

The categories of female migrants—either marriage or working—are not mutually exclusive with the boundaries between labour and marriage migration blurred as women switch from one category to the other or even occupying both (Fresnoza-Flot 2018, 206, Lan 2008, Le

Bail 2017, 229). For migrant wives obtaining a job marks a major change in their lives and can transform transnational family-making practices. Unlike the recently arrived migrant wives discussed in Chapter 2 who were highly dependent on their husbands to navigate daily life, migrant wives who have jobs are more autonomous. With their own income and identity outside of the home they can gain greater financial independence and agency within their domestic relationships. A few of the stories presented in this chapter are of households where the migrant wife is responsible for managing family finances and providing pocket money to her Korean husband, somewhat of a reversal from the stereotypical roles of Korean husbands and migrant wives.

Compiling stories for this chapter was one of the most challenging parts of my fieldwork.

Unlike the recently arrived marriage migrants described in Chapter 2 who quickly trusted and accepted me, migrant workers who married Korean men were far less open. They had learned through experience how to navigate daily life in Korea and did not need anything from me.

This was a different situation to the recently arrived marriage migrants, who would often ask my help for translation or basic tasks like how to use public transport. While the marriage migrants were like an open book and facilitated interviews with their husbands, in-laws and invited me to gatherings (see Chapters 4 and 5), the migrant workers were closed and wary until I had gained their trust. Having had bad experiences with Korean employers, co-workers and society in general, migrant workers were often cautious of ethnic Koreans like me.

The wariness of migrant workers towards Koreans is reflective of immigration rules and government policies which empower employers to effectively control a migrant worker’s residency and limit their ability to change employer, a system enabling mistreatment and exploitation (MacDonald 2015). A central feature of Korea’s immigration program is that there is no pathway to settlement for migrant workers, who must leave the country after completing their contracts and cannot stay in Korea for longer than four years and 11 months

(Jeon 2018, 212, Shin 2015, 795).69 Many Filipina workers would prefer to stay longer and if they marry a Korean are permitted to remain permanently as migrant wives. Among all the migrant groups in Korea, Filipinas reportedly have the most diverse pathways for marrying

Koreans. The majority meet their husbands through arranged marriages (usually through transnational church networks, friends or family). Some meet their husbands while they are legal (documented) or illegal (undocumented) migrant workers. Lastly, a few meet their husbands as clients while working in bars and clubs in special zones for US military bases.

Many of the Filipinas working in bars have undergone harsh experiences, including as victims of trafficking as described in this chapter. As Korea has become a more prosperous country, fewer Korean women were willing to work in the entertainment industries serving the US military. Over time Korean women have been replaced by migrant labour recruited through the Entertainment Visa (E6 visa), mainly from the Philippines.

Regardless of how they entered Korea and their visa status, Filipina migrants often face challenging circumstances as the Korean labour market is segmented by gender, race, class and age, with Koreans treating migrant co-workers as inferior on multiple levels (Shin 2009).

Racial discrimination and highly prescribed and restrictive visa conditions from immigration

69 If a migrant worker has stayed legally in Korea for five years then they are eligible to apply for citizenship, though as discussed in Chapter 6, they may find it difficult to meet the interview requirement that allows the examiner a large degree of discretion to assess good character. 90 authorities also create a barrier between migrant workers who appear to be from less developed countries and Caucasian foreigners from developed countries. This discrimination is not reflective of skills, with several studies highlighting the primacy of race over skill in the hiring of English teachers (Charles 2017, Guevarra 2015), while migrants are only permitted to enter Korea in defined roles that control their tenure and activities (Choo 2016).

This distinction applies for Filipina migrants who enter Korea as migrant workers, wives or entertainers, with the three groups having conditions placed on their visas designed to limit movement and interaction between categories.

Filipina marriage migrants often arrive in Korea with ambitions of earning and remitting.

Regardless of their reason for emigrating, Filipinos are obliged to support parents and families left behind in the Philippines (Piper and Lee 2016, 478). For marriage migrants, making the transition from wife to worker can be challenging due to racial and gender discrimination in Korean workplaces. Moon (2005, 58-77) notes the marginalisation of women in the Korean workplace occurs from the initial stage of recruitment through to job training and promotions. Childbirth is career limiting due to cultural beliefs that mothers are responsible for child-rearing. Women are often expected to quit their jobs after having children with their identity and capabilities as a worker ‘overshadowed by the normative feminine subjectivity of the non-productive housewife’ (Moon 2005, 76). The cultural belief that women cannot work and raise children simultaneously is accentuated for migrant wives, who are expected to be reproductive citizens focussed on raising children rather than working. Another barrier that inhibits marriage migrants from becoming workers is opposition from husbands and in-laws who are reluctant to allow migrant wives to work during their first few years of residency, particularly before and after giving birth (Bélanger,

Lee and Wang 2010, 1114-15), and in some cases for fear migrant wives will run away or seek a divorce once financially independent (see Chapter 5). Migrant wives who earn but do

91 not have children face the added constraint that their motives for marriage are questioned by immigration officials and in-law families, preventing them from receiving PR.

Despite the many barriers to working, some Filipinas balance their marital and maternal responsibilities with employment, often in roles that are physically demanding and mentally draining such as on the assembly line of a factory. Women account for the bulk of Filipino migrant workers (Briones 2009, 37) and Filipinos are found in a wide range of work settings in host countries, with the Philippines considered ‘the epitome of the feminisation of migration in Asia’ (Piper and Lee 2016, 481). A common theme among the migrant wives I interviewed was that those who worked felt more confident to send remittances as their money came from income they earned themselves.70 For those who did not work and relied on their husband’s income, sending monthly remittances was a source of stress, but still considered a duty.

The obligation to remit clashes with Korean cultural values of gendered patriarchy and expectations that a wife should devote herself to her children, husband and in-laws. Filipino wives who were older and had arrived in Korea during the 1980s up until the mid-2000s said they had come from poorer families. They tended to work and send money more frequently when they first arrived in Korea even if their finances were tight, which caused arguments with their in-laws. However, over time marriage migrants have tended to come from wealthier and more stable family backgrounds in the Philippines, lowering the need to remit.

Instead, young Filipino wives may choose to spend more money for themselves and enjoy life in Korea. Sending remittances may also send unwanted signals about social status. Vivian

(from the introductory Chapter 1) said she did not send any money as she worried her in-laws

70 Piper and Lee (2016, 477) supported my finding; ‘like other labour migrants, marriage migrants are very much involved in sending remittances to their birth families and prefer to do so via their own income generating activities.’ 92 and other ethnic Koreans would think she was from a poor family background and was taking advantage of her Korean in-law family. Other Filipinas also hid that they were sending goods and money back home as they wanted to present themselves as coming from a ‘good’ family in the Philippines.

Through individual stories this chapter examines how migrant workers become wives and later explores the reverse situation, where marriage migrants become workers, challenging the precept that migrant wives’ place is confined to the home. Workers who become wives must overcome suspicion related to their motives for marriage, having to negotiate changed relationships with co-workers, husbands and marital families as both wives and workers. In navigating this process, sometimes wives hide their former work experience when interacting with Koreans in order to appear as an ‘ordinary’ marriage migrant in the acceptable form of a reproductive citizen. The alternative of being upfront about how they married runs the risk of being suspected as an opportunistic worker motivated to marry by the lure of money and citizenship. For marriage migrants who want to enter the workforce often the biggest obstacle is their spouse and in-laws, who expect migrant wives to focus on raising children and fear a degree of financial independence may lead to greater autonomy and less control. While factory jobs are plentiful in South Korea for migrant wives, balancing a job with maintaining a household requires a major effort and family support. In some cases migrant wives are forced into working to make ends meet after a relationship breakdown. Regardless of their background, Filipino wives tend to socialise with Filipinas in similar situations, separate from

Filipina workers who socialise together. Through the selected cases in this chapter I explain the strategies that Filipina migrants from the two groups devise to cope with crossing the boundary between marriage and work.

1. At first a worker, then a wife

Korea has become increasingly dependent on migrant workers to sustain several vital sectors of the economy including Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs). Temporary migrant workers started arriving in the late 1980s and their number has steadily increased each year, except for the period from 1997 to 2001 when Korea’s economy was affected by the Asian

Financial Crisis (Cheng 2010, 51, Choe 2003, 151-55, Constable 2005, Koo 2001, Lee 2010,

186, Song 2009 and 2014). Following the Crisis, the ‘government sought to localise the labour force’ through limiting the number of foreign workers (Freeman 2004, 87). By the early 2000s Korea’s economy had recovered from the crisis sufficiently for labour migration to resume, having steadily risen since. Migrant workers have increasingly filled jobs that

Koreans are no longer willing to do for low rates of pay. Korean female workers in low- skilled or low-paid jobs have increasingly been replaced by female migrants, whom Moon

(2005, 78) has described as being considered by the state and employers as having ‘feminised skills and therefore cheap, temporary, and secondary sources of labour’. Cheng (2010, 58) noted that there were 234,000 documented migrant workers in 1997, while the latest data indicates this figure had risen to 608,116 in 2015.71 However, this figure is higher when factoring in undocumented migrant workers, including those who have overstayed their work visa and others who have entered the country on a different visa and work illegally. The

Ministry of Justice estimated there were 330,005 foreigners in Korea without a valid visa on

1 July 2018, an increase of 42 per cent from the year prior.72

71 Based on data obtained from the Statistics on Foreign Residents by the Local Governments of the Ministry of Interior. Data retrieved using the Korean Statistics Information Service www.kosis.kr Accessed 22 October 2019. 72 Korea Times (2018) Illegal immigrants increasing: data www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/09/177_255985.html Accessed 27 September 2018. 94

The treatment of migrant workers is a sensitive topic for the Korean government. The

Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) reported that Korea has the largest gap between the wages of native born and foreign workers among 22 member- states (OECD 2015, 85-86). This largely reflects the government’s approach to migrant workers from developing countries who are confined to the 3D jobs (dirty, dangerous and demeaning or sometimes difficult) in SMEs (Choe 2003, 152-59).73 Jin-Kyung Lee (2010, 2) attributes Korea’s rising dependence on migrant workers to the nation’s ‘rapid industrialisation’ and ‘rise as a subimperialist power’. MacDonald (2015) traces back the origins of migrant workers in Korea to 1987 or the year of the ‘great labour struggle’ where citizens and workers protested and brought about the end of the military dictatorship system.

In the years following the establishment of democratic government, trade unions managed to achieve large wage increases (Koo 2001, 5) while the state reduced financial support for manufacturing and agricultural firms. Seo and Skelton (2017) note that large firms responded by offshoring operations to cheaper countries, but SMEs lacked the resources to relocate and lobbied the government to provide relief in the form of cheap immigrant labour. Prior to

1991, MacDonald (2015) characterised labour importation in Korea as based on a ‘wink and nod’ system where the government allowed migrant workers to enter on tourist visas, effectively making all migrant labour undocumented during this period. Cheng (2010, 76) described circular migration as becoming the norm with workers from developing countries entering Korea on short-term tourist visas, employed for as long as their visa would allow and renewing their employment by exiting and re-entering the country multiple times. The lack of transparency around labour immigration during this period led to a backlash from trade unions and the creation of the Joint Venture Trainee System in 1991 that later became the

73 Kim (2007, 130) defines a SME as having less than 300 employees based on the Small and Medium Enterprises Act that was promulgated in 1966. 95

Industrial Trainee System (ITS) in 1993. The ITS stripped migrant workers of basic protections and rights, ‘designed to utilise migrant labour whilst denying their workerness

(nodongjasong), or, in other words, their legal status as workers’ (Gray 2007, 301).

After numerous cases of abuse and mistreatment of migrant workers under the ITS (Choe

2003, 158-63), the government enacted the Employment Permit System (EPS or koyonghugaje) in 2004 following migrant workers and activists staging a 380-day-long sit-in protest led by the Migrants’ Trade Union (MTU) (MacDonald 2015). The EPS stipulates that migrant workers should receive equal treatment to Korean workers, including the right to collective bargaining, collective action and insurance for accidents and injuries during work as well as a minimum wage (Kim 2011, 57). The EPS remains the current system for labour importation and allows SMEs in agriculture, manufacturing or services to sponsor migrant workers. In practice, the EPS favours employers over workers as a migrant worker’s visa is tied to their employer who can cancel the visa at any time, preventing the worker from changing workplace without the employer’s permission. This power imbalance has caused numerous cases of abuse and mistreatment of workers, with underpayment of workers and poor working conditions commonplace. Female migrant workers have encountered difficulty in reporting sexual abuse and in one prominent case in 2017 an undocumented Thai worker was murdered by her colleague during a sexual assault, attracting media attention in both

Korea and Thailand.74 The EPS is also unpopular with many Korean employers who would prefer that migrant workers did not have the same benefits and entitlements as Korean

74 See Migrant worker’s death shows necessity of reforming employment permit system http://english.hani.co.kr/arti/english_edition/e_editorial/818974.html AND Female migrant workers encounter difficulties in reporting sexual harassment. http://english.hani.co.kr/arti/english_edition/e_international/864465.html Accessed 20 February 2019. 96 workers. Despite much criticism of the EPS from both migrant workers and employers, the government has resisted reforming the EPS.

Many of the Filipino wives I encountered worked in small factories, which have traditionally had long-standing practices of gender and class discrimination. Koo (2001, 12-13) discusses the origins of class-based divisions in the Korean labour market, which resulted in factory workers being treated as ‘menial and contemptible objects’. Moon (2005) outlines the characteristics of gender divisions in manufacturing in the 1970s and 1980s, with women generally regarded as unskilled labour and confined to routine jobs while men were allocated high-status positions as supervisors, salesman or technicians. In addition to this division in the allocation of roles, women workers were paid extremely low wages compared with males in the same industry. Moon (2005, 77) notes that in 1985 women in manufacturing industries earned 46.8 per cent of the average earnings of their male counterparts, despite women working more hours. The gap in earnings had narrowed only marginally to 51.1 per cent by

1990. Gray (2007, 299) notes that in addition to the ‘economic, sociocultural and political factors that depend upon and reinforce each other’, another important factor in explaining the low wages of migrant workers is their status as outsiders and perception by Korean society that they are economic migrants from poor countries. This stems from the intense competition and capitalist nature of Korea’s rapid economic transformation, where those who have remained poor are made to feel guilty, a view Koreans superimpose on to migrant workers who occupy jobs that Koreans do not want on wages below what Koreans will accept. This has led to a culture of contempt towards migrant workers, with females facing the double burden of gender and racial discrimination and often relegated to the lowest and most vulnerable positions in their workplaces.

The academic literature’s description of migrant’s working conditions accorded with what I heard from Filipina workers during my fieldwork. I was permitted to visit a toothpaste factory that employed six of my Filipina research subjects. Their jobs comprised repetitively packing toothpaste tubes into a box and other unskilled tasks, which were performed exclusively by foreign women. A few older Korean women checked products and quality controlled their work. Male workers occupied the higher positions located in offices performing managerial or technical work. All the Filipinas said they were supervised by

Korean male workers and any conflict with a male worker was career limiting and meant that the unskilled female migrant worker had to choose between keeping their male boss happy or leaving their job. The six Filipinas who worked at the factory at least had the latter choice as they held spouse visas, but for migrant workers visas were tied to their employer and termination meant possible deportation or taking the risk of becoming an undocumented worker. Even among the Filipinas at the toothpaste factory all placed a high value on keeping their jobs as job opportunities for Filipinas are limited to factory work and teaching English.

Despite pressure to be reproductive citizens and focus on raising children, the Filipinas at the toothpaste factory were highly committed to working, prioritising their work before family matters. When I asked why they put up with harsh working conditions unlike other migrant wives who chose not to work, the usual answer was that as former migrant workers they knew that marriage alone would not deliver them from poverty. For the former migrant workers who had married Korean men, there were no illusions that marriage would bring prosperity and they did not expect it would change their social status. Having enjoyed earning and living as independent migrants in Korea, they were not susceptible to the notion that migrant wives should be reproductive citizens focussed on family over work, reliant on and deferential to their husbands. Many Filipina workers are motivated to emigrate to escape gendered subordination in the Philippines (Cheng 2010, 88-89). Through paid employment

Filipinas can achieve financial independence and overcome male dominance, achievements they are unwilling to sacrifice for the sake of marriage. All the Filipinas at the toothpaste factory had known their marriages would not result in hypergamy as they had married men of low socio-educational class and understood exactly where they and their husbands stood in

Korean society. Unlike marriage migrants who often thought their husbands were ‘middle- class’ and a comfortable life awaited them after marriage, the former migrant workers had carefully assessed their prospects prior to marriage and chose to wed as they believed this would provide an opportunity for them both to better their lives together, albeit while most likely confined to working in low-skilled jobs.

Rather than hypergamy, the Filipino wives from the toothpaste factory had all experienced hypogamy75 by marrying men with less educational attainment, who were either unemployed or had low-paying jobs. Jungsun Kim (2007, 116) emphasises that through the experience of migrant wives’ assimilation into Korean society, many have no choice other than to go down in class compared to their relative social status in their origin country prior to marriage. This was the case for Vivian (see Chapter 1) who said her position in the Philippines was ‘higher’ than Korea. For migrant workers who choose to marry and settle in Korea after working for some time, their decision in part reflects Korea’s restrictive immigration laws, where only through marriage can migrants acquire PR and lifelong access to Korea’s labour market.76

Freeman (2011) draws attention to the dilemma facing female migrant workers, who unlike migrant brides can acquire PR and with it the right to live and work indefinitely in Korea.

75 Hypogamy is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as the practice of marrying into a lower caste, class or social group. See www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hypogamy Accessed 27 December 2018. 76 Kim (2016, 1541-42) notes that 64 per cent of naturalisations in 2013 were via marriage, with nearly all the remainder comprising former Korean citizens who renounced citizenship previously choosing to re-naturalise. The requirements for naturalisation are 1) five years residency (two years for marriage migrants), 2) good moral character and 3) financial solvency. Kim (2016, 1541) notes that the second criteria is at the discretion of immigration officials and the most common reason for rejection is fake marriage, which can be challenged in court but is rarely overturned. 99

Instead migrant workers are ‘treated as cheap and disposable labour… legally denied the rights of long-term, let alone permanent, settlement as well as the rights of family reunification’ (Freeman 2011, 6).

Jaslene (born 1978) was one of the most extreme examples of hypogamy I encountered.

Jaslene had obtained a medical degree in the Philippines, making her overqualified for factory jobs in Korea. Despite ‘the guarantee of high social status in the Philippines’ from her degree, Jaslene said she chose to become a migrant worker in Korea fully aware of the types of work she would be doing. Jaslene said that she received higher pay as a migrant worker in

Korea than she would have received as a doctor in the Philippines, where a doctor in a public hospital does not receive a high income. When I first met Jaslene in 2015 in the beginner’s class at the Cheonansi MFSC (the Centre) she was in the final stage of pregnancy. We maintained contact even after she stopped attending the Centre after giving birth to her daughter, Eunhee. Jaslene enjoyed life as a ‘stay at home mum’, which was a new experience after a life of non-stop education and work. Unlike many other Filipino wives, Jaslene was content to have only one child and her fertility choice was not influenced by pressure from the government or society. She explained, ‘The baby is cute but I’m too old. I’ll be 38 years soon and I don’t think I can make another baby.’ Jaslene would normally meet her friends through regular lunch gatherings with other Filipinas from the Centre. In order to attend these gatherings, she took a few buses from her home in Sejong city,77 even though this meant a long commute with Eunhee (who was then only five months old). Migrant wives who were not earning were generous with their time but frugal with their spending and Jaslene was happy to sacrifice her time to save money.

77 Sejong City is located around 33 kilometres from Cheonan City. 100

Jaslene entered Korea for the first time in 2003 as a migrant worker and worked in a factory until 2005. After returning to the Philippines she could not find a better opportunity using her medical degree and decided to return to Korea as a migrant worker for a second time in 2007.

While working, she married her co-worker who was four years younger (Jaslene was the only

Filipino wife I encountered who married a younger man). Prior to leaving the workforce after becoming pregnant Jaslene had worked in Korea for five years and from her salary she regularly sent remittances to her parents. Jaslene managed to save 30,000,000 Won

(AU$37,960) and with this money her parents had built a house in Dagupan (four hours by car from Manila).78 Jaslene rented out the house and her parents received the rental income, which helped support their retirement.

Jaslene’s saving was largely attributable to her disciplined management of money. Unlike other Filipino wives she wore clothes which lagged behind the latest fashion trends. Many

Filipino wives were sensitive about their appearance and would use pocket money from their husbands or in-laws to purchase fashionable clothes. However, Jaslene was highly motivated to save money, initially driven by the desire to support her parents’ retirement and after marriage to provide a better life for her family in Korea. Jaslene said her husband loved shopping and being fashionable. Her mother-in-law had approved of their marriage and liked

Jaslene because she was responsible and disciplined with money. Jaslene said her mother-in- law told her to take all her husband’s earnings and only give him a little bit otherwise they would save nothing. Jaslene managed all the money in the household and gave her husband monthly pocket money, which he liked to use for buying cigarettes and alcohol. Jaslene, her husband and daughter lived in an old 22 pyeong (1 pyeong=3.3058 m2) apartment next to a highway. When I visited their apartment with a group of Filipinas there was a strong smell of

78 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dagupan Accessed 22 October 2019. 101 cigarettes due to her husband’s smoking even though they were raising a baby. Despite the smell and small size of the apartment, Chloe and Analyn (who both had recently arrived in

Korea as marriage migrants) were impressed. They carefully listened as Jaslene told her story and were left gasping when she proclaimed, ‘I control all the money in our house and with savings have even bought a house in the Philippines!’

Jaslene’s life had been characterised by making choices for the sake of her family, even when it meant not being fashionable or sacrificing her social standing. Her high level of educational attainment did not provide a stable life and income in Manila which led her to choose to migrate and become a factory worker. Jaslene said that unlike other migrant workers, she saved her money in a ‘clever way’ and had an income generating asset in the Philippines which has provided her parents with a comfortable life and a place to retire. Jaslene planned that in the future she could retire to the Philippines and the money she had saved would promise a comfortable life, even though it was not a lot in Korean terms.

Like many of the female migrant workers who marry Korean men, Jaslene’s matrimony was influenced by the fact that marriage provided the only pathway to reside in Korea permanently. As Jaslene neared the end of her second spell as a migrant worker, she decided that she wanted to remain in Korea having dated a co-worker who suggested they try living together. Her choices were either to marry or take her chances as an undocumented worker.

This was an easy choice for Jaslene, recounting that she ‘didn’t want to be an illegal stayer’.

Jaslene did not like many things about her husband; he was not educated, often made unwise decisions (he had some poorly designed tattoos on his arms and legs), and his behaviour was often immature. However, she believed that he had the potential to improve and decided to marry him. Jaslene’s parents-in-law were initially sceptical, but she quickly gained their trust as they realised that she could manage a stable household and help their son mature. Jaslene had a relationship of mutual respect with her Korean family members, who were happy with

102

Eunhee and appreciated what Jaslene offered for the family, putting her under no pressure to have more children or a son.

While Jaslene did not ascribe to notions of husband dominance or that a migrant wife’s place was confined to the home caring for babies, she was content to stay at home caring for her daughter. Prior to Eunhee’s birth Jaslene had always studied or worked, including very demanding jobs as a migrant worker in Malaysia and Korea. But after becoming pregnant she was finally able to ‘relax’, which she described as ‘peaceful’. Pregnancy also meant Jaslene had the time to attend classes at the Centre and learn Korean, which she could not speak well despite her long period of residence and her husband only being able to speak and understand

Korean. This was not uncommon among factory workers, with the routine nature of the work meaning it was possible to work productively without Korean language ability. Jaslene said her husband was ‘manageable’ despite his drinking and smoking, which she did not see as huge problems. From Jaslene’s perspective, her life was ‘perfect’ telling me, ‘I have an easy husband, supportive in-laws and a daughter. Being at home as a housewife, not having to work, it’s a dream!’ Jaslene knew eventually she would return to the workforce to make ends meet but wanted to enjoy the rare moment in her life of not working.

Jaslene’s ‘peaceful’ life had not come about by chance, instead it had involved constant negotiation and resistance. After marrying her co-worker, Jaslene had to assuage the concerns of her in-laws and co-workers who could have viewed her as a deceitful person ‘using’ her simple husband, if she did not provide genuine love and care. To demonstrate her sincerity and commitment to the marriage, after marrying Jaslene stopped sending remittances to the

Philippines, instead saving with her husband to invest in their future in Korea. After gaining their trust, her in-laws confessed they were worried about their son’s ‘constant drinking, smoking, poor money management and strange tattoos’. At the same time, Jaslene insisted to her husband and in-laws that she should manage household finances and explained that they

103 could not financially afford more children. This was a unique situation of a migrant wife dominating family decision-making but was accepted by her in-laws and husband. Through using her agency and ability to negotiate, Jaslene had proved she was a trustworthy and responsible wife and daughter-in-law, earning the authority to manage her household’s decisions and attaining the right to stay and work in Korea permanently.

1.1. Financial autonomy

Rosamie was born in 1983 and came from Kananga, Leyte province.79 In addition to her native Bisayan and Tagalog, she spoke English fluently and Korean well, participating in the intermediate class at the Centre when I met her in 2015. Rosamie graduated from the Visayas

State University80 and worked in the Philippines before coming to Korea in 2007 as a migrant worker. While working in Korea, her former co-worker introduced her to the man who later became her husband and they began living together, during which time she became pregnant.

After giving birth to a daughter in 2014 she married the following year and soon gave birth to her second child, a son. During my fieldwork Rosamie lived in a small, older style three- bedroom apartment. Her mum from the Philippines was visiting to help with caring for her baby.81 Rosamie’s apartment had more space and was one of the nicer places among the peer group from the Centre, which made it a popular place for the migrant wives to gather. When I visited, Rosamie had just purchased a new refrigerator and TV which the other wives carefully examined and admired. The big screen TV was from a well-known brand, something the other wives did not have, with one wife commenting it was ‘so nice and

79 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kananga,_Leyte Accessed 22 October 2019. 80 www.vsu.edu.ph Accessed on 29 December 2018. 81 Migrant wives’ parents and siblings can visit Korea for up to 90 days. See https://overseas.mofa.go.kr/ph- en/brd/m_3277/list.do?page=1&srchFr=&srchTo=&srchWord=&srchTp=&multi_itm_seq=0&itm_seq_1=0&it m_seq_2=0&company_cd=&company_nm= Accessed 22 February 2020. 104 different to watch and the children love it’. The top of the refrigerator, bookshelf and other areas were full of Korean products like seaweed, baby snacks, nappies and wet tissues, which other wives had never purchased and they noted that they could see Rosamie had lived in

Korea for a long time and knew Korean brands well. They were particularly interested in some organic baby snacks which were only sold online. The other wives could not shop online as they did not have their own bank accounts, unlike Rosamie who still had her account from when she was a migrant worker and had learned to shop online as a means to save money. The inability to buy goods online put migrant wives at a disadvantage as online shopping is very popular in Korea with 65 per cent of internet users shopping online in

2015.82

While working at the Centre in 2015 I tried to help migrant wives to shop online but it proved difficult. The Centre Director asked me to teach a computer class as all the migrant wives wanted to know how to shop online and the government had created a textbook given to all

Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs). Shopping online can be easy but requires the shopper to have their own registered mobile phone and bank account. However, all the wives who attended my class had phones and bank accounts registered under their husbands’ or mothers-in-laws’ name, with no record of them on the accounts. This meant it was impossible for these women to shop online unless the phone owner and bank account holder could verify their identity to complete the transaction, which was required for security reasons. In addition, most migrant wives brought little or no cash when they left their house, meaning they were entirely dependent on their husbands and in-laws to purchase even the most basic items. One practical suggestion in the textbook was to teach migrant wives to buy train tickets and use online internet banking. However, apart from the problem of not having

82 E-commerce in Korea, p.5. www.austrade.gov.au/ArticleDocuments/1358/E-Commerce-Korea- Guide.pdf.aspx Accessed on 29 December 2018. 105 individual bank accounts or phones, most wives lacked basic information technology (IT) skills and did not even know how to operate a computer. These barriers to online shopping made it difficult for migrant wives to adjust and live in Korea, unable to utilise the fastest internet speeds and highest rates of internet penetration in the world; a service most Koreans take for granted.83 The textbook was supposed to prepare migrant wives for their daily lives in Korea but was written by, and for, native Koreans rather than migrants. In reality, many husbands do not help their migrant wives to obtain their own ID card and bank account, instead choosing to ensure they themselves are in control of their wives’ financial decisions.

The situation was different for migrant wives who had entered Korea as migrant workers and where the state had an interest in ensuring they were remunerated. The employers of migrant workers are obliged to help the migrants they sponsor obtain an Alien ID number and set up a bank account prior to their arrival. This opens a world of opportunities for migrant workers compared to marriage migrants, as Koreans sponsoring a marriage migrant visa are not obliged to assist their spouse to obtain an ID or bank account. Migrant workers must also make their own financial and consumption decisions having received a salary into their bank account. They can obtain debit and credit cards, often leading to a quick familiarity with e- commerce and the ways that online shopping can help save money. I observed that former migrant workers like Jaslene and Rosamie had their own bank accounts, credit cards and phones, providing independence from husbands and greater control over their families’ finances. This situation contrasted with marriage migrants who had no bank cards and relied on pocket money from their husbands.

83 Nearly 100% of households in South Korea now have internet access, thanks to seniors www.forbes.com/sites/elaineramirez/2017/01/31/nearly-100-of-households-in-south-korea-now-have-internet- access-thanks-to-seniors/#625ffad25572 Accessed 2 January 2019. 106

The lack of a bank account and individual ID number makes marriage migrants dependent on their husbands and is consistent with the state’s reproductive citizenship approach designed to promote husband dominance and wife obedience. Kim (2007, 113) has linked marriage migrants’ inability to have financial control to their desire for PR and citizenship, as without a certificate of residence, migrant wives cannot access many basic services independently.

While Korean law guarantees marriage migrants certain rights, in practice their civil rights are too often achieved only through their position as wives under the authority of their

Korean husbands (Kim 2007, 113). This unfair system puts these women always on the edge of crisis, where a dispute with their husband could mean being deported to their country of origin or becoming an illegal remainer, forced into unsafe and insecure accommodation if their husband and in-laws decide to withdraw their sponsorship.

One of the challenges with researching Rosamie and the other migrant workers who had become migrant wives was that they were initially self-conscious about their advanced state of integration into Korean society and wary of my motives. Despite attending numerous gatherings at Rosamie’s house and meeting her at other places, Rosamie was distant towards me for quite some time after we first met. She was cautious about my participation in Filipina group activities, consistent with an initial sense of distrust and reservation from most migrant wives I met who had initially come to Korea as migrant workers. Over time as I gained the trust of Rosamie and other migrant workers who became wives, they shared their stories of everyday discrimination at the hands of Korean employers and co-workers. Unlike marriage migrants who had less interaction with ethnic Koreans outside the home, migrant workers were constantly exposed and those who became wives were conscious of the social hierarchies in the minds of Koreans that cast all Filipinas as inferior based on perceived race, gender and class differences. In Rosamie’s case, she began to trust me after visiting my place and accidentally spilling coffee on a mat, which she apologised profusely for and was

107 embarrassed even though I said it was not a problem. After that incident Rosamie opened her heart and later reflected on the spilt coffee by saying I was different to other Koreans as I did not lose my temper. Rosamie had worked at Hagwons (English language institutes) and factories and my reaction had surprised her explaining, ‘All the Koreans I worked with had a short temper, were rude, looked down on me and expected me to serve them, making me feel uncomfortable. My husband was the first person who didn’t treat me like that and Koreans like him are rare.’

Despite wariness towards Koreans and concerns her children may face the same discrimination as their mother, Rosamie was still happy with her life in Korea. After one gathering, I helped Rosamie to walk home, as she had to carry her baby in addition to bags, providing an opportunity for an unstructured informal interview. Rosamie’s husband had just started his new business and she hoped it would get better. Her mum was glad she could come and help Rosamie but missed the Philippines and her other children. Rosamie’s siblings all lived near her parent’s home and while her mum was in Korea the other siblings looked after their father. Her husband had said at some stage he would like to live in the Philippines and retire there. However, Rosamie strongly objected to her husband’s wish, staring at me directly and firmly stating her views, ‘I don’t want to go back to the Philippines, not even for a holiday. The Philippines isn’t a good place to raise children. It’s just too scary. My hometown is safer than Manila but still… the Philippines is dangerous. I believe our family should live in Korea. My children are Korean and educated here very well. I don’t see any reason we should ever leave and live in any other place but Korea.’ She then became fixated on why, as a native Korean, I had emigrated asking me why I did not live in Korea and what were the chances that I would remigrate in future. I told my motivations for leaving and said it was unlikely I would remigrate. Rosamie then replied that she was sincerely sorry for me and pitied me because Korea is a great place to live.

108

At the end of 2018, Rosamie continued to live in Cheonan and attend classes at the Centre even though her husband worked in Namhae84 during the week. Her mother had returned to the Philippines and Rosamie had little support with raising two children. Her dream was to settle permanently in Korea and maintain a happy household. She planned to keep studying

Korean until she achieved citizenship. Rosamie said it was hard to live and maintain a house in Korea as a foreigner, in addition to looking after young children on her own and preparing for the citizenship test. However, Rosamie had no regrets or complaints as she had known what awaited her when she married an older man who was running a small, risky business and who required the full support of his wife due to constant work-related travel. Rosamie told me she would not have any more children so she could provide a good education and life in Korea for her current two children.

The cases of Jaslene and Rosamie describe the phenomenon of marriage ‘during’ work migration, where Filipinas and their Korean husbands ignore the artificial distinctions of the state designed to segregate work and marriage migrants. The Filipina workers who married

Korean men tended to have lived in Korea for some time prior to marriage and made the decision to marry as they approached the maximum five-year limitation on migrant workers staying in Korea. These Filipinas dated their partners and lived together before they decided to marry. This was a unique pattern for Filipino wives, with most marriage migrants marrying first rather than cohabitating.

The stories presented so far in this chapter are based on female workers who came to Korea temporarily but wanted to stay permanently and chose to marry. They were aware of the problems with their husbands having gotten to know them prior to marriage. Their negotiation strategies with their husbands and in-laws reflected a strong understanding of

84 Namhae county is an island of the southern tip of peninsular Korea, around 12 hours bus ride from Cheonan. 109 how difficult it is to save money on a relatively low income in Korea. Their experience saving a large portion of their salaries as migrant workers made them frugal, cutting their costs and allowing them to spend on ‘important’ home appliances to make their houses ‘look good’ and of a similar standard to a ‘middle-class’ Korean. Unlike the other wives who hosted gatherings in their house, Rosamie insisted on collecting 5,000 Won (AU$6.27) from each migrant wife as a contribution to the cost of the food that she cooked. Jaslene and

Rosamie’s frugal ways of living reflect that they used to be ‘earners’ in Korea and had become equal partners in managing financial decisions in their households. Their humble and realistic expectations of their marriage and finances reduced conflict with their husbands and in-laws, contributing to greater satisfaction with their lives and marriages in Korea. Jaslene and Rosamie were also wary of the state’s view of reproductive citizenship; aware of the fallacy that having children provides a way out of poverty, and instead controlling their fertility to suit their home economy rather than the nation’s.

1.2. E6 visa holders: Entertainers, sex workers or trafficked victims?

Since the US military first came to Korea in 1945 a range of jobs and businesses flourished around military camps catering to American soldiers. These formal and informal communities are colloquially referred to as ‘camptowns’ (Gijichon) and have been reported in Germany, Japan and Korea (Höhn and Moon 2010). Among the jobs on offer, sex work was and remains the most well-known and the subject of extensive research.85 Hye (1999, 30) reported a 1965 US Army study that found 84 per cent of its servicemen stationed in Korea had purchased sex at least once.

85 Cheng (2011) and Lee (2006) explore the literature of camptown sex work in Korea. 110

Lee (2018) and Yuh (2002) both highlight poverty and family tragedies originating from the

Korean war as drivers of Korean women entering sex work in the 1950s. Yuh (2002, 30) explained that many of these women were ‘often war widows or orphans’, some had been comfort women under Japanese colonial rule or victims of rape by US soldiers and that the poverty of the women involved played a major role in their entry into camptown prostitution.

Many of these women ended up leaving prostitution after some time and working in factories, domestic help or in other basic service jobs like waitresses or shop assistants. Lee’s (2018,

756-59) stories of individual sex workers from this period are linked by extreme hardship as the women were forced into sex work by starvation and poverty, often as a result of having been an orphan or been separated from their parents by the Korean war.

During the 1960s the camptowns became organised areas as the Korean and US governments cooperated to regulate rest and recreation for US soldiers in Korea. Moon (2010a) documents a shift in camptowns in this period as sex workers gained greater autonomy and income as Korean and US authorities commercialised and controlled sex work. The Korean government designated special zones with entertainment establishments catering exclusively to US soldiers and took other measures to capitalise on the economics of soldiers seeking love and alcohol, successfully diverting them away from neighbouring Japan which had earlier set up similar entertainment areas for US soldiers. Lee (2006, 125) notes that US troops accounted for nearly one-quarter of economic activity in Korea in the 1960s and there were 46,000 Koreans employed in camptowns in 1960, generating US$ 70 million in revenue. Moon (2010a) notes living standards of sex workers improved in the 1960s due to successful protests and strikes over working conditions and pay. Lee (2018) characterises the

1970s as a new phase for camptowns where mistreatment of sex workers was publicised and became widely known. However, the Korean state was more concerned about the economic

111 and security benefits that US troops brought and the need to placate their demands than the welfare of the women.

During the 1970s and 1980s interracial marriage began to rise in Korea due to unions between the camptown workers (not exclusively but most commonly sex workers) and GIs

(US soldiers), which the US military attempted to prevent by imposing several barriers to

Asian immigration until 1967 (Moon 2010a, 65). For many of these women the choice to marry was not difficult, even though the men were often abusive or philanderers, as the social shaming of sex workers within Korean society meant these women felt they had no future and emigration would bring a fresh beginning (Lee 2006, 145-46). However, life in the US often proved harsh, with Hye (1999, 2) noting that of the over 100,000 marriages between

American men and Korean women since 1960, three-quarters ended in divorce, and 70 per cent were abusive. Some former camptown sex workers in the US also faced ostracisation within the Korean expatriate community.

After Korea opened its economy up to migration in the 1990s and became more prosperous,

Filipinas began to replace Korean women in camptowns. Constable (2005, 110) attributed this phenomenon to Korea’s booming economy and labour shortages in camptowns when alternative employment options emerged for Korean sex workers who stopped catering to foreigners due to better pay and safer conditions servicing Korean clients (Cheng 2000).

Today most of the women in camptown areas today are foreign hostesses holding an E6 entertainer visa and around 90 per cent of E6 visa holders are Filipinas (Choo 2016, Höhn and Moon 2010), though there are also women from Russia and South and Central America

(Cheng 2000, 51). Shin (2015, 762-68) traced the journeys of Filipina entertainers and documented how they are often brought to Korea under false pretences. Some recruiters in the Philippines target single mothers and family breadwinners in rural areas, promising safe and well-paid jobs as singers. These women audition on tape for an E6 entertainer visa

112 approved by the Korean Media Rating Board, which are never rejected. However, on arrival, most Filipina entertainers are stripped of their passports, told they must meet certain targets of service or pay ‘fines’ effectively forcing them into sex work to meet these targets. Briones

(2009, 6-7) noted that while the evidence suggests that there are systemic problems in trafficking involving the E6 visa (including recent cases86), there is a danger in portraying entertainers as either trafficked victims or migrant sex workers.

Within the Filipino expatriate community there was little visibility or knowledge of entertainers and camptowns, though given the stigma attached to sex work it may well be the case that those who were former sex workers and then married Koreans do not disclose this information. During my fieldwork I met workers assisting women fleeing exploitative conditions in camptown bars. Through attending lectures organised by the Women Migrants

Human Rights Centre of Korea (WMHRCK) I met a staff member from a migrant women’s shelter in Pyeongtaek City.87 The shelter was mainly for migrant women who entered Korea with an E6 Visa and were fleeing abusive employers. Consistent with the literature, they had been told by agents in the Philippines they would work only as dancers or entertainers in clubs near US military bases but upon arrival were then forced to sell sex. The shelter helped women who ran away from their owners and required strong measures to protect them including not exposing the location of the shelter publicly for fear it may be found by bar owners, officials or the media, which could jeopardise the safety of residents or result in their deportation.88

The shelter was the last resort for its residents, often too poor to afford the cost of deportation and too scared to return to their employer. The shelter was a three-bedroom apartment located

86 The curse of the E-6-2 www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/10/177_255570.html 21 October 2019. 87 Pyeongtaek is home to Camp Humphreys and the Osan Air Base, 2 US Armed Forces bases in Korea. 88 I have not named the shelter for this reason, which is part of a NGO funded by a mainstream religious institution. 113 in a residential area. I was given permission to visit the shelter, with its location kept a secret, and told to get off at a bus station at a certain time. After arriving, I phoned the staff member who I met through the WMHRCK and waited for her to pick me up. After some minutes passed the staff member came and guided me through a series of small alleys. After walking for 15 minutes we arrived at the apartment. The staff member introduced me to the Director of the NGO and her colleague before giving a tour of the apartment. On this occasion there was a group of Filipinas who shared two bedrooms while a staff member slept in the third bedroom, with the staff rotating on a shift basis so there was always someone around. The living room was used as an office for staff and the NGO. There were a few computers, printers and other office supplies. During my interview with the NGO Director and staff over the dining table, two Filipinas came out from their room and asked permission to go for a walk for fresh air as they stayed at the apartment all the time. The Director said to the

Filipinas to be careful, not go too far and come back by a certain time.

The Director explained that the migrant wives who sought refuge in the shelter would be in danger if recognised. Normally Filipinas used the shelter or occasionally women from

Central Asia. These women stood out in the mostly Korean neighbourhood and they had to report to staff before leaving the apartment, with the staff accompanying if they suspected any danger. The staff went to great lengths to conceal that the apartment was a shelter and even the neighbours did not know; the staff left individually when they finished their shift so as to not give the impression it was a shelter. Security was the main concern as the NGO wanted to protect these women from those seeking to harm them. One of the staff recounted that she and a Filipina had encountered a pimp while grocery shopping at a local market. The

Filipina had tried to run away but the pimp chased and caught up before physically assaulting the Filipina. Despite the presence of the staff member trying to resist and stop the assault, the pimp dragged the Filipina by her hair and took her away to a place where the staff could not

114 reach her. In the end there was not much the NGO could do to protect the Filipina from her rough pimp.

A wide range of grievances drove women to the shelter including their basic human rights, with some desiring to stay in Korea and others wanting to negotiate fair compensation.

However, for pimps and bar owners, money is their sole driver and motivated the exploitation of their workers. The NGO was in a difficult position to help these women. Many of them had overstayed their visa in Korea, which made them illegal foreigners facing the threat of deportation. Their pimps would be able to help them to stay in Korea but only under exploitative conditions. Some women reported having to see ten clients a day. Due to the risk of infection from STDs and the nature of their work, the NGO helped the migrant women to arrange regular medical check-ups without compromising their safety as government authorities and pimps usually monitored these check-ups.89 While they were in the shelter, most of the women were constantly worried about not sending remittances back to the

Philippines as while they were in the shelter they were jobless and required to ‘rest’, unable to make any income to send back home. Because of the desire to earn, even after violence and abuse, the NGO reported that many women went back to their work voluntarily as they did not know any other way to make money without legal support to stay in Korea. If they were to run away from their workplace they would lose their ability to stay in Korea. The

NGO reported a few Filipinas had managed to escape the hostess life through marriage with

Korean boyfriends or customers who paid off their debts, alternatively, some women after reaching the shelter contacted Korean customers with whom they had formed relationships previously and then moved in with their clients. However, these were rare cases and for most

89 As Shin (2015, 765) and Moon (2015a, 348) note, entertainers are regularly required to be tested for STDs as if a bar, establishment or prostitute working at a venue is known to be a source of transmission of venereal disease (VD) they will be placed on a ‘do not visit’ list for US soldiers. Entertainers and women working in these establishments have been required to maintain identification stating their STD status. 115 women who enter the shelter the choices are to either voluntarily be deported, take their chances as an undocumented migrant if they can find an employer willing to hire them illegally or return to the workplace they fled from.

The experiences of Filipino hostesses who become wives are very different from those who married through marriage migration (see Chapter 7). Le Bail (2017, 233-34) illustrated that former Filipino hostesses in Japan who managed to escape sex work through marrying

Japanese men felt they had to meet a higher bar by becoming ‘perfect housewives’. For

Filipinas who are subjugated due to their status as sex workers, it can be difficult to claim back their rights and social status. In the eyes of the state and immigration officials, the bar for demonstrating reproductive citizenship for sex workers who become migrant wives is likely to be even higher than for migrant workers.

2. Marriage came first, then work

Korea’s unique approach to the social integration of migrants varies depending on a migrant’s visa status and gender, regardless of the individual’s aspirations. While migrant workers are given little incentive or support to integrate into society no matter how much effort they make to learn the Korean language and culture, migrant wives are encouraged to forget about working and just focus on producing and raising children. Filipinas often arrive in Korea with the dual goals of having a job and happily married life. But migrant wives are told that being a mother and worker are mutually exclusive, with MFSCs and Korean families encouraging them to prioritise maternal reproduction. For the Korean state, the underutilisation of Filipino wives in the workforce is a missed opportunity as they are often tertiary educated, bring international experience and perspectives and are willing to live and work in peripheral regions that have labour shortages (Le Bail 2017, 229). Despite Korea

116 facing the prospect of a shrinking workforce and needing to support an expanding pool of retirees and depopulation in rural areas,90 the state’s multicultural policies pressure migrant wives to only remain within a reproductive framework focussed on bearing and raising children.

The Korean states’ focus on reproductive citizenship for marriage migrants reflects long- standing discrimination against mothers in the workplace. Government policies have consistently promoted the view that the appropriate role of women in the workplace is as mothers first and workers second, with ‘discriminatory training and repressive labour control’ based on gender (Moon 2005, 75). Despite progress in reducing discrimination in the workforce, there are still large gaps in workforce participation and incomes that are attributable to women who marry and have children.91 Filipino wives face the added burden of racial discrimination in the workplace. Some studies have attempted to measure employer discrimination against marriage migrants,92 with Yang (2018) finding systemic discrimination against marriage migrants endemic in the Korean labour market. Even though naturalised marriage migrants have the same working rights as any other Korean citizen, institutionalised

90 South Korea's Population Disaster Is Coming https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/south-koreas-population- disaster-coming- 81956?fbclid=IwAR0VWYreNA9aJ8b_Y4Hj1zzxRuPbI35z_wNu0wKtwgqLJYbXKnWKt5nFN0E Accessed 24 September 2019. 91 Lee, Jang and Sarkar (2008) find that a married woman is on average 40-60 per cent less likely to participate in the labour force than a single woman in urban Korea, while marriage and birth negatively impact on women’s labour force participation. Due to the long and inflexible work hours demanded by employers and a large gender pay gap, women returning to the workforce after an absence of maternity leave usually face a significant cut to their pay. Seong (2014) shows that the effect of time out of the labour force in terms of income is much greater for women than men, while the effect increases with education. Taking time out of the labour force leads to worse occupational prospects for women compared to men. This can make marriage an unappealing prospect for women with a career or education given cultural expectations that women should have children, play a caregiver role for in-laws and can expect to face discrimination from employers against married women and mothers. Lee et al (2008) note that in large industrial cities large firms prefer to hire unmarried women and even so-called pink-collar jobs such as teaching and nursing that have a concentration of college educated women are less open to married women. 92 Kim et al (2014) analysed the employment prospects of naturalised Filipina marriage migrants, finding that health status, husband’s employment status and number of children were the biggest factors determining employment status. The analysis also found Filipinas were more likely to be employed than other ethnic groups of migrant wives. 117 race, class and gender-based discrimination make it difficult for migrant wives to access the labour market (Kim 2007, 116). Many marriage migrants also face barriers to working from within their household as husbands often object to their desire to work outside the home.

Yeonmi and Seon-A had both lived in Korea over 17 years and naturalised after entering as marriage migrants, adopting Korean names when they became citizens.93 Since their children entered high school they had searched for paid employment, but without success. I met them through the Cheonansi MFSC (the Centre) where they had obtained volunteer positions looking after the babies of migrant wives attending classes at the Centre. Both had learned

Korean at the Centre, which they enrolled at shortly after it opened and described as their

‘second home’. Yeonmi said, ‘This year [2015], the Centre doesn’t have money to pay us, so

I volunteer here. I achieved citizenship so I’m a Korean now but have nothing to do other than volunteering. I really hope that next year the Centre can secure some money to pay for my work.’ These two wives were role models for Filipino wives who recently arrived in

Korea, as they had obtained citizenship and respectable jobs (even though they were unpaid at that time). Chloe invited them to join gatherings of the migrant wives, but most of the time

Yeonmi and Seon-A did not attend. When they did, the wives listened carefully to their life stories, showing admiration and respect in their interactions. Both maintained farming households, working with their husbands tending to crops, in addition to work at the Centre.

The young wives looked up to Yeonmi and Seon-A for balancing their households and working at the Centre. Volunteering at the Centre provided them a potential pathway to a full-time position like Diwata’s (the Filipina staff at the Centre who was introduced in

Chapter 2). In the context of Korea’s neoliberal job market where stable jobs are becoming harder to find and unstable or precarious jobs are becoming more prevalent (Song 2014, 26),

93 This was common practice, with Korean husbands choosing names and usually opting for names of TV personalities or names that sounded pretty and modern. 118 a full-time position at the Centre was highly prized among marriage migrants. Even among ethnic Koreans the Centre was considered a good place to work as it was a stable public organisation (gonggonggigwan) with family friendly working conditions. There was a large pool of Filipino wives who wanted to volunteer and work at the Centre with the dream their experience would one day lead to a desirable position and income. However, staff positions were highly competitive as the Centre provided only one position for Filipinas, which required fluency in English and Korean, while the incumbent Diwata was highly competent and enjoying her job.

A common path to employment for Filipino wives is teaching English, a respectable job and one that Filipinos can excel in given English is the primary medium of school education in the Philippines. There is a high demand for extra-curricular English education in Korea, with household expenditure on private tutoring for school aged children equivalent to 50 per cent of public expenditure on school and pre-school education (Choi and Cho 2016, 599). English is a popular subject and many Filipinas find work as casual English teachers at small hagwon.94 Unlike Mandarin, which can be taught by Koreans who major in Chinese and the large number of Chosunjok (ethnic Koreans from China) immigrants in Korea, Koreans prefer to learn English from native speakers and there is a shortage of teachers nationally.

There is a high demand for native English speakers with blue eyes and blonde hair, with hagwons and parents of students prepared to pay higher prices for teachers with these characteristics even over non-Caucasian teachers with better qualifications and English ability. Teachers of ‘Western’ appearance are preferred due to racial discrimination and as a symbol of status as the West is associated with abundance and wealth,95indicative of Korean

94 Hagwon is a broad term encompassing an institution where teachers instruct students in accordance with a certain purpose and curriculum. They often cater to children and provide lessons outside of school hours. 95 West (2019) and Alpaugh (2015, 28) have documented racial discrimination against non-Caucasian or non- native workers in English language institutes (hagwons), which is often covered in media articles. 119 subimperialism and conceptions of racial hierarchy. However, many small and medium hagwons are unable to afford a Westerner’s salary or sponsor their short-term teaching visa.

This means many hagwons cannot attract Western native English speakers and Filipino wives are a desirable substitute as they have PR and full working rights. The Philippines has a long tradition of bilingual education in English and Tagalog that enables most high school graduates to develop a high level of proficiency (Friginal 2009, 29-33). Most Filipino wives I met in Korea spoke English fluently and would have been qualified to work in a hagwon based on my brief experience working in hagwons in Cheonan, though discrimination and husbands wary of giving their wives too much freedom may have prevented this employment pathway.

Lina was a Filipino wife who had a supportive husband and worked casually as a teacher in a hagwon, which she hoped would become a full-time career in the future. Lina lived in Guro,

Seoul and we met through one of my acquittances in 2016. She had come to Korea as a marriage migrant and her husband was a Taekwondo instructor who owned a small

Taekwondo hagwon teaching primary school children. Her husband dreamed of opening a hagwon where he could teach Taekwondo and Lina could teach English, which was the main reason why her husband sought a bride from the Philippines. Lina was enthusiastic about this plan and worked part-time on weekdays at a small English hagwon to gain work experience.

In addition, every Tuesday and Thursday evening and on weekends she attended a course for those wanting to open their own English hagwon. The course helped Lina to change her pronunciation and vocabulary to an American English style to accommodate the preference of Korean parents. Lina said that after completing the course she would be recognised as a qualified hagwon teacher and work alongside her husband.

120

Lina’s story illustrates the unique advantage Filipina marriage migrants have over women from other countries, being generally well educated and fluent in English (Lan 2008, 852).96

These traits are desirable to Korean men, especially those of low socioeconomic status who have received limited education. Having a child who can speak English is highly regarded in

Korea’s ultra-comparative education system which puts a premium on English above other languages. In the minds of Korean husbands all Filipinas can speak English and therefore so can biracial children of a Filipino wife and a Korean husband.

Korean men choosing a marriage migrant generally are not expecting their wife to gain an independent income and instead prefer their wife’s role to be confined to producing and raising children as well as managing household affairs. However, some husbands like Lina’s do appreciate their wives’ education and its potential to boost their own business plans. For

Filipino wives the opportunity to teach English and gain a respectable job is one positive aspect of living in Korea. However, many Filipinas I encountered who worked preferred factory jobs to teaching in hagwon. This reflected that factory work paid more and even though it required longer hours, was much harder physically and less respected among

Korean society than a hagwon job, most Filipinas opted for the job that allowed them to receive more cash in their hands with overtime work possibilities. If Filipinas were to receive the same pay for teaching in hagwon as Westerners or foreign teachers, then more may be willing to obtain teaching qualifications and help to meet the shortage of English teachers in

Korea.

While many Filipino wives work due to personal preference, some have no choice but to work due to the poverty, uncertainty and insecurity of their future if they only rely on their husbands. ‘Migrant wives must therefore create their own financial security by saving

96 Based on a survey conducted of migrant wives from developing countries, Filipino wives were the most highly educated, with 57.2 per cent having a college degree (Sung et al 2013, 232). 121 money’ (Le Bail 2017, 235). This was the case for Padilla (31 years old) and her younger sister Mahalia who for various reasons worried whether their husbands would be reliable breadwinners. Padilla met Gijun in 2004 and they began dating while he was living in

Boracay97 working as a travel agent. While they were dating, she became pregnant. When

Padilla found out she was pregnant and told Gijun, he was unwilling to marry her and take responsibility, abruptly returning to Korea. Padilla thought their relationship was over and had resigned herself to a hard life as a single mother in the Philippines. She gave birth to their first son in 2006 and raised him without Gijun’s support or any contact from him. When her son was one year old, Gijun called saying he wanted to meet his son and planned to return to the Philippines. They restarted their relationship in 2007 and lived together in the Philippines until 2011, during which time they married, and their son became a Korean citizen by descent. To improve their son’s life prospects they decided to migrate to Korea in 2011.

For Filipinas who marry Korean men, one feature that attracts them is that Korean men are perceived as honest and caring, as depicted in K-dramas, which can make infidelity and cheating difficult for migrant wives to forgive. This was Padilla’s experience as after migrating to Korea she inadvertently discovered Gijun had been previously married. Gijun confessed that he and his ex-wife divorced because he was cheating with another woman.

After divorcing he and the other woman had moved to Boracay. At the time when Padilla became pregnant with their first son, Gijun was still living with this other woman. Upon learning Padilla was pregnant Gijun had decided to return to Korea and had broken up with the other woman. Padilla was upset but was resigned to continuing her marriage and had a

97 Boracay is an island in the central Philippines and is a popular tourist destination, with 356,644 South Korean tourists arriving in the city in 2017 according to official statistics https://businessmirror.com.ph/south-korea- market-tops-for-tourism-softens/ Accessed 6 January 2019. 122 second son with Gijun, born in 2013. Padilla explained her situation saying, ‘The past is the past. What can I do? I already had a son with him.’

The realisation of her husband’s infidelity in his previous marriage made Padilla cautious about her future, creating doubt about Gijun’s commitment to their marriage. This was the trigger for her decision to start working. Gijun and her mother-in-law initially objected and felt she should stay at home to maintain the household and focus on their young sons (aged three and ten years old when I met her in 2016). To enable Padilla to work full-time without having to worry about the children, Padilla arranged for Gijun to sponsor her mother for a family reunion visa, allowing Padilla’s mother to live with the family in Korea. Padilla worked at the toothpaste factory with other Filipinas in Cheonan for many years but quit her job on 30 May 2016. When I visited the factory Padilla was cheerful and said she liked her work very much, so I was surprised to hear she had suddenly quit. Padilla said she had a misunderstanding with her male manager some months prior and after that it was difficult to work with him. Mahalia had also worked at the factory but decided to quit in solidarity with her sister. Although she ‘quit’, Padilla said that she had no choice as the manager said other workers were not allowed to interact with her and in the end he was the only person who supervised all aspects of her work, bullying her constantly trying to force her resignation. The problem between Padilla and the manager became well known and a source of tension across the factory. Padilla was upset to leave the factory saying, ‘I’m angry at everyone. No one was willing to step up for me. Everybody was scared to make any trouble. I thought we (the

Filipina workers) were family, but all the Filipinas wouldn’t dare to do anything and remained silent! I was isolated and don’t even know why my manager didn’t like me…probably he had a problem with my character.’ Padilla assumed that the Korean male manager disliked her because she was not a submissive female worker and had dared to point out mistakes and problems in the workplace.

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Padilla’s story is reflective of the gendered racial discrimination Filipinas face in the workplace. Many migrant women of colour, including cross-border married women, work in the lowest parts of the Korean economy. Filipino wives face a situation of complex demands and unequal power relationships in the workplace, home and in dealings with Korean society.

This can lead to humiliation from Korean managers, co-workers or family members.

Disputes with male managers are especially problematic as they can get away with bullying behaviour and mistreatment of temporary migrant workers facing precarious employment due to their employer controlling their visa. Migrant wives are ‘fortunate’ as even on temporary marriage migrant visas they can change employers and request the help and advice of Korean relatives and husbands to handle workplace disputes.

Both Padilla and Mahalia found work at another factory in Cheonan within ten days of quitting their jobs at the toothpaste factory. Padilla met her former co-workers at a gathering of Filipinas I attended, where she bragged about how much better her new factory was compared with the old one and said she and Mahalia were having a good time there. But in a private discussion between myself and both sisters, Padilla divulged that she missed the feeling of belonging she felt in her old workplace as in their new factory Padilla and Mahalia were the only Filipinas.

For Mahalia, the challenges of adapting to Korea’s work culture were minor compared with the problems she had with her husband, Junsik. Mahalia was one of a significant number of

Filipino wives introduced to their future husbands by siblings or relatives who have already married Korean men and settled in Korea. Gijun had encouraged Padilla to introduce Mahalia to Junsik, who worked with Gijun in the construction industry and was single. Mahalia had seen her sister’s life in Korea and after her mother had also stayed, Mahalia decided life as a marriage migrant was a better prospect than remaining in the Philippines. Mahalia arrived in

Korea as a marriage migrant in 2015 when she was 24 years old. Shortly after her arrival

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Junsik stopped working and started drinking heavily. Padilla had arranged for Mahalia to work at the toothpaste factory and every day after coming back from her job, she found

Junsik had locked himself in a room and was drinking until one day he disappeared. Mahalia could not contact him and did not know what to do so went about life as normal, assuming

Junsik would return after a few days. However, after a week had passed Junsik’s older sister said she had admitted him to a rehabilitation centre for alcoholism without informing

Mahalia. Mahalia reflected that, ‘I think my sister-in-law felt pity for me, which is why she put my husband in the institution.’ Mahalia moved into Padilla’s house to stay with her sister and mother.

Women like Mahalia who are unable to continue living with their husbands face uncertainty over both their marriage and residency. There are no clear guidelines as to what constitutes a

‘genuine marriage’ for marriage migrants trying to satisfy this condition of their visa, leaving immigration authorities a high level of discretion (Kim 2016). This was problematic for

Mahalia as she did not have much time remaining before she had to renew her temporary spouse visa (F-6-1 Spouse Visa), which required her husband’s support and proof their marriage was ‘genuine’. Along with Padilla, Mahalia’s Filipina friends were worried and asking for everyone’s help, which was how I learned about Mahalia’s situation. At our first meeting Mahalia showed me letters from immigration authorities stating she would be deported unless she could show her marriage was still genuine. I introduced a human rights lawyer who contacted immigration authorities to advocate on Mahalia’s behalf, but without success.

Within Korea’s migration system there are limited protections for migrant wives in difficult situations due to their husband’s failings, with many voluntarily remigrating to their origin

125 countries rather than facing opaque immigration and legal processes.98 During the numerous meetings with Mahalia and other Filipinas who were trying to help, none of them thought it problematic that Mahalia’s sister-in-law had admitted Junsik to the rehabilitation centre without Mahalia’s permission. If Junsik’s family considered Mahalia as an equal partner, they should have consulted her. It was also odd that the rehabilitation centre admitted Junsik without notifying his wife. None of the Filipino wives found this odd, instead they thought

Mahalia should try to focus on explaining to immigration officials that she did not know about Junsik’s alcoholism. They felt this was crucial as they worried officials would deport

Mahalia if they thought she had known this and that she would be perceived as taking advantage of Junsik to get a visa. Mahalia listened to the Filipina’s advice and was obsessed with repeating to anyone who would listen that she had not known about her husband’s illness prior to her marriage. This was the case when I introduced her to Chesa (a naturalised

Filipina who worked as a counsellor at the Seoul Global Center). After meeting Mahalia,

Chesa called me and was pessimistic saying, ‘Between you and me, I don’t think Mahalia can prove her marriage is genuine as her brother-in-law introduced her husband and it’s difficult to prove that the brother-in-law didn’t know about his alcoholism. In addition, they don’t have any children. There will be no way the government lets her stay.’ During my fieldwork I observed many cases where childless migrant wives were denied PR or citizenship even when they were eligible, as government officials were only convinced a marriage was genuine after a child was born.

Mahalia only had 14 days left on her temporary marriage migrant visa when we last met and she was preparing for possible deportation. On 24 May 2016 immigration authorities interviewed Mahalia and did not allow any family or friends to attend and translate. The

98 Twisted F-6: cross-border nuptials’ blind spot www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2019/10/177_257217.html Accessed 21 October 2019. 126 outcome of the interview was that an immigration officer asked Mahalia’s sister-in-law if their family wanted to renew the visa or have her deported. Her sister-in-law told the immigration authorities to renew the visa, but Mahalia was still awaiting a formal response when I last met her in June 2016. After I completed my fieldwork, immigration authorities agreed to renew Mahalia’s F6 visa temporarily, with Gijun as her sponsor, until Junsik recovered. However, she would face deportation if her marriage failed. As of January 2019,

Mahalia was still living with Padilla, her mother and Gijun, while Junsik had disappeared after leaving the rehabilitation centre and was no longer in contact with his family or

Mahalia. Because Junsik and Mahalia no longer lived together and they had no children,

Mahalia was ineligible to keep renewing her temporary marriage visa. At some stage she will probably be deported.

2.1. A Korean husband’s assimilation: Jasmine’s story

Mahalia’s case highlights the important role husbands play in migrant wives’ acculturation process, mental health and residency in Korea. Kim and Kim (2013) found that 9.2 per cent of migrant wives had depression, double the rate found in the general Korean population, due to acculturative stress.99 The government’s response to reduce the acculturative stress facing migrant wives has been through MFSCs, which as discussed in Chapter 2 are built on the notion migrant wives should first and foremost be mothers and caregivers, consistent with the

Confucian role of a wife (Moon 2005, 76). However, many Filipinas come to Korea with the goal of supporting family in the Philippines and are not necessarily content to stay at home as

99 Acculturative stress occurs due to difficulties migrants face in adapting to the new language, culture, race and other differences in their new society. 127 a wife and mother. These marriage migrants choose to work rather than attend MFSCs, rebelling against the state’s efforts to focus their lives on biological and cultural reproduction.

Rebelling against the state doctrine of reproductive citizenship means that a migrant wife forfeits certainty over residency and welfare benefits, yet this can be acceptable for those with supportive husbands. This was the case for Jasmine, who after arriving as a marriage migrant in October 2015 decided to delay having children. She was 27 years old when I met her in 2016 and had lived in Korea for less than a year. Jasmine attended the Jiksan MFSC for two months while looking for work and dropped out after finding a job at the toothpaste factory. Jasmine said that at work she was surrounded by Filipinas and so was content to have only a limited level of Korean and rely on her husband as a portal to Korean society.

Jasmine’s husband had graduated from a well-known university and was of a similar age to her. He was trying to adapt to his wife, studying English and Tagalog, spending time with her

Filipino friends to understand Filipino culture and putting no pressure on Jasmine to try and assimilate to Korean culture.

Jasmine’s desire to support her family of six siblings and a mother in the Philippines motivated her decision to migrate. After graduating from university Jasmine found a job in

Manila, but her salary was not enough to support her family in Cavite City.100 As the eldest child with no father, Jasmine felt obliged to be the breadwinner for her family, but this was impossible unless she migrated. One of Jasmine’s friends had migrated to Korea and introduced her to her future husband. They began conversing online and via video chat to discuss marriage, with Jasmine explaining that once in Korea she needed to send monthly remittances. Her husband agreed on the condition they split their finances once married and

Jasmine could remit anything she earned. As a married couple they were frugal, living with

100 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cavite_City Accessed 22 October 2019. 128

Jasmine’s parents-in-law and only choosing to have a wedding ceremony and honeymoon after one year of marriage, when Jasmine had achieved her goal of remitting a certain amount. Jasmine’s in-laws were supportive and did not ask her to do any housework. The

Korean marital narrative of ‘normative gender division of labour between husband-provider and dependent housewife’ (Moon 2005, 78) or ‘reinforced gendered notions of labour that expected men to earn money’ (Hendrickson et al 2019, 691) did not apply in Jasmine’s relationship, which was based on a shared understanding that both partner’s ambitions were equally important. Other wives who lived with older conservative husbands envied Jasmine’s lifestyle as she could go out any time, have dates with her husband and did not have to play the role of a ‘good’ daughter-in-law focussed on producing and caring for children. They described Jasmine’s life as yeojeonhi cheonyeogata (still like a single woman’s life).

Eventually, in April 2019 Jasmine gave birth. Jasmine told me that she knew they would need to move and their lifestyle (alluding to keeping finances separate) would need to change but they had not planned that far ahead and continue to live with in-laws for now.

2.2. Failed relationships and employment

While it is rare, there are some cases where Filipinas will pursue marriage migration solely for the purpose of obtaining PR in Korea, aided by the cultural imperative that Korean men should marry and have children. This was arguably the situation of Dalisay (born in 1984), who in 2012 had married an obese man 11 years her senior whom she detested. Dalisay weighed only 42 kg, exercising and dieting excessively to maintain her weight and always dressed fashionably, keeping up with the latest fashion trends. Shortly after marrying, Dalisay had a daughter who was overweight. This was a source of shame for Dalisay and she often hit or ridiculed her daughter at Filipina gatherings. Dalisay had initially lived a comfortable life

129 in Korea due to her husband’s income, choosing not to work. After giving birth she began working at a factory to boost her income and have fun with Filipina co-workers after work.

Her family in the Philippines did not need financial support so remittances were unnecessary.

However, after four years of marriage Dalisay decided to separate from her husband.

Separation was complicated by visa issues, their daughter and the expectation in Korean society that children live with their mothers when parents separate, which has been attributed to labour market discrimination and cultural factors (Park, Choi and Jo, 2016). Dalisay’s husband agreed to separate but officially remain married so that Dalisay could legally stay in

Korea. In return, Dalisay’s husband demanded she take responsibility for raising their daughter and never ask him for money, a reflection of the fact that raising children in Korea is expensive and difficult for single parents. To make her new arrangement work, Dalisay sent her daughter to be raised by family in the Philippines and started sending remittances to support her upbringing.

While most migrant wives persevere through problematic relationships, Dalisay’s story is a reminder that not all relationship breakdowns are borne of violence from husbands and it is possible for Filipino wives to live happily alone in Korea, provided they have a visa or citizenship. For Dalisay, living in Korea was her goal and marriage had just been a means to achieving this. Dalisay felt sad to be apart from her daughter but wanted to stay in Korea. In the Philippines it was socially acceptable for children to be raised by relatives while their mother earned overseas.

Dalisay’s story demonstrates how the Korean state’s prioritisation of the family unit and fertility can lead to poor relationship outcomes for migrant wives, Korean husbands and their children. Both Dalisay and her husband were locked into an ‘institutional marriage’ that was created to satisfy Dalisay’s desire to migrate and her husband’s cultural imperative to marry.

It would be difficult for either to exit without questions being asked about their child’s

130 welfare and why they had married. Dalisay had quickly moved on from her husband, finding a Filipino migrant worker boyfriend. But adjusting was more difficult for her daughter, who had not fitted with either of her parent’s plans or ambitions.

Dalisay’s story is not common as in cases of failed relationships migrant wives can rarely negotiate an amicable separation and are usually deported if they have not naturalised (Kim,

Park and Shukhertei 2017, 39). This was the experience of Benilda (introduced in Chapter 2), who had been an exemplar of a reproductive citizen during her first years in Korea. Benilda had a son not long after marrying and was a dedicated student and devoted mother when we first met. However, her relationship began to unravel in 2016 after her husband lost his full- time job and began drinking. Benilda began working full-time and her husband spent more time raising their son, who forgot the good manners his mother had taught and became harder to control. Benilda took on extra shifts to make ends meet and stopped attending the MFSC.

After my fieldwork concluded, Benilda separated from her husband and remigrated to the

Philippines with her son. Through a series of online exchanges Benilda explained that she had suffered domestic violence and eventually left when she could take no more. Her husband would often drink too much and become physically violent and force her to leave the house or would rape Benilda. After returning to the Philippines, Benilda took a job at a casino101 in Manila while her son was raised by his grandparents in their hometown. Benilda said she had left Korea without formalising her divorce, but her remigration was permanent.

Belinda’s journey as a migrant wife was a dramatic fall from what had initially been a happy and loving relationship. She had gone from a wife who loved discussing raising and educating her son according to Korean custom and was considering having a second child, to running away from Korea with no intention to return. This was despite Benilda being an

101 https://www.okadamanila.com/ Accessed 18 December 2018. 131 exemplar for the state’s program of reproductive citizenship: content to stay home as a mother and wife, taking a strong interest in Korean culture, cooking and language and preferring to focus on raising her child. Like many migrant wives fleeing domestic violence,

Benilda chose to remigrate rather than separate, depriving Korea of a hard-working immigrant and young citizen. Benilda’s story highlights that both husbands and the Korean state cannot take for granted a migrant wives’ commitment to marriage and settlement.

Conclusion: the agency of ‘earners’ and the disempowerment of ‘spenders’

The stories in this chapter highlight that education for husbands is the critical missing ingredient in the Korean state’s approach to multiculturalism, while the focus on moulding migrant wives is misplaced. Responding to the desires of the state, Dalisay and Benilda quickly had children with men who ultimately had limited interest in caring for them. The result is two failed relationships which left half-Korean children to be raised by family in the

Philippines. Their fathers could have benefited from education and state monitoring over how they treated their wives and children, but instead the efforts of the state were focussed exclusively on migrant wives. Jasmine’s husband was comparatively enlightened and had made sure to understand his wife’s perspective prior to marriage and adapted to his wife’s culture after she migrated. Their decision to delay having children allowed them more time to know one another before having children and for Jasmine to fulfil her goal of supporting family she had left behind in the Philippines.

When focussing on the individual, the stories that emerge from migrant workers who become wives highlight the shortcomings of the Korean state’s focus on the primacy of the traditional

Confucian family and husband dominance in multicultural education. Wives who had previously been migrant workers, like Jaslene and Rosamie, had managed to navigate Korean

132 society, balance work and care responsibilities, and determine gender roles in their household without help from the state. Their relationship with their husbands was based on mutual respect and understanding, rather than husband dominance. Previous experience with earning and being financially independent gave them the confidence that they could thrive in Korean society. Migrant entertainers and marriage migrants lacked this confidence, with too much power and control put into the hands of husbands, in the case of wives, and employers in the case of entertainers. This left migrant wives and entertainers prone to abuse and exploitation.

Migrant workers can also face these issues, but in the case of Filipinas the confidence to walk away from jobs can help to avoid abusive relationships with employers.

The experiences of the Filipino wives presented in this chapter help illuminate the interconnections and challenge the distinctions between marriage and labour migration.

Individual stories highlight the importance of employment for migrant wives’ agency, independence and adaptation to their new country. While the Korean government’s model of acculturation is premised on encouraging migrant wives to be caregivers and stay at home mothers in the Confucian mould of a pliant wife and daughter-in-law, this is very different to the dreams of many Filipinas. Each year over two million Filipinos leave their country to work abroad102 in demanding jobs, often at the lower ranks of society, in countries that offer them no pathway to become a resident. The remittances they send ensure a better life for their loved ones and motivate them to overcome challenging and difficult conditions. Filipina marriage migrants have similar dreams to Filipina migrant workers. Many of the marriage migrants presented in this chapter found jobs to fulfil their ambition to earn an income and used the money they earned to support their families, both in Korea and the Philippines.

102 There were 1,255,647 female and 1,083,897 male Filipinos working overseas in 2017 according to the Philippine Statistics Authority, 2017 Survey on Overseas Filipinos https://psa.gov.ph/content/statistical-tables- overseas-filipino-workers-ofw-2017 Accessed 11 January 2019. 133

Work plays an important role in Filipina’s acculturation, with the skills and confidence gained from employment a much better way to integrate Filipinas into Korean society than cultural lessons prescribed by the state. Ex-workers like Jaslene and Rosamie had their own

IDs, bank accounts and could confidently shop online and use public transport. Prior to marriage they had gained experience living independently in Korea, managing and saving their income, as well as dealing directly with Korean employers, co-workers and strangers.

This experience equipped them well to understand what they were getting into by marrying

Korean spouses and navigate life as a migrant wife. Marriage migrants on the other hand were often sheltered and depended on their husbands to play an intermediary role with

Korean society. Many of these men did not support their wives becoming independent, driving them from place to place, providing only enough cash to survive and failing to assist them to obtain IDs and bank accounts. These marriage migrants were not equal partners in their marriages and had to fight to gain more autonomy and respect. Working has the potential to break down the gendered division of power and labour in migrant wives’ households. In the absence of work, there is a danger that migrant wives can be cut off from the outside world and deprived of the opportunity to gain the skills and experience necessary to live independently in Korea.

Most of the marriage migrants in this chapter had managed to quickly find employment once they started searching and were willing to do jobs Koreans were not. Unlike Korean women who shun low paid factory work and instead prefer jobs of higher status, the Filipinas in this chapter had few qualms about manual labour and nearly always chose factories over hagwons. Despite the best efforts of MFSCs to train migrant wives not to challenge the gendered patriarchy that permeates Korean society, Filipinas were willing to challenge the socially accepted division of stay at home housewife and husband provider. Padilla had challenged the authority of her male supervisor in the workplace which contributed to her

134 departure from the toothpaste factory. For migrant workers this would be devastating as their employer sponsors their visa and could have them deported upon termination. However, as a migrant wife with a marriage migrant visa, Padilla had no such problem and quickly found another factory job. This reflects the huge difference in the rights and privileges afforded to those with marriage migrant visas over migrant worker visas. Migrant workers must pay fees, navigate recruitment agencies, pass medical tests and undertake training before entering

Korea. On arrival they can be exploited and mistreated as was the case for the E6 entertainment visa holders who were trafficked into sex work and staying at the shelter in

Pyeongtaek.

Having provided examples in this chapter of migrant wives who have gained financial independence and moved toward ‘middle-class’ status through their employment, the next chapter highlights families who have had to consider remigration with their husbands as their only feasible option for a financially secure retirement. Preparing for remigration can bring challenges but has the potential for a balanced relationship between husband and wife based on mutual respect and shared experience, as both parties experience migrating to the other’s country.

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CHAPTER IV: DREAMING OF A HAPPY FAMILY

For many decades Filipinas have chosen the risky and uncertain path of marriage migration in pursuit of a ‘more egalitarian family life’ (Constable 2003, 167). The dream of hypergamy, or improving social status through marriage, is often unfulfilled as the foreign men who

Filipinas marry take pains to appear affluent when the women are still in the Philippines but for the most part are of low socioeconomic status in their home country (Lumayag 2016, 83).

This was commonly the case among the migrant wives I encountered during my fieldwork.

These women confronted hardship in their daily lives due to a range of factors including poverty, domestic violence and the pressure of caring for elderly husbands and in-laws.

This chapter explores what features characterise the unique cases of loving couples, examining the roles of age, children and socioeconomic background. Giving birth is the surest way for a migrant wife to gain admiration and respect from their husbands and the

Korean state. Nurturing a biracial child provides migrant wives a path to Permanent

Residency (PR) and results in special welfare benefits reserved for multicultural families.103

With benefits paid directly into the mother’s bank accounts, having children also provides migrant wives with their own source of income that can be used for remittances, consumption or daily necessities. However, without children, migrant wives struggle to obtain PR and are reliant on their husband’s good will to renew their temporary marriage visa, with the period of renewal uncertain. Childless wives are treated with suspicion by their in-laws, community and the Korean state, which question whether marital relationships are genuine as the migrant wife has failed to fulfil her role as a reproductive citizen. This system effectively ensures that migrant wives remain subordinate and dependent on their husbands for their residency.

103 Anna Kim (2016, 92) noted migrant wives received approximately 59 per cent of the government budget for foreign policies yet accounted for only 10 per cent of all migrants. 136

The importance of Filipino wives having children presents an anomaly as it has become increasingly acceptable and normal for ethnic Korean couples to remain childless. This divergence in the behaviour of Filipina and Korean wives reflects that migrant wives face a triple burden of discrimination as foreigners, women and having married men of low socioeconomic status. However, the key explanatory factors would appear to be race and nationality, as Korean women of both high and low educational attainment have low rates of fertility (Yoo 2014). It is socially acceptable for ethnic Korean women to limit their fertility due to employer discrimination against mothers, lack of childcare places and unfair gender divisions in parental leave and care (Lee, Duvander and Zarid 2016, Lee, Jang and Sarkar

2008). Due to these factors Korean women, rather than men, decide whether to have children and how many (Yoon 2016). Migrant wives face a different situation as it is not difficult for

Korean husbands to divorce a childless wife and have her deported, then remarry and sponsor a new migrant wife104. Some international matchmakers even offer ‘bride guarantees’ where if a migrant bride runs away, they guarantee to replace her with another (Lee Hye-kyung

2008, 115).

For migrant wives who do have children, love and affection from husbands can help to overcome material hardship and large age differences. Many scholars have explored the importance of love, affection and intimacy between migrant wives and Korean husbands

(Constable 2003, Freeman 2005, Kim Minjeong 2018). These studies have helped to combat the popular discourse of migrant wives as lacking agency and as ‘victims’ trapped in insincere relationships of convenience devoid of mutual respect (Choo 2013, Kim Sumi

104 Prior to 2014 a Korean national was permitted to sponsor two spouse visas every five years. After 1 January 2014, Korean nationals must wait five years before they can sponsor another spouse visa. See http://overseas.mofa.go.kr/us- en/brd/m_4502/view.do?seq=707148&srchFr=&srchTo=&srchWord=&srchTp=&multi_itm _seq=0&itm_seq_1=0&itm_seq_2=0&company_cd=&company_nm=&page=1 Accessed 3 March 2020. 137

2009). Instead, I observed many examples during my fieldwork of loving and affectionate relationships. In many cases, Korean men who had been denied female companionship for most of their lives were not only given the intimacy they craved but had their manhood restored in a Confucian society where male maturity is associated with being a husband and father (Freeman 2011, Kim Minjeong 2014). However, Confucianism also dictates that husband dominance prevails in these relationships, especially those where the husband is of low socioeconomic status. Based on her research on Filipino wives in a rural area, Minjeong

Kim (2018) observed ‘gendered and racial subordination’ that was ‘amplified by the economic anxieties common among class-disadvantaged families’ (p.16-17). Among my research subjects I found that in relationships where husbands had a low income or were of low status, they exhibited a ‘saviour complex’ believing they had rescued their wife from poverty. Very rarely did Filipinas agree with this assessment, instead expressing that they exercised agency when deciding to become marriage migrants, choosing this option from among many.

1. Living the Korean dream: why Filipinas migrate to Korea

The ‘Korean Dream’ is a term used to explain the significant immigration of South and

Southeast Asians to Korea in the pursuit of wealth and a better life. Cheng (2010, 65) discussed the importance of the Korean dream among both migrants and in public discourse within Korea. Among migrants the term relates to the nation’s rapid transformation from poor to rich and the hope that this is replicated in migrant’s own lives. When Vivian (discussed in

Chapter 1) recalled her decision to migrate to Korea, she imagined Korea was a place where

‘everyone can be rich’. For native Koreans, the Korean dream has connotations of the superiority of Korea over developing countries. Cheng (2010) has documented that the term

138 is being more widely used and heard within public discourse, including academia and the media. Within migrant wives’ communities, women commonly share their perspective on the

Korean dream before and after arrival in Korea.

For Filipinos emigrating in search of hypergamy, the Korean dream has become more acceptable as an alternative to the ‘American dream’ (Lee Jin Kyung 2015). Due to the

Philippines status as a former U.S. colony (from 1898 until 1948), history of two-way migration and the dominance of American culture and institutions, the American dream has a strong cultural and political resonance in the Philippines. For Filipinas contemplating becoming a marriage migrant, the American dream evokes imagery of modernity and stable monogamous men, unlike in the Philippines where it is socially acceptable for married men to maintain mistresses (Cheng 2010, 92). The ideal images of American men as romantic and sincere providers have increasingly been challenged by Korean men due to the popularity of

Korean drama and K-pop culture across Asia, including the Philippines. Through watching

Korean TV programmes and movies, as well as exposure to Korean trends and culture through media, Korean men are perceived as romantic husbands and stable financial providers living in a safe yet exciting and glamorous country. Young Filipinas considering marriage migration are increasingly drawn to Korea, one of the few destinations where the number of Filipinas emigrating for marriage has risen (Cabilao-Valencia 2015). Marriage migration for these women reflects that Korea is a new land of opportunities in Asia, nearer than the USA or other popular destination countries. They imagine having opportunities for social advancement that are not available in the Philippines, especially for those born into and raised in poor families. This dream can collide with reality once marriage migrants arrive and find their husbands are not of high socioeconomic status and Korea has its own barriers to social mobility that are harder to overcome for migrants.

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The Korean dream is also closely related with the state’s attempts to promote Korea as a sub- empire, selling the notion to migrants that a land of opportunity awaits and ‘camouflaging the reality of institutionalised racialised labour exploitation’ (Lee Jin-Kyung 2010, 214). Jin-

Kyung Lee (2010, 185-231) examined how the Korean state and businesses exploit the

Korean dream to capitalise on migrant labour by promising opportunity that is prevented by systems that ensure racial segregation and deny migrants integration into society as equals alongside ethnic Koreans.

The process of moulding migrant wives into the desired form of reproductive citizens reflects the state’s attitude that migrant wives enter Korea already subordinated by backward cultural values from their less developed and therefore inferior origin country. In the case of the

Multicultural Family Support Centre in Cheonan (the Centre), there were gendered, racial and class undertones in the judgement and gossip of ethnic Korean staff. These judgements were often unfair and wrong, presuming that migrant wives were solely motivated by material desire and large age gaps were indicative of relationships devoid of love. As is borne out in this chapter and other stories, my experience is that older and poorer Korean men are often

140 more appreciative of young foreign wives than men who married migrant wives of a similar age.

2. Learning to love an elderly lower-class Prince Charming

Within Korean society marriage migration has become normalised over the past decade,105 particularly in rural areas where bachelors are supported to marry foreigners.106 These men are considered of ‘subaltern status’ (Kim Minjeong 2014, 294), having low levels of education, working in unskilled professions and considered too old for the young fertile women they desire. They are often pushed to marry by elderly parents concerned about family lines ending and the tradition of parents playing matchmaker when their children struggle to find a spouse (Abelman and Kim 2004). Consistent with subimperial notions of

Korean racial and cultural superiority over developing nations (Lee Jin-Kyung 2010, Kim and Jeon 2017), Korean bachelors perceive Filipinas as pliant and deferential compared to

Korean women. Another factor pushing some Korean families towards marriage migration is the trend over recent decades for Korean women to marry men with similar levels of education or men who are wealthier (Ma et al 2014). Minjeong Kim (2014) reported a survey of Korean males which indicated that the biggest perceived benefit of marrying foreign brides is the lack of interest in a groom’s educational background and financial status. For men and

105 Anna Kim (2018) notes that the proportion of cross-border marriages among total marriages was 7.3 per cent in 2016, having fallen from a peak of 13.5 per cent in 2005. 106 In many rural provinces local governments provide subsidies for men who marry foreigners. Local subsidies encourage foreign ‘bride buying’ www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20190218000459 Accessed 15 April 2019. 141 their families who feel insecure regarding their socioeconomic status, marrying a foreigner can be an attractive proposition.

Darna (born 1984 and from Davao City, the Philippines) was born into poverty. After her mother died when she was 12 years old, Darna became the matriarch for four younger siblings and an unemployed father. Darna received a fortunate break when her aunt provided financial support to allow her to attend and graduate from university. Darna’s aunt had been a marriage migrant in the US and remigrated with her American husband after his retirement.

Darna admired her aunt and after working in the Philippines for some years decided migration was the only way she could achieve prosperity and financially support her family.

She was introduced to her future husband, Cheolsu, by a colleague’s sister who had become a marriage migrant in Korea. Cheolsu was 19 years older than Darna and had a low paying insecure job as a construction worker, but she was willing to overlook these issues in order to become a marriage migrant.

Like many Korean men who pursue marriage migration, Cheolsu was encouraged to marry by his mother. After marrying and migrating to Korea in 2013, Darna lived with her mother- in-law and Cheolsu in Pyeongteak City. However, this living arrangement caused difficulties, as Darna and her mother-in-law did not have a good relationship. After one month, Darna threatened to leave Korea if they did not move out. Using the threat of divorce to establish negotiating power in a relationship was a common and effective tactic used by the migrant wives I observed. Cheolsu acceded to Darna’s request and they moved to Cheonan City, where they share a tiny residence with Cheolsu’s younger brother and their daughter Jisu, who was a toddler in 2015.

While Darna was not deferential to her mother-in-law and husband, in all other aspects she was the epitome of reproductive citizenship having biologically reproduced shortly after

142 arriving and actively participating in MFSC language and culture classes, where her teachers said she was one of their most diligent students. Darna’s commitment to study was motivated by a desire to gain citizenship and a supportive husband. Cheolsu strongly supported his wife’s studies, which would aid her life in Korea and assist her to raise Jisu. As a loving wife who provided a child shortly after marriage, Darna had restored Cheolsu’s manhood in a society where male maturity is associated with marriage and fatherhood. Darna was also careful with money, which Cheolsu highly valued given his low paying and irregular work.

Like many Korean husbands who pursue marriage migration Cheolsu had limited prospects of attracting a native bride given his age, low income and appearance from a life spent working in construction. During an interview Cheolsu summarised his motivation by recalling, ‘I got old from doing hard physical work. Hyeongnim (literally older brother, but in this case referring to an older friend) married a Filipina and was happy so suggested I marry a

Filipina. Hyeongnim’s wife introduced Darna and I started contacting her, but soon I decided to give up. It seemed complicated and hard to marry a foreigner and I thought about it more and decided it wasn’t a good idea. After I stopped contacting Darna, of course hyeongnim said it’s okay and not to worry, but I didn’t feel comfortable. I’m a responsible man. I worried if Darna was suffering or having a difficult time because I changed my mind about wanting to marry her. I heard she had quit her job in Davao and went to Manila. I felt responsible because I thought she had gone there because of me. Maybe she had expected to be coming to Korea and quit her job in anticipation of this, but then because I didn’t want her anymore so she had fallen on hard times and left for Manila to find a job.’

Darna disagreed with Cheolsu’s characterisation of himself as a saviour, intervening to explain, ‘I was trying to find a job overseas in Taiwan or Singapore, so I went to Manila for interviews at recruitment firms. I wanted to migrate and leaving Davao was unrelated to

Cheolsu’s initial rejection.’ Cheolsu appeared dismissive of his wife’s version continuing,

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‘Regardless of what she wanted before meeting me, I still think it was my responsibility to take care of her after we started talking about marriage.’ Cheolsu’s decision to pursue marriage to a Filipina through friendship networks was influenced by his brother’s experience of failing to find a spouse through a commercial marriage broker. He shared, ‘My younger brother wastes so much money, already around 10,000,000 Won (around AU$ 12,350). He planned to marry a Vietnamese lady through a broker but it didn’t work out. The lady said her family was building a house and asked my brother to contribute. He sent a lot of money and then the woman decided she no longer wanted to marry. He lost it all and now lives with us!’

Cheolsu was proud that he had not relied on commercial brokers unlike his brother, but I knew it was common for Korean men to provide money to a prospective wife’s family to gain their blessing. This was not the case for Cheolsu, who had instead paid for his friend’s wife and her two children to accompany him to meet Darna for the first time. Cheolsu said this cost around 5,000,000 Won (around AU$ 6,175), but that the expense was ‘unavoidable’ as he needed a translator to communicate with Darna.

Cheolsu’s decision to marry Darna reflected a longing for intimacy, care and companionship.

He recalled, ‘While I was in the Philippines with hyeongnim’s wife and her children to meet

Darna and look around, I saw Darna always kept receipts. Every night when we all came back to the hotel, Darna was reviewing the receipts and checking our spending. She wasn’t one of those girls spending and not caring about other people’s money. That’s the reason I liked her and decided to bring her to Korea.’ Cheolsu also discussed his impression of the poverty Darna and her family endured in the Philippines, recalling ‘I stayed at a hotel even though Darna said I could stay at her place. You know… to be honest, I couldn’t sleep there.

The house environment isn’t good. I don’t know how they live in such an environment.’

As an older construction worker with no post-secondary education, job precarity and the temporary nature of contractual work were major challenges Cheolsu had endured his entire

144 life. The day of our interview Cheolsu had been terminated from his latest job as the project he was working on finished. While Cheolsu had been aware for some time his job would end and had no future employment secured, he was confident a new job would emerge. With his last paycheck Cheolsu had purchased air tickets for Darna and Jisu to go to the Philippines for two months from December 2015. Cheolsu arrived late for our interview at a coffee shop and while we waited Darna saved some coffee and cake for her husband, showing her genuine care. Eventually though, Darna asked Cheolsu if he had any money to buy some coffee. From his pocket, Cheolsu produced a few coins that he placed on the table before proudly stating that he had spent all his money at a travel agent buying Korean Airlines tickets for his family, saying these were the most expensive available. He justified having bought expensive airfares but not being able to afford a cup of coffee by stating he wanted his wife and daughter to travel comfortably. Darna asked Cheolsu whether they could cancel their tickets and buy cheaper ones. Cheolsu responded that the price did not matter and that he had already ordered a baby meal and basinet so they could travel comfortably. Darna looked at Cheolsu warmly, pleased with his response and said she was excited to be going back home. Cheolsu said they were hoping to bring Darna’s father back to Korea on this visit and Darna would stay in the Philippines preparing whatever paperwork and processes were required to obtain a visa for her father.

Darna and Cheolsu’s story illustrates how genuine relationships can be forged between men on the fringes of Korean society and marriage migrants from very different cultures. Their situation was aided by the birth of Jisu, who guaranteed Darna’s place in Korea and access to welfare benefits. Korean society has increasingly come to accept the system whereby migrant women are provided a ‘guarantee of subsistence and economic safety’ in return for marrying and reproducing with Korean men unable to find native brides (Song 2014, 22). Darna secured her position in this system through marrying an older man who had sympathy

145 towards her. Cross-border marriage appealed to Darna, who had the belief that marrying a

Korean would improve her life. Despite having obtained a college degree, holding a permanent job and speaking fluent English, attributes which made her a good candidate to become a migrant worker, Darna chose to marry Cheolsu who was older, less educated, had unstable employment and did not share a common language. While Darna had done relatively well in the Philippines given her tough upbringing, Cheolsu told me Darna’s former job before coming to Korea was not good as her salary was only US$ 200 per month and she never received a pay rise or severance during her employment. For Darna, migration and remittances were the only realistic path to ‘save’ her family from continuous poverty and put them in a better financial position. She chose to become a marriage migrant rather than a migrant worker, reflecting her unique family history and experience observing her aunt’s journey.

Darna’s life had taught her to be frugal. She had experienced poverty and was conscious that small savings in Korea could go a long way if her family remigrated to the Philippines once

Cheolsu was too old to work. Whenever we spent time together, Darna said she did not have money even though she had cash on hand. After getting to know me well, Darna explained she kept this money for emergencies in the knowledge Cheolsu sometimes made poor financial decisions. Her careful spending appealed to Cheolsu who could not afford a

‘spending’ wife. Despite money being tight in their household, Darna sent remittances every month to her family in the Philippines. With that money, her younger sister managed to cover living costs for Darna’s siblings and father. For Darna, sending remittances was the most essential expectation of her marriage. This was a major issue between Darna and her mother- in-law when they lived together. Even after moving out, Darna’s mother-in-law still called

Cheolsu, urging him not to send money to Darna’s family. This behaviour reflected traditional Korean customs and family structures where a woman’s responsibility to her

146 biological family transfers to her in-law family after marriage. Yuh (2002, 155) describes that traditionally in Korea, married women could ‘no longer be considered full-fledged members of their natal families, in accordance with patriarchal customs that transfer a woman’s familial identification from that of her birth family to that of her husband’s family’. In this respect Cheolsu’s mother could not accept Darna maintaining close bonds with her Filipino family and sharing her son’s money with in-laws. Cheolsu was understanding of how important remittances were for Darna and her family as he had witnessed their living conditions when he visited Davao. His own experience had also taught him how difficult life can be without money. Cheolsu spent his life working in the construction industry undertaking tough physical labour, but his salary was barely enough to cover costs and his position was always as a temporary worker surviving on daily earnings. His age, maturity and life experiences enabled him to empathise with the poverty Darna’s family faced and reject his mother’s pleas to not help them. Cheolsu expressed his commitment to Darna through sending remittances every month despite his unstable income and even periods without work for a few months.

Overall, Darna’s love for Cheolsu was powerful enough to hide the unattractive aspects of their marital situation. For instance, Darna was unable to bring her father from the Philippines as Cheolsu could not find the permanent job needed to meet the eligibility criteria to sponsor

Darna’s father for a visa. Nevertheless, Darna expressed gratitude and love for Cheolsu’s attempt to help her father. In each of our informal and formal interviews, Darna remained positive and happy about her experience of married life, emphasising caring and considerate feelings towards and from Cheolsu. Darna said during an interview, ‘I know we’re not going to starve as long as we live in Korea. The government will help us and my husband tries hard to make money. I love sweet things, especially cake. He occasionally brings cakes home and

147 never rejects any of my requests.’ Cheolsu also expressed his love for Darna in remembering the things that made her cherish Korea.

While Darna was dependent on Cheolsu to navigate life in Korea, she had agency over several important aspects of her family’s decision-making and was highly motivated to integrate into Korean society. As a mum, she wanted to make sure Jisu experienced socialising with Korean children and learned Korean from native teachers from an early age.

Jisu had been going to the childcare since March 2016 when she was less than two years old.

Most migrant wives I encountered preferred to keep their children at home until school age as if a child attended childcare then the government directly paid the childcare subsidy fees and stopped sending cash payments to mothers’ bank accounts. However, Darna was determined to ensure Jisu did not fall behind other Korean children and was willing to lose her welfare payments. When we met in mid-2016, Darna said that for the sake of her family’s happiness, she was embracing ppallippalli (doing things quickly) every morning to send Jisu to childcare so she could learn Korean customs, language and culture.

Darna was one of a few Filipino wives focussed on her studies and committed herself to go to the Centre every weekday so she could improve her Korean faster and become a citizen.

After graduating from Korean classes at the Centre and waiting to receive citizenship due to a mandatory waiting period, Darna became pregnant with her second child. As Darna had grown up with other siblings, she believed Jisu needed a sibling to depend on and wanted to fulfil Cheolsu’s wish to have more children. Darna gave birth to another daughter in 2018 and remained at home to look after the younger one in order to receive extra social benefits107 that

107 There are a range of federal and provincial government benefits for families with children designed to encourage households to have children. For each young child not in school the federal government provides a regular payment directly to the mother’s bank account, while eggs, milk and other items are delivered to the household. There are extra benefits for parents who have two or more children. 148 helped fund remittances. Her remittances back home enabled her to influence her family’s lifestyle and even though she was in Korea, she did not lose her position as the eldest daughter and received respect from her father and siblings.

Darna did not put up with the authoritative control of her mother-in-law regarding remittances and demonstrated agency over family decisions early in her marriage. In cross- border marriages, as Ji- Yeon Yuh’s (2002) book showed, Korean migrant wives in the US used the threat of divorce to negotiate their desires and wants as they did not hold other forms of power to negotiate in their husband’s country. Darna also threatened Cheolsu with divorce early in their marriage to show she was unwilling to endure oppressive Confucian gendered roles in her mother-in-law’s home and ensure she earned the most important thing in her cross-border marriage, remittances for her family. Freeman (2011, 114) noted that ‘Korea is a patrilocal, patrilineal society where women are expected to adjust to the kinship practices and expectations of their husband’s families.’ Despite rejecting her mother-in-law, Darna did adapt to Korean patrilocal customs when she agreed her brother-in-law could live in her small home. As a conservative older Korean man, Cheolsu accepted that Darna and his mother’s differing beliefs relating to remittances meant they could not live together. However, he still expected Darna to embrace his younger brother living with them.

Cheolsu was willing to accept strained relations with his mother due to remittances as this allowed him to advance a saviour narrative where his work was helping his extended family to escape poverty. In his interview, Cheolsu expressed the view that he had ‘saved’ his wife, rescuing her from an unprivileged country where justice did not exist. He claimed that

Darna’s career prospects were poor as she did not receive pay rises and severance, even though she had a permanent office job, unlike his temporary blue-collar work that also did not afford pay rises or severance. By marrying Darna, Cheolsu claimed he was a responsible

149 man compared with other men who did not follow through with marrying foreigners even after being intimate or alluding to marriage. Keeping his promise to send remittances became a ritual and regular remitting enabled Cheolsu to remain a saviour (at least in his mind), and to be remembered by Darna’s family, friends and relatives in Davao. His marriage and status as a breadwinner for Darna’s family and his children enabled Cheolsu to reclaim his manhood, having spent most of his life marginalised in the lowest jobs in Korea’s globalising economy.

Cheolsu’s satisfaction with his married life and high sense of self-worth emanated from his long period of bachelorhood, a frustration shared by many Korean men unable to find wives.

Minjeong Kim (2018, 18) observed that ‘men who seek cross-border marriages…believe that their low socioeconomic status has pushed them out of the domestic marriage market’.

Cheolsu alleged that ‘Korean women are worthless, selfish, opportunistic and do not value family anymore, unqualified to be mothers.’ From Cheolsu’s perspective, he had not only rescued Darna from a life of poverty but had also managed to find a caring wife and mother in a country where such women did not exist for men like him. Cheolsu showed no hesitation in criticising Korean women in front of me, seemingly not associating me with what in his mind were stereotypical money-minded women who would not talk with men like him. At the same time, Cheolsu also sought my acknowledgement of the difficulties in marrying a foreigner, referencing our shared Korean identity and stating, ‘Foreign women take effort to look after and they are not easy to live with.’

‘Love’ serves as a discourse accounting for the give and take in relationships between Korean husbands and migrant wives. Darna desired protection and financial security, while Cheolsu wanted his own family, something that in Korean society is necessary for affirmation of manhood. Sealing Cheng (2010, 144) quoted a Filipina from her fieldwork who distinguished

150 between love and being in love as, ‘Loving someone means you care about her, you are concerned about her, but you come first. But being in love with someone means that you put the other person’s welfare first.’ Using this framework Darna and Cheolsu seemed to love each other, with Cheolsu prioritising remittances and caring for Darna’s family, while Darna prioritised raising their children who formed the foundation of their love for one another.

Despite his unreliable income and employment Cheolsu tried to follow through on his commitments. After initiating discussions about marriage migration with Darna he felt duty bound to follow through. In his interview Cheolsu wanted to distinguish himself from other

Korean bachelors and stressed his care and responsibility toward Darna, differentiating their relationship from cases of Korean men reneging on promises of marriage after having sexual relationships and abusive husbands mistreating migrant wives. Growing up without a mum,

Darna had to look after her siblings and father, retaining a sense of responsibility toward her

Filipino family even after emigrating. She felt loved by having a guardian who prioritised her desires and family. Darna’s feelings of affection toward Cheolsu and the gentle and caring way he treated her were powerful factors maintaining satisfaction in their marriage.

Darna displayed romantic affection for Cheolsu, who she described as her ‘prince charming’, an image he had maintained even as their family faced irregular income and cramped living conditions. Darna’s satisfaction with her husband and life was in part due to realistic expectations of what her life would be like in Korea. Some migrant wives imagine that lives of luxury await with big houses and modern cities as depicted in Korean TV dramas. This was rarely the case but provided their husband was not abusive and displayed genuine care towards them and their children, other problems could be forgiven. Many Filipino wives I observed tended to have low expectation of their husbands and would claim their marriages were fine and blessed. Their early disappointment after arriving in Korea and discovering the racism, class-divisions and sexism inherent in Korean society could give way to satisfaction

151 and fulfilment provided they received love and dedication from their husbands. While many multicultural families remain marginalised in the eyes of Korean authorities and society due to low socioeconomic status, racism and large age gaps between husbands and wives108,

Cheolsu and Darna’s case shows these relationships can be fulfilling for both partners. Their happiness as a couple will likely be tested given the physically demanding nature of

Cheolsu’s work and his old age, but at a minimum they have a solid foundation of mutual respect for one another that should help to deal with future challenges.

Darna’s case shows that what appears to be a very ‘institutional marriage’ involving a large age gap and low socioeconomic status family, had paid off for both partners. Darna and

Cheolsu’s marriage was an example of a truly loving and mutually supportive marriage. Their story shows that a multicultural couple can have a caring, true relationship. This couple had an equitable relationship, challenging the notion that migrant wives must serve older husbands and must be flexible to their demands. They personified a deeper, more balanced model of multiculturalism, showing it is still possible to maintain satisfying marriages despite lots of challenges.

3. Siti’s story: when migrant wives cannot reproduce

Although my research focussed on migrant wives from the Philippines, I introduce the case of an Indonesian wife, Siti, who married a man of similar age and socioeconomic status.

Volunteering at the Centre and NGOs, I met wives from other Asian countries. Filipinas interacted and socialised with women from other countries who they knew from classes at

108 The average age difference between Vietnamese wives and their Korean husbands is 17 years, see Vietnamese study to be ‘perfect Korean wives’. www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2012/12/2012123122810326420.html Accessed 12 April 2019.

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MFSCs or worked together. Migrant wives from different nationalities attend the same classes at MFSCs to gain citizenship, going through similar adjustment processes to be accepted as new reproductive citizens within the government’s immigration and multicultural policy framework.

In assessing which migrant wives are worthy of rights and protection, the Korean state prioritises producing and nurturing children above all else. The state’s pro-natalist approach stems from a desire to combat Korea’s low birth rate, which is seen as limiting Korea’s economic potential in a ‘global capitalist competition for human resources’ (Song 2014, 10).

In this context, wives who are not contributing to lifting Korea’s birth rate are treated with suspicion. Without rearing children, it is extremely hard for migrant wives to obtain PR and citizenship even though this is not stated in any official immigration guidance.109 This unwritten rule leaves childless migrant wives in a permanent state of vulnerability, only ever afforded temporary residency regardless of their length of stay or level of assimilation into

Korean society. For migrant wives who were formerly migrant workers there is additional pressure to have children to demonstrate they are not ‘using’ their husbands to gain access to

Korea’s labour market. For Rosamie and Jaslene (see Chapter 3) there was no problem as both had children after marriage, but for migrant wives who do not have children, their lack of reproduction casts a shadow of suspicion over their commitment to marriage.

Siti was a childless migrant wife who was struggling to cope with scepticism and suspicion of her motives for marriage, despite her exerting major effort to demonstrate her commitment to learning the Korean language and culture. Siti had been married and lived in Korea longer than any other Filipina at the Centre. Despite her perfect attendance, advanced level of

109 Cases of migrant wives without children being denied PR have been documented in the media, see www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/06/119_251102.html Accessed 15 April 2019. 153 language proficiency and having spent enough time in Korea to be eligible for citizenship,

Siti could not even receive PR. Each time her temporary marriage visa expired she reapplied for PR but was unsuccessful and only offered a renewal of her temporary visa, with the reason given that she was not ‘well-behaved’.110 Implicit in this visa decision was that immigration officials were unsure whether Siti’s marriage was genuine. In addition to the humiliation of having the authenticity of her marriage questioned, Siti was excluded from receiving welfare benefits. Korea’s welfare system provides diverse benefits for families with children and greater benefits for multicultural families with children, but few benefits for those without. For migrant wives like Siti who had been married long enough to apply for citizenship but had no children, their future in Korea is uncertain, subject to an indefinite cycle where separation can mean deportation, with permanency seemingly only provided if a child is born. This uncertainty puts a strain on these migrant wives and their relationships.

Most remain on temporary visas, forced to rely on their husband’s sustained marital satisfaction to receive his support for renewing a visa and continued residence in Korea.

While unable to change the system of reproductive citizenship, migrant wives recognise its unfairness and are sympathetic for those wives without children. Darna had noticed Siti’s difficulties and made sure to include her in social activities. They had become best friends at the Centre despite having very different backgrounds. Siti was the only Indonesian at the

Centre which had made it hard for her to make friends, but she had managed to befriend

Darna and a Vietnamese wife named Trang. I met Trang (born in 1993) in the beginner’s

Korean class at the Centre where I was a teacher’s assistant. Trang and her husband had two children together, with Trang having married in her early 20s to her husband who was over

50 when they married. Such a large age gap was not uncommon among the Vietnamese wives

110 Chapter 2 discussed Korea’s immigration system for marriage migrants and the highly subjective nature of requirements for receiving PR and citizenship. 154

I met who were all very young at the time of marriage, usually aged between 18 and their early 20s,111 but had wed husbands aged in their late 40s or 50s. Siti did not have other close friends in Cheonan apart from Darna and Trang and the four of us often socialised during my fieldwork.

In the eyes of the state and among migrant wives, Siti’s relationship was considered unusual because she and her husband were of a similar age and had known each other before marriage. Kim and Bae (2012, 10-11) found that the average age at marriage of migrant wives was 30.2, compared to 42.7 for their husbands, while 60.2 per cent of migrant wives were in their 20s when married and 58.1 per cent of husbands were in their 40s. Siti’s story was also unique in that her relationship with her husband had begun with strong passion. Siti and her husband worked together at the same factory and had begun dating shortly after meeting and bonding in the workplace. Her husband doted on her and was the one to suggest marriage. Siti had fallen in love but was unsure of marriage due to her Muslim faith and her husband’s love of alcohol and partying. However, she decided that their love could overcome these differences. Their decision to marry was met with immediate disapproval from both sets of parents. Her husband’s family were opposed to their son marrying a Muslim and a foreigner, while Siti’s family opposed her marrying a non-Muslim and permanently migrating overseas. Both sets of parents reluctantly accepted the marriage when they could see their children would go ahead regardless of their wishes. The process of marriage and obtaining visas proved difficult. Siti’s husband had to visit Indonesia several times to ensure Siti’s marriage was valid and she was able to obtain a marriage migrant visa. These trips were difficult even for Siti as it meant navigating Indonesia’s capital Jakarta and complex

111 Among Vietnamese wives 19 is a typical age at marriage. See Vietnamese study to be ‘perfect Korean wives’ www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2012/12/2012123122810326420.html Accessed 12 April 2019.

155 bureaucracy, which she had not encountered while living in her home city of Malang, a small town by comparison. On one occasion Siti was unable to travel and her husband had to go alone to Jakarta. Her husband’s perseverance paid off though and they eventually married.

Siti obtained a temporary marriage migrant visa which they both expected would soon become permanent.

After fiery love and dating, Siti and her husband did not expect the challenges that would await them as a married couple with very different religious beliefs, having both assumed the other would adapt. Siti had said prior to marriage that she was a sincere Muslim who did not eat pork or drink alcohol, only eating Halal food and praying five times a day. But rather than receiving any attempt to adapt or acceptance from her husband and parents-in-law, Siti was expected to assimilate. Siti lived with her husband and in-laws after marriage, where she was forced to give up Halal food and eat or drink whatever her Korean family required. Siti was willing to sacrifice these tenants of her religion, along with praying when her in-laws were around, as she craved her husband’s ardent love and in-law’s approval. However, this approval never eventuated and instead as the years passed and Siti did not have children, questions began about her appropriateness as a wife. Her husband’s interest waned and the romance in their relationship fell away. Rather than change his ways, her husband kept drinking and partying. Siti said, ‘I kept endless great memories with my husband but his love toward me was gone.’

During my fieldwork in 2015 Siti was living alone with her in-laws in Cheonan as her husband worked in another city and rarely came home. Siti had a lot of time to kill after classes as she did not want to go back to her in-law’s house. Her parents-in-law were bitter about their son’s marriage and repeatedly nagged Siti, with common criticisms like ‘Siti’s life is the most comfortable, she lives like a single person, she doesn’t do her duty as a daughter-

156 in-law.’ Siti told me she swallowed whatever abuse came from her mother-in-law. Her father- in-law also made life uncomfortable, staring at her with contempt. Siti said she missed human interaction and hated staying at home, so took a part-time job as a waitress working as many hours as possible so she did not have to remain at home. Siti also continued attending the advanced Korean class and culture class at the Centre. However, it did not matter how advanced her Korean language or cultural knowledge became as without giving birth, citizenship was not possible. Her Korean teacher also told me the same thing after seeing the two of us together, saying the teachers felt sorry for Siti and asked me why she did not get pregnant. The teacher did not know Siti’s story and blamed her for not trying harder to have children and ‘acting like a single lady’ in reference to her job. Siti said some Korean teachers at the Centre constantly advised her to get pregnant, which they said was the only way she could become a Korean citizen. Siti hoped to get pregnant as soon as possible but this was difficult as her husband spent most of his time living in a different city and even when he was in Cheonan rarely came home early.

I lost contact with Siti after my fieldwork as she deleted her social media and stopped attending classes at the Centre. Running away and hiding was a common reaction for migrant wives threatened with divorce according to Jill and Gloria from the AIDA Maeul,112 a NGO assisting Filipino wives (see Chapter 7). Gloria explained:

‘We saw many strange cases during our time here. One time we had a Korean husband who brought his Filipino wife here. But after three months she ran away and he returned with another Filipino wife. Jill and I thought that guy must really like Filipinas and that’s why his second wife was also a Filipina, but we were shocked to learn that the agency who organised his marriage had provided a replacement wife after the first ran away. They call this “A/S” (after sales service).113

112 http://blog.naver.com/aida_2008 Accessed 26 March 2019. 113 A/S is a common term in Korea referring to free after-sales support that is normally provided for a limited period after purchasing a good where a customer can take it to a A/S centre if they have any problems or need repairs. 157

For Koreans, we Filipinas are worse than furniture. When people buy furniture, they know that after using furniture it can’t be returned. But for migrant wives, if Korean men don’t like their wife they can go back to the broker, get the disliked wife deported and swap for another. These commercial marriage agencies even have policies and make a deal with customers (Korean men) based on a 3/6/9 agreement, where within 3, 6 or 9 months they can “exchange” their wife at any time (based on an escalating fee).114 Korean men consider this as “insurance” just in case wives run away or they’re not happy with their spouse. However, when they exchange wives, they only can get the same nationality. That’s why after that man’s wife ran away, he had to take another Filipina.’

Korean husbands often wait and see how much they can trust their foreign wives before giving them any freedom. Migrant wives who arrive in Korea not only have to adapt to a new country and language but also must earn trust from their husband and in-laws.

Siti’s story and the AIDA Maeul activists’ testimony confirm that until migrant wives have children, their existence in Korea is insecure. It is not only the Korean government that considers their residence temporary, but in the eyes of marriage agencies and some Korean husbands, migrant wives are replaceable if they fail to become reproductive citizens. This unforgiving regime tying migrant wives’ residency to their fertility and husband’s satisfaction is reflective of Korean society’s ambivalence toward foreigners (oegugin) amidst rapid growth in migrants.115 For most migrant wives returning home following a marital breakdown is a difficult decision, but one many must confront if they suffer from a relationship breakdown or as a strategy for coping with retirement in an economical way.

114 An example of a commercial marriage broker currently operating and an article on commercial is available at www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/10/120_257217.html Accessed 15 April 2019. 115 Citizenship issue puts immigrant wives in tight spot www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/06/119_251102.html Accessed 27 August 2018. 158

4. Remigration: back to the Philippines

Even if migrant wives manage to attain Korean citizenship, they are given the unique

‘privilege’ of having the right to retain citizenship of their country of origin (Kim Nora

2013). Korean adults are not permitted to maintain dual nationality except in a few situations.116 This long-standing policy limiting dual nationality reflects concerns about the sensitive issue of men potentially evading compulsory military service through becoming dual nationals (Kim and Chung 2012). Permitting dual nationality for migrant wives makes it easier for them to remigrate if their husbands pass away or their relationships fail, reducing their usefulness to the Korean state. To facilitate the dual nationality policy, in 2010 the

Korean government amended the Nationality Act, which governs Korea’s citizenship laws.

For nearly all other Korean adults (notably those who were born citizens), dual nationality is still not permitted. Many authors highlight the lack of belonging and challenges for social acceptance for migrant wives and naturalised foreigners due to Korea’s homogenous and racialised concept of nationality and citizenship (Choo 2016, Kim Jungsun 2007, Kim

Minjeong 2018). The special provision for migrant wives to maintain dual citizenship also reflects that if they are widowed or divorced, they are more likely to feel at home in their origin country than Korea. Siti’s case and the immigration experiences of several other wives in this thesis demonstrate that Korea’s visa system and approach to naturalisation is premised on migrant wives’ place in society being tied solely to their husband’s and/or as the mother of a Korean child. It is unsurprising that the state’s approach to nationality similarly allows for migrant wives to remigrate and be a special class of citizen if their marriage fails and with it, their rationale for being a Korean.

116 Dual nationality is permitted for children, who must choose to abandon other citizenships when they turn 21 if they want to retain their Korean citizenship. The special categories for adults were created in the 2010 revision of the Nationality Act and are mainly aimed at attracting wealthy investors and highly skilled Korean expatriates (Kim Nora 2013). 159

Despite the Korean government claiming Filipino wives have a high rate of divorce (Ministry of Justice 2014, 274), very few have remigrated. Recently a few scholars have begun to focus on remigration involving cases of former Filipina hostesses, sex workers and migrant workers who became migrant wives in Japan and the challenges they faced on return (Tokoro 2016

112-16). Filipinas began migrating to Japan a few decades before Korea became a popular destination. Mirroring the experience of Filipino wives in Japan remigrating to the

Philippines, it is likely that increasing numbers of Filipino wives from Korea will also remigrate in coming decades. While it is difficult to forecast the scale of migrant wives’ remigration to the Philippines, evidence from Vietnam suggests remigration of migrant wives in the coming decades may be significant. Around one in six of the 72,830 women from the

Mekong Delta provinces in Vietnam who married Korean men between 2005 and 2015 ending up separating and remigrating,117 while others may have separated but remain officially married so they can work in Korea.

The decision to remigrate can be difficult for migrant wives. Many migrant wives seek employment before their husbands’ retirement to save for the future. These savings can purchase more and fund a comfortable retirement in a migrant wife’s origin country, but the stability and safety of life in Korea can be difficult to leave. Ki-youn Lee (2015) documented that Nepalese wives chose not to remigrate to their home country even when their Korean husbands were old, unhealthy and jobless. These wives chose to persist with lives of poverty in Korea when their aspirations of a comfortable life were thwarted by circumstance, but in

117 https://en.vietnamplus.vn/centre-supports-vietnamese-women-married-to-korean-men/125613.vnp Accessed 7 April 2019. It is likely less Filipinas will end up remigrating compared to Vietnamese given Filipino migrant wives tend to be more educated, older and find employment in Korea (Kim and Bae 2012) and many Vietnamese married to Korean men between 2005 and 2015 were introduced via brokers. Due to the Philippines’ Anti-Mail Order Bride Law, which makes it difficult for commercial brokers to operate in the country, very few Filipinas meet Korean men via brokers and instead through trusted networks of friends or relatives. 160 their own way they were pursuing a Korean dream (Lee Ki-youn 2015, 143) in the form of sustaining relatives and communities in their home countries with their remittances.

Some of the migrant wives I encountered during my fieldwork are likely to consider remigration once their husbands retire or pass away. Because of the large age difference between husbands and migrant wives in most multicultural relationships (Kim and Bae

2012), husbands usually reach retirement age relatively early in married life but often have little savings and have not worked in the types of jobs that provide a pension or financial security in old age. These circumstances will force migrant wives to take on the role of breadwinner for their families as welfare benefits for multicultural families cease when children turn 18 and there is a low public pension. This can lead couples to question whether

Korea is the best place to live with a low income and high living costs. Some families may consider migrating to the Philippines after the husband retires and their children are still young enough to adapt. Low costs of living and the opportunity for children to receive an

English education are attractive for Korean men. However, remigration can be problematic for Filipinas who were motivated to migrate by a desire to improve their social status and may feel shame at returning home due to financial difficulties. This was the situation for

Rosamie and her husband (see Chapter 3). Rosamie disliked the idea of even visiting the

Philippines for a holiday as she felt it was dangerous and not a good place to raise children, instead preferring the safety and stability of life in Korea. Her husband felt differently, attracted to the idea of remigration by the large cost of living differences between Korea and the Philippines.

A few of the wives from my fieldwork had experienced remigration to the Philippines and advised migrant wives it was not prudent for those with young children. Jill, from the AIDA

Maeul mentioned earlier, had remigrated temporarily to the Philippines after marrying and

161 giving birth to three children in Korea. She brought her children to the Philippines for a few years to help save on living costs, before deciding it was better to return to Korea for the sake of their education and career opportunities. Jill had managed to maintain her marriage during her remigration experience while her husband stayed in Korea to work. A more common reason for remigration is divorce or separation. This was the case for Benilda (see Chapter 3) who endured her husband’s sexual violence and tried to maintain their marriage, but eventually this was unbearable and she remigrated with her young son. Returning to the

Philippines as a single mother was difficult but better than the alternative. Benilda’s case was one among many of failed relationships ending in remigration with official or unofficial divorce. In the case of official divorces, migrant wives must usually leave their children, particularly sons, as courts generally find in favour of the husbands and Korean families (Le

2016, 175). This discourages many migrant wives from seeking divorce and instead separating from their husbands. Migrant wives can retain custody of their children by fleeing

Korea with them or sending their children to their home countries while they remain in Korea

(Le 2016, 175). In the case of Dalisay’s separation (see Chapter 3), her husband did not want custody of their daughter and was unwilling to provide any child support. In return for

Dalisay agreeing to accept sole responsibility for raising their daughter, her husband agreed not to divorce and have Dalisay deported. This situation would have been unthinkable if

Dalisay were Korean, but migrants are often discriminated against by Korean courts and police, leading many migrant wives to accept unfair terms of marital separation (Kim Hyun

Mee et al 2017). Dalisay sent her daughter to the Philippines to be raised by her family while she remained in Korea working at a factory, married in name, but separated in reality. For

Korean children from failed relationships who grow up in the Philippines, they quickly lose their Korean cultural identity and language ability, instead adopting those of the Philippines.

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Conclusion: for migrant wives, love and marriage must equal children

Love and overcoming adversity are often major themes in the dramas and serials Korea exports to Southeast Asia. The Korean dream sold in these dramas proves elusive for many migrant wives, who are expected to procreate and provide intimate and emotional care in exchange for protection and financial support from Korean families and the state (Kim

Minjeong 2014, Le Bail 2017, 234). Power relationships between Korean husbands and migrant wives are unequal, especially at the start of a marriage. Upon arrival in Korea migrant wives face a form of triple jeopardy, discriminated against as women, foreigners and married to men of low socioeconomic status. These multiple forms of discrimination can reinforce each other and no matter how well migrant wives assimilate, they will always be differentiated from ethnic Koreans due to immigration and acculturation policies promoting a one-way form of assimilation. Migrant wives often begin their lives in Korea being totally dependent on their husbands. Negotiating with husbands and in-laws can be tricky, but the threat of divorce can be used effectively to gain greater agency and influence over household decisions.

A key finding of my thesis is that Filipinas who marry much older Korean men appear more secure and satisfied in their marriages compared to migrant wives marrying men of similar age. Older Korean bachelors have struggled with female rejection and lacked intimate care, perceived as immature for not having found a wife and had children. Migrant wives help to restore their masculinity and social standing (Kim Minjeong 2014). The provision of children for older Korean husbands can transform their lives and in return they provide understanding, care and affection towards their migrant wives, who bear most of the burden of raising children. In my fieldwork I found that older husbands with children often participate and listen more frequently to their wives’ requests and focus on their happiness. By procreating,

163 these wives earn love, affection, acceptance and trust from their Korean families. However, in some cases husbands do exploit the inherent imbalances in power between themselves and their migrant wives, leading to relationship breakdowns.

This chapter examined the discourse of romantic love between migrant wives and Korean husbands through negotiations over how they meet their differing desires and on what terms they maintain their relationships. The love and marriage stories between migrant wives and

Korean husbands reflect the economic power structures and imbalances between migrant’s countries and Korea. If migrant wives do not have children, then their future can be bleak and uncertain, dependent on their husband’s continued support to maintain their residency.

Children and age differences can help to smooth and equalise power relationships with in- laws or husbands. The difference children make was shown through contrasting stories in this chapter. Darna’s mature husband was appreciative and understanding of his young wife. He readily agreed to move out of his mother’s house when Darna said she could not stand living with her. After having children, Darna gained more power in their relationship and never had to see her mother-in-law. Siti’s husband was less appreciative of his wife and made no effort to protect her from his parents. He was still young and not bothered his marital relationship was on the verge of breaking. Siti felt she had no choice but to endure abuse from her parents-in-law and neglect from her husband as they considered she had failed to meet her duty of having children. If Siti had a child and Darna was childless, then their situations could have been reversed.

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CHAPTER V: CHRISTIAN MARRIAGES

1. The role of religious networks in cross-border marriages

Transnational church networks have facilitated and sustained marriage migration from the

Philippines to Korea, though the role of these religious networks has evolved with changes to the immigration rules over time. As outlined in Chapter 1, the Unification Church (UC) was the main religious organisation driving marriage migration from the 1980s until the mid-

2000s. Cross-border marriages were a central part of the UC’s doctrine of achieving ‘world peace’ through marriages of peoples from different nationalities, ethnicities and languages, united under superior Korean patriarchal values (Kim Sumi 2009). By the mid-2000s, the popularity of the UC had fallen among both Korean men and Filipinas following a series of scandals involving its leaders and the well-known practice of deceiving Filipinas118 about who they were being matched to marry. These problems curtailed the UC’s ability to attract new members and many of its members abandoned the UC after marriage, leaving behind a legacy of strained relationships (Abelman and Kim 2004, Kim Hyun Mee 2016, Kim

Minjeong 2018). Immigration rules introduced in 2015 have also made it difficult for intermediaries like churches and commercial brokers to facilitate marriage migration into

Korea when it involves parties who do not know each other well.

While the UC’s legacy has left a negative impression of religious groups brokering transnational relationships recently mainstream Christian churches have begun facilitating cross-border marriages. Korea has no majority religious group, but around 29 per cent of the population are Protestant and 11 per cent are Catholic. Christianity is very strong in Korea.

The Protestant church had remarkable growth over the past century and around 20,000

118 Foreign Spouses in Korea Speak Out on Their Right www.religionnewsblog.com/11567/foreign-spouses-in- korea-speak-out-on-their-right Accessed 12 February 2019. 165 churches are affiliated with the two largest Presbyterian denominations (Lee 2014, 1). Many of these churches support international mission work and some are supporting cross-border marriages. The Philippines is a natural partner for Korean missions with around 85 per cent of the Philippines’ population identifying as Christian (Jolly and Ram 2001, 154). The vast majority of these are Catholic, but there is a rapidly growing Presbyterian population. Korean

Presbyterian missionaries have been evangelising in the Philippines since the 1990s (Nam

2006, 47-48). These church networks can help facilitate like-minded Christians marrying through personal connections or other ways of introduction. Song (2014, 19) notes that

Christianity was founded and is based on conservative gender norms that recognise ‘sex for procreation within a conjugal relationship as the only legitimate sexuality’. This Christian framework is reassuring for Filipinas opting to marry Korean men they do not know well but whose values they share, while Korean men are reassured by the piety and devotion of

Filipinas to a shared belief system.

For Korean families and bachelors who struggle to find a bride, mission trips can provide an opportunity to screen potential wives. Missionary operations provide a context for Filipinas and Korean men to meet each other ‘naturally’ without the mediating influence of a marriage broker motivated by money or acting in the best interests of only one party. Rather, an

‘impartial’ pastor acting in ‘God’s interests’ appeals to Korean men, especially those desiring a modest and chaste bride. Female sexuality in the Philippines has been defined by the

Catholic church, which since Spanish colonisation has instructed women that to be a good church member they should be virgins and keep their bodies pure prior to marriage (Jolly and

Ram 2001, 158).

Transnational church marriages and mission trips complement each other through the common narrative of ‘saving’ those in need, helping to justify marriage migration in the minds of Korean bachelors and their families. Minjeong Kim (2014) introduced the concept

166 of compensatory masculinity whereby Korean men of subaltern status who were too old or physically impaired to marry suffered a double burden of being of low status and remaining unmarried. The latter is a rite of passage for men as failure to marry and bear offspring brings the shame of ending a family line. These bachelors could reclaim their manhood through a cross-border marriage. However, many of these men and their parents do not perceive themselves as subaltern and instead believe they are ‘saviours’ rescuing their vulnerable women from poverty (see Chapter 4), which is reinforced by the government’s treatment of marriage immigrants as in need of basic classes on etiquette and child-rearing, as well as social naming associating backwardness with multiculturalism (Shin 2012, 70). While

Korean missionaries are motivated by evangelism to share God’s gospel, the money and wealth they bring to underdeveloped communities can be perceived as rescuing or saving poor souls. This saviour narrative appeals to many Korean men’s sense of superiority.

This chapter analyses the role of Christianity in guiding the decision-making of migrant wives, their husbands and in-laws based on the case studies of two couples married through transnational Presbyterian church networks. While faith and devotion to their pastors contributed to their decision to marry, material factors such as hypergamy for brides and restoring masculinity for grooms are important for understanding both parties’ perspectives.

Once in Korea, migrant wives usually face the challenge of cohabiting with in-laws and dealing with patriarchal family ideologies. For many of the UC marriage migrants these problems were difficult to work through and often led to relationship breakdown. However, unlike the UC, the couples married through transnational Christian marriages are strongly committed to their faith and churches which helps to hold together marriages and provides a strong foundation for these relationships.

The selected stories presented below examine how Filipino wives navigate relationships with their Korean family members who hold more power. Attempting to gain greater agency is

167 fraught with risk for migrant wives, but material wealth can help to smooth the transition and is crucial to the well-being of Filipino wives living in Korea.

2. Chloe’s story: Christians must embrace in-laws

For Christian migrant wives learning Korean is important for integrating into their new society as it allows them to understand and actively participate with Korean Christianity. This was one of the reasons Chloe (born in 1990 in Davao) joined the beginners’ class at the

Centre. We started on the same day and the teacher asked me to work closely with her as she did not speak or understand Korean. Chloe was a motivated student who wanted to quickly improve her Korean so she could communicate with her monolingual husband and parents-in- law. Chloe’s English was the most fluent at the Centre and she had an open and cheerful character. Chloe and I often met outside of class and formed a close bond during my fieldwork that has endured afterwards. Chloe invited me to attend her regular bible study group and I translated so she could converse with Korean church members. Chloe asked my help to write and translate love and anniversary letters to her husband and in-laws. We shopped, ate, met for coffee and socialised together. Through these meetings at her house, my place, the Centre and many other locations, I gained intimate glimpses of her settlement in

Korea. This included being part of Chloe’s extended social circle of Filipina friends and meeting her in-law family members.

My time observing Chloe allowed me to understand how Filipino wives fit into the larger discourse surrounding the marital exodus taking place in Korea as women shun marriage to certain types of men like Chloe’s husband Jangsu. Based on my observation of individuals displaying similar traits, Jangsu had a mild intellectual disability. On a few occasions when

Chloe and I were talking in English Jangsu began mumbling gibberish in an undefined

168 language. Kim et al (2016) have documented how disability in Korea carries a great deal of stigmatisation and leads to social exclusion. This was reinforced by a discriminatory rating system that excluded disabled persons from state welfare benefits and was only recently abolished after a 1,842 day sit-in protest by persons with disabilities.119 Korea has by far the lowest reported proportion of people with a disability in the OECD and invests the least compared to other developed economies (OECD 2003). The low rate of disability in Korea120 suggests there is a cohort of people with disabilities who would be classified as disabled in most OECD countries but choose not to identify as disabled in Korea. The unwillingness to identify as disabled may reflect unfair treatment in education and employment, an inability to access disability support services, as well as stigmatisation and discrimination in everyday life.

While many Filipino wives base their decision to marry on their husbands, in some cases their in-law family can be the decisive factor. Jangsu was the youngest husband I observed and was wealthy by virtue of allowances from his parents. Myungju, Chloe’s mother-in-law

(commonly referred to as eomeoni or mother) owned and managed a successful kindergarten in Cheonan while Jangsu’s father had retired as a senior employee in Samsung Electronics, one of Korea’s biggest companies. He now helped Myungju to run the kindergarten which they hoped to pass on to one of their two children. Jangsu’s younger sister, Jina, had graduated from a US university, which helped to reaffirm their family’s high socioeconomic status. However, Jangsu was different to his ‘smart and successful’ parents and sister. While other members of his family spoke eloquently, Jangsu spoke slowly and his speech was unclear, confined to a limited vocabulary. Chloe told me Jangsu’s family said he had been

119 Korea expose (2017) A small victory for South Korea’s disability rights. www.koreaexpose.com/small- victory-south-korea-disability-rights Accessed 26 February 2019. 120 The prevalence of disability in Korea is around 5 per cent compared to 18.5 per cent in Australia. 169 this way since he was young. Jangsu was dependent on his parents who had planned his life and helped guide his decisions. After Jangsu completed his secondary education, his parents used their connections to find Jangsu a job as a milk delivery driver, which he had done for more than ten years. He had a healthy body and was a capable driver, but as I would observe on occasion, Jangsu could not understand complex driving directions. His parents did not allow him to drive outside of the Cheonan and Asan area, worried he could get lost.

As the only son of the family Jangsu carried the burden of expectation to marry and continue the family line and manage the family business. But given Jangsu’s limited education

Myungju had decided that Jina would be a more appropriate choice to take over the family business and had sent her to study in the US with a view that her English language skills and foreign degree would boost the reputation of the family business. However, Myungju told me

Jina changed after studying in the US and had been ‘influenced by Western culture and was hard to manage, wanting nothing to do with the family business.’ Jina’s behaviour prompted

Myungju to search for a daughter-in-law with English ability who would ‘obey’ and ‘respect’ unlike her ‘rebellious’ daughter. Such a daughter-in-law would allow Myungju to keep the kindergarten within the family while securing Jangsu’s future and restoring his manhood through marriage.

While many parents wait until their son reaches their late 30s or 40s before they consider marriage migration, Myungju began an ‘international project’ to find her son a Filipino wife while Jangsu was still in his 20s. The Presbyterian church the family attended arranged several short overseas mission trips each year. Church members travelled to developing countries to participate in the work of partner churches, perform Korean songs and dance, hand over gifts from Korea and provide donations. After her first mission trip to the

Philippines Myungju had decided that a Filipina was the right choice for Jangsu. She had been impressed that most of the Filipinos she met spoke English and were pious. An educated

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Filipina could not only be a wife for Jangsu but also play a role in the family business, as university educated Filipinos are considered qualified to be English teachers in Korea (Kim

Jungsun 2007, 117).

After visiting Davao City for a mission trip without her family, Myungju was impressed by the Davao church and its congregation, deciding to become a sponsor. She began regularly visiting the Davao church with her husband through mission trips. Over time they became comfortable and familiar with the congregation. Eventually, Myungju and her husband asked the local pastor to introduce a ‘good girl’ for Jangsu. Myungju was introduced to Chloe who came recommended by the pastor. Chloe had graduated from university, spoke English fluently at a native speaker level and had a pale skin tone due to Spanish ancestry. She was a devoted church member, singing in the choir and part of a praise team. Myungju recalled, ‘I was impressed by Chloe’s education, language ability and devotion, as well as her bright and cheerful personality. She also came from a good family background.’ All these factors convinced Myungju that Chloe was the one for Jangsu and her family. The Davao pastor introduced Chloe’s parents to Myungju and her husband. This reassured both parties, with

Myungju and her husband believing they were choosing the right woman while Chloe’s parents were comfortable with providing their blessing for Chloe to marry and migrate.

Chloe and Jangsu met for the first time in January 2014 in Davao City. Until this point their relationship had been solely determined by Jangsu’s parents and Chloe’s pastor. After a very brief courtship they became engaged in March and married in May 2014. For Jangsu the decision to marry was easy, his life had been managed by his parents and this was an opportunity to build his own family. He was an obedient son who listened to his parents, trusting their guidance and judgement. Chloe was also guided by others in her decision to marry. She had been open to the idea of marrying a foreigner and trusted the judgement of her parents and pastor. Reflecting on her decision when I asked why she had chosen to marry

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Jangsu, she recounted that ‘my parents and God wanted me to marry a Korean so I had to obey’. Chloe was the first member of her congregation to have been matched to a Korean through transnational church networks. Her Davao pastor had partnerships to Korean pastors and churches, but until Chloe and Jangsu these relationships had not involved matchmaking.

After this first ‘successful’ matching, Chloe’s pastor in Davao matched Analyn to a Korean man, discussed later in this chapter.

After the wedding in Davao, Jangsu went back to Korea and Chloe moved to Manila to attend

Korean classes while awaiting processing of her marriage migrant visa. Chloe’s visa was granted prior to the change in visa rules that came into effect in 2015 which would have prohibited her from entering Korea until she could speak Korean (given Jangsu can only speak Korean), or had given birth to a Korean citizen. Jangsu and his family visited Chloe several times while she was in Manila and on one of these visits Chloe became pregnant.

After waiting for four months, Chloe received her marriage migrant visa and was able to enter Korea. They had a Korean wedding in January 2015 and Chloe gave birth to a boy,

Minsu, in June 2015. Chloe was proud that she was the first person to be chosen by her pastor for marriage migration. At the same time, Chloe felt an enormous responsibility to maintain a happy marriage in order to justify the faith of her parents-in-law and pastor. Like Jangsu,

Chloe relied on Myungju to guide her decisions and life in Korea. Myungju aspired for Chloe to quickly adapt into Korean society so she could initially be a teacher and eventually manage the family business. Within a few days of arriving in Korea Chloe had joined the Centre to learn Korean and signed up for other classes such as cooking, running a business and working in an office. These classes were taught in Korean and were difficult to follow for Chloe given her limited language ability as a beginner. Unlike cooking classes where it was possible to watch the teacher’s actions and taste ingredients, almost everything in the business and office skills classes involved written or verbal instructions explained in Korean. Nevertheless,

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Myungju insisted Chloe must attend these classes to learn the skills she would need to run the kindergarten. Even though Chloe struggled to understand what was taught, she never missed a class and gave her full attention. Chloe’s perfect attendance and persistence reflected a desire to please Myungju and show her determination to follow her plan.

Myungju’s influence went beyond planning Chloe’s learning schedule at the Centre and extended to Chloe’s domestic sphere. Myungju was deeply involved with Chloe’s marriage as they both lived in the same house. Chloe, Jangsu and Minsu lived on the second floor of a three-story house in Asan. Her parents-in-law and Jina lived on the third floor and the first floor was used as storage, with the three floors connected by an elevator. While proudly showing the entire house to Filipinas when her friends visited, Chloe expressed that Myungju was her mentor and inspiration for living in Korea. Chloe understood Jangsu through

Myungju, who often pulled her aside to explain Jangsu’s character and actions, as well as provide advice.

Jina had studied for seven years in the USA and spoke fluent English. After returning from the US she rejected Myungju’s requests to take over the kindergarten and instead chose to work for a company in Seoul. However, life in Seoul was difficult and Jina quit her job, reluctantly agreeing to return home and work as an English teacher at the kindergarten. She often acted as a translator for Chloe and enabled her to communicate with others, including

Jangsu and Chloe’s parents-in-law. While Chloe was dependent on Jina and acknowledged her considerable help with translating family conversations, the two did not maintain good relations. Chloe explained the situation, ‘I know my sinui (sister-in-law) is helping me a lot but she’s the most difficult person to deal with in Korea. I don’t know why, but she looks down on me and her attitude towards me is unpleasant. Her way of looking at and treating

[me] is offensive. I haven’t done anything wrong, but she makes me feel sad and upset.’

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Jina was an educated and confident woman but appeared ashamed of Jangsu and Chloe.

Unlike her parents, Jina said she had not embraced her younger Filipino sister-in-law. She was single and had not expected her brother would be the first to marry and have a family.

Jina felt threatened and insecure following Chloe’s entry into the family, having not expected her sister-in-law would become a rival to take over the business. Jina had no choice but to help Chloe as she lived with and was dependent on her parents who treated Chloe like she was their own daughter. Myungju would often ask Jina to translate and although she had never refused, Jina said ‘the current arrangement is an unhappy one’. Minjeong Kim’s (2018,

17) book reflected on the tension of cohabiting family members living alongside migrant wives, noting that ‘when anxiety is a dominant emotion among cohabiting family members, immigrant women may be treated as a hostile object to be managed’. A similar dynamic was visible in Chloe’s household, with both Chloe and Jina dependent on Myungju and the family business, but uncertainty about succession and rivalry for Myungju’s approval caused tension. Despite the issues with Jina, Chloe said she felt blessed to have such a wonderful family. Her in-laws provided financial security to Chloe, Jangsu and Minsu. Jangsu’s parents covered all the family’s living expenses. Following Myungju’s instructions, Jangsu saved all his salary except the ten per cent that was provided as a church offering. Chloe did not have to shop for groceries as the entire family ate together on the third floor of their house, with

Myungju purchasing food and cooking. Because of this arrangement, Chloe’s kitchen on the second floor was empty aside from Minsu’s bottle steriliser. If Chloe needed clothes or shoes,

Myungju would give her a credit card and say to buy whatever was needed. Almost every

Saturday Myungju would mind Minsu and encourage Jangsu and Chloe to go on a date, again lending her credit card to cover costs. When Chloe needed transport, her parents-in-law or

Jangsu picked her up. Chloe’s in-laws also sent US$ 500 to each of Chloe’s parents on their birthdays every year and sent US$5,000 for her brother’s wedding.

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Chloe’s good relationship with her parents-in-law reflected her attitude of wanting to please them. Myungju made her expectations clear and often repeated that Chloe should quickly learn Korean and business skills so that in the future she could work in the kindergarten and be a good wife and mother. Chloe tried to meet these expectations. For example, she kept her family’s floor of their house clean and tidy. Additionally, she cleaned the third floor of the house where Jina and her parents lived, despite Myungju protesting that Chloe did not have to clean up after them. However, Chloe said she felt guilty staying at home while others were working. Chloe was justifiably proud of her situation, which was much better than that of most migrant wives. Aside from living in an extensive and nice place, Chloe had an excellent relationship with Myungju. On one occasion when I was visiting with some other Filipinas from the Centre, Chloe boasted that her mother-in-law had said to only clean the rooms where her family lived rather than the entire house, which was a core part of most migrant wives’ duties. The other Filipino wives were amazed by this remark but more broadly by

Chloe’s situation.

Chloe said her in-laws were generous and good people because they were Christians, which made her feel guilty for saying anything bad or complaining about them. Christianity was crucial to Chloe. She described to members from her bible study group that because God had provided the gift of a Korean family to her, as a follower of Jesus it was her obligation to embrace and love them under any circumstances. Attending the family church in Cheonan allowed Chloe to connect with a community group and her in-law’s extended family and friends. Observing her in-laws within the Church helped Chloe to learn about their social position and understand where they came from. The church also allowed her to have a social network outside of the migrant wives’ community and immediate family, which was rare among the migrant wives. The sense of common purpose connecting her to other church members also helped to overcome their language barrier. Chloe did not feel any grievance

175 when she had to attend classes she could not understand or stay at home while others worked, even though she wanted to work. Chloe’s acceptance was due to her desire to become a part of the family’s business, which through her in-law’s mission work directly benefitted her parents and former church in the Philippines. This helped Chloe to suppress her desire to work outside of the home. Whenever we met Chloe would often repeat that by not working, she was supporting her family at home.

While Chloe spoke positively of her life in Korea, her relationship with Jangsu was difficult.

Chloe expressed that she and Jangsu had different personalities: ‘I’m a fast person and my husband is slow. I’ve tried my best to accommodate his pace, but it’s hard (sigh)…I know I should be more patient with him. As my eomeoni said I must adjust to his pace, but he’s just too much. I wish he could be more talkative, outgoing and friendly. He never speaks to me first, forcing me to initiate any conversation and often I’m the only one left talking.’ Chloe said she often yells at Jangsu to ‘come quickly’ or ‘hurry up’, but that this has little effect.

Chloe often complained Jangsu’s slowness was problematic and would frustrate anyone who spent time with him. Sometimes after venting Chloe regretted saying negative things and asked me to forget her complaints, clarifying that no matter what, Jangsu and her Korean family were the best gift from God she could have wished for. Chloe tried to appreciate almost everything about her situation and justify whatever her in-law family members did.

Christianity enabled Chloe to endure challenges with her family and overlook the issues with

Jangsu. Whenever she openly questioned her life path and marriage among friends, she would usually say that they were gifts from God and justify her situation. In her living room

Chloe displayed a photo of Jangsu hugging her tightly, both smiling, in Davao before their marriage with a caption Chloe had inserted stating, ‘we got engaged because we obeyed the will of the Lord’. Kim, Park and Windsor (2013) discussed how the power of religious activities and faith in Korean cross-border marriages helped migrant wives to maintain unions

176 even when their marriage was unsatisfying. This was the case for Chloe, who accepted and overlooked the difficulties with her marriage through religion and the belief in God’s will.

Christianity, fellowship and mission were the main concepts of her life, enabling her to accept her husband’s shortcomings. Chloe felt fulfilled in that she shared the same faith and goals as her Korean family members, which helped her to bond with her in-laws and husband. She often said, ‘in Jesus, we are all brothers and sisters and it doesn’t matter that

I’m a Filipina and other family members are Koreans. We’re all God’s children’.

While Christianity played a significant role in Chloe and Jangsu’s relationship, their marriage also had many similarities with cross-border marriages that did not involve religion. Chloe’s decision to marry Jangsu was a calculated risk to achieve hypergamy. In a material sense her life in Korea had turned out better than she planned and was still spiritually fulfilling. Chloe acknowledged she had dreamed of a cosmopolitan life and enjoyed living in modern and safe

Korea, having moved from Davao known as the ‘murder capital of the Philippines’.121 From

Jangsu’s family’s point of view Chloe was educated, pious and from a good family. Chloe’s marriage to Jangsu had helped restore his diminished manhood owing to his intellectual disability and low status job. While Chloe felt Myungju treated her like a daughter, Myungju preferred to control Chloe’s spending choices and lent her credit card occasionally rather than giving Chloe her own. Myungju controlled Chloe’s plans and schedules. She held the power to lead Chloe’s new journey in Korea, including who was permitted inside and outside of

Chloe’s social circle as they preferred to drive her to and from appointments, monitored her spending and ate with her every evening. During my fieldwork Chloe willingly surrendered her autonomy to her mother-in-law whom she viewed as a role model. Chloe rarely expressed

121 Davao crime: City has highest murder and second highest rape figures in Philippines https://philippineslifestyle.com/davao-davao-crime-figures/ Accessed 26 October 2019. 177 any resentment over the control her in-laws exerted over her or Jangsu, instead portraying herself as blessed to have such nice in-laws.

Historically, Korean mothers-in-law have played a major role in the lives of their daughters- in-law, including over their reproduction and intimacy. Some mothers-in-law would go so far as to only allow their daughters-in-law to sleep with their husband on certain days, based on reproductive considerations (Shim 2001, 135). Young Korean women and men no longer accept this arrangement. However, by carefully choosing Chloe as her daughter-in-law,

Myungju had managed to exert a high degree of control over her son and his wife.

Myungju had carefully considered her approach in finding Jangsu’s wife, choosing not to wait until he was old and less appealing, instead benefitting from the growth of cross-border marriages and church networks between Korea and the Philippines. For Jangsu, the visit to find a wife was full of adventure and possibility. He was not allowed to venture beyond

Cheonan and Asan but was provided the extraordinary experience of having a holiday in

Boracay, giving him a taste of the fact that there was more to life than the narrow part of

Korea he was normally confined to and exposing him to the best side of the Philippines.

Myungju had wanted to show her son that life could hold more possibilities if he had a wife who could manage and guide him. Myungju’s intention to secure the future of Jangsu and the family business reflects the motivation of many mothers who organise their son’s cross- border marriages. In one case, documented by Abelmann and Kim (2004, 118), the mother imagined that a cross-border marriage would ‘literally and metaphorically normalise her

(disabled) son and her stature’. Myungju’s intervention made and sustained Jangsu’s family, with his marriage kept alive largely by the efforts of Chloe and Myungju.

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3. Analyn: the third wife of a Korean man

Analyn (born in 1982), was Chloe’s church friend from Davao City and like Chloe, she had married a Korean man through her Church. Analyn had a daughter from a previous relationship in the Philippines who she raised alone as the father did not want a child and marriage. Analyn passionately attended the church to escape the stigma of being a single mother. Analyn reflected that she had joined the Presbyterian Church to restore her dignity and be in a setting where believers were forgiven and not stigmatised. When Korean men started arriving at her church for missions, Analyn’s pastor introduced two Korean pastors and her future husband, Ilsik, who was 18 years her elder. Ilsik and his pastor were from

Jiksan122 and had travelled to Davao with Jangsu’s pastor from Cheonan. Analyn does not recall any introductory conversation, instead she remembered the pastors collectively asking her simply ‘Yes or No?’ and putting forward Ilsik. She tried to stall and not give a definitive answer, asking for some time, but they kept pushing again asking ‘Yes or No?’. Analyn finally said ‘Yes’ but was unsure what she had agreed to. Analyn and Ilsik married in March

2014 in Davao City, only a few weeks after their first meeting and earlier than the wedding of

Chloe and Jangsu.

Even though it was risky to marry a stranger, Analyn agreed as she trusted her pastor and felt it was only her option to marry and make a family. Staying in the Philippines would have meant indefinitely enduring the stigma of living as a single mother ‘in a Catholic country that idealises female purity and prohibits divorce’ (Cheng 2010, 89). If Analyn did not marry Ilsik she would find it difficult to find a husband, with gender inequities in the treatment of failed marriages in the Philippines.123 Analyn laughed as she reflected on her whirlwind

122 A small town of 20,000 people around 30 minutes by car from Cheonan. 123 As Constable (2003, 165) noted it is common and accepted for men to maintain separate households with mistresses; however, women from failed marriages are stigmatised by Filipino society. An example is the 179 engagement and marriage, recalling some of the conversations among the congregation in

Davao. ‘Chloe and I were experimental ladies. I was the first one to marry a Korean man even though Chloe was matched to Jangsu first, so they call me the first experiment, followed by Chloe, who became the second experiment. We’re pioneers and there will be no more experiments. When we registered our marriage and had an interview for my visa, a Korean immigration officer said to our Davao pastor, ‘How much do you earn from this? If you’re really a pastor, just preach and don’t set up women for extra income.” The pastor was offended and said he would stop matchmaking’.

Although Analyn and Chloe said there were ‘no more experiments’, young single women from the Davao church began visiting Korea for a few months at a time on mission trips, where they would meet Korean men from their sponsor churches. Chloe introduced me to one of these women who had not found a Korean man yet. Following the meeting Chloe asked me to find a husband for her friend. An acquaintance agreed to go on a blind date, but later I heard the date had been cancelled. Chloe told me her Davao church pastor had forbidden her friend from meeting men outside the church network in Korea, so she had cancelled the blind date. This interaction illustrated that the church matchmaking system still exists, but rather than pastors playing matchmakers for Korean men, the Davao church pastor was ‘selecting’ young Filipinas to visit Korea and letting them choose their partners, but only from within their church network.

The new arrangement between the Davao and Korean churches may make finding a wife more difficult for men like Ilsik. He was a wealthy farmer and entrepreneur, with his family owning a large plot of land filled with a pear orchard in addition to a car repair shop.

However, his home was in a rural area surrounded by farmland and far from any amenities.

current Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, who publicly declared he had two wives and two mistresses while campaigning before his election in 2016. 180

He was aged 54 years old in 2016 and had been married twice before. Ilsik had two ex-wives who had both ran away from him without leaving a child. In the Philippines he appeared as a wealthy man, but in Korea his relative wealth would appear much less impressive and his isolated location was also disadvantage.

Analyn fell pregnant almost immediately after her marriage and gave birth in the Philippines.

She entered Korea for the first time in July 2015 with her daughter Hayeon (born in

December 2014) and they both lived with Ilsik and his mother in a remote home on the outskirts of Jiksan. Analyn left the daughter from her previous relationship in the Philippines to be raised by Analyn’s mother. Analyn attended the Centre for two months after arriving but as she had entered Korea half way through the term she could not catch up with the beginners’ language course. Getting to classes in Cheonan was also challenging as it was a

30-minute trip by car from Analyn’s home. When she learnt there would be a new

Multicultural Family Support Centre (MFSC) opening in Jiksan, Analyn stopped attending the Centre and waited until the Jiksan MFSC opened in October 2015 to recommence classes.

There were only two Filipino wives at the Jiksan MFSC but one soon dropped out as she found a factory job and the other stopped attending, which left Analyn as the only Filipina.

Isolated and without other compatriots, Analyn dropped out of her class. Another challenge

Analyn faced due to her remote location was being far away from amenities, other Filipinas and even families with children. Ilsik and Analyn’s church in Jiksan was small with mostly older members and only one other family with children. Hayeon was the only baby in her church. The church members regularly gave clothes for Hayeon but Analyn often received more clothes than one baby could possibly wear. Chloe started selling these clothes on

Facebook and split the income evenly with Analyn so they both made extra cash to keep for themselves.

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Analyn’s remote location made it difficult for her to meet visitors, a problem accentuated by

Ilsik often deciding at short notice that she could not go out. Ilsik had an excuse whenever

Analyn wanted to go out such as the weather forecast was bad, and he was worried Hayeon would get sick. Chloe had repeatedly organised for Analyn and I to meet but every time

Analyn had cancelled our appointment at the last minute. After several failed attempts to meet Analyn outside of her home, Chloe and I visited her house as Ilsik reluctantly allowed us to come while he was present. Ilsik considered himself one of ‘the runaway bride victims’ portrayed in the Korean media. Because his Korean and Vietnamese ex-wives had both left, he was paranoid and suspicious Analyn would leave. The sensationalised image of ‘runaway brides’ who ‘abandon their Korean husbands after obtaining citizenship’ (Constable 2005,

84) was well known in rural Korean communities and Ilsik believed this was a widespread problem. Ilsik’s case was slightly different though from the standard story of wives exploiting husbands for citizenship and money. Ilsik reflected, ‘My Korean wife only wanted money and hated me for not spending it all on her. In the end, she ran away. The Vietnamese wife always remained alone in her room. She didn’t even come out for meals. One day she just disappeared, leaving her passports and all belongings.’ Ilsik’s Korean ex-wife left without saying anything and his Vietnamese ex-wife, whom he had found through a commercial broker, left his house the exact same way as the first, without saying or taking anything. This had caused Ilsik to wonder why his ex-wives had left in a hurry. After noting the phenomenon of runaway brides, I could see Ilsik wanted to blame his ex-wives and say they used him to gain wealth or residency. However, his ex-wives took nothing from him, which killed his confidence. Ilsik had not intended to marry again after his Vietnamese wife left. He felt there was no point to marriage as he had worked hard but was twice divorced and resigned to living alone with his aged mother. However, Ilsik’s pastor persuaded him to join a mission trip in the Philippines and reconsider marrying once again.

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Analyn and Ilsik both told me they were trying hard to maintain their marriages as they could not afford to break up their families having both previously had relationship breakdowns and especially as their pastors had vouched for them. Hayeon was Ilsik’s first child and he and his mother adored her. However, Ilsik and his mother could not communicate with Analyn as she barely spoke any Korean. Normally, Filipino marriage migrants must complete a language course in Manila before they can receive a visa. However, Analyn had this requirement waved as she had become pregnant after marrying Ilsik and chose to stay with her mother in

Davao to give birth. Once she had recovered from giving birth, Analyn and Hayeon had come straight to Jiksan.

Despite Analyn and Ilsik’s efforts to maintain their marriage, mutual suspicion was ever present. Analyn once said, ‘I wonder what he did to his ex-wives. Why did they both run away? I must believe my Davao pastor... right? But I can’t stop wondering what were the real reasons that broke his marriage, twice!’ Analyn and Ilsik had to negotiate their relationship amidst mutual suspicion. Aside from Chloe, Analyn knew only one other friend in Korea, a male migrant worker living in a city less than two hours away. Ilsik did not allow her to meet the friend, with Analyn explaining ‘He doesn’t trust me I think… we don’t have 100 per cent faith in each other. He worries I’ll be unfaithful to him and he’s jealous’. Ilsik was extremely cautious about who Analyn met, even for brief periods in their home. When we arrived at

Analyn’s house on one occasion she called Ilsik at his workshop to ask permission to have some pizzas delivered. Rather than have a male delivery driver visit his home, Ilsik closed his shop and delivered the pizzas to us before immediately returning to work. Ilsik’s insecurity increased in February 2016 due to an accident where he lost a finger on his right hand. The doctor tried to reattach the finger but the nerve cells in the upper part were dead and the damaged finger could not be recovered. Following the accident Analyn could not go out for more than a month as Ilsik said he needed her to care for him. Even if she tried to just go out

183 for a short period using an excuse such as needing to buy baby things for Hayeon or get something from a convenience store Ilsik would get someone to deliver whatever she required. Although Ilsik needed Analyn’s help during his recovery period, after losing his finger he had even less confidence in letting Analyn out of his sight. Ilsik could purchase almost anything with his wealth but was too paranoid to let his wife step out of his house.

While Ilsik and Analyn were brought together and united by Christian belief, their faith in one another was lacking and they could not solve the insecurity and anxiety in their marriage.

Chloe and Analyn are examples of how some Korean Presbyterian Churches can facilitate transnational marriage for bachelors seeking a pious bride. Aside from being strong believers and committed to their church in Davao, Chloe and Analyn were ambitious and willing to take high risks in search of new opportunities. Analyn yearned for the good life that Korea was rumoured to offer. However upon arrival Analyn discovered many hardships, including the hard physical labour of tending to an orchard and child-rearing in an isolated area, the cultural imperative to serve her mother-in-law and husband, the stigma of being treated as a foreigner and negotiating her relationship with an insecure spouse.

To temporarily escape these hardships Analyn repeatedly expressed her desire to come and go from her house as she pleased and meet friends. Like some Korean husbands who I encountered in the field, Ilsik was afraid that if his wife associated with other migrants, they would be ‘bad influences’. Ilsik was afraid to say this directly to his wife as he was scared

Analyn would run away from home like his ex-wives. Over time, Analyn did manage to make Ilsik feel secure enough to trust her to travel outside independently. To build trust,

Analyn invited Chloe’s Filipina friends to come over to her place so Ilsik and her mother-in- law could see they were not a bad influence. Analyn requested that I come regularly and talk with Ilsik and his mother to make them feel secure about letting Analyn out of their home.

Eventually, after many visits to Analyn’s house and discussion with Ilsik and his mother, they

184 finally agreed to let Analyn leave their house without accompanying her on the condition I came to her house and chaperoned.

Convincing Ilsik to let his wife travel from home without he or his mother accompanying her had been difficult. His mother had helped to convince Ilsik and suggested he permit Analyn to leave on the condition she came back home before dinner time. Ilsik’s mother did not agree with her son’s approach to limiting Analyn’s freedom, worried his methods would cause Analyn run away. Shortly after Chloe and I started visiting Analyn’s home Ilsik relented and began allowing Analyn to travel unaccompanied. Analyn was excited the first time she took a bus, saying it was her most memorable moment since arriving in Korea. After learning how to take the bus Analyn would sometimes lie and tell Ilsik we were meeting even though she was catching up with Filipinas. Analyn justified this deceit as she said otherwise

Ilsik would worry unnecessarily. After I completed my fieldwork Ilsik allowed Analyn to go out to meet Filipinas by herself. In 2018, Analyn gave birth to a son. After having two children, and especially a son, Analyn said she had gained Ilsik’s trust and had freedom of movement.

4. Food, the glorious!

Food played an important role in helping both Analyn and Chloe gain greater autonomy over their lives. Korean in-laws objected to Filipino food and viewed eating Korean food as a powerful force for fostering a Koreanised daughter-in-law. After migrating, Filipino wives are often faced with a choice between starving or eating the food that husbands or in-laws desire. The choice is obvious for recently married foreign wives trying to gain acceptance and fit into Confucian family structures based on deference to elders and husbands (Baik and

Cheng 1996). For the Filipino wives I met during my fieldwork, the lack of ability to choose

185 the food they ate was a controversial issue. They resented the marginalisation and stigmatisation of Filipino food by in-law families. Chloe asked, ‘Why is the strong smell of kimchi accepted without question? Korean in-laws expect migrant wives to keep eating kimchi until they like it, but Korean families won’t even try Filipino vegetables as they say they’re smelly. Any objective person would say kimchi smells far worse.’ While Analyn and

Chloe’s Korean families had readily accepted their daughters-in-law as wives and mothers, at mealtimes they were isolated within their own families who expected one-way cultural adaptation rather than give and take. The frustrations about food were reinforced by double standards regarding health and beauty, which were given as reasons for consuming Korean food but in other aspects of life this justification failed to hold (for example in-laws often would eat out but expected migrant wives to cook and eat at home). Analyn and Chloe persevered with cooking and eating Korean food for the sake of their marriages and in-law families, but over time this led to resentment. They both wanted to be part of modern Korean consumer society, sampling new cuisines and shopping opportunities, spending on their own without being monitored by their Korean families.

Despite Chloe’s unconditional praise for Myungju, her desire to eat out was a sore point and ultimately led to Chloe resisting Myungju’s control over her life. As a young woman in her

20s who had migrated to a modern city with lots of restaurants, Chloe wanted to try the wide range of food on offer. She was surrounded by ‘glorious restaurants’ that aroused her desire to eat outside her home, take photos and brag about her marriage to friends and relatives in the Philippines. However, Chloe lacked the means to visit these restaurants independently.

Chloe’s resentment over Myungju’s control of money and food was the main reason she moved out from her in-law’s house in 2018. Because Myungju was busy managing the kindergarten and attended several meetings after work, she cooked two to three times a week and put meals in the fridge for reheating. For each meal Jangsu, Chloe, and Myungju’s

186 husband reheated meals (usually soups), which they ate along with cold side dishes from the fridge and rice from the rice cooker. Chloe did not miss Filipino food and liked to eat Korean food for dinner, normally cooking simple Filipino food for lunch like spaghetti with sausage for herself. Chloe’s problem was being forced to eat the same food at home repeatedly. She craved eating out and experiencing modern food that was not made by Myungju.

Chloe’ self-control ran out towards the end of my fieldwork. She had been frustrated at living without her own cash or credit cards which made it awkward to catch up with Filipinas during the week when they would eat at restaurants or cafes, and she was ashamed that I would pay for her when we went out for coffee or to restaurants. Chloe realised that having the freedom to not stay at home during the day required money. To make extra cash for herself, she was continually brainstorming for ways to turn a profit selling things through the

Internet or thinking of creating her own business that she could run while studying at the

Centre. To generate spending money many Filipino wives teach English, run small businesses selling Filipino food to other Filipinos (workers, students and wives), or import and export

Filipino goods (Kim 2007, 116-17). Chloe started her own business in March 2016. Her in- laws often visited Davao as they sponsored Chloe’s hometown church. Through Facebook,

Chloe began selling second hands clothes to Filipinos in Davao whenever her parents-in-law visited. Chloe collected good second-hand clothes from recycle bins, which were often of high quality. Anyone in Davao who liked the photos of the clothes that Chloe had uploaded could make a purchase either by sending money to her Philippine bank account or paying her in-laws when they picked up the clothes. I joined Chloe on her trips to search for clothes, later watching her clean the clothes and upload photos to Facebook. Chloe also made money from her in-law’s mission trips by asking them pass on small amounts of money for Filipinos wanting to remit money to Davao, with Chloe taking a small commission.

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Myungju found it uncomfortable carrying second-hand clothes and money to the Philippines and collecting cash from strangers, telling Chloe to stop her business. Chloe protested that her personality was not suited for domesticity and that she needed a job so she could lead an active life. Chloe told Myungju that she would only stop her business if she could work at the kindergarten, which would mean stopping classes at the Centre. Myungju agreed and created a job at the kindergarten for Chloe. After working at the kindergarten, Chloe negotiated to move out from the family house. In 2018, Myungju provided an apartment in the centre of the hustle and bustle of Cheonan, paying the jeonse (bond) so that Chloe and Jangsu did not have to pay wolse (monthly rent). When I met her in 2019 during a visit to Korea, Chloe was enjoying eating out and meeting her friends after work, happy with her new living arrangement and life. Even though she only earned 1,000,000 Won per month (AU$ 1,285), this was enough for her to buy snacks and dine out as other expenses were all paid by

Myungju. Chloe was trying to maintain a good relationship with Myungju and had completed the level 4 Korean course before starting work at the kindergarten. She was continuing to try and improve her Korean by socialising with other teachers at the kindergarten and made sure that Jangsu exercised in the evenings. Chloe promised Myungju she would return to studying at the Centre in 2020 to complete the Korean level 5 course that was necessary for citizenship. In return, Myungju promised to buy Chloe an apartment in Cheonan once she became a citizen. Chloe said Myungju was happy with her work attitude, improved Korean and the way she cared for Jangsu and Minsu, especially as Jangsu went to the gym regularly and had reduced his belly fat.

The inability to independently choose food was also the trigger for helping Analyn to navigate greater autonomy and escape the control of her Korean family. Her elderly mother- in-law and older husband only ate very traditional Korean food. They normally ate radish preserved with salt and salted soybean paste sauce, which were so salty Analyn had trouble

188 swallowing. Analyn quickly learned how to cook and serve their favoured food and ate it as an ‘obedient’ daughter-in-law but hated the taste. Analyn generally liked eating Korean food and desired to sample the modern Korean cuisine that she occasionally glimpsed on her trips outside of the house. Facing the prospect of being trapped at home with limited and repetitive food, Analyn used Hayeon’s dietary preferences as the justification for why she needed to be able to venture outside independently. Despite living in a rural area where they had pristine tap water, Analyn insisted on purchasing bottled water for Hayeon. Analyn secretly drank

Hayeon’s water and then would pester Ilsik to bring her to a supermarket to buy more. Once she arrived at the supermarket Analyn would get lost between the shelves fascinated by all the things on offer and bought many other things in addition to bottled water. After returning home from these trips Analyn felt ‘like someone dragged me by the back of my neck to a mountain cabin with no lights or sound’. When Ilsik allowed Analyn to go out with me for her first trip outside without her Korean family, we went to a food court at a mall in downtown Cheonan even though Hayeon was accompanying us and this involved a long journey. After this trip, Analyn told Ilsik that Hayeon loved the food court and she needed to return regularly to the mall to feed Hayeon. Whenever Hayeon was not well or eating much,

Analyn insisted on taking a bus to go shopping and get take away food.

Due to Ilsik’s so-called ‘protection’ of Analyn insulating her from the outside world, she was only able to express her desire for freedom ‘using’ Hayeon’s water and food purchases as an excuse to escape their isolated house without causing conflict with Ilsik. Analyn knew Ilsik would purchase anything for his only child and used this as an opportunity to gain greater agency. Analyn was not interested in finding a job as Ilsik provided her with monthly pocket money, but until she was able to leave the house independently this money just sat in the bank and fuelled her desire to shop and spend. Analyn said, ‘Ilsik and eomeoni did not know how to spend money, despite owning an orchard, a huge amount of land and a repair shop.’

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Analyn explained her situation and desires, reflecting ‘Ilsik buys whatever I request and I’m thankful for that, but I just want to spend money from my hands as I please, not money from his hands’. Analyn then leaned in and whispered in my ear even though nobody was around,

‘I need to spend some money to release my stress from serving them. Hayeon can’t spend her all inheritance anyway by herself. I’m sure Hayeon wouldn’t mind sharing some money with her mum’.

Food selection provided an impetus for migrant wives to pursue modern consumer desires and negotiate for greater agency from their Korean families in a non-threatening way.

Gaining autonomy to choose the food they and their children ate was a key milestone in

Chloe and Analyn’s integration into their new society and families, affirming their role and power as the mother and wife of their households. This was a common story among Filipino wives. Recalling the story from Chapter 2 of Filipino wives gathered together for lunch sharing Filipino comfort food while eating with their fingers and talking in their native language, Chloe noted that this was the environment where she was not judged for licking her fingers and felt comfortable. There were no Korean in-laws telling them to not speak while eating or only speak Korean. Gatherings like this helped to recharge migrant wives to endure their Korean families’ cultural rigidities and were important for those who had not managed to gain agency in their households to choose the food they ate and eat in the manner they liked. Migrant wives’ well-being in Korea was directly linked to their ability to select, purchase, cook, and eat food based on their free will rather than choices dictated by in-laws or husbands. Having agency as decision-makers over food and other parts of their families’ lives was important for maintaining their identity and marriage.

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Conclusion: Christian hypergamy: when mission and wealth drive cross-border marriage

The stories of Analyn and Chloe testify that even within the bounds of cross-border marriages premised on religion, material desire plays a major role, with the same issues, challenges and sensitivities as marriages where religion is not important. Cross-border marriage migration brokered through Christian church networks is an emerging phenomenon in South Korea and the Philippines. These marriages are premised on Christian faith but involve men who cannot find a Korean wife and are matched to Filipinas of fertile age. There is usually only a brief period of courtship and the marriage is brokered by pastors linked through church networks initiated and maintained through missionary trips. Despite shared religious beliefs with their husbands and in-law families, Analyn and Chloe faced many of the same challenges as other transnational couples I observed in the field. In both cases, there was tension over agency and autonomy, with Korean families seeking a pliant daughter-in-law while Filipinas desired autonomy and financial independence. While this tension had the potential to lead to marital problems, both husband and wife in transnational Christian unions possess a strong desire to maintain marriages for the sake of their church’s and pastors’ reputations. However, Christian faith alone cannot remove wives’ material desires or resolve cultural differences over the appropriate role of a migrant wife in their family. Through the prism of eating and purchasing food from outside the home, Chloe and Analyn began to challenge their Korean family’s values, system and structures, which helped embolden them to gain agency over other aspects of their lives.

Marriage migration was an opportunity for Chloe and Analyn to achieve ‘upward mobility’

(Ong 1999, 153-57) and financial security for their families and themselves. They also foresaw a range of other fascinating opportunities in a foreign land including access to modern shopping malls and international cuisine. Cheng (2010, 30) highlights the importance

191 of ‘women’s desires and dreams for modernity’ in influencing Filipina’s migration decisions.

Despite Chloe and Analyn claiming they were only following God’s will when deciding to marry, they had also considered the material benefits they would obtain from marriage and entered Korea with individual goals, not satisfied to be stay at home mothers maintaining households. They had become frustrated when confronted with husbands or in-laws who wanted to restrict their freedom and were unwilling, at least initially, to change their perspective and way of life to accommodate the desires of their daughters-in-law. Analyn and

Chloe responded selectively towards the difficulties and lack of agency in their daily lives, opting not to engage or challenge authority until they had gained the trust of their Korean families. Once they had proven themselves dutiful wives, a long ‘give and take’ process of integration and adaptation between the Filipinas and their Korean families began. Ultimately the Korean families had chosen a Filipino wife as they had wanted a traditional neo-

Confucian daughter-in-law, but this type of woman does not exist any longer in Korea where women are more educated than men124 and families encourage their daughters to pursue careers and be independent, which was how Jina had turned out.125 Korean families naively assume that Filipinas can step into the traditional daughter-in-law role vacated by young

Korean women, but this is rarely a good match as Filipinas have a tradition of financial independence and working, bringing these values with them as marriage migrants. Within the confines of a faith-based intercultural marriage, Chloe and Analyn negotiated with their family to achieve greater agency.

124 For Koreans aged 25-34, 75 per cent of females had attended university compared to 65 per cent of men based on OECD statistics https://data.oecd.org/eduatt/population-with-tertiary-education.htm Accessed 7 March 2019. 125 Abelman and Kim (2004) and Freeman (2011) have examined the differing expectations of parents for sons and daughters, where male maturity and success is associated with marriage and fatherhood, while females are encouraged to pursue fulfilment through education and employment. 192

The future of brokered Christian marriage migration is uncertain given Korean immigration rules are making it more difficult for Koreans to marry foreigners who do not speak the same language. While there are some parallels between the UC and Christian brokered marriages in that religious leaders are matchmakers, it is less likely that Christian marriages will end in divorce or couples abandon their religion after marriage as occurred in the UC. Christians engaging in cross-border marriage between Korea and the Philippines must have the trust of their pastors. Chloe, Analyn, Jangsu, Ilsik and their families had all been baptised and were committed Christians established in their churches, which was very different to the UC where men could join, pay a fee and be immediately matched to a wife. Another key difference between Christian and the UC brokered marriages was that Filipinas were able to make choices and had control over the outcome of their engagement and decision to marry. Unlike migrant wives who married through the UC and were misled about many things relating to their spouses (see Chapter 1), Chloe and Analyn were clearly aware and informed of what they were getting into before they married. Chloe knew Jangsu was slow through several meetings in her hometown prior to marriage, while Analyn met Ilsik and knew his history of runaway ex-wives before marrying. They were aware of their Korean grooms’ problems, but more importantly recognised their Korean families’ wealth and the inheritance accruing to their husbands.

While ostensibly faith driven marriages, Chloe and Analyn’s decisions to marry were also economically motivated. Le Bail (2017, 230) commented on transnational marriage migration that ‘through the mobility of marriage, women try to reach the most prosperous zones’. The

World Bank (2011) explains that ‘agency can be understood as the process through which women and men use their endowments and take advantage of economic opportunities to achieve desired outcomes’. Chloe and Analyn used their endowments, being sufficiently young, fertile and pious, to achieve financial security through cross-border marriage to a

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‘desired’ country where many of their Filipino friends wished to migrate. Their marriages also helped to support their Filipino families. Chloe’s parents and brother regularly receive money from Myungju, while Analyn’s daughter attends a private school funded through her remittances. Analyn’s daughter and mother have visited Korea several times and may choose to follow Analyn’s path and migrate to Korea after the daughter finishes school. Chloe and

Analyn had gained economic security by earning the trust and gratitude of their Korean families by fulfilling their desire that they bear and raise offspring. Extending the family line enhanced the masculinity and status of their husbands while alleviating their mother-in-law’s responsibility to care for sons, who in Korean society are not considered adults until they had a family of their own. After migrating to Korea, Chloe and Analyn supressed their desire to have some control of their families’ finances and lifestyle choices. But once they had gained acceptance and felt comfortable navigating lives outside of their homes, they persistently expressed their desire to earn income and have control over spending decisions. However, unlike the migrant wives who were highly motivated by the prospect of working (as discussed in Chapter 3), Chloe and Analyn wanted to maintain close relationships with their in-laws to ensure their children and husbands receive their inheritance. This meant that they never aggressively interacted with their in-laws and instead ‘cleverly’ expressed their desires gradually as they gained more control over their marriage migration experience, attempting to make it as meaningful as possible.

For both Jangsu and Ilsik their mothers were critical in initiating and maintaining their marriages. Myungju was aware of how a capable wife could transform her son’s life and their family’s status within their church and community, transforming Jangsu from an unmarried

‘awkward’ single man to a leader of a household and father. Mission trips provided a respectable and trusted pathway for finding a wife and ‘helping’ a girl from the Philippines, her family and church. Ilsik’s mother told me she had watched her son’s agony and sadness

194 twice due to failed marriages and described these times as the ‘most torturing moments of her life’. She did not care who became her third daughter-in-law provided they would stay. All she wanted was for Ilsik to be happy. Without their mothers, Jangsu and Ilsik would not have had the energy or initiative to enter into or maintain their marriages. Their mothers also controlled the wealth in their families, and both were happy they could pass on inheritances to sons who had their own families.

195

CHAPTER VI: A NATURALISED MUM AND SPONSOR FOR A FOREIGN HUSBAND

‘Once I had my son, everything changed. Korea became my home and I finally had a family here. My si (in-law) family, they are not my family, they are always on my husband’s side.’ - Gloria This chapter argues that the Korean state apparatus and system of multiculturalism diminishes migrant wives and their children while reinforcing racial and gendered hierarchies. Far from integrating migrant wives and their children into mainstream Korean society, government systems exclude and alienate. Some Filipino migrant wives are pushing the boundaries of multiculturalism in Korea and creating a space for biracial children to be proud of their immigrant heritage, but these cases are not common and rarely supported by

Korean families and the state. To unpack these arguments, this chapter explores questions of motherhood, acculturation, identity, discrimination and belonging from the perspective of migrant mothers’ and their children. Their experiences are shaped by social and cultural norms, which have rapidly changed over the past decade and are continuing to evolve.

Migrant wives and their children have often had little choice but to assimilate as best they can. This is illustrated in this chapter through migrants’ encounters with the police, government agencies and educators. Filipino wives often accept these hardships and discrimination. Kim (2013, 465) notes that Korean husbands often choose Filipinas for what the husbands perceived as ‘traditional feminine virtues—sacrifice and obedience’, while the

Korean state’s approach to migrant wives’ citizenship is focused on and rewards their role as mothers, strongly encouraging migrant wives to have children. The migrant wives I encountered all highly valued their children and those who experienced severe hardship had demonstrated resilience, in some cases literally staying alive for their children where death from domestic violence could occur at any time.

Researching the children born from relationships between migrants and ethnic Koreans requires sensitivity and judgement, with several contested ideas in Korean society about these

196 children and multiculturalism itself, including the terminology used. Korean scholars, government officials, media and ordinary people commonly use the term multicultural

(damunhwa) to refer to migrant wives, their children or family. The term multicultural is thus a label and has been consistently criticised in South Korea as narrowly defined and not inclusive.126 The term has become an insult against biracial children as it is linked with the image of being underprivileged. The term biracial is also not ideal as it imposes racial categories on people who may have other ways of thinking about themselves, but for the purposes of this thesis it is necessary to use a conceptual vocabulary of race to get at some of the specific problems these individuals negotiate in Korea. Usage of the term biracial is considered controversial in some academic circles and rarely used in contemporary Western academia, which instead tends to use the term mixed race (Daniels 2014), or mixed-race person (Yuh 2002, 219).127 However, within Korean society the term mixed race can be conflated with mixed-blood, which is a form of insult against biracial persons. Until recently children in schools were taught a concept of blood purity existing only among ethnic

Koreans, reflecting a racialised politicised history that Korean nationality and ethnicity were indivisible (Lee 2008, Yuh 2002, 219). Most migrant activists, NGOs and biracial children I encountered preferred and used the term biracial rather than multicultural or mixed race when referring to families of ethnic Koreans and migrants or their children. The usage of the term biracial has increasingly been accepted and used in PhD dissertations from US students in 2015128 and 2011129 which discussed biracial children in Korea. The New York Times also

126 www.rainbowyouth.or.kr/index/rainbowyouth.php See ‘01 다문화청소년 (multicultural adolescent, Damunhwa cheongsonyeon)’ Accessed 7 December 2018. 127 Ji-Yeon Yuh (2002, 137) also used the term ‘biracial children’ for children born to Korean mothers and American fathers. 128 Cho, Hyoung-Sook. 2015. Race, language, and identities of biracial children in multicultural schools in South Korea. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing.

129 Hwang, Jeong Yeon. 2011. Judgments of children and adolescents on exclusion and inclusion of a biracial peer in Korea. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing.

197 used the term biracial rather than multicultural to describe biracial children in Korea.130

While the term biracial has its issues, it has become an accepted compromise term to multicultural in Korea, reflecting the limitations with contemporary Korean language. For these reasons I use this term in my thesis.

Biracial children are critical to understanding the stories of many migrant wives from my fieldwork. Giving birth to the child of a Korean father helps migrant wives overcome barriers preventing them from attaining a sense of belonging in Korean society. In the eyes of the state, only migrant wives who give birth are viewed as having a legitimate permanent place in

Korean society. Choo (2013) identifies that government programs to assist migrant wives are often premised on helping them to raise children. Most of the Filipino wives I encountered had become pregnant shortly after joining their husbands in Korea. Having biracial children is a way that migrant wives can quickly build bridges and gain acceptance from their si (in- law) families and husbands. These children are also born from loneliness, as migrant wives are often plunged into a society and si family expecting them to accept Korean gendered patriarchal norms.

The relationship between biracial children and their mothers can be challenging during the early years of a child’s life. Most biracial children do not speak their migrant parent’s native language, with the Korean educational model discouraging migrants from using other languages in case it inhibits learning Korean. In this chapter I discuss how this can result in biracial children initially feeling embarrassed about their migrant mothers who cannot speak

Korean well and are visibly different in a nation where racial, sexual and class discrimination is widespread and often tolerated. According to a 2012 government survey, 41.3 per cent of foreign-born women married to Korean men experienced discrimination and among the

130 Branch, John. 2009. The journey toward acceptance. New York Times (1923-Current file) 2009. 198 biracial children who suffered discrimination, 96.9 per cent reported they responded passively.131 Kim et al (2016) found that discrimination against migrant wives negatively affected health outcomes and noted a survey where more than 40 per cent of Koreans reported they would not want to live next to a neighbour who was a foreign national.

Kim and Jeon (2017) document numerous cases of racism against migrants and biracial children who have non-white ethnicities which they attribute to Korea lacking antidiscrimination laws and an emerging and growing anti-multicultural movement. In recent years disparate movements of husbands abandoned by migrant wives, groups opposed to refugees and ethnic Koreans worried about increased competition from migrant workers have united and gained popularity. One common grievance across these groups relates to government benefits and spending. Jeong (2014) illustrated this comparison, noting there were 204 support centres for around 300,000 multicultural families in 2014, compared with

17 support centres for four million single-parent families. Similarly, the budget for multicultural families was 123 billion Won in 2014 (up from two billion Won in 2005), compared with 66 billion Won for single-parent families. Another factor not illustrated in these comparisons was the widespread belief that the rapid increase in government spending on multicultural families was at the expense of support for poor ethnic Koreans, who had their welfare cut to fund greater services for migrants. In one instance, I witnessed an elderly

Korean lady visit the Cheonansi Multicultural Family Support Centre (the Centre) to loudly abuse several staff and migrant wives, complaining that because of them her benefits had been cut. Kim and Jeon (2017) note that migrant workers and certain migrant family members of ethnic Koreans (those classified as multicultural) are entitled to free medical care, while ethnic Koreans must pay for national insurance. The preferential treatment offered

131 Chosun Migrant women still suffer discrimination. http://english.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2013/02/27/2013022700720.html Accessed 25 March 2015. 199 to multicultural persons has occurred while the government has failed to address (or even worsened) the conditions for poor ethnic Koreans. These policies have reinforced racial prejudices against multicultural or non-Caucasian migrants and their children. The governments’ focus on multicultural families has also been targeted amid the broader concerns of ethnic Koreans in a fiercely competitive society where the government often stands accused of favouring the rich at the expense of the poor.

As biracial children grow older and are more exposed to discrimination at school and in daily life, many become increasingly protective of their migrant parent. Children play an important role in helping their migrant parent to navigate Korean society through translation, interacting with government services or providing a bridge between migrant wives and their Korean families. Biracial children also experience challenges as they go through a school system that has high rates of bullying and victimisation (Yun and Kim 2016, 174). Chang (2015) characterises Korea’s multicultural education policy as promoting that migrants and other cultures must adapt to Korean society, rather than teaching mutual understanding and respect.

A recent phenomenon the Korean state is struggling to cope with is that of immigrant children132 from an overseas background who are not biracial. Some of these children migrate after having spent many years in another country, making integration into Korean society challenging. Immigrant children migrate because of their parent’s (re)marriage to a Korean.

These children face not just the challenge of integrating into a new family but also a new country. A lack of support services means that many immigrant children quickly drop out of or never enter the formal education system. With growing numbers of immigrant children, there is a danger many will grow up without the necessary skills to find employment or

132 www.rainbowyouth.or.kr/index/rainbowyouth.php See the definition of ‘03 중도입국청소년 (immigrant adolescent, Jungdoipgukcheongsonyeon)’ Accessed 7 December 2018. 200 navigate daily life in Korea. Migrant wives who bring their immigrant children know too well the challenges their children will face in the future if they cannot get an education, as adult immigrants also face similar challenges integrating into Korean society. However, many migrant parents have recently entered a new marriage and may need their immigrant child’s help to manage daily household affairs for their si family.

This chapter examines why the state’s approach to multiculturalism is struggling to cope with supporting migrant wives to raise biracial and immigrant children. The lack of educational support and encouragement will become more pressing as these children move into adolescence and the workforce. In the first section I document how, in cases of domestic violence, the state’s approach promoting husband dominance over migrant wives disadvantages children and can lead to them leaving the school system. I also examine why migrant wives and biracial children are discouraged from engaging with a school system where bullying based on race has become commonplace. Replicating the approach of MFSCs for migrant wives, the state has refrained from educating ethnic Korean children and broader society to respect different cultures, failing to address the root causes of bullying and discrimination. In the second section I examine how the state has failed to accommodate and plan for immigrant children, who have no pathway to entering the mainstream school system.

Finally, I explore the case of a naturalised wife who resisted reproductive citizenship and made sure her biracial children understood and were proud of their Filipino heritage. This mother is also testing the bounds of Korean multiculturalism after having remarried with a

Pakistani migrant worker and sponsoring him for naturalisation.

201

1. Rearing biracial children: transforming the face of Korea

Korea is facing a demographic crisis with the lowest fertility rate in the world and a rapidly ageing population.133 The fertility rate or number of births per woman fell to 0.98 in 2018134 the lowest ever figure recorded and a rate normally associated with war.135 To combat the fertility crisis the Korean government has assigned migrant wives the role of reproductive surrogacy for the nation’s future. Immigration, social and educational policies all strongly encourage migrant wives to have children shortly after their arrival. This aligns with the preferences of those Korean men who seek a migrant bride. They will usually only marry a woman of reproductive age as they seek to extend their family line. After settling in and getting to know their new family, both the Korean state and in-law families expect migrant wives to give birth.

The policies encouraging migrant wives to reproduce have been highly effective. Table 1 shows that the increase in cross-border marriages is changing the face of the next generation in Korea. The number of children with an immigrant background will continue to increase as cross-border marriages become more prevalent and migrant wives bring in their children from previous relationships. There are also migrant workers’ children who are born or grow up in Korea (in many cases illegally).136

Table 1. Number of Children with an immigrant background

133 According to the World Bank, World Development Indicators 2018. 134 South Korea’s birth rate falls to new developed world low www.ft.com/content/16505438-c96c-11e9-a1f4- 3669401ba76f?fbclid=IwAR3yn5TJEohdZPyfTgkLYBr3pxM4rNpZXkHYC9iANvxH-JG0mUQe-5P0c5A and South Korea's Population Disaster Is Coming https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/south-koreas-population- disaster-coming- 81956?fbclid=IwAR0VWYreNA9aJ8b_Y4Hj1zzxRuPbI35z_wNu0wKtwgqLJYbXKnWKt5nFN0E Accessed 24 September 2019. 135 South Korea’s fertility rate set to hit record low of 0.96 www.theguardian.com/world/2018/sep/03/south- koreas-fertility-rate-set-to-hit-record-low Accessed 13 December 2018. 136 The Bangladeshi child that was deported from Korea http://english.hani.co.kr/arti/english_edition/e_international/854277.html Accessed 23 October 2019. 202

2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015

Total 44,258 58,007 107,689 121,935 151,154 168,583 191,328 204,204 207,693 Filipino 6,013 6,378 10,687 11,926 13,937 15,820 18,020 19,568 20,584 Source: Statistics Korea www.kosis.kr

The issue of immigrant children is becoming harder for the Korean government to ignore, though the true situation is difficult to assess given many migrants are incentivised to be undocumented or face deportation. As indicated in Table 1 there were 207,693 children of immigrant background in 2015, up almost five-fold within eight years, at a time when the number of children in Korea overall is falling. However, in publishing statistics on immigrant children, Statistics Korea makes no distinction between biracial children and immigrant children. This distinction is important as biracial children are often born in Korea or arrive at a young age and can enter the school system at the same time as and alongside ethnic Korean children. Immigrant children may arrive when they are older in cases where their mother has married a Korean man, or in the case of children born of migrant workers, may not be eligible to go to school. There are also no reliable statistics on the number of immigrant children born of migrant workers, though it has been estimated there were approximately 4,000 in 2013.137

This estimate does not include those who are abandoned by migrant worker parents; in cases where it is known there is no Korean parent they are not provided with any support by the

Government and rendered stateless as well as parentless.138

The rapid growth in children with an immigrant background is often attributed to the state’s program to support Korean men to marry migrants and for migrant wives to give birth, yet this ignores that many marriage migrants enter Korea wanting to have children and establish

137 Ibid. 138 Rising number of migrant children abandoned by their parents and the government www.asianews.it/news- en/Rising-number-of-migrant-children-abandoned-by-their-parents-and-the-government-33522.html Accessed 23 October 2019. 203 a family. Most of the Filipino wives I met had an intrinsic motivation to become pregnant once married. They did not feel offended that the government and their in-laws encouraged them to quickly have babies. Religious and cultural beliefs often heavily influenced Filipinas’ views on fertility, with pregnancy considered a blessing regardless of economic and in some cases marital status (for wives who had previous marriages or children prior to marriage in

Korea). For those who were Catholic there was also a belief in abstaining from birth control.

Age and location were also important factors in determining fertility, with Filipino wives in their early 20s living in rural areas expected by their husbands, in-laws and communities to have children. Even wives who were older at their time of marriage and had children from prior relationships still wanted to give birth in Korea, believing it would be their last baby in life and would help them to integrate into and understand Korean society.

Common Filipina perceptions of pregnancy can be a source of frustration for those who assist them when relationships fail. Jill and Gloria were two naturalised Filipinas managing an

NGO called the Asian Women's Community (AIDA Maeul)139 in Incheon (see Chapter 7), which serves Filipino wives and their children. I witnessed several of their activities that demonstrated the willingness of Filipino wives to have children even in difficult marital situations. On one occasion the AIDA Maeul was assisting a Filipino wife who had given birth to five daughters because her mother-in-law kept pushing her to make a son for their family. She continued to have children despite her husband abusing her verbally and physically. At some stage the wife ran away with her daughters as they felt unsafe and since then had stayed at shelters. Jill, as the President of the AIDA Maeul, was trying to find a place for the wife and her daughters to live long-term, but without success. Most shelters had limited space and it was difficult to find a shelter accepting six people at once. Another

139 http://blog.naver.com/aida_2008 Accessed 30 November 2018. 204 problem was that the shelters only provided short-term accommodation, but the wife did not have any money saved and could not work as she had to care for five young children. Jill was trying to use her connections to help but was frustrated by this wife’s situation. Exasperated, she told me:

‘Ok, I understand the si eomeoni (mother-in-law) pushed her to keep having babies. I get that, I have three children. But don’t you think five is too many? That’s why I don’t like Catholic and Catholic-minded Filipinos. They don’t think… it’s very difficult to help her as she has too many kids! I don’t introduce Filipino wives to Catholic shelters as their principle is always family first and because of that they send Filipinas back to abusive homes. I previously introduced and helped wives to enter Catholic shelters, but the wives complained to me as the staff, priests and nuns persuaded wives to return home where violent husbands were waiting. I don’t work with Catholic shelters anymore.’ The passage above illustrates Jill’s frustration working with vulnerable migrant wives as well as the approach of the Catholic church in Korea and the Philippines. The Catholic Church in

Korea has a long history of promoting male dominance in marital relationships, with Hoon

Choi (2012, 81) noting a history of missionaries encouraging wives who were fleeing abuse to return to husbands and be obedient and submissive. Gendered roles promoted by the

Philippines’ Catholic Church play a role in encouraging migrant wives to go to Korea, especially those who are known to have had children or previous sexual relations as social attitudes dictate that only virgin women can marry (Constable 2003). The most notable influence of the Catholic Church in the Philippines has been the ban on divorce, which has made it socially and legally acceptable for women in abusive relationships to remain married.

The ban on divorce has been shown to motivate some Filipinas to become migrant workers as a way of escaping abusive husbands and finding a socially acceptable escape (Parreñas 2001).

Through staff, activists or migrant wives, I heard many desperate stories of domestic violence, but in most cases the abused wife ended up being blamed. To understand why the battered wife agreed to have five daughters in Jill’s story above, it is necessary to understand her context and what factors shaped her decisions. In the Philippines, 80 per cent of the

205 nation’s 103 million people are Catholic and the power of the church has helped to ensure abortion and divorce remain illegal.140 Filipinas, regardless of their current religious, economic or marital status in Korea shared similar perspectives on families. ‘Family bonding’, ‘precious children’ and ‘pregnancy is the best blessing’ were phrases I commonly heard. In the Philippines, pregnancies are considered ‘blessings’ and birth control a ‘sin’.

Women with six children are commonly found living in slum areas,141 while the Philippines has the highest teen pregnancy rate in Asia142 despite a family planning law passed in

2012.143 Only two per cent of Filipino men wear condoms,144 limiting women’s choice over contraception and reproductive choices. Although Jill disapproved of Catholic-minded

Filipinos, even she had three children, which was above the average for Korean women her age. Most Filipino wives preferred to have more children compared with the ethnic Korean or migrant wives from other countries I met. Despite migrating to Korea, Filipinas continue to have more children than what is considered average in Korea and their reproductive choices reflect Philippine sociocultural perspectives. Rather than worrying about the cost of raising children and the competitive nature of Korean society that discourages many ethnic Koreans from having children, many Filipinas I encountered praised Korea’s wealth and educational support services and considered Korea one of the best places to raise children. Compared to the Philippines, where quality education and healthcare are expensive, Filipino wives felt that having more children would not hurt as the government will ‘take care’ of their children with

140 www.scmp.com/lifestyle/health-beauty/article/2121670/philippines-poorest-hit-hardest-birth-control-failings Accessed 11 December 2018. 141 www.scmp.com/lifestyle/health-beauty/article/2121670/philippines-poorest-hit-hardest-birth-control-failings Accessed 11 December 2018. 142 www.newsdeeply.com/womenandgirls/articles/2017/04/18/birth-control-shortage-will-hurt-teens-say- philippine-health-groups Accessed 11 December 2018. 143 www.fairobserver.com/region/asia_pacific/contraception-philippines-rodrigo-duterte-asian-world-news- 35054 Accessed 11 December 2018.

144 www.scmp.com/lifestyle/health-beauty/article/2121670/philippines-poorest-hit-hardest-birth-control-failings Accessed 11 December 2018. 206 free education up to high school, free health care for multicultural children and generous welfare benefits.

Another reason that Filipino wives have children is to assist with their integration into Korean society and overcome language and cultural barriers, as many wives end up depending on their children to help them navigate daily life. Gloria (late 40s in 2016), was an example of a migrant wife who had managed to thrive in Korea having overcome hardship to manage the

AIDA Maeul and become an English teacher at a kindergarten. She had one son who attended high school and she was the first daughter-in-law in her Korean family. On one occasion

Gloria shared with me and other Filipino wives the strategies she and her son used to deal with her mother-in-law. For example, whenever her mother-in-law was nearby, she told her son to ‘listen to what halmeoni (grandmother) says and memorise it’. Sometimes Gloria’s mother-in-law would complain to Gloria’s husband and lie about their conversations, but her son would intervene and correct the record. Gloria had ‘trained’ her son to listen to any conversations between Gloria and her mother-in-law while he pretended to play games or watch TV. As he grew older Gloria’s son became more confident and when her mother-in- law said unacceptable things he would intervene and tell his grandmother not to. Gloria’s mother-in-law would ignore whatever she or her husband said but listened her son as he was the family’s only grandson and much loved. Young Filipino wives at AIDA listening to

Gloria’s story were impressed and said they felt lonely and no one was on their side. As a counsellor and an interpreter, Gloria met many Filipinas facing difficulties adapting to migrant life. When they shared their troubles and problems with living in Korea, she would reassure those with young children that one day their children would grow up. During a session with a group of Filipinas, Gloria said ‘Now, your babies are young but wait for them to grow and speak for you. They won’t forget your sacrifice. You’ll have a person permanently on your side who will always be there for you’. After saying this in front of the

207 group she laughed and said to me ‘Maybe we are lonely and need someone to be there for us, so that is why migrant wives make babies as soon as they arrive in Korea’.

Gloria’s bittersweet story and optimism were of less relevance for migrant wives with daughters or children with disabilities. Within the Korean patriarchal family system, sons are considered precious and have a privileged place in the household. For example, boys from third or fourth generation only-son families (where there is only one male for three or four successive generations) were for a long time exempt from military service and offered a non- combatant service role.145 Sons are duty bound to protect their mothers and mothers are expected to maintain ‘the continuity of the Korean patrilineage’ (Constable 2005, 112) by giving birth to at least one son. Through having a son, migrant wives win trust, respect and status by extending the family name for another generation, performing their duty as a proper daughter-in-law. Gloria’s tactic, shared with the other wives, was premised on her child occupying a privileged place in the family, commanding the respect and admiration of grandparents which reflected well on her as the mother. If Gloria had a daughter or a disabled child instead of a healthy son, her child may not have commanded respect in the household or have the authority to protect their mother.

The stories in this chapter highlight the importance of the patriarchal family context that migrant wives must find their place within. They are highly reliant on men to exert agency, whether it be their husband or son. Comparing the story of the wife with five daughters and that of Gloria illustrates the persistence of Nama seonho sasang (an ancient but still common saying meaning preferring a son over a daughter). This son preference still exists among some families and appears reinforced for foreign women who must produce a son to find legitimacy, love, acceptance and protection from their Korean family members.

145 This exemption ended for those born after 31 December 1974. 208

While lacking the same authority as males and less able to intervene in cases of physical abuse, daughters play an important role in supporting migrant mothers and helping them to persevere through difficult situations. This was reflected in the story of Cindy from the

AIDA. Cindy (mid 40s in 2016) had a daughter after marrying through the Unification

Church (UC) and enduring a tough life. After getting to know Cindy through regular meetings, group discussions and private conversations, I learnt she was the victim of domestic violence. On 21 May 2016, three police officers visited the AIDA and provided a presentation to the Filipino wives on Safety in the household and the prevention of domestic violence for migrant wives. After the presentation, where police officers informed the migrant wives of their legal rights and how to contact the police when they feared violence, Cindy shared her experience.

‘In the Philippines we don’t normally trust police because they are corrupt and would never be on the side of an abused woman. I’ve learnt the hard way that Korean police are the same. Fourteen years ago, my little girl, back then, she called 112146 as my husband was threatening to kill me with a knife and was waving it around, which happens all the time. A police officer came, but only talked with my husband, not me. The officer left our house shortly after arriving and said it was a family matter so he could not intervene. He didn’t even bother to talk to me or check whether I was okay or not. After that experience, whenever my husband abuses me, he sarcastically says he will call 112 to tell the police I’m a bad wife or mocks me and says I should call the police. I don’t bother to call the police after that experience. Just yesterday my husband put a knife against my neck and was threatening to cut. My daughter was going to call the police, but I said not to. My husband hits me and uses swear words against me regularly.’ Cindy then went on to mimic her husband and repeat the swear words and dirty phrases that he used against her. Surprisingly, while Cindy’s Korean was far from fluent and her Korean speech was normally broken, when she mimicked her husband’s abusive language she sounded like a native speaker. Cindy concluded her story by saying ‘after what happened, I

146 The emergency phone number for contacting the police in Korea. 209 don’t trust the police and there is no point to call 112 as the police will always side with a

Korean husband over a migrant wife’.

One of the police officers responded to Cindy’s story and told the group that five years ago when couples fought the police could not intervene as the law treated domestic disputes as family and personal matters. However, after a ruling by then President Park Geun-hye, police can intervene even without a report or complaint of domestic violence from the household, having the authority to break down a door and arrest violent husbands. The officer then said to Cindy that if she ever again experienced domestic violence to call 112 and the police would intervene and arrest her husband. He gave Cindy his name card and said if she still did not trust the police, then to call him directly and he would handle the matter. Jill encouraged the group to listen to the police officer and that Korea was changing, with the sort of abuse that Cindy experienced no longer seen as acceptable. However, Cindy was unconvinced and still did not trust the police. Even as a naturalised migrant who had lived in Korea for a long time, the experience from 14 years ago when police last visited her house remained foremost in her mind. Cindy said that in any dispute between Koreans and migrants, the police would always listen, talk and ultimately side with the Korean, not wanting to hear broken Korean from a foreigner’s mouth. The older migrant wives in the group nodded and briefly voiced their agreement with Cindy, illustrating her story and interactions with the police were not unique.147

Despite enduring continuous and severe abuse from her husband, Cindy masked her pain and did not appear depressed or weak, but rather strong and cheerful on the surface. The AIDA

Maeul wives did not seem too worried about Cindy’s story and believed she would be okay.

147 A similar experience was shared by a Colombian immigrant who was arrested after he had been assaulted by an elderly Korean man. See Colombian Accuses Busan Police Of Discrimination After Costco Assault https://koreafm.net/2017/04/colombian-accuses-busan-police-of-discrimination-after-costco-assault/ Accessed 24 October 2019. 210

They trusted that Cindy’s daughter would help to maintain their marriage and prevent the husband from severely hurting or killing Cindy, with many Filipinas having been exposed to domestic violence in the Philippines.148 The wives at the AIDA seemed to reluctantly accept domestic violence provided it did not cause severe injury.

When I asked Cindy about her life and why she chose to stay with her husband, she said her daughter was everything to her. Cindy worried what would happen to her daughter if she left her husband, in particular fearing her daughter’s marriage prospects would suffer if her parents separated. Cindy felt her life would improve once her daughter married and moved out of the house. Cindy would then be freed from her responsibility as a mother to maintain her family and marriage. Cindy said she was not lonely or sad about her situation. Violence had been part of her life since she married her husband and lived in Korea. Cindy considered that she had raised her daughter well amid the domestic violence in her household.

Cindy’s disturbing story raises several questions. Why did she choose to maintain and endure an abusive marriage and what made her believe that her daughter’s future would be aided by having a violent father in her life? Would it not be better for Cindy to teach her daughter to be independent and not tolerate violence from her future husband? What ultimately stopped

Cindy from leaving her husband? As for the AIDA Maeul Filipinas, why did they seem to accept Cindy’s situation rather than encouraging her to leave her husband?

Many of the questions above can be explained by understanding the social and cultural context from a Filipina point of view. Culturally, the Philippines has a unique form of gendered discrimination that stems from the ban on divorce. While men are often able to

148 In the Philippines one in four women have been victims of domestic violence, with the rate above 50 per cent for women who are divorced, separated or widowed. See One in Four Women Have Ever Experienced Spousal Violence (Preliminary results from the 2017 National Demographic and Health Survey). https://psa.gov.ph/content/one-four-women-have-ever-experienced-spousal-violence-preliminary-results-2017- national Accessed 24 October 2019. 211 maintain separate households with mistresses, women from failed marriages and mistresses are stigmatised by society. Legal separation is an alternative mechanism that allows married

Filipinos to live apart and separate from their households but does not permit the right to remarry. The law on legal separation has been criticised as being inequitable in terms of violence against women, requiring that any person can only file a petition for legal separation when there is ‘repeated physical violence or grossly abusive conduct directed against the petitioner, a common child, or a child of the petitioner’.149 This fails to consider psychological or sexual violence, as well as the gravity of the violence. The Philippine

Commission on Women (2014) argues the current law exacerbates ‘batterers attempts to control and demean their victims and contribute(s) in perpetuating violence against women, particularly within the sanctity of the home’. Constable (2003) argues that marriage migration or going overseas for work is a way for Filipinas trying to escape gender inequities in the

Philippines, particularly for women in failed relationships or stigmatised due to past failed relationships. Once overseas, Filipinas like Cindy facing domestic violence must make a choice between staying in abusive relationships or taking their chances without their husbands and in-law families that they often depend on. For many Filipinas the scarier scenario is to leave husbands and try to support their children independently. Instead they choose to endure violence and forego the pressure to financially support oneself and the social stigma attached to being from a failed relationship. Having emigrated from a highly unequal society for women, Filipinas seek economic and cultural improvement in Korea and relief from the constraints on remarriage, contraception and women’s agency in their home country (Constable 2003 and 2005). Despite having ‘successfully’ migrated to Korea,

149 Article 55(1) of the Family Code of the Philippines. 212

Filipinas bring their home culture, customs and religious mindset which affects their perceptions toward family, husbands and marriages.

This was the case for Cindy and many older wives, who still maintained perspectives that normalised domestic violence and did not reflect the thinking of younger wives and contemporary Korean society.150 Older wives strongly believed that it was better to keep abusive husbands in their children’s lives and maintain unhealthy marriages, which justified enduring emotional violence and threats of physical abuse. Most migrant wives also were concerned that the Philippines is an ‘unsafe’ place to live and raise children. While it was hard at times to understand the decisions of Filipino wives, within the AIDA Maeul they were able to express themselves and be understood by their peers. Older wives counselled and advised younger wives with Philippine political, cultural and religious perspectives. At times

I found their perspective difficult to understand, however, from researching Filipinas I have learnt that older wives placed their children’s welfare and providing financial support above all else. In this sense, Cindy was trying her best to provide for her daughter and the AIDA friends were supporting Cindy’s decision even though the decision is difficult to understand for a younger generation of women like myself. The AIDA Maeul was trying to change the view of those Filipinas who normalised domestic violence by showing that police considered domestic violence unacceptable. Yet as Cindy’s story illustrated, the state’s acceptance of domestic violence and discrimination against migrant wives has left a lasting impression. For women like Cindy who have lived experience that the police permit domestic violence against migrants, it is particularly difficult to change their perception of how the Korean state treats migrant wives.

150 As per the case of Benilda, who as discussed in Chapter 3 fled an abusive husband by taking their child and remigrating to the Philippines. 213

1.1. Multicultural means discrimination

Multiculturalism has a unique meaning in Korea, reflecting the state’s use of multicultural policies to promote population growth and segment migrants into different classes that are intended to remain separate from one another, and in some cases, from Korean society. Jin-

Kyung Lee’s (2010) work provides a framework for understanding the current Korean phenomenon of multiculturalism. By comparing Korea’s migrant situation with Japan and the

United States, Lee explains how Korea desperately sought to be a ‘sub-imperial immigrant nation’ (p. 214), superior over less developed countries that were ‘underneath’ Korea based on global power dynamics related mainly to a nation’s economic wealth. Korea adopted from

Japan and the US discriminatory laws and regulations in terms of assimilation, exclusion, and specification of migrants, which were practiced through the Korean definition of

‘multiculturalism’. In addition to Lee (2010)’s work, numerous studies have analysed migrant wives’ assimilation and adjustment into Korean society as a ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach to multiculturalism, regardless of where or how migrants from less developed countries come to

Korea and their unique characteristics, including their country of origin (Sung et al 2013,

237).

Korea has a history of discrimination against biracial and foreign citizens. Mary Lee (2008) documents a long-practiced abjection of biracial people from Korean society. She uses an intersectional framework that attributes exclusion of biracial Koreans to a racially politicised notion of blood-purity and gendered patriarchy, which contribute to an imagined homogenous national identity that is intertwined with racial purity. Cheng (2010, 63) documents discrimination against the children of GI fathers151 and Korean mothers in the 1960s, with

151 Members of the US Armed Forces. 214 common taunts including ‘different blood, it’s a curse, second-generation mixed-blood people’ (Cheng 2010, 63). Over time due to Korea’s economic ascendance and racial dynamics favouring white Westerners holding positions of power and privilege, the stigma has morphed, with discrimination shifting away from migrants and biracial children with heritage from developed countries like the US and Japan, and towards those with their origins in China and Southeast Asia. A survey of migrant wives from the Ministry of Gender

Equality and Family (2012) found that a higher proportion of Chinese and Vietnamese women reported experiencing discrimination compared with migrant wives from the US and

Japan. Stigmatisation of migrant wives from developing countries is also normalised in terminology and definitions: ‘multicultural’ from ‘multicultural families’, ‘multicultural children’ and ‘multicultural backgrounds’, as distinct from ‘international’ such as

‘international families’, ‘international children’ and ‘international background’ that refer to ethnicities from developed economies. These definitions reflect norms and distinctions within the Korean government and society about a hierarchy of ethnicities, embodying Korean norms related to class, race, power and the place of various groups of migrants in society and the economy.

Social naming and stereotyping are ways of marginalising migrant wives and leads to their othering from Korean society. Many migrant wives from China and Southeast Asia are still associated with the legacy of commercial or religious brokered marriages to farmers and fishermen past marriageable age. Brokered marriages have rarely occurred since 2015 due to tighter immigration rules requiring that wives and husbands must know each other well and be able to communicate in the same language prior to receiving a marriage migrant visa.

However, the legacy of brokered marriages lingers and sustains racist and sexist stereotypes of migrant wives (Shin 2012, 69). Mainstream Korean media have often portrayed migrant wives as trafficked victims of abusive husbands (see Chapter 7). Regardless of whether these

215 stereotypes apply to an individual family, they lead to marginalisation and exclusion from society for both adults and children in multicultural families. To combat these problems the government provides multicultural families with a higher level of welfare benefits compared to ethnic Korean families. However, these payments are based on a household’s racial background rather than income and reflect the ethno-paternalistic values of the Korean state that stigmatise multicultural families as requiring greater support, with Korean husbands assumed to be low income earners and foreign wives treated as dependent spenders.

Filipino wives occupy an intersectional corner of Korean society where they face multiple forms of discrimination and complex systems of exclusion. The migrant wives I observed were deeply protective of their biracial children, wary of Korean’s obsession with blood, kinship and appearance. Young Filipino mothers from the Centre would sometimes discuss their concerns over racial discrimination and their children’s future. At one gathering the mothers were sharing skin whitening products and discussing which ones worked for their faces. When I asked why they cared about skin tones, Darna (see Chapter 4) answered, ‘It is all about skin colour! Look at Chloe152 and her son [who by virtue of naturally brown hair and pale skin could be categorised as of European heritage]. We are sure he’ll have a comfortable life’. Many of these migrant wives were worried their children would stand out and face discrimination at school and in adulthood because of their dark skin tones.

My experience interacting with multicultural children of school age and their migrant mothers suggested that the Filipino wives from the Centre had good reason to fear discrimination and exclusion for their biracial children once they entered school. All the

Filipinas I met who migrated to Korea through the UC in the 2000s had teenage children, as did most of the migrant wives I encountered who had been in Korea more than 15 years.

152 See Chapters 2 and 5. 216

Many shared that their children had suffered discrimination and exclusion because of their biracial heritage. Common insults used were ‘phillipinsaram’ (Filipino) or ‘damunhwa’

(multicultural), with children called these names by their peers instead of their real names as a way of highlighting and shaming their maternal heritage. Betty was one of the AIDA Maeul wives who had migrated through the UC. When we met in 2016, she was a quiet woman in her early 50s with naturally blonde hair and a pale skin tone compared with other Filipinas.

Betty had one Spanish grandparent and one set of German great grandparents, which explained her appearance. Her youngest son, who was 13 years old at that time, had been bullied at his school. His peers call him ‘negro’ because of his skin tone, which Betty said was dark and noticeably different from that of ethnic Koreans. Betty had other children who experienced fewer problems with bullying, but her youngest son had a darker skin tone than his siblings. Betty’s son had been able to control his responses to the bullying and knew it was unacceptable to use violence towards his peers, but the week before I interviewed Betty her son had been bullied to the point where he became so furious that he punched a wall and injured his hand. Betty was worried about her son, who was sensitive and at a formative age for developing his identity.

The pressure from bullying at school can cause great stress to migrant wives and their children, skewing their thinking and leading to a belief that taunts are justified. While Betty had noted several times that she was concerned about her son’s ‘dark skin’, when she showed photos of her children their skin tone was similar to my own as an ethnic Korean. The taunts of ‘negro’ appeared to be completely irrelevant to the appearance of Betty’s son. However, while his skin tone was like an ethnic Koreans, his facial features marked him as exotic

(visibly different from Korean features). Betty’s son was the subject of bullying because his peers knew his mother came from the Philippines, which they associated with dark skin tones. The stories of Betty and young Filipino wives highlight the racism that migrant wives

217 and their children face in their everyday lives, which can take the form of a lingering stare, altered tone of a voice, slow service, or a comment about skin tone, appearance or racial heritage.

Migrant wives and their children’s fear of being different also occurs within the confines of the family group. Many migrant wives I met were afraid of making grammatical mistakes and exposing their lack of Korean language skills in front of their families, especially their children. Within the hierarchy of migrant wives’ families, non-native speaking mothers are often at the bottom. I encountered young children who were rude towards their mothers, often interrupting or ignoring them. This meant that the conventional authority of parents over children in the traditional Korean family structure was humiliatingly reversed for many migrant wives. However, among the wives I interacted with, normally children tended to mature as they got older and younger children’s shame of their migrant mothers was not reflected in the biracial teenagers I encountered, who would usually be protective of their mothers and try to help them.

The inability of migrant wives to communicate with their children was a source of frustration for both. I was surprised that during my research nearly all of the Filipino-Korean children I met could not understand nor speak English, which was the language I primarily used to communicate with their mothers. Korean families and the state strongly encourage migrant wives from developing countries not to teach their own languages to their children for fear it will hinder their children’s learning of Korean. Prior to the introduction of MFSCs it was difficult for migrant wives to access Korean language training, especially for those in rural areas. The result is a cohort of families where migrant wives have limited Korean language ability while their children can only speak Korean and communication is inhibited. For many

Filipino migrant wives this has resulted in the ironic situation where they, as fluent English

218 speakers, are discouraged from teaching their children English in a country where wealthy parents spend tens of thousands on private English tuition.153

For young biracial children bullying at school can lead to embarrassment and shame about their maternal heritage. Esther’s eldest daughter seemed slightly distant from her mother whenever we met. She refused to talk with any Filipinas at the AIDA Maeul, instead only talking with me and holding my hands in a friendly manner. There was another 10-year-old boy who also refused to talk with Filipinas and only talked with me. One of the wives observed, ‘Look at them [the boy and Esther’s daughter], they only talk to you because you are Korean. To them, we are all speaking strange languages [Tagalog and other dialects] and look like foreigners, but you [referring to me], you are different. After all, our babies, they are Korean, but we are still Filipino.’ Esther’s daughter and the boy had difficulty communicating with their mothers. Esther’s daughter could not completely understand what her mother was saying as Esther’s Korean was limited and Esther’s husband had forbidden her from teaching Tagalog. The boy did not attempt to try and understand his mother, ignoring her whenever she spoke to him. On one such occasion while his mother tried to talk to him, he looked at me with an awkward smile, appearing uncomfortable and embarrassed that I, a native Korean speaker, had heard his mother’s broken Korean.

Husbands and children can also inadvertently help to reinforce migrant wives’ lack of confidence in speaking Korean through being overly protective. Through acquaintances I was introduced to a Korean husband in 2015 and after an informal interview, he agreed to ‘bring’ his wife, Blessica, so I could interview her. A few days later the Korean husband brought

Blessica and their teenage son for an interview. I asked Blessica if she and I could go somewhere private for the interview, but her son automatically followed us. I asked the son if

153 See South Korea’s $18 billion education problem. https://blogs.wsj.com/korearealtime/2014/08/28/south- koreas-18-billion-education-problem/ Accessed 15 January 2020. 219 he could stay with his father while Blessica and I talked. The son replied that it was his job to translate his mother’s Korean. This appeared to be normal behaviour for this family. The three of us started the interview and spoke in Korean, but it soon became apparent that rather than translate what his mother was saying, the son was merely repeating his mother’s Korean.

After a few questions and answers that allowed me to confirm Blessica could speak Korean to a good standard and understand what I was saying, I told the son his mother’s Korean was fine and we did not need translation. He was unsure that we would be able to communicate without him but reluctantly left us alone and said he would be outside if we needed him and could call him anytime. During the two-hour interview I did not have any problems communicating with Blessica. Her Korean was fine which was not surprising as she had resided in Korea for more than 12 years.

While some husbands were ‘protective’ towards their wives, domestic violence was common among Filipino wives but rarely reported to authorities, with some victims negotiating and maintaining marital relationships for the sake of their children. Esther was the youngest wife

I met at the AIDA Maeul. She came to Korea in 2011 when she was 18 years old. She was 23 years old in 2016 and lived in Incheon with her 45-year-old husband who owned a small bakery. They had two daughters, aged four years old and 24 months old. Esther was a victim of domestic violence but unlike other women at the AIDA Maeul who were older and open about receiving abuse, Esther tried to hide her abuse and kept it to herself. The AIDA Maeul members knew Esther was a victim of domestic violence and delicately encouraged her to talk about her husband when police officers visited. However, Esther said she was not yet ready to talk about her problems and did not raise them when the police officers visited. One of the factors that made Esther reluctant to report her situation to authorities was a fear of her family separating. Esther’s husband was pressuring her to send their youngest daughter to the

Philippines so Esther could have time to work and make money while their eldest attended

220 childcare during weekdays. Jill was concerned about Esther and advised her not to give in to her husband. Jill had previously remigrated to the Philippines and experienced raising a young infant over there. Jill privately discussed Esther’s case with me, explaining, ‘It’s for the best that mothers raise their children here and don’t send them to the Philippines, especially when they’re young, as they easily get sick and unlike in Korea, the Philippines’ medical system isn’t great.’

Among older migrant wives, I encountered many intelligent and articulate women with diminished expectations as a result of sustained discrimination and disempowerment. Even though Blessica’s husband and son did not think she could speak Korean well, Blessica had worked as a translator for many organisations and with government groups. Yet despite her experience and language ability, she lacked confidence and kept apologising for her poor

Korean language ability during our interview. Blessica said as a mum she felt guilty for depending on her son. It became evident during the interview that in Blessica’s family the burden of adjustment was placed entirely on her as the migrant wife, rather than the husband or children adapting to their mother. Blessica’s son had good intentions in trying to help his mother and wanted to ensure that she could communicate well. This was the opposite of

Blessica’s stepdaughter, who was from her husband’s prior marriage. Blessica’s stepdaughter criticised and laughed at her Korean in public. Blessica complained the stepdaughter was

Yeuigaeopda (lacking respect, politeness or courtesy). The attitude of Blessica’s stepdaughter made her more appreciative of and grateful to her son. She summed up by saying, ‘I raised my stepdaughter for 12 years. As she grew up, unlike my son, she never accepted me as her mother. I think she hated that her father married a foreigner.’ Apart from physical hardships of their immigrant life, the burden of feeling singled out for racial differences never disappears for most migrant wives, even after obtaining citizenship.

221

Naturalisation did not appear to change migrant wives’ identity and feeling of belonging in

Korean society. Some of the migrant wives who had attained citizenship told me they did not feel at home in Korea despite their long residency period. This was not the case for some of the migrant wives at the Centre introductory language class who felt at home in Korea even though they had recently arrived, were temporary residents and could not speak Korean fluently. This paradox in feelings of belonging between wives who had just arrived feeling comfortable in Korea, and those that arrived long ago feeling abject, reflects the government’s changing approach to migrant wives.

The first few years of a migrant’s life in their new country are crucial for identity formation.

The experiences of migrants during this period can set rigid expectations of migrants’ understanding of their place within their host country and how they are valued. Many of the older wives had migrated to Korea when there were few support centres and limited mechanisms for migrant wives to connect. Some older wives recalled stories of fearing to venture outside alone as people would stare intensely as though it was their first time seeing a foreigner. In the absence of support services, many migrant wives felt excluded from Korean society and had difficulty integrating. A few of the migrant wives at the AIDA appeared optimistic about their prospects in Korean society, which is becoming increasingly multicultural, with migrant wives gaining positions in the public service and even in politics.154 However, the labelling and treatment of migrant wives as a homogenous group and the government’s focus on assimilation was not helpful. All of the AIDA members rejected the notion they should give up their native culture in order to reproduce Korean language, custom and culture. The government’s approach to and labelling of migrant wives

154 For example, former Representative Jasmine Lee who was the first non-ethnic Korean and naturalised Korean to become a member of the National Assembly. Representative Lee entered Korea as a marriage migrant from the Philippines. 222 raises questions over when migrant wives become ‘Korean’, and likewise the marker

‘multicultural’ can carry a stigma for children that identifies them as different, when in many cases they would prefer not to stand out and be targets for bullying.

2. Immigrant children (Jungdoipgukjanyo)

The integration of immigrant children into Korean society is an emerging challenge and one that Korea’s education system is poorly equipped to handle. Once migrant wives have received PR, they can sponsor a F-1 permanent visa (family reunion) for children from previous relationships (Seol and Skrentny 2009, 585). The number of immigrant children without Korean ethnicity has risen sharply in recent years, with 14,184 residing in Korea in

2015, up from 4,205 in 2009.155 Immigrant children comprise only a small share of the

216,000 youth from immigrant backgrounds in 2018,156 the majority of whom are biracial children who were born or have lived most of their life in Korea. While the government has invested heavily in assistance for biracial children, there are few programs helping immigrant children who are not ethnically Korean (Jungdoipgukjanyo). There are only three specialised high schools catering to both biracial and immigrant children nationwide and up to 31 per cent of children with a foreign parent do not attend school.157 This is despite school being the most crucial space where transformation can occur for immigrant children (Kim 2014, 171).

Encouragingly for immigrant children in Cheonan, in 2015 the Centre became one of a few

MFSCs to offer services for immigrant children,158 though this service is unfunded and only

155 Based on data from Statistics Korea. For Cheonan city the number of children with immigrant background rose from 22 in 2009 to 162 in 2015. 156 www.mogef.go.kr/eng/lw/eng_lw_f002.do Accessed 26 November 2018. 157 www.voanews.com/a/south-korea-opens-school-for-children-of-multicultural-families- 142772385/180842.html AND www.liveinkorea.kr/portal/USA/page/contents.do?menuSeq=3725&pageSeq=54 Accessed 26 November 2018. 158 www.liveinkorea.kr/center/intro/overview.do Accessed 27 November 2018. 223 due to a decision by the Centre’s Director. The Director explained her decision to me, ‘Even though we don’t receive any extra budget, I’d like to start a class for Jungdoipgukjanyo as the number of immigrant children is increasing in Cheonan and I think it’s time for our Centre start providing a class for them.’ Given the lack of funding, the Centre preferred volunteer teachers and the Director asked me to become a teacher.

Immigrant children of marriage migrants face a unique set of acculturation challenges. At the

Centre I taught a group of immigrant children aged between 13 and 23 years. All my students had recently migrated to Korea because of their mothers’ marriage or remarriage to a Korean husband. The class helped to prepare immigrant children for introduction to the regular

Korean school system by rapidly improving their Korean language ability. These children represented a new phenomenon for Korean society, which even now has few services to integrate adolescent immigrant children. These children often have trouble adjusting to a new language, culture and family members. In the class, children from Cambodia, China,

Uzbekistan and Vietnam were all experiencing major challenges with their new lives. The class was taught by a main teacher with two assistant teachers (a Korean woman or man depending on the day of the week and myself). The main teacher provided printed papers to the assistant teachers who individually taught their assigned students, as each students’

Korean level varied depending on their arrival time and age. I taught two Vietnamese girls, one Uzbek boy and one Chinese woman.

Balancing family and education commitments can be difficult for immigrant children when their mothers are required to take on additional household responsibilities. Chau was a

Vietnamese teenager who had recently migrated. Most days she stayed at home and cared for her mother’s new-born baby from her Korean stepfather while her mother cared for elderly in-laws. Because Chau was busy helping her mother, she was unable to attend class regularly and her Korean did not improve during my tenure at the Centre. After talking with Chau and

224 her mother I learnt they largely only spoke with each other; Chau’s stepfather only came home on weekends as he worked in a different city during the week. Chau’s mother could not handle all the housework, the baby and in-laws by herself. Chau’s mother was aware that her daughter needed to begin middle school at some stage, but she could not avoid asking for her daughter’s assistance.

Aside from the challenge of integrating into Korea’s education system, immigrant children must also grapple with the complicated process of forming an identity. This was the case for

Marva, who I spent the most time teaching and who was the same age as Chau. She was originally from Cambodia and ethnically Cambodian. Her mother and father had divorced when she was young. Her mother then migrated to Vietnam where she remarried, and Marva became a Vietnamese citizen. Marva’s mother had divorced her Vietnamese husband and decided to become a marriage migrant one more time, this time to Korea, and after settling had brought Marva to join her in Cheonan. Marva faced discrimination from other

Vietnamese children and wives at the Centre as she and her mother were originally from

Cambodia. This discrimination made it difficult for Marva to adjust to the Centre and life in

Korea. She often skipped class and was sensitive about her dark skin tone and appearance that distinguished her from other Vietnamese migrants and Koreans. Standing out in a mainstream group, Marva was desperate to fit in and to try to achieve a sense of belonging in the Vietnamese community. Marva felt less affinity for the Cambodian community after having spent more of her formative years in Vietnam. Even though Koreans may have cared little whether Marva was Vietnamese or Cambodian, as she appeared one of many ‘foreign’ looking teenagers wandering the streets, Marva desired to be recognised as Vietnamese.

Marva and I communicated and met often, both inside and outside of the Centre. Her only friend was Chau, who was busy helping her mother and rarely attended class. This meant that

Marva normally did not have anyone to talk to and socialise with. The Director at the Centre

225 called Marva a ‘troublemaker’ as she did not listen to any of her teachers, but the Director was pleased Marva got along with me. After getting to know Marva, I found out she had never had the time or opportunity to properly master Cambodian or Vietnamese, which made it difficult to follow the Korean language class. She had grown up in three different countries with unique languages and had not experienced continuous education in any one country. Her vocabulary was limited in each of the languages she had studied and made it difficult to learn in a classroom setting. Marva had a basic level of Cambodian but had left Cambodia when she was young. During her time in Vietnam she did not have continuous proper education in any one school. None of the schools in Cheonan catered to non-native speakers who cannot speak Korean and Marva had no other choice than to study Korean at the Centre but struggled to understand staff and teachers who only spoke Korean. I tried to explain lesson plans in

English, Mandarin and Korean, but soon realised Marva could not understand any English and unlike the other Vietnamese I encountered did not have any Mandarin as she was originally from Cambodia. In the end, I brought my laptop and used pictures and images to explain things to her.

Marva was not a ‘troublemaker’ when I taught her, but her main teachers either misunderstood her intentions or were very firm in their educational philosophies. In class, when the main teacher explained things on the whiteboard Marva tried to follow the teacher’s words with her phone using Cambodian and Vietnamese translator apps. However, the teacher disapproved of students using their phone during class. At the start of the class the main teacher tried to collect each student’s phone so they would not be distracted. Marva refused to give her phone in as she needed it to understand the class, but there were no exceptions and Marva eventually gave up her phone which made it impossible for her to follow the class. This led to Marva disengaging and sometimes skipping class. When Marva did attend class, she asked if we could spend time together at fast food restaurants, coffee

226 shops or walking around in Cheonan. During our time together Marva told me she was not comfortable at home by herself. Her mother worked until late and her Korean stepfather would come home before her mother and watch TV wearing only underwear while lying down in the living room. Her stepfather did not notice or did not care that this made her uncomfortable.

During my time teaching immigrant children I observed that younger children tended to learn faster than older students. Husan was an Uzbek boy aged 13 who was the youngest in the class. He had a cheerful character and was excited to live in Korea as ‘many things were interesting and Korea is a fun place to live’. Husan was a quick learner and could speak three languages fluently including English. Nevertheless, he had been told by his Korean stepfather not to use English, which severely limited his learning of Korean. Even though Husan was talented at languages, rather than encourage him to maintain his other languages the Centre and his stepfather tried to limit his focus exclusively towards Korean. Husan told me he felt smothered using only Korean. For Husan, the class was too slow and easy. While other students were struggling to complete tasks, he finished within a few minutes and did not know what to do while he waited for the others. The main teacher asked Husan to do revision

(bokseop). Hasan said, ‘All Koreans, including teachers and my father, love to ask bokseop which is boring.’

The class also catered to young adults, including Yu Yan, a woman aged 23 who was anxious about her future. She had given up university studies in China to follow her mother whom she depended upon financially. Yu Yan was unable to transfer into a Korean university given her limited Korean ability. Unlike most students in the class, she was an adult who had received a good basic education and spent her entire childhood growing up in her native country. Yu

Yan had migrated to Korea and hoped she could quickly learn Korean but had made a slow transition to her adoptive country. After finishing teaching at the Centre in 2015, I met Yu

227

Yan again in 2017. Her Korean had become worse, which she attributed to being too old to learn Korean at the Centre (the age limit for immigrant children is 24 years old). We tried to communicate in Korean but failed and instead communicated in Mandarin. Yu Yan had given up on entering university in Korea. Instead she was staying at home and helping her mother while looking for work.

While government programs to assist the acculturation of immigrant children are lagging when compared to services for migrant wives, due to a lack of funding, their pathway to naturalisation is far easier. Whereas adults must pass both a written exam and an oral test for naturalisation, minors are only required to pass an oral test. For someone like Marva, the interview would still be too hard and none of the children were at a level where they stood a chance of passing the oral test. Husan was smart and quickly learning Korean but was still far from fluent. For Yu Yan, who had come to Korea as an adult child of a marriage migrant, she would need to pass both an interview and written exam in order to achieve citizenship as she was no longer a child. Naturalising for adult immigrant children can be extremely difficult as there are no properly funded programs providing immigrant adult children the opportunity to study.

The stories above indicate the challenges immigrant children encounter as they learn a new language and culture and try to adjust into Korean society. They experience hardship inside and outside of the home and can face difficulties dealing with stepfathers and extended

Korean family members. Often the only people they can depend on, their mothers, are extremely busy and facing their own challenges adjusting to new roles as reproductive citizens in Korea. Consequently, immigrant children become unpaid labour for their mothers who are adapting to their role as a migrant wife—invisible labour following invisible labour—which is highly problematic for these children. Moreover, as teenagers who are

228 going through adolescence, the meaning of identity and citizenship may be confusing and lost in the process of integrating into a new family in a foreign land.

3. Nurturing a foreign husband

Naturalised migrant wives who divorce their Korean spouses and remarry a migrant are in theory able to sponsor a migrant spouse for PR and naturalisation. This was the case for Tala, a trailblazer testing the bounds of reproductive citizenship and gendered patriarchy, forging a path for the next generation of naturalised migrants to have equal rights as ethnic Korean citizens regardless of race or gender. Tala was originally from the city of Bacolod and 45 years old when we met in 2016.159 She had come to Korea in 2000, flying for the first time ever. Tala had been drawn to Korea by the UC and said she was one of 5,000 Filipino brides to have arrived that year. Her marriage through the UC lasted for ten years and during this period she lived with her then-husband, his mother and their two children (one son and one daughter). While married to her Korean husband she mastered the Korean language and was naturalised as a Korean citizen. Even though she could speak fluently, Tala had numerous troubles with her former mother-in-law, which led to many difficulties. After ten years Tala could not take her life anymore and decided to divorce, as she believed it was the only way to escape from her mother-in-law. Her ex-husband agreed, but only on the condition that she moved out without any compensation and left their children with him. Tala agreed and left the UC as soon as she was divorced.

Religion played an important role in Tala’s life and she had experienced a wide-ranging spiritual journey. She had dutifully served the UC for ten years believing that if she was

159 Bacolod is a city on the northwest coast of Negros Island in the Philippines. 229 devoted enough, God would provide her with a peaceful and harmonious family. Only towards the end of her marriage did she begin to lose her faith in the UC. After her first marriage failed, she converted to Christianity which had been her religion from birth until she migrated to Korea. Tala joined a Korean Presbyterian church which worshiped at the homes of the congregation. She became an active church member and regularly hosted worship at her house. Tala was also involved with diverse Christian groups including attending a

National Leader’s meeting of the Philippine Blessed Missionaries in Korea (PBMK). This involved listening, reading and reflection by the President of the PBMK and participating in group discussions. Tala’s active participation in Filipino Christian groups was motivated by a belief that she was a good role model for Filipinas living in Korea.

Tala had a motto of ‘teach yourself all the time’ and prior to her divorce had gained educational qualifications. Tala completed an online course from a US university learning about teaching, office skills and nursing. She completed her studies in 2008 during her marriage crisis. Tala needed to support herself financially after her divorce and worked at

English language institutes (hagwon) in Asan and Cheonan, teaching English to Korean children. However, she was forced to stop working in January 2014 after a car accident.

Following the accident her facial expression was distorted, with the left side of her face drooping and amblyopia160 in her left eye. After recovering from the accident Tala began working at a toothpaste factory with other Filipinas (see Chapter 3), which is where she still works. I asked Tala why she stopped working as a teacher and became a factory worker, to which she answered that she preferred working at the factory with other Filipinas who were her friends. Chloe (see Chapters 2 and 5) later told me that Tala’s hagwon refused to take her back after the accident as they were afraid of the parent’s or children’s reaction to Tala’s

160 Commonly referred to as a lazy eye. 230 face. Tala was happy working at the factory with her Filipina friends. After work Tala often socialised with her co-workers, singing karaoke, eating out or drinking together. Tala also had her own side business in addition to the factory job. Tala described herself as ‘business minded and wanting to have extra income’. She maintained online and offline businesses to make extra income, which was common among Filipinas. Tala sold natural health products through her social media, mainly targeting Filipinos, but she also hoped to reach other communities and earn a passive income beyond her full-time work.

The most remarkable part of Tala’s story was her current husband Muhammad; their marriage and quest for his citizenship that is challenging the boundaries of ‘Koreanness’. In

2012 Tala remarried Muhammad, a Pakistani Muslim who entered Korea as a migrant worker and was ten years younger than Tala. As a Korean citizen, Tala was entitled to sponsor her husband to obtain PR and apply for citizenship. She was helping Muhammad in every way possible to obtain PR. Tala and Muhammad accommodated one another and respected each other’s cultural beliefs despite their age, religious and racial differences. They had managed to achieve a happy marriage through mutual adaptation. For example, Muhammad attended

Sunday Church services with Tala and supported her to host and invite church members to their house. Tala also respected Muhammad’s religion and did not eat pork as per Islamic edicts, which can be difficult in Korea as pork is a delicacy and often put in dishes. Tala’s children from her prior marriage also lived with her and Muhammad. Even though Tala’s ex- husband demanded that she leave her children after their divorce, her son had moved in with

Tala and Muhammad. Tala’s 15-year-old daughter still lived with her father at the time of my fieldwork, but mother and daughter had a good relationship and were like close friends.

When I asked Tala why her daughter still lived with her ex-husband she considered her answer carefully before saying her son was causing more trouble at his father’s house so she

231 had to take him first (after my fieldwork finished Tala’s daughter also moved in).

Muhammad got along well with Tala’s children, often travelling together on family holidays.

Tala did not ascribe to reproductive citizenship and actively supported nurturing her children’s understanding of their Filipino heritage. Tala sent her children to the Philippines occasionally to learn the Philippine language and culture and stay with their grandparents and relatives so they would grow up with Filipino identities. It was rare for biracial children from

Cheonan to travel overseas due to the high costs involved. Tala’s children’s trips to the

Philippines were testament to the lengths she was willing to go for her children’s cultural education. As her children got older Tala paid for family holidays within Korea. This helped to build a family bond between her children and Muhammad. Even though Tala’s children had grown up for an extended period with their grandmother and father, they said they felt less attached to their ‘conservative and boring Korean family, who didn’t know how to chill and enjoy life’. Tala’s children had been influenced by her approach to life and had learned to embrace Filipino culture and customs.

Tala was a strong woman who readily took on responsibility for supporting her family, of which she was the leader. After marrying Tala, Muhammad had received a F-6 temporary spouse visa that was subject to renewal every three years. He had applied for a F-5 permanent spouse visa several times but had been rejected. This made it difficult for him to obtain a permanent job as employers were wary of taking on male temporary visa holders. Tala had tried endlessly to advocate for Muhammad’s PR, but her efforts had been unsuccessful, which Tala attributed to discrimination. Based on our last conversation in 2017, Tala thought it was unlikely that Muhammad would ever attain PR and citizenship. Government officials continually gave excuses for refusing to recognise Tala as eligible to sponsor a permanent spouse visa. This was clearly discrimination; if Tala were an ethnic Korean male the treatment by immigration officials would have been different.

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Tala said discrimination was part of her everyday life, not just confined to Korea’s gendered racial immigration system. During my fieldwork she was looking for a place to stay as her rent had increased and she needed to find a new place which was within her budget. I informed her of a government rental scheme for low income families that had a monthly rent of only 150,000 Won (AU$ 180) and a relatively modest jeonse (bond) payment of

30,000,000 Won (AU$ 36,600), which I encouraged her to apply for. Tala agreed this was a good price but said she doubted her family would be accepted as she had faced many experiences of discrimination when requesting government services. Tala still applied and as she had predicted her application was rejected once again.

3.1. Tala’s motherhood

Tala claimed to have married Muhammad for love and did not expect to receive any benefit from him, marrying without any preconditions. Tala had much love to give to people. Several times I observed her help and open herself to those around her. When we first met, she approached me as a stranger but trusted me immediately and shared her story, visiting me on many occasions afterwards to provide an update on her life. She would organise gatherings for Filipinas and treat them to food. One time we met at KFC with other Filipinas who worked at factories and she insisted on paying for everyone. I had tried to pay but Tala stopped me and said, ‘You are my guest. Once I go to Australia, you treat me. Don’t worry, these are all my friends!’ She often treated her co-workers even though they all received a similar salary. When I went to Korea for four months at the start of 2017 to give birth, Tala regularly contacted me and suggested we meet up. She organised for other Filipinas to accompany her and brought gifts. Tala knew I was a researcher and had an academic motive

233 for wanting to understand her life and that of other Filipinas, but she did not mind and embraced me as a sister, which is how she treated the other wives surrounding her.

Tala demonstrated strong maternal bonds to those close to her and no ill-will to those who may have wronged her in the past. After divorcing, Tala’s ex-husband and in-laws kept her children and she had to leave their house without any compensation. She had been unable to see her children for a long time but did not have any hatred towards her former Korean family. Shortly after she married Muhammad and they were beginning to make a happy family, her ex-husband asked Tala to take their son. This could have complicated her relationship with Muhammad and some women may have refused, but Tala happily took her teenage son and later her daughter. She provided great care for her children and managed to maintain a good relationship between them and Muhammad.

With her income, Tala supported her children, Muhammad and herself. Muhammad provided some income for their household as well, but since he did not have PR his job and income were unstable. Without any financial support from her ex-husband, Tala as a Korean citizen was independently raising future generations of biracial Koreans and supporting her migrant husband. With her small car she drove everywhere to help other Filipinas, church members, her children and Muhammad. During numerous meetings with her, I never heard her complain about anybody; instead she was busy making sure her friends and family were doing well. Anyone around her could quickly become a friend to whom she would provide great care and attention.

Tala’s story shows that ‘motherhood’ does not only apply to relationships between mothers and children, but between wives and husbands as well. Tala was ‘nurturing’ her husband, helping him to achieve permanency in his adopted country despite institutional efforts to deny this basic right for the spouse of a Korean citizen. The approach of Korean officials to

234 deny Muhammad PR reflects what Constable (2005, 108) characterised as a gendered history of patriarchal kinship logic, where until 1998 migrant husbands were ineligible for naturalisation. While according to immigration rules Muhammad should have received PR, a gendered racial approach to naturalisation persists. Tala continues to fight for Muhammad’s rights. She is Muhammad’s best friend, wife, and mentor in a foreign land, where he lives as an unstable visa holder. Moreover, Tala is singlehandedly challenging the nation’s boundaries not just through trying to help Muhammad attain citizenship, but through continuous transnational connections between the Philippines and Korea for her children, encouraging them to have the best suitable identity based on an understanding of and respect for their Filipino heritage.

Tala’s story provides a glimpse of a model of multiculturalism within family units that celebrates diversity and is not limited by racial, gender or class hierarchies. Tala has managed to promote a sense of Filipino-Korean identity in her children, demonstrating to them that is acceptable for a woman to lead her household and marry a much younger man of a different religion. Although Tala’s situation may appear unique, her story speaks to a larger truth and likely represents the situation faced by the small but growing number of naturalised families lacking an ethnic Korean member. Many migrant wives from the UC suffered from difficult relationships with their husbands and in-laws. There was little support for raising biracial children and not surprisingly many have divorced, but not before they naturalised. As citizens, these wives should be entitled to sponsor their spouses or family members for PR.

However, as Tala and Muhammad’s case illustrates, government officials can deny this basic right. This type of discrimination has been documented elsewhere in Korean society. Han

Hyun-Min, a Korean African biracial celebrity model reported that he was denied entry to

Korea when returning from overseas as immigration officials did not believe his Korean

235 passport was real. He was only released from detention after he was able to call his ethnic

Korean mother.161

Unless the Korean state begins to treat its biracial and naturalised citizens with the same respect afforded to ethnic Koreans, it risks perpetuating the belief that multicultural persons are second-class citizens in Korea. Given the state is relying on migrants to arrest its demographic decline and fill its labour shortages, families like Tala and Muhammad’s should be encouraged, rather than stifled by, the state.

Conclusion: the influence of maternal effort on migrant wives’ agency

The desire to be a ‘good’ mother heavily influences the decisions of migrant wives and is an important unifying theme of the stories presented in this chapter. Many migrant wives choose to endure hardship as they consider it is in the best interests of their children or their duty as a wife and mother. The migrant wife with five daughters chose to endure violence and keep trying to produce a son as it was considered her duty. Cindy chose to endure severe domestic violence because she was worried that leaving her husband would hurt her daughter’s marriage prospects. Migrant wives with children from prior relationships entered cross- border marriages with the dream of giving their children better lives. Even for migrant wives like Tala who choose to exit failed marriages, motherhood and the desire to nurture can continue in their new relationships.

Dealing with discrimination is a challenge for both biracial children and their migrant mothers. Migrant wives must watch their children suffer from discrimination because their maternal heritage marks them as multicultural and foreign. Witnessing their children’s

161 https://nextshark.com/detained-airport-2-hours-immigration-didnt-believe-korean Accessed on 30 November 2018. 236 hardship evokes their own experiences, reinforcing resentment and mistrust towards ethnic

Koreans, the police and educational institutions. Even though naturalised migrant wives and their biracial children are citizens, in daily life they are often treated with suspicion and excluded. The shared experience of discrimination faced by migrant wives and biracial children helps them to bond as the children mature. However, when biracial children are young, they are not exposed to or are too young to comprehend discrimination. As biracial children enter school, they are confronted with an education system that fails to incorporate multiculturalism and does not promote respect for other cultures. Every mature biracial child

I encountered during my fieldwork was protective and respectful of their migrant parent and went out of their way to assist them. The role of biracial children as a bridge between their migrant mothers and Korean society is also important in the home. Migrant wives often have trouble dealing with husbands, in-laws or stepchildren. Biracial children do not face the language and cultural differences that migrant wives have with Korean families and can play an important intermediary role in their families, as outlined in Gloria’s story.

Some migrant wives have no other option but to ask their immigrant children from previous relationships to sacrifice their futures for an uncertain life in Korea. The problems faced by immigrant children are more complex than those faced by biracial children. There is very little support for immigrant children to integrate into their adopted society at the same time as they adapt to a new family. At a crucial stage of their lives when they most need educational support and assistance to integrate into society, there is no clear state policy or program to assist them other than three technical schools. The Korean government has started to pay more attention towards immigrant children, but in the case of Cheonan (a provincial capital with a population of 666,000 serving a province of over 2,000,000 residents), services for migrant children are unfunded and many will grow up lacking the skills and education required to find a job and realise their full potential. Many staff at the Centre were worried

237 about the problems facing immigrant children and there is awareness and public concern about what will happen to these children and their future role in Korean society. In the absence of greater support for their integration into society, these children grow up with confused identities, looking like foreigners or temporary migrant workers and not considered legitimate residents or Korean by ethnic Koreans.

In a sign of the growing awareness of the challenges facing immigrant children, in 2018 the story of a Filipino immigrant child was shown on national TV.162 The boy had been raised in the Philippines while his mother migrated for marriage to Korea and had three biracial children with her Korean husband. At 17-yearsold the Filipino son, his grandmother and uncle came to join the mother and her Korean family. The show was filmed two years after they arrived in Korea. Because the family lived in a remote area, the immigrant son travelled each week from Monday to Friday to attend a special vocational school specifically for immigrant and biracial children (providing free tuition and board). The son was training to be an electrician and preparing for the citizenship test. His story showed how an immigrant child was able to look after his younger biracial siblings and assist his ill stepfather and mother with farming and housework on the weekends and during school holidays. While this story was encouraging, currently there is only one vocational school like this operating in Korea. If more schools were set up it would provide a better pathway for immigrant children to receive education, discover their talents, learn Korean and integrate into society in an inclusive and productive manner. It may also encourage older migrant wives with children in their origin country (like Vivian in Chapter 1) to reunite with their children, being then able to see a

162 My neighbor Charles Ep. 158, http://schedule.kbs.co.kr/index.html?source=episode&sname=vod&stype=vod&program_code=T2014- 0836&program_id=PS-2018139414-01- 000§ion_code=05&broadcast_complete_yn=N&local_station_code=00§ion_sub_code=05 Accessed 12 December 2018. 238 future for young immigrants in Korea and giving a much-needed boost to Korea’s falling population of younger people who will need to care for an ageing society.

Migrant wives are not waiting for the government to act, but motivated by a sense of duty as mothers are influencing their children not to accept a monocultural view of what it means to be Korean that fosters resentment and othering. The next chapter explores how, with limited funding, Filipino wives are creating their own media and organisations to influence biracial children and ethnic Korean’s attitudes towards migrants and multiculturalism. Kim (2017,

116) highlighted that welfare policies and discourses of migrant wives as victims has led to labelling by anti-multicultural groups as Korea having become dependent on ‘minority wives’. While migrant wives are often the victims of social naming and racism, they are working to combat stereotypes and instil in their children a sense of pride in their non-Korean culture.

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CHAPTER VII: BEYOND REPRODUCTIVE CITIZENSHIP: ACTIVE

CITIZENSHIP AND ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MEDIA AND CIVIL SOCIETY

In this chapter I document how Filipino wives have created an alternative space where they are freed from the confines of reproductive citizenship by founding and operating their own

NGOs. Through collective actions, such as making films or jointly advocating on certain issues, migrant wives can find solutions to their daily problems as proud Filipino Korean citizens. Children are a major motivation for Filipino wives to form their own NGOs and create their own media. These tools can be used to combat discrimination and allow migrant wives to work together with their children to overcome problems common to Korean children using solutions based on Filipino cultural values. I present two examples in this chapter of

Filipino mothers using an NGO to provide sex education to their children and creating a film to tackle bullying and discrimination against biracial children. Through proactive participation in civil society and collective action, migrant wives can reproduce Filipino culture and form unique identities for themselves and their Filipino-Korean children. Filipino and other migrant-led organisations promote a model of acculturation which empowers migrants, a response to state-run Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs), where migrants are segregated and isolated from the rest of society and taught Korean values by

Korean teachers.

Most academic studies exploring migrant-led organisations in Korea have focussed on entities set up to support migrant workers (Grey 2007, MacDonald 2015, Prey 2011, Suzuki et al 2016). Mirroring the situation of migrant wives being under the control of their husbands for sustained residence, rights and entitlements, migrant workers rely on the good grace of their employers. A key difference is that the state has actively restricted and repressed migrant workers’ self-organisation, deporting leaders and punishing members of unions,

240 which has drawn international criticism (United Nations 2019). The state has taken a different approach to migrant wives’ self-organisation, encouraging wives to showcase their cultures in the context of festivals and events (Kim Joon 2011, Kim Minjeong 2018,). However, it remains to be seen how the state would respond to activist migrant wives who self-organise but are not as easy to deport as migrant workers.

This chapter argues that the media and NGOs play a critical role in the construction of migrant wives’ identities and determining government policy. My findings are based on a review of the literature and media articles, as well as observation of migrant wives self- organising and creating their own media. I explore how mainstream Korean media portrays multicultural children and migrant wives as in need of assistance and inferior, rather than individuals who have dreams, desires and are best placed to offer views on Korea’s model of multiculturalism. Extreme groups in Korean society opposed to multiculturalism have utilised alternative media and created online communities opposing migrants’ presence in Korea.

Some migrant wives have begun to combat unfair media coverage, creating their own NGOs and media aimed at both Koreans and fellow migrants. By engaging as active citizens to influence Korean attitudes of migrants and biracial children, Filipinas are helping to create a space for cultural tolerance and Filipino-Korean children to be proud of their maternal heritage.

1. Media

The media is a powerful force for helping communities to understand unfamiliar topics.

Depending on the way that migrants are represented, the media can become a force for social unification or spread stereotypes and prejudice towards other cultures (I, An, and I 2013, 36,

Lee and Hwang 2013, 85-89). Despite the steady influx of foreign women into Korea since

241 the 1990s, many ethnic Koreans have had limited contact with migrants and must seek out information to learn about migrant wives and multiculturalism. Mass media (radio, television, newspapers, magazines or educational texts including online and offline) has been a key mechanism informing Koreans about multiculturalism through the dissemination of images and information. Increasingly, Koreans are using alternative media channels to gain views beyond what the mainstream media portray about migrant wives, their marriage and families.

Alternative media has opened new channels for migrant wives to engage with Koreans, allowing them to share stories of mistreatment and fight discrimination. However, alternative media has led to the emergence of Korea’s anti-multicultural movement, which has transitioned from isolated online communities to mainstream protests instigated by the arrival of Yemini asylum seekers in 2018. Citizenship is fast emerging as a multicultural concern in

Korean society, with mainstream, alternative and social media playing an important role in movements for ‘political mobilisation and struggle for citizenship and social change’ (Payne

2013, 929), utilised by competing movements working for and against migrant wives’ rights.

1.1. Mainstream Korean media

Mainstream Korean media has played a major role in framing migrant wives in the minds of

Koreans. The dominant narrative portrays migrant wives as being from poorer nations and uneducated, reinforcing a sense of ‘ethnic superiority’ (Cheng 2010, 104) among ethnic

Koreans by othering migrant wives as a homogenous marginalised group of people

(Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010, 1117). This has not always been the case, with mainstream media having welcomed the first waves of Chosunjok (ethnic Koreans from China) wives in the 1980s and 1990s as ‘saviours of the countryside and emissaries of ethnic homogeneity’ but then ‘later demonising them as runaway brides’ (Freeman 2011, 107-08). This changing

242 attitude reflects shifting geopolitical dynamics. At the end of the Cold War there was a large economic gap between victorious Korea and the defeated China and former USSR, with

Koreans happily welcoming ethnic Koreans from what they considered relatively impoverished regions. But as economic conditions have become tighter in Korea and the gap between Korea and China’s economies has narrowed, attitudes towards migrants have hardened, particularly towards Chosunjok who can more easily compete for jobs with locals

(Yi and Jung (2015). The runaway bride narrative is closely linked with the theme of migrants seeking illegitimate marriages to gain Permanent Residency (PR) and access to

Korea’s labour market, which has appeared widely in print and television media. A typical portrayal of this theme is the story of a naïve Korean farmer who spends a fortune on airfares and dowries to marry a migrant bride, who promptly disappears after receiving PR (Freeman

2011, 71). Within Korean media these stories have given rise to the ‘fairy and woodcutter syndrome’, which is based on a popular Korean folk tale of a woodcutter who is granted his wish for a wife in the form of a fairy but is told to hide her clothes and not return them until she has three children. But the fairy finds the clothes before having her third child and flies away holding one child in each arm (Kim Minjeong 2018, Lee Myeong-Hyun 2011). Koreans are taught to empathise with the woodcutter (Korean husband) and have little sympathy for the fairy (migrant wife).

Jiyoung Song (2015) analysed the critical role of the media in influencing the lives of migrant wives. Song identified that media reporting influenced public opinion and led to the welcoming of migrant wives in the 1980s, social norms of considering migrant wives as victims of violence in 1990s, trafficked victims in the 2000s, and finally resulted in the regulation of marriage brokers and tighter immigration policies in response to sham marriages since 2008. Over the past decade media reporting has tended to show migrant wives as women from poorer countries without money and jobs, who through a mix of

243 naivety and poor judgement chose to marry problematic Korean men without any pre- research or knowledge of what their life in Korea would entail (Yi and Jung 2015). Extreme cases presented migrant wives as victims of domestic violence living in poverty and irresponsibly giving birth to many children, ignoring the reality and role that Korean husbands play in determining family size in multicultural households.163 The other major theme arising from media reporting over the past decade is that migrant wives are opportunist, using naïve Korean men for their money and ability to assist with citizenship.

Migrant wives have been portrayed as ‘runaway brides’, ‘gold-diggers’, ‘materialists’,

‘opportunists’, ‘sex workers’, ‘victims of trafficking’ or ‘domestic violence’ (Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010, 1115, Freeman 2011, 97). These labels reinforce extreme views by depicting

‘sensationalised images of runaway brides’ (Freeman 2011, 97).

The mainstream media’s treatment of migrant wives confines their role in society to reproducers and caregivers for Korean families, questioning their motives if they ever stray outside the bounds of reproductive citizenship by leaving their family (no matter whose fault it is). In 2012, two prominent newspaper articles from the Chosun Ilbo, one of Korea’s largest and most conservative established papers,164 portrayed migrant wives as mail-order brides and implied widespread sham marriages, abuse and scams existed. Both articles reported that

Korean men were pressured into rushed marriages and limited their blame when explaining the high divorce rates between Korean men and foreign wives. In 2013, another article from

Chosun Ilbo used the term ‘Sham Marriage’ to report on fake marriages, accusing

163 In Chapter 6 I discuss the case of a Filipino wife who ran away from a violent husband and lived in a shelter with her 5 daughters. She had been willing to bear 5 children despite a difficult marital situation as her husband and mother-in-law desired a son. 164 Legal Grey Areas Lead to Messy Mail-Order Bride Divorces http://english.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2012/01/20/2012012000556.html AND Mail-Order Brides Face Gov't Screening http://english.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2012/12/12/2012121200993.html Accessed 30 April 2019. 244

Vietnamese women of seeking access to Korea’s labour market and taking advantage of financially vulnerable Korean men.165

Well-known English newspapers The Korea Times and The Korean Herald have provided a more nuanced portrayal of migrant wives. However, ‘fake marriages’, ‘marriage brokers’ and

‘domestic violence’ are common when reporting on migrant wives, echoing Korean mainstream media’s focus areas. In 2015, The Korean Times had an article titled Marriage immigration dips after new visa regulations,166 which reported the number of marriage migrants declined after new visa regulations were put in place in response to recurring family problems involving interracial couples, noting that domestic violence was especially high among these couples. In 2019, The Korean Herald discussed how subsidies from municipal governments for older unmarried men to marry foreigners were essentially ‘bride buying’, 167 with a shopping-like approach to marriage commodifying migrant wives as property providing intimacy and housekeeping, leaving them vulnerable to abuse. Echoing Korea’s

English media, international media network Aljazeera168 reported that Korean government programs teaching migrant wives to be pliant and deferential towards husbands were an attempt to minimise domestic violence and marital problems.

Numerous mainstream Korean media articles can be found reporting on ‘domestic violence’ or ‘fake marriages’ of migrant wives and Korean husbands. For example, in 2007 the

Hankyoreh newspaper reported a 21-year-old migrant wife’s death after she fell from her 9th

165 Vietnamese sham broker nabbed http://english.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2013/02/05/2013020501084.html Accessed 25 March 2015. 166 Marriage immigration dips after new visa regulations www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/nation/2015/04/116_176899.html Accessed 30 April 2019. 167[Multicultural Korea] Local subsidies encourage foreign ‘bride buying’ http://m.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20190218000459&fbclid=IwAR04vlqq8V8MHhXWfTjOkekTIrD7YB HkLzrF_o4UihX7W6Ip0ZdfN0EzkzU#cb Accessed 30 April 2019. 168 Vietnamese study to be ‘perfect Korean wives’ www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2012/12/2012123122810326420.html Accessed 12 April 2019. 245 floor home169 and a 19-year-old migrant wife killed by her 47-year-old husband while he was drunk.170 Donga Ilbo reported a 20-year-old migrant wife was killed by her 47-year-old mentally ill husband in 2010, only eight days after arriving in Korea and having arrived unaware of her husband’s illness.171 Seoul newspaper in 2014 reported a migrant wife aged in her 20s who was strangled to death by her Korean husband aged in his 40s.172 In a reversal of the normal pattern of intimate partner violence, in 2010 Joongang Ilbo reported a migrant wife in her 20s who killed her Korean husband in his 40s during his sleep.173 Domestic violence was also featured in an article titled, Prostitution was better than being bitten by my own husband,174 which reported on migrant wives who had ended up as prostitutes in order to escape from their Korean husbands. This matched the experience of some Korean migrant wives in the US documented by Hye (1999), illustrating the common nature of how migrant wives’ vulnerability can limit their choices for escaping abusive spouses and that this vulnerability knows no borders.

In addition to portraying a negative image of migrant wives and cross-border marriages, media reporting can also promote notions that migrants are lucky to be in Korea. Borrowing from ‘the American Dream’, ‘the Korean Dream’ has been widely used by the Korean media to explain the motivations of migrant wives and other classes of migrants. This narrative presents Korea as a land of opportunity for migrants, intimating those who have arrived are the ones lucky enough to have achieved their dreams and there are millions from poor countries desperately wanting to live in Korea. Jin-Kyung Lee (2010, 214) identified that ‘the

Korean Dream recognises Korea’s new place in the global hierarchy as a semi peripheral

169 www.hani.co.kr/arti/society/area/232854.html Accessed 30 April 2019. 170 www.hani.co.kr/arti/society/society_general/275536.html Accessed 30 April 2019. 171 http://news.donga.com/3/all/20100712/29818002/1 Accessed 30 April 2019. 172 https://seoul.co.kr/news/newsView.php?id=20140128500002&spage=16 Accessed 6 August 2019. 173 https://news.joins.com/article/17171593 Accessed 21 May 2015. 174 www.nocutnews.co.kr/news/4140808 Accessed 30 April 2019. 246 metropole. It reveals Korean triumphalism, subtly reflecting a Korean desire to subordinate migrants of other races and nationalities’. The ‘superior Korea versus inferior developing countries’ tone is scattered across the Korean mainstream media’s framing of

‘multiculturalism’, omitting or diminishing the cultural value that migrants from developing countries bring to Korea. Migrants from developing countries are assumed to be poor, only motivated by material wants and have little to offer Korea. By failing to challenge the idea that migrants are culturally inferior, the media does not challenge the pre-conceptions in the minds of Koreans that nothing can be learned from developing country migrants and multiculturalism means migrants should assimilate with no adjustment required from ethnic

Koreans.

Mainstream media discourses influence not only ethnic Koreans but also migrant wives themselves. Even within migrant wives’ communities, many women echo what they hear from the media. They are conditioned to judge and mistrust one another based on media slogans such as ‘wives all come here to make money and the easiest way to do that is to get married’ (Freeman 2011, 95). I heard views of this nature at migrant wives’ gatherings during my fieldwork. Filipino wives who were long-term residents would be suspicious of the motives of newly arrived wives, influenced by anecdotes more than experiences. Conscious of these stereotypical images, migrant wives go through a period after arriving where they feel under pressure to publicly demonstrate their sincerity towards their husbands.175 Migrant wives who have been settled in Korea for some time police wives who have recently arrived, ensuring they ‘behave’ themselves and do not ruin their communities’ reputation.

175 See Analyn’s story in Chapter 5. 247

1.1.2. Alternative online media

Alternative online media (also referred to as new media, online communities or social network sites) have been a key factor contributing to the mainstream media and public’s perception of migrant wives turning from welcoming to hostile over the past two decades.

Alternative online media is a popular method of communication and community engagement in Korea. Online cafes hosted by Korean websites are a popular method of facilitating online communities, allowing users to create their own sites enabling blogging or chatting on message boards. The average Korean internet user is a member of 2.2 online cafes, which they visit at least once a week for 30 minutes with the purpose of socialising or sharing views

(National Internet Development Agency of Korea 2007). Alternative online media has played an important role in social movements promoting feminism (Jeong and Lee 2018, Kim Bo-

Myung 2018) and youth political activism (Yun and Chang 2011). However, more public attention has been devoted to misogynistic and racist alternative online media that has resulted in public indignation when users are publicly identified and shamed, as well as police investigation (Wi and Lee 2014).

Alternative online media have been a key forum for discrimination against migrants, broadly grouped as the ‘anti-multicultural movement’, comprising of organisations and alternative online media opposed to multiculturalism on the grounds it is leading to reverse discrimination against ethnic Koreans (Kim and Jeon 2017, Korea Immigration Service 2012,

Song 2015). In its most recent assessment of Korea, the United Nations’ Committee on the

Elimination of Racial discrimination was ‘concerned about the current climate of hate and mistrust towards migrants and refugees…, the rise of hate speech, incitement to racial hatred and the propagation of ideas of racial superiority and about racist stereotypes expressed in the media, including on the Internet and social media, which appear to have been particularly

248 exacerbated by the arrival of around 500 Yemeni refugees on Jeju Island in May 2018’

(United Nations 2019, 2). The Yemeni’s arrival raised the profile of the anti-multicultural movement and led to a public backlash against migrants. However, the roots of the anti- multicultural movement can be traced back to online communities with millions of users that opened in the mid-2000s (Kim and Jeon 2017, 185-86). Jung (2013) and Kang (2013) studied anti-multicultural online communities and identified their participants primarily as young males expressing hostility against women and migrants, blaming these groups for their struggles with competition for marriage, work and education. Yi and Jung (2015) identified three distinct groups of discourse within online communities relating to multiculturalism: foreign victims, native victims and middle-ground views presenting a balanced discourse on immigration. Yi and Jung (2015) found that anti-multicultural sites and online communities were often composed of low socioeconomic status users, but interestingly users’ anti- multicultural views were motivated mainly by economic insecurity rather than xenophobia, with the users surveyed most scathing of Chosunjok migrants who were viewed as a direct threat to Korean workers. Yi and Jung (2015) found foreign residents tended to be passive users of online media, viewing but not actively creating or contributing to online communities, which they attributed to a potential fear of being attacked online by other users.

Despite the mainstream Korean media and online communities often portraying multiculturalism in a poor light, there are some cases of online media promoting multiculturalism in a positive light. For example, user generated news sites like OhmyNews, which has the motto ‘Every Citizen is a Reporter’ and is popular with young people seeking a more open and progressive news outlet, has featured stories on migrant’s daily lives. An article from 2013176 introduced a migrant wife who had pursued her dream to be a police

176 www.ohmynews.com/NWS_Web/View/at_pg.aspx?CNTN_CD=A0001881321 Accessed 2 May 2019.

249 officer with strong support from her Korean husband who was 20 years older than her.

Publishing such articles challenging stereotypical views combats discourses that multicultural couples with large age gaps are unhappy (see Chapter 4) and that migrant wives cannot go beyond their designated role as maternal citizens (see Chapter 3). Multicultural citizens can also use online media to show they are ordinary citizens and challenge pre-conceptions that often lead to discrimination and distrust from ethnic Koreans. This was famously demonstrated by a Colombian resident who suffered mistreatment from the police after he had been a victim of assault, which prompted an apology from the local police chief who ordered all of his officers to undergo cross-cultural training177 (Kim and Jeon 2017, 182).

NGOs actively engage with alternative online media to share their thoughts, opinions and advocacy, as well as engage their followers. Korea’s major online media companies, Naver and Daum, have interviewed The Women Migrants Human Rights Centre of Korea

(WMHRCK)178 director Gukyeom Han.179 On Naver news180 in 2012, Han discussed domestic violence and migrant wives’ deaths in response to unfair mainstream media reporting. Han countered mainstream media reporting that migrant wives are typically in

‘fake marriages’ or are ‘mail-bride orders’, which were commonly used terms and provided negative images. Instead, Han raised questions on how Korean society should deal with the social issues that have contributed to domestic violence against migrant wives’ and child custody issues in the cases of failed relationships.

‘Above all, social awareness of the human rights of married migrant women needs to be changed, and social interest in the families of married migrant women is also needed. Recently, media have treated domestic violence against migrant women as

177 http://koreafm.net/2017/04/colombian-accuses-busan-police-of-discrimination-after-costco-assault Accessed 29 July 2019. 178 www.wmigrant.org Accessed 11 June 2019. 179 Han was the Director until after my fieldwork was completed, but she has since stepped down and Yeongsuk Heo (O) became the new director. 180 https://news.naver.com/main/read.nhn?mode=LSD&mid=sec&sid1=102&oid=001&aid=0005702700 Accessed 2 May 2019. 250

‘alcohol violence’. This is not alcohol violence but domestic violence. If you look at the case as emanating from alcohol, the punishment can be weakened as it is understood the cause was alcohol. More broadly, the policy ofcourts unconditionally giving custody to a husband is a problem.’

WMHRCK Director Gukyeom Han 17 July 2012 Naver news.

NGOs have also used online media to resist government policies that have made it harder for foreign wives of Korean nationals to obtain a marriage migrant visa. On 19 April 2015

Daum181 news reported that after the introduction of pre-arrival language tests, introduced earlier that year, large numbers of foreign brides had failed to pass the test and had been denied a visa to migrate and live with their husbands. The article was favourable and sympathetic toward the migrant wives denied a visa, arguing they should receive the chance to learn in Korea. The following day, Daum news published an interview182 with Gukyeom

Han providing a holistic view of the increased regulation of marriage migrant visas and its negative impact.

While migrant wives are often discussed by both mainstream and alternative online media, coverage rarely reports on their complex personal experiences, instead providing generalisations or simplifications that reinforce barriers between migrant wives and ethnic

Koreans. Migrant wives have begun to fill this gap through alternative media, having become more active in creating and using alternative online media including social media networks and personal broadcasting platforms183 such as YouTube184 (see the Philippines news185 by

Cosmos TV on YouTube, broadcast by a Filipina with Korean subtitles) and Africa TV.186

Through these platforms anyone can share their personal story and influence Korean media

181 http://media.daum.net/society/others/newsview?newsid=20150419060323728 Accessed 2 May 2019. 182 https://news.v.daum.net/v/20150420095512319 Accessed 2 May 2019. 183 A type of broadcasting where the individual creates their own content using a webcam or video recorder and transmits it through the Internet. 184 www.youtube.com Accessed 11 June 2019. 185 www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxw68HIwlA6_5nVaBrJQvInPIIMxubOC2 Accessed 1 August 2019. 186 m.afreecatv.com Accessed 23 May 2019. 251 and society using a bottom-up approach. Increasingly, people are seeking out alternative media to experience different views from the mainstream. ‘Cyberspace has long been a produce space’ (Payne 2013, 929) where everyone can be included, and any topic discussed.

In this way alternative online media have vastly expanded the space to share possibilities for migrants’ mobilisation and alliance.

A recent case demonstrated how migrant wives can use social media to fight injustice. In early July 2019, a Vietnamese wife secretly recorded her Korean husband hitting her in the presence of their child. Her friend uploaded the video to the internet, causing outrage among migrant wives who shared the video on social media. NGOs responded quickly187 with press releases and social media posts188 which led to online media such as Naver TV189 sharing the story. The news spread internationally, and Korean officials were obliged to apologise when they met Vietnamese officials, illustrating the links between migration and diplomacy (Lan

2008, 838). In response to public concern, the Korean immigration service posted a ‘fact check’ on their social media190 on 9 July 2019, stating that migrant wives can still apply for

PR and citizenship even without the support of their husbands in cases of domestic violence, provided their marriages were genuine or if they had divorced. This led to a backlash from the WMHRCK, which provided evidence (information and statistics they had collected) on their website191 and social media192 showing that without a husband’s support, migrant wives’ applications for PR and citizenship were unsuccessful, even in cases of domestic violence. In

187 www.wmigrant.org See press release on 8 July 2019. 188 www.facebook.com/wmigrant/photos/pcb.2828189947252235/2828188177252412/?type=3&theater Accessed 23 July 2019. 189 https://tv.naver.com/v/9081460?fbclid=IwAR3A8a1aB6IgjJmV8QCjGiN1U8tOqM- RDnTPf0VYbGLrBgvFBjoYLGShTNo Accessed 23 July 2019. 190 www.facebook.com/immigration.kr/photos/pcb.1093311977533281/1093311304200015/?type=3&theater Accessed 23 July 2019. 191 www.wmigrant.org See press release on 10 July 2019. 192 www.facebook.com/wmigrant/photos/pcb.2833857743352122/2833857010018862/?type=3&theater Accessed 23 July 2019. 252 addition, the WMHRCK made inquiries to the Ministry of Justice, which were supported by individual migrant wives sharing their experiences. The events initiated by an individual citizen (from the bottom of society) influenced the government (top) and highlighted to

Korean and international audiences the double standards inherent in the government’s treatment of migrant wives. In this case, the media was a central conduit to mobilise public opinion and pushed the government to confront injustice against migrant wives. In response to this campaign, the Ministry of Justice announced a plan to improve the marriage migration system on 21 August 2019, announcing a ‘one strike out’ system.193 The ‘one strike out’ system will prevent anyone convicted of domestic violence from being able to sponsor a marriage migrant visa. Secondly, a ‘pre-permission examination’ method was introduced allowing migrant wives to extend their temporary spouse visas even without a husband’s support, with an assessment of whether they had divorced or their sponsor had passed away taken at a later time194.

Thirdly, the Ministry of Justice will monitor naturalisation processing times by local and foreign immigration bureaus to prevent the process becoming longer than it should be.

1.2. Migrants creating their own media

In the selected stories below I investigate how migrant wives use media to reclaim their autonomy and raise their voice so that it is heard by a broader range of Korean society.

Through using media technology migrant wives can restore their self-esteem and break free

193 See https://m.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20190821127100004 AND www.facebook.com/immigration.kr/photos/pcb.1124990477698764/1124990174365461/?type=3&theater Accessed 27 August 2019. 194 If a migrant wife only holds a temporary spouse visa and they have divorced or their spouse has passed away, then they cannot extend their spouse visa. Usually a husband’s support and permission is required for a migrant wife to extend a temporary spouse visa. 253 from the confines of reproductive citizenship, showing their lives are defined by more than their gender, race and marriage. Through various media tools they can share their personal and political narratives and the challenges they and their families encounter.

There is a large gap in terms of reach and influence between mainstream Korean media and migrants’ media, though as the story of the Vietnamese wife illustrated above, migrants can find ways to bridge the divide. Through various media, migrants have not only helped to break down barriers with ethnic Koreans but also built solidarity as a group, collectively advocating and calling for change. The internet and proliferation of advanced technology capable of recording and viewing large amounts of information and enabling detailed communication with strangers has led to citizens being more informed and viewing traditional media as prejudiced. Instead they are now seeking other routes to find detailed information. Through cyberspace, individuals can easily have their voices heard and increasingly migrant wives are using this channel to produce and consume media.

NGOs representing migrants have also embraced changing media technology and usage patterns to challenge ethnic Korean’s perspectives of migrants and reach out to vulnerable migrants. This adaptation is evident in the evolution of Migrant World TV (MWTV),195 a

NGO founded in 2004 to share the voices and lives of migrants in Korea, which was the first service of its kind. As Prey (2011) and Suzuki (2006) documented, MWTV has evolved from a narrow mission focussed on promoting the rights of migrant workers, to becoming a cultural home for minorities. MWTV and other broadcasting stations for migrant workers (iju nodongja pangsongguk) promote a counter-narrative to the Korean government’s vision of multiculturalism that focusses purely on the assimilation of migrant wives, excluding other types of migrants. MWTV produces news on migrants’ issues, hosts a radio service operated

195 http://mwtv.kr/about Accessed 25 April 2019. 254 and produced by migrants telling their life stories and hosts an annual Migrant World Film

Festival.196 The film festival showcases migrants who have turned the issues and stories they care about into film. MWTV provides media training to both migrants and ethnic Koreans through its migrant media education arm (MW Academy),197 with courses on film making, radio production and being part of the press corps.

During my fieldwork I attended the 9th Migrant World Film Festival198 in Seoul, which featured a movie that Filipino wives had made about their children who were bullied because of their skin colour and Filipino heritage.199 After the film’s screening I was able to interview the Filipino wives and their children who starred in the film. Through their film they hoped to change perceptions of multicultural families. However, while seeking to raise awareness of the issues facing their children, the mothers were also concerned for their children’s safety.

This was reflected in their film, which used handmade toys to represent their children and covered their children’s faces with masks during interviews so they could not be identified.

Living as Korean citizens with Filipino heritage, the wives had regularly suffered discrimination, prejudice and hardship. This was a fact of life that they had accepted.

However, the migrant wives feared their biracial children would also suffer from unfair treatment due to their ethnicity. As mothers they felt a duty to change Korean society for sake of their children, which had motivated them to make their film and highlight the bullying their children experienced. Despite having lived in Korea for over ten years and experienced hardships that in their words had made them ‘strong’, it was plain to see they were still

‘weak’ and felt desperate for their children. Because of their children they wanted to be

196 http://mwtv.kr/movie-mwff Accessed 21 June 2019. 197 http://mwtv.kr/archives/category/academy Accessed 21 June 2019. 198 http://mwtv.kr/archives/movie_type/9th Accessed 11 June 2019. 199 See the title of “What can I do” by Lee Ji-ni http://mwtv.kr/archives/movie_type/9th/page/2 Accessed 11 June 2019. 255

‘fighters’ combatting discrimination, which led them to seek out MWTV and learn how to use media tools to produce films. Their film continued a tradition of migrant media promoted by MWTV challenging hegemonic cultural codes and identities that underly discrimination against migrants and biracial children.

Through creating media, migrant wives can connect their own innermost feelings with larger societal structures, combating discrimination against migrants and resentment against multiculturalism. The Filipino wives’ film was an example of how migrants’ media can extend the potential terrain of political interrogation to include intimate and everyday experiences. By sharing their everyday life struggles as citizens and mothers using an intimate and personal tone, migrant wives and their children delivered a powerful message to move audiences. Their film raised questions around citizenship and human rights in Korea and showed that holding a resident registration card (Jumindungnokjung) or Korean passport is not sufficient to receive acceptance in Korean society. With Korea’s nationhood and national identity built upon cultural hegemony (and until recently racial hegemony), migrant wives seek their own but unique identity as both Koreans and migrants, but often end up feeling that they do not belong in Korea. For their children’s sake, the mothers attempt to try and claim membership as Koreans, calling out racism toward their children as wrong.

Through the film the Filipino wives also educated their children on how to stand up and confront bullying. Similar to Yuh’s (2004, 104) case study, where Korean mothers who had migrated to the US with military husbands stood up for their children to challenge institutional and social racism, migrant wives in Korea were also taking a stand.

256

2. NGOs promoting active citizenship

In this section I explore how migrant wives are creating their own NGOs as a response to unfair and unrepresentative treatment by Korean civil society movements. Migrant-focussed

NGOs allow migrants a platform to directly speak to Korean society and provide an alternative view to the powerful women’s movement or feminist movement. They are comprised of an alliance of NGOs and community groups united by advocacy around human rights and gender equality (Choe 2003, 152). The women’s movement has been successful at influencing government policy and community attitudes since democratisation, though this often reflects the movement’s close cooperation with the state and political parties. This symbiotic relationship has led to criticism that the women’s movement has been co-opted by the state into supporting government agendas (Lee and Chin 2007). Kyungja Jung (2014, 95) observed that ‘engagement with the state during the women-friendly administrations between

1997 and 2007 has institutionalized and entrapped the women’s movement in Korea, undermined its political autonomy, and weakened its transformative potential.’

In the case of migrant wives and hostesses, the women’s movement has labelled them as

‘trafficked victims’ in need of state protection and has supported state practices that restrict their human and citizenship rights (Cho 2013). To combat this victim portrayal and suppression of migrant workers, a diverse range of NGOs have emerged to advocate for migrant’s rights and empowerment, rather than just protection. These NGO’s advocate for migrants to be ‘active’ rather than ‘passive’ citizens, attempting to frame migrant wives as agents that should have equal rights to other Korean residents. Glen (2004) describes the idea of active citizenship as linked to communities, with active citizens believing in their efficacy in society, acting as social and political agents and performing a vital role as community builders through membership of groups or organisations. For migrant wives, whether they

257 end up as active or passive citizens is often reflected in the groups and movements they associate with.

Until 2004, the Korean national government did not play a significant role in supporting organisations assisting migrants or pay attention to migrant wives’ issues, which was the concern of local governments and NGOs (Belanger, Lee and Wang 2010, 1114). Around this time a series of events led to the Korean government devoting considerable attention and resources to migrant wives and multiculturalism. Politically, the election of President Roh

Moo-hyun in 2003 was a turning point, with Roh making ‘the elimination of prejudice against minorities such as foreigners, irregular workers, and the disabled and discrimination based on gender and education’ one of his 12 priorities as President (Lee Hye-Kyung 2008,

119). During Roh’s term (2003-2008) there were a series of major policy shifts in relation to migrant wives, including the regulation of marriage brokers, transfer of responsibility for migrant wives and multicultural families from the Ministry of Health and Welfare to the

Ministry of Gender Equality and Family, as well as the creation of Multicultural Family

Support Centres (MFSCs, Damunhwagajokjiwonsente) (Lee Hye-Kyung 2008). These

Government responses were also prompted by greater public awareness and interest in multiculturalism following the visit in 2006 of Hines Ward (Ahn 2012), a Korean African-

American biracial athlete, as well as the formation of the Migrants’ Trade Union (MTU) in

2005 following a 380-day-long sit-in protest by migrant workers (MacDonald 2015).

One outcome of the increased attention on multiculturalism between 2004 and 2008 was that the Government strongly sided with advocacy of the women’s movement, supporting organisations promoting maternal citizenship rather than migrant’s empowerment. Through the establishment and rapid growth of well-funded MFSCs, the government effectively co- opted a large share of Korean NGOs and community organisations working with migrants

258 into promoting reproductive citizenship, thereby limiting support for alternative movements promoting migrants’ human rights and agency. Chung and Yoo (2013, 242) note that ‘prior to

2008 [when the multicultural family support Act was passed and the first MFSCs set up], various local community centres had offered Korean language classes and child rearing support’, which did not promote a particular role for migrants. The Korean government has also actively resisted and stifled movements promoting migrant’s active citizenship. The

United Nations (2019, 4) criticised the Korean government for deporting members and leaders of the MTU and noted migrant workers who join a union have experienced violence and been deported as a result. The government has refused to recognise the MTU as a legal union, despite a ruling from the Seoul High Court declaring the union should be recognised as a legal union and recognition from the International Labour Organization (ILO).200

In the section below I introduce the stories of two NGOs that are working to empower migrant wives and provide spaces where wives can feel safe and raise their collective voices to advocate for equal treatment. Even though MFSCs, Korean society and in many cases marital families push migrant wives to be passive citizens, through the NGOs they can form a powerful collective voice and become active citizens.

2.1. Participating and working with NGOs

The Women Migrants Human Rights Centre of Korea (WMHRCK)201 was founded in 2000 as the first human rights NGO dedicated to migrant women. The WMHRCK provides a range of services including a shelter for victims of domestic violence, advice on visas and

200 The Government has appealed this ruling and the case is awaiting judgement from the Supreme Court. See http://migrant.nodong.net/index.php?mid=about_eng Accessed 3 August 2019. 201 www.wmigrant.org Accessed 11 June 2019. 259 immigration, legal advice, financial support for those in desperate need and classes on

Korean language and other topics. The WMHRCK is staffed by migrant wives and ethnic

Koreans who work as activists, translators and counsellors. The WMHRCK plays an important role in advocating for migrant women’s rights, arranging and organising campaigns and activities for migrant wives.

The WMHRCK was a central site for my research. Its main office is in Seoul, which I first visited at the start of my pre-fieldwork in 2014. During my fieldwork I worked as a volunteer intern, allowing me to make connections with staff and migrant wives whom I would visit each time I returned to Korea. My role was to assist staff and migrant wives in a range of classes. One of the classes was for domestic violence victims who lived in shelters. I also attended a sexual violence class with other ethnic Koreans and foreign-born activists. Part of my duties were to translate and interpret for migrant wives, occasionally helping them in their everyday lives when they needed to speak or interact with Koreans. Another of my tasks was to translate an emergency pocketbook for migrant wives experiencing domestic violence that had information on their rights, where they could get assistance and emergency contact numbers. As a member of the WMHRCK I experienced many complex and diverse cases.

The selected stories below illustrate how NGOs like the WMHRCK encourage migrant wives to become active citizens, which contrasts with the approach of MFSCs (see Chapter 2) that encourage migrant wives to be reproductive citizens.

The WMHRCK relied on donations to fund many of its activities and in October 2014 I volunteered at a fund-raising event. The event was organised by WMHRCK staff, volunteers and activists. The staff and volunteers, including myself, were all ethnic Koreans. The activists were migrant wives that had completed a course of study through the WMHRCK and now advocated for migrant wives’ rights. Through their study and determination, the

260 activists had become independent working women, success stories and well-known within their communities. One had even become the first member of the board of directors at the

WMHRCK and hosted a radio show about migration. All the activists seemed confident, laughing and mingling with others naturally. Two activists, originally from Mongolia and

Vietnam, were the masters of ceremonies for the event. Other migrant wives sang, talk, read poems and presented films they had made showing their daily lives.

One of my jobs was to be the photographer for the evening, which allowed me to freely observe and interact with guests. The migrant women in attendance had done a fantastic job of integrating themselves into Korean society. But as we waited for guests to arrive, different groups began to segregate based on their ethnicity, with migrants and Koreans in separate groups. After some time, I approached a group of activists to take some photos. They laughed and smiled for the photos and asked me where I lived and whether I was married with children. I explained that I was a migrant wife myself but living in Australia. At first they assumed I had married a ‘Westerner’ but after showing them photos of my Indian-Australian husband and biracial child they became welcoming towards me and one said ‘You are one of us! Sorry, we thought you were Korean, same as the others’ (pointing to the group of ethnic

Korean staff). After learning about my background they seemed happy to include me.

The event provided an insight into migrant wives’ challenges and frustrations. In regular

Korean society migrant wives are normally subordinate to their husbands, but at the fundraiser event migrant wives were considered leaders of their families. Many of the wives participated in activities on stage and all were made to feel important. It was a lovely, warm and family-oriented atmosphere, with Korean husbands supportive of their wives. One activity was a group song about discrimination against migrants to the tune of a famous K- pop song. Another was a poem highlighting discrimination. Several migrant wives presented

261 short films about their daily lives, discussing their efforts to fit into Korean society. What came across in all these narratives was a sense of frustration that despite considerable efforts to assimilate and integrate, discrimination and racism always prevailed. The impression their films, poems and songs gave was that no matter how hard they try, they will never be accepted as Koreans. The event concluded with the story of a Vietnamese migrant wife facing deportation despite being raped by her father-in-law. The WMHRCK Director asked guests to add their names to a petition asking the government and courts to consider her situation. Although the father-in-law had been convicted of rape and incest (a more serious crime), her husband had successfully requested their marriage be nullified. This meant the incest conviction was removed, the migrant wife’s visa would be cancelled, and she had to compensate the husband’s family 8,000,000 Won. The court had agreed to this on the grounds that the husband’s family had not been aware at the time of marriage that the migrant wife had been kidnapped and raped when she was 13 years old, which led to her giving birth. She had told this information to her husband when they met in Vietnam, but it appeared the marriage broker had not translated this piece of information. The marriage broker had also not disclosed that the husband had a mental illness. The court’s decision left the wife facing deportation with a fine she could not afford, despite being the victim.

One surprising element in the case of the Vietnamese migrant wife was that at the time there had been no media reporting and the public was not aware of her plight. I questioned the staff of the WMHRCK as to why they had chosen not to publicise the story through the media to build support for the victim and pressure for courts to treat her fairly. At that stage the

WMHRCK was concerned about the victim’s privacy and worried the media would support the husband and court’s decision. However, after I returned to Australia in November 2014, the case had been reported in the newspapers and social media. At an appeal hearing on 24

February 2015, the Supreme court denied the request to annul the marriage and ruled the case

262 should be judged again.202 The dispute lasted more than four years until the Vietnamese wife left Korea permanently.203

The migrant wives displayed sympathy and solidarity for the case mentioned above. As individuals they faced difficulties and discrimination on a daily basis. But coming together as a group, the migrant wives created a solid event for their families and observers like myself.

With collective solidarity and agency, migrant wives and the WMHRCK regularly fight numerous cases to challenge discriminatory legal treatment, community attitudes or politicians. A recent example was a campaign in response to a comparison of biracial children to cross-bred animals by the Mayor of Iksan, a rural area with a high proportion of multicultural families. The WMHRCK denounced these comments and the Mayor’s attitude on their website204 and social media,205 prompting the Mayor to apologise for his comments.

Unlike government funded MFSCs, NGOs like the WMHRCK rely on donations and often rely on victims to tell their stories to assist with fund-raising. On one occasion I accompanied a migrant wife, Melly, to a fund-raising event with corporate executives. Melly’s situation was unique as she was seeking financial help to raise her children after leaving an abusive husband. Migrant wives who divorce or leave family for specific reasons (such as domestic violence) are legally excluded from receiving government support (Kim 2007, 109). Melly had suffered from her husband’s violence for ten years in Pocheon city, Gyonggi Province.

Her husband regularly beat her and their two children. After returning from work one day, both children’s eyes had been bruised badly as were many parts of their bodies. At that

202 www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20160222000898 Accessed 22 November 2019. 203 www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2018/10/120_257217.html Accessed 22 November 2019. 204 www.wmigrant.org/wp/notice/ See on 25 and 28 June 2019 articles. Accessed 23 July 2019.

205 www.facebook.com/wmigrant/photos/pcb.2791607550910475/2791601467577750/?type=3&theater Accessed 25 June 2019.

263 moment she decided to leave her husband in order to protect her children. Melly and her children lived at a shelter run by the WMHRCK when we first met in 2015. She loved singing and through singing had formed comradery and friendship with migrant wives living at the shelter. Melly was scared to move out from the shelter but hoped one day she could

‘sing and live a happy life’. On 11 May 2016, Melly was standing in front of S-Oil

Corporation executives to share her intimate story. I was supposed to translate her story but at the last minute Melly decided to address the executives in Korean. Melly cried and had difficulty reading the notes she had prepared to present her story. Her hands shook and at several points she had trouble breathing when recounting her experience, but she managed to deliver her story without my help. After Melly’s presentation the S-Oil Vice President thanked her and delivered 50,000,000 Won to the director of the WMHRCK.

Many large Korean companies are interested in assisting multicultural families as they believe that the group is the most marginalised in society. Through active citizenship, Melly had taken the important step of sharing her story and helped to educate Korean executives on the reality of the unfair treatment migrant wives endure. Her tearful speech allowed her to receive financial support from the company and with that money Melly and her children were able to leave the shelter and live independently. The company also became a sponsor of the

WMHRCK. Melly’s independent life will be difficult and it will be challenging for her to raise children without her Korean husband. Many legal requirements work against migrant wives escaping violence, with mothers reluctant to enrol their children in new schools as fathers have the legal right to be informed of their child’s location (Song 2014, 9).

As Melly’s story illustrates, migrant wives and ethnic Koreans can work successfully together to push the boundaries of reproductive citizenship and challenge unfair treatment of migrant women. But even within the WMHRCK there was an ethnic hierarchy; this was in

264 common with the MFSC and many NGOs incorporating migrants. As illustrated at the fund- raising event described earlier, there was segregation, with clearly defined roles dividing ethnic Koreans and migrant women. When I attempted to communicate with migrant wives, they vetted me first to see if I could relate to their problems and only embraced me after discovering I was also part of a multicultural family as narrowly defined by the Korean government. While the WMHRCK exerts a tireless effort fighting for migrant women, many of its migrant members still did not feel equal to ethnic Koreans, even within the WMHRCK.

2.2. Starting and running own NGOs

With support from the Philippine Government, expatriate community and the Philippine embassy in Korea, over 90 Filipino community organisations exist to support Filipino migrants, with some religious and others catering to specific locations or types of migrants

(e.g. wives or workers).206 Moon (2012, 98) notes there are also community groups of

Filipino women across Korea who informally operate in a similar way and function as formal community groups. While I was volunteering at the WMHRCK, the current director

Yeongsuk Heo (O) introduced me to the Asian Women's Community (AIDA Maeul or AIDA village)207 in Incheon. AIDA Maeul is run by and supports Filipino migrant wives through a diverse range of activities, campaigns and classes, operating autonomously as a NGO. AIDA

Maeul is mostly funded through donations, receiving funding from Filipino members, the central and local governments for specific projects, as well as corporate donations. AIDA

Maeul provides a ‘safe space’ for Filipino wives to talk and have a rest: it is their ‘little

Philippines’. During my fieldwork I attended regular weekend meetings and special events

206 The Philippine Embassy website lists 33 religious organisations and 60 community organisations. www.philembassy-seoul.com/filipino_community.asp Accessed 4 August 2019. 207 www.facebook.com/aida.maeul/ Accessed 21 June 2019. 265 where wives shared secrets, tips and information on how to deal with in-laws, husbands and their children’s education and school issues. I got to know several AIDA members, a few who had unique stories (one had re-migrated to the Philippines for seven years and returned to Korea), but most had more common stories (for example suffering physical and verbal violence from husbands, did not receive any money from their husband, children had been bullied because of their dark skin colour and mother-in-law issues).

A unique feature of the AIDA Maeul is that there is no social segregation between members, which made the AIDA different to other organisations assisting migrants. Bakewell, De Haas and Kubal (2011, 13) observed there is segmentation within migrant communities based on time of arrival, geography, education, class, religion and other factors. This was the case within ethnic migrant groups at MFSCs and the WMHRCK, where Filipinas would divide into different social groups and hierarchies depending on variables such as time of arrival or socioeconomic status. The AIDA Maeul transcended these boundaries with Filipino women of different generations, backgrounds and social classes interacting and treating each other as equals. Even though many members of AIDA Maeul lived far away from Incheon, they would make the long trip to gather and meet each other. When I asked why they made the effort to be a part of AIDA Maeul, members often said it was a place where they could maintain their ‘Filipino identity’. What united all these wives was a desire to maintain and pass on their Filipino culture.

The strong Filipina bond and collectiveness of the AIDA Maeul did not exclude ethnic

Koreans or other foreigners. For example, AIDA activists from a range of nationalities and local police officers gave presentations to Filipino wives and their children. These presentations included counselling, campaigns and education classes about domestic violence and how to respond to discrimination from ethnic Koreans. By actively involving the local

266 community the AIDA Maeul has become widely known as a unique Filipino self-help organisation assisting members to retain their Filipino culture amidst pressure to abandon it and assimilate as Koreans. The core members were naturalised and had been in Korea over

15 years. They assisted younger Filipinas who had recently arrived in Korea, as well as helping Filipinas in any part of the country who asked for support.

The AIDA Maeul makes an important contribution to promoting Filipino culture in Korea.

Their organisational structure is led by migrants, a rarity in Korea. AIDA’s work challenged the expectation that migrant wives should be reproductive citizens. Instead, AIDA supported

Filipinas to reproduce their culture, passing on traditions and ways of thinking to their children as well as educating ethnic Koreans. AIDA allowed Filipinas to renegotiate their status both as Korean citizens and cross-cultural pioneers. Their collective organisation promoted the normalisation of imagined communities and identities of respected and equal multicultural citizens. Through their solid and collective agency as Filipinas, they were strong and supporting each other to become active citizens, fulfilling the vital role of community builders and helping to promote a two-way discussion about multiculturalism and migrant issues in Korea.

AIDA, the MTU and other migrant-led groups provided an avenue for migrants to influence multiculturalism, which did not exist for the migrants who arrived in Korea in the late 1990s.

As Yuh (2002, 87) described of the early cohorts of Korean wives who migrated to the US after the Korean war, their lives were marked by ‘panic, homesickness, loneliness, and a persistent sense of dislocation’. This description also accurately described the experience of

Jill, the head of AIDA, during her first years in Korea, as well as many other older members of AIDA. After arriving in Korea, Jill recalled the absence of foreigners and feeling conspicuous and alone because she was easily recognised as different due to her dark skin

267 which automatically branded her as inferior. Jill craved the feeling of belonging but found she was never accepted as a Korean despite attaining citizenship and mastering the language.

Based on her pioneering migrant? experience, she set up AIDA to provide diverse activities, events and campaigns to create and sustain a sense of belonging to a Filipina community.

These activities were funded through ‘Sisterfood’, a small shop in AIDA’s Incheon office selling Filipino food and snacks, with the proceeds funding the NGO’s activities. Filipinas would draw on Sisterfood when craving home cooking or to bring food to share at Filipino gatherings.

AIDA’s activities enabled Filipino mothers to promote cultural awareness and a shared identity in their children. Encouraged by their mothers, the teenage children of AIDA created their own group called ‘Little Damayan’ (Damayan means helper or supporter in Tagalog).208

The Little Damayan participate in AIDA Maeul activities and multicultural events,209 as well as manage their own programmes to promote the talents of young members and empower multicultural families. The Little Damayan have made several films and entered them in national festivals, competing as equals against other Korean children while proudly displaying their Filipino heritage rather than hiding it. During my fieldwork, the Little

Damayan were still in the process of learning to become filmmakers. After school, members filmed short documentaries, putting to use skills they learned from ethnic Korean teachers who voluntarily taught film making and provided equipment from the Incheon Media Centre.

Their films have been played at festivals and the Little Damayan have performed traditional

Filipino dances on national TV. After school and on weekends, unlike other Korean children who go to private institutes to study, Little Damayan members are involved in their own

208 See www.facebook.com/littledamayan Accessed 23 July 2019. 209 For example, Little Damayan members participated in the 2016 Multicultural family in a game of Go and led the team standings. They also participated in the 2015 Incheon Bilingual Theatre Festival on 18 October. 268 activities such as chocolate making and preparing Kimchi, which they deliver to disadvantaged people.

AIDA Maeul and Little Damayan often gather for discussions on varied topics that promote the Filipino values of female agency and independence, which are repressed in Korea210.

These activities help ‘unlearn’ the sex education taught in Korean schools that promotes

Confucian male dominance, traditional gender roles for married couples and that men are entitled to sexually harass adolescent girls if they spend time alone together or the man pays for a date.211 The response of Korean parents who want to rebel against Korea’s outdated sexual education and gender discrimination is to send their children to private institutes for special classes on sex education. Unlike Korean mothers, Filipino mothers create interesting afternoon classes for their children to build creativity, provide opportunities to discuss puberty and learn about Filipino culture through spending time with their mothers and older females. For example, one gathering I participated in involved a US activist teaching migrant wives and their daughters how to make organic sanitary pads with the goal of helping mothers and daughters talk about sex education. During the class, sons were told to mind the little children so that mothers and daughters could concentrate on the class. Other classes involved a police officer discussing how to deal with domestic violence and Filipino cooking classes.

Promoting feminist values and pride in Filipino heritage is in line with AIDA Maeul’s goal to combat the prejudice migrant women face and demonstrate to Korean society that Filipinas and biracial children are capable. AIDA members actively engage with Korean media212 in

210 According to the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report, out of 149 countries ranked for gender inequality the Philippines ranked 8th, while Korea ranked 115th. See http://www3.weforum.org/docs/WEF_GGGR_2018.pdf Accessed 8 August 2019. 211 See www.theguardian.com/world/2018/dec/28/south-koreas-sexist-sex-education Accessed 8 August 2019. 212 See Jill’s interview on MBC news http://imnews.imbc.com/replay/2019/nwdesk/article/5443237_24634.html?fbclid=IwAR17p0GthvcrdodnL81C 269 reporting their activities to break the stereotypes of Filipinas and migrant wives, presenting a positive image and combating othering. Aside from attempting to change Korean society, for many Filipinas AIDA is the only place they can freely express their emotions and stress and where the beauty of Filipino culture is appreciated rather than diminished. By engaging with

AIDA Filipinas can reaffirm their individual Filipino identity and along with their sisters and children, find a powerful voice for collective action. This collective voice promotes that migrant wives are not just homogenous multicultural citizens but have a unique Filipino-

Korean identity. While the place of migrant wives in Korean society is tied to their Korean husbands, regardless of their marital status, most AIDA members consider Korea their home and have no plans to return to the Philippines as they believe it is a dangerous place to live and raise children. This long-term commitment to Korea gives the AIDA a unique meaning for Filipinas, providing a space them to maintain their identity free from the pressure to

Koreanise from family members, society and MFSCs. Without AIDA it can be hard for

Filipino to celebrate their culture, with most wives I met during my fieldwork in marriages premised on one-way adaptation, with husbands not interested in learning about Filipino language, culture and food. Instead, husbands and in-laws expected Filipino wives to adopt traditional Confucian values and become women who would serve them, raise children and look after the household. AIDA promoted a different way of thinking for husbands of

Filipinas. AIDA members’ husbands were encouraged to support and participate in activities including couples counselling, family events, role-playing seminars and other initiatives. The support of husbands and children provided a great boost for migrant wives’ life satisfaction.

Where the MFSCs encouraged migrant wives to be learners with little focus on their

QkaE1w9nM1N7OcuXSa0-1h8i1Xq8iZvNnPQr4Vc AND https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=2621564144522606&id=136802662998779 AIDA Maeul work was introduced in a local Internet newspaper www.incheonin.com/2014/news/news_view.php?m_no=3&sq=50260&thread=003002000&sec=2&fbclid=IwA R1Wtuy1k_25nVJaINoB9oF6rOzbROcp45xP-dXHNl4Rv4GF1T8kMxo2QNM Accessed 22 August 2019. 270 husbands and children, AIDA Maeul allowed wives to be teachers, storytellers and historians for their families, sharing cross-cultural experiences and perspectives. Through this knowledge transfer the AIDA wives helped to instil a Filipino identity in their children, who were otherwise encouraged by Korean society, school and paternal family members to forget their mother’s heritage. Despite these efforts, most of the Filipino-Korean children at AIDA did not appreciate Filipino food. This meant cooking was an important part of the AIDA sisterhood and Filipino gatherings, allowing wives to eat meals linked with their childhood memories.

The provision of Filipino cooking was but just one part of AIDA’s efforts to provide emotional intimacy and care that can often be lacking in migrant wives’ lives. Often Filipino wives did not have any family in Korea and emotional intimacy with husbands and in-laws did not always come immediately or naturally. Through AIDA, Filipino wives could connect with sisters who were in some way much closer than their own family members. Wives could share their difficulties and agonies, as well as receive advice and tactics for living in Korea and dealing with their husbands, in-laws and children. Whereas the answer they would often receive if they sought assistance from a MFSC or state program would be to focus on being more Korean or to understand Korean ways of resolving problems, at AIDA they received understanding and sympathy. AIDA’s solid sisterhood provided companionship to erase loneliness deriving from living in Korea as outsiders.

For some of the younger Filipino wives AIDA provided a space to receive lessons and knowledge they missed due to leaving the Philippines at a young age. Some of these wives had never learned how to cook Filipino food or experienced other rites of passage in the

Philippines. Unlike in Korea, where the concept of a nuclear family prevails, in Filipino culture extended family is important. Leaving behind extended family and not finding a new

271 extended family in Korea can be a challenge for Filipino marriage migrants. Through AIDA younger wives gained an extended sisterhood in their new country who could teach them valuable life lessons and help them traverse new rites of passage in Korea. At AIDA Filipino wives could always share traditional meals and learn from older wives, using Tagalog and their dialects freely. Through sharing recipes, cooking and eating traditional cuisine when they feel lonely and miss their family, AIDA can be part of their healing from what can sometimes be a traumatic migration experience.

AIDA was also different to other NGOs assisting migrants in that it was run by migrants and focussed on migrant wives’ empowerment and agency rather than responding to abuse and victimisation. While none of the NGOs I observed assisting migrant wives promoted a victim discourse ‘some NGOs and migrant advocacy groups, who are frequently in need of funding resources, tend to victimise women in order to attract support for their organisations’.

(Bélanger, Lee and Wang 2010, 1115). This victimisation of migrant wives and narrow focus on domestic violence has resulted in government policies and Korean society conflating migrant wives with victims of human trafficking and being in need of protection. This legacy of the women’s rights movement in marginalising migrant women was something that the

WMHRCK grappled with given its focus on protecting migrant women from domestic violence and abuse. AIDA faced no such problem given its focus on empowering migrant wives and their children, while its Filipino leadership and lack of dependence on government funding meant it was not tarnished in the eyes of activists and migrant wives focussed on social change and supporting migrant wives’ active citizenship.

With Korea on an irreversible path to becoming a more diverse society as migration continues to rise and more children of migrant wives enter the school system, it will be increasingly important for migrants to celebrate and maintain their culture amid pressure to

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‘Koreanise’. NGOs like the WMHRCK and AIDA illustrate that activist organisations with a migrant-focus can play an important role in helping migrants to influence the society they live in and how they are treated by the Government. These organisations are also worthy of study as there is an urgent need for critical reflections and new strategies for feminist groups in Korea that have been co-opted by becoming dependent on state funding (Jung Kyungja

2014, 120-21). While the Korean government does not appear opposed to migrant wives’ organisations, the 1.18 trillion Won (AUD 1.4 billion) allocated to MFSCs and other government multicultural programs (Korea Immigration Service 2012) suggests the Korean state’s priorities lie elsewhere.

Conclusion: collective agency

The stories of collective agency and active citizenship in this chapter are intertwined with individual empowerment. An exemplar of active citizenship by a migrant wife is former

National Assembly Representative Jasmine Lee. She migrated from the Philippines in 1995 aged 18 to marry a man she had only known briefly. Her rise to fame initially came on a television show featuring the stories of attractive migrant wives and then as an actress, often objectified and satisfying a desire for viewers’ cultural fetishism. However, Lee subsequently used her fame to become a civic activist for migrants. She was the first and remains the only non-ethnic Korean member of Korea’s legislature from 2012-2016. Her tenure in parliament was divisive and led to Lee being labelled the ‘most hated woman in Korea’ following xenophobic resentment of her place in Korea’s legislature.213 Lee’s public transformation from a celebrated movie star to hated politician illustrates cultural fetishism prevailing over

213 How Jasmine Lee, One Of The Most Hated Women In Korea, Is Changing The Country www.huffingtonpost.com.au/2015/05/07/jasmine-lee-korea_n_7214186.html?guccounter=1 Accessed 13 August 2019. 273 respect for different cultures, with acceptance of a migrant wife as a prominent movie star but deeply challenged once she stepped into a powerful, authoritative role deciding legislation.

For Filipinas, Lee is a special sister who they admired as their role model. Vivian (see

Chapter 1) and other wives I met who pursued careers all mentioned Jasmine. Many of the migrant wives I met harboured ambitions to follow Lee’s example to change their communities, Korean society and become good influencers for other migrants.

To gain public support for a multicultural state, successive Korean governments have equated multiculturalism with assimilation, premised on the notion that migrant wives and biracial persons can be Koreanised with enough incentives and training. This treatment diminishes the cultures of migrants from developing countries. Mainstream media reporting and online communities that other and diminish migrants reinforce notions of cultural and ethnic hierarchy. In this environment stories of domestic violence and abuse against migrant wives can lead audiences to believe that the victims are at fault for having chosen an abusive partner or not better protecting themselves or their children. While the statistics on domestic violence against migrant wives are alarming,214 the marginalisation of migrant wives and their children in the media is beyond their control and reflects a narrative not told from the perspective of most migrant wives. Over time, mainstream media references to migrant wives and multiculturalism have become tropes for domestic violence, stigmatisation and poverty, yet this is very different to how many migrant wives view their own lives and want to be perceived.

214 According to the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family there were 46,701 cases in 2015 of female marriage migrants receiving support from domestic violence shelters, compared to a population of 294,663 marriage migrants. The 294,663 figure includes both male and female marriage migrants, though shelters are only for women. Given that many marriage migrants aren’t aware of or are unable to access services from women’s shelters such as counselling or medical treatment, this data likely understates the extent of domestic abuse against female marriage immigrants. All data obtained from www.mogef.go.kr/eng/pc/eng_pc_f006.do Accessed 23 October 2018. 274

To combat media and social discourses, migrant wives have begun using the media and civil society as tools to become active citizens, engaging with the communities they live in to change attitudes and the material conditions of their lives. As individuals, migrant wives and their children can find it difficult to overcome gendered and racial barriers. However, as a group they can take collective action and exert collective agency, capable of transforming the societies they live in.215 While civil society and the media have been used as tools to control and diminish migrant wives by groups who question their place in Korean society, these same tools are being used by migrant wives to provide their perspectives and combat discrimination. While the Korean government, society and in-laws seek to Koreanise migrant wives and repress their cultural beliefs, migrant wives are creating media and forming civil society groups to proudly stake a place in Korean society and present a two-way model of multiculturalism. Like the Vietnamese migrant wife who captured her husband’s abuse on camera which was then distributed online by other migrants and shocked the nation, or the

Filipino-Korean children making movies about discrimination, multicultural Koreans can and are taking control of the media discourse and helping to frame how they are viewed by their fellow Koreans. Despite social pressure to be passive and not challenge Korean cultural hegemony, many migrant wives remain resilient and exert agency over their choices to work and how they raise their children. The resistance of the women of the AIDA Maeul is helping to dispel the notion that migrant wives must Koreanise in order to make a home for their family. Using their dual cultures, they claim their legal right to raise their opinions, demonstrating a commitment to change Korean society and try and belong to both nations.

215 http://siteresources.worldbank.org/INTWDR2012/Resources/7778105-1299699968583/7786210- 1315936222006/chapter-4.pdf Accessed 11 February 2019. 275

CHAPTER VIII: CONCLUSION

My thesis has explored how the Korean state encourages migrant wives to reproduce both biologically and culturally, a system I term reproductive citizenship. Biological reproduction requires that a migrant wife give birth to a new citizen with her Korean husband, thus helping to arrest Korea’s demographic decline and low birth rate. Cultural reproduction requires a migrant wife to learn the Korean language and culture in order to raise biracial children with monocultural Confucian values. This is the only way that a migrant wife can achieve PR, legal citizenship and acceptance from Korean society. Reproductive citizenship involves surveillance and control over migrant wives’ bodies, autonomy and agency. Immigration officials, husbands and in-laws are empowered to assess whether a migrant wife is behaving appropriately and worthy of rights, protections and financial security. The result is that migrant wives’ sexual relations and fertility are forced to conform with the desires of their

Korean husbands and the state, or else they face deportation and effectively exile. In each chapter I have shown how reproductive citizenship affects different facets of migrant wives’ lives, including relationships with husbands and in-laws, education, religion, employment and marital satisfaction. My findings show that reproductive citizenship is based on a construct of migrant wives as subordinate objects in need of education and guidance due to their gender, race and class. Their residency and legitimacy in Korean society is tied to fertility and care giving. Immigration and welfare systems reward biological reproduction, while migrant wives without children are treated with suspicion. Siti’s story in Chapter 4 illustrated the precarious situation of migrant wives who cannot conceive, leaving them vulnerable to self- shame, abuse and deportation.

Reproductive citizenship is a relatively recent phenomenon that emerged in the mid-2000s.

Until that point, the Korean state was a disinterested observer in marriage migration and gave little support for migrant wives but also provided an easy path to citizenship that has since

276 been wound back. Migrant wives who arrived prior to reproductive citizenship had tough experiences with the state turning a blind eye to domestic violence and marriage migrants being deceived and mistreated by husbands, religious groups and commercial brokers.

Numerous stories of migrant wives’ deaths caused international and local outrage, ultimately leading to the creation of a system of reproductive citizenship. Yet cases of violence and mistreatment of migrant wives have continued, most recently with the arrest of a husband who murdered his Vietnamese wife in November 2019.216 Many migrant wives reject the methods of reproductive citizenship and advocate for an acculturation approach that supports migrant wives to reach their full potential, rather than being confined to a narrow role as mothers and carers.

The Korean state’s multicultural policies are the primary vehicle for its promotion of reproductive citizenship. Multiculturalism is an exclusive concept in Korea, focussed only on migrant wives and their biracial children. There is no place in multicultural education for the

Korean husbands of migrant wives or broader Korean society. This approach has reinforced cultural biases in Korea’s highly competitive society where migrants only perform the jobs that Koreans do not want and are therefore considered inferior. Over time the term multicultural has come to carry a stigma and many migrant wives and their children dislike it.

Instead, multicultural families and migrant workers (two separate groups in the Korean state’s determination of who is multicultural) are challenging the boundaries of multiculturalism in Korea.

For Filipinas the problems with reproductive citizenship and multiculturalism are only fully understood after they migrate, with the appeal of the imagined ‘Korean dream’ a strong lure for Filipinas seeking a new life. The Korean dream is embodied in K-dramas and Seoul’s

216 Korean man caught for killing Vietnamese wife www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/nation/2019/11/251_278897.html Accessed 20 November 2019. 277 glamorous city scape, which presents Korea as a wealthy nation full of opportunity. Yet the

Korean dream often proves elusive for the Filipinas who migrate as brides, workers and entertainers. Their residency and financial security depend on their sponsor, who has the power to have a migrant deported if they are unsatisfied, a system that enables exploitation.

During my fieldwork I formed close connections with migrant wives trying to navigate reproductive citizenship, balancing their duty to earn and remit funds to family in the

Philippines with demands from Korean families and the state to focus on child-rearing. The challenge in this thesis has been to honour the stories of these women. For many of the wives

I met through Multicultural Family Support Centres (MFSCs), learning the Korean language was a welcome opportunity, especially if it meant the opportunity to spend time with Filipina friends. However, many other wives had gone through traumatic and troubling experiences, having suffered physical, sexual and emotional violence at the hands of their husbands, in- laws, religious leaders and employers. They wanted me to tell their stories and let others know of the injustices they faced and the unfair system that confronts migrant wives, workers and entertainers.

Most Koreans would be unaware of the struggles of migrants but are familiar with multiculturalism as it has been attacked in the media, used as an outlet and easy target for

Koreans concerned about economic or cultural insecurity. Yet migrant wives are largely viewed by the Korean public as an acceptable face of immigration, provided they fulfil their intended role in society as providing intimacy and care to husbands, children and in-laws. For the Korean state, supporting marriage migration is an alternative to addressing workplace discrimination against mothers, cultural issues that pressure men to marry, lack of support from husbands with domestic tasks and the high costs and time commitments involved in raising children. These factors would normally dissuade migrant wives from having children

278 and is a reason why the Korean government, in-law families and broader society strongly encourage migrant wives to become reproductive citizens. Responding to residency incentives and social pressure, most migrant wives I encountered had children shortly after marrying. As mothers they were encouraged to reproduce Korean Confucian culture when nurturing, repressing their own cultural beliefs. Even before they arrive in Korea, immigration inducements encourage migrant wives to enrol in Korean government education programs on how to be a ‘good’ migrant wife. There are no equivalent classes for Korean husbands.

Multicultural education for migrant wives plants the idea that the proper place of a migrant wife is confined to the home, fulfilling the Confucian ideal of a deferential mother-carer, not questioning patriarchal authority and filial piety. This role conflicts with Filipina’s aspirations and explains why so few commit to cultural education classes at MFSCs, only engaging to the extent that participation can ease the path to citizenship. Another problem with the

Korean government’s exclusive approach to multiculturalism is its isolating nature; only focussing on migrant wives and not involving Korean society or other types of migrants.

There is no tolerance for ‘flexible citizenship’ or for migrants to maintain their origin and host country identities and cultures (Ong 1999). Instead, in Korea multiculturalism means migrant wives must assimilate and there is no desire or investment in integrating other types of migrants who are prevented from settling. This approach denies migrants the opportunity to engage with mainstream society and combat preconceptions that diminish the value of cultures from developing countries. The lack of meaningful interaction between migrants and

Koreans is problematic, as in the absence of interaction Koreans turn to extreme media reporting and groups like the anti-multicultural movement for information. These groups often misrepresent migrant wives in an extreme manner, either as opportunists taking advantage of naïve Korean husbands or as trafficked victims devoid of agency.

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Despite the pressure on migrant wives to be passive and deferential citizens, previous chapters have presented stories of individual and group resistance, illustrating that policies designed to Koreanise migrant wives are inappropriate and failing. The documented experiences in this thesis argue that Filipino wives demonstrate agency in resisting pressure to accept patriarchy, husband dominance and a narrow role as a mother-carer. Their lived experiences are testament to the strength of Filipino cultural beliefs that women should work, lead their households and support parents and family in the Philippines. Filipino wives have a strong motivation to work and become earners, reflecting that the majority are educated and left careers in the Philippines to migrate and marry. As discussed in Chapter 3, the wives working at the toothpaste factory had experienced hypogamy and perceived that their relative social status had dropped in Korea. They had no desire to be stay at home mothers given their husband’s limited income and preferred to manage at least a portion, if not all of their household’s finances. Their roles in leading households and financial independence directly challenge the notion that migrant wives should be deferential to husbands in order to have a stable marriage.

The collected experiences in this thesis support the two hypotheses and key arguments outlined in the introduction section, which were tested against the journeys of migrants. My first key argument is that the Korean government, families and broader society actively seek to promote migrant wives as primary caregivers in the family within a framework of reproductive citizenship. While reproductive citizenship is a term that I have created for this thesis, it is a familiar concept for migrant wives who are aware that the state and Korean families have the power to regulate and monitor their fertility, role and residence in Korea.

My second key argument is that at various points along their designated journey to reproductive citizenship, Filipino wives demonstrate agency in resisting pressure to conform and are defining a new model of multiculturalism in Korea that challenges patriarchy and

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Confucian values. The efforts of Filipino wives ensure that multiculturalism and reproductive citizenship are contested spaces in Korea, providing an alternative vision to state and media discourses that try to define what it means to be a migrant and biracial person in Korea.

1. Promoting a truly multicultural Korea will require a different approach

This thesis has argued that the Korean state should reconsider its approach to reproductive citizenship and multiculturalism, with a new approach required to support migrant wives and their children to reach their full potential. The attitude of husbands was critical in explaining why some migrant wives had high levels of life satisfaction while others did not. Husbands receive no training or education on how to support their migrant wife’s acculturation into a new society. Many of the Korean men who marry migrant wives have had limited interaction with migrants. A more inclusive approach to multiculturalism that helped husbands adapt to having a migrant wife could ensure healthier marriages. Education and monitoring of husbands may prevent or detect cases where violent men marry migrant wives and avoid cases where migrant wives have been murdered by husbands shortly after arriving. Such an approach would also reflect the reality that many migrant wives bring different cultural values to Korea and will reject Confucian cultural indoctrination and subservience to patriarchs. Training, education and policies which support migrant wives to work and have greater autonomy over their finances and security over their residency would be beneficial for

Filipino wives who desire to earn and remit. Wives from other countries may have different ambitions, which should be encouraged. This would require migrant wives to be the authors of multicultural support policies as they are the end users and ultimate beneficiaries, knowing their needs better than the state. But at present the state treats migrant wives and their children as one group of objects to ‘make’ multicultural Korea. This approach is failing and

281 providing migrant wives with active responsibilities is critical to changing Korean’s attitudes towards migrants and multiculturalism.

The failure to provide the training that Filipino wives find useful represents a lost opportunity for the large and growing number of MFSCs. In my experience Filipino wives limit their engagement with multicultural indoctrination programs poorly suited for educated and aspirational Filipinas. Instead, they generally obtain some of the educational and social benefits from government multicultural programs without adhering to reproductive citizenship. In some depressing instances I reported, Filipino wives had to accept violence and use their fertility to secure their residency, becoming second-class foreign mothers. This precarious status normally occurs at the start of migrant wives’ marriages, but over time some of these wives ultimately thrive as active citizens after getting accustomed to Korea and with the help of Filipino NGOs and community groups.

As more migrant wives become active citizens and advocate against reproductive citizenship, there is an opportunity for the Korean government to be proactive and acknowledge that its multicultural policies should be altered to promote mutual respect for different cultures in ways that these women themselves have outlined in this thesis. Globally, multiculturalism is synonymous with addressing the rights of ethnic and national minorities (Meer and Modood

2012, 177). This is not the case in Korea, where multicultural policies repress the non-Korean identities of migrant wives and their biracial children, while excluding migrant workers and many others who would benefit from assistance with social integration.

Given successive presidents since Roh Moo-hyun217 have supported multiculturalism, the state should make greater effort to reduce segregation between migrants and ethnic Korean

217 The 9th president of Korea (2003 until 2008). 282 citizens. Interaction between Koreans and migrants will help to break down barriers and should be complemented by efforts to promote respect for other cultures among ethnic

Koreans. The lack of tolerance for cultural diversity and fear of the other was reflected in a

2018 petition to the president calling for Korea to stop accepting refugees, due to cultural differences and safety considerations. The petition garnered over 700,000 signatures,218 despite Korea hosting less than 10,000 asylum seekers and refugees,219 having a very low migrant crime rate,220 and state repression of foreign cultures. A reset of approaches to social integration would provide an opportunity for an open conversation about how Korea should approach the social integration of migrants and other ethnic groups. As the pioneers of multiculturalism in Korea, Filipino wives should have a key role in the construction of a fairer immigration and social integration program that reduces migrant wives’ vulnerability and shifts their role away from reproductive citizenship. A new policy that promotes the human and individual rights of migrant wives would help acknowledge the fact that migrant wives make a significant contribution to Korean society, as do their children, which is not known or accepted by many Korean citizens. Embracing migrant wives as equal citizens would help reduce the barriers and segregation between ethnic Koreans and migrant wives, paving the way for ethnic Koreans to embrace living in a multiracial state and globalised world.

218 The Petition to abolish the refugee law and visa-free entry is the fourth most popular petition to the President since the petition system was introduced under the current President Moon Jae-in. See https://www1.president.go.kr/petitions/269548 Accessed 1 September 2019. 219 In 2016, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) estimated there were 8,865 persons of concern residing in Korea including 1,807 refugees, 6,861 asylum seekers and 197 who were stateless. See UNHCR Statistics Yearbook 2016, p. 8 www.unhcr.org/en-au/statistics/country/5a8ee0387/unhcr-statistical- yearbook-2016-16th-edition.html Accessed 2 September 2019. 220 Korean policy carried out a special investigation into crimes by non-Korean nationals and made only 89 arrests despite approximately two million foreigners living in Korea. The low rate of criminality among foreigners was attributed to the fact that most were in the country to make money and they also did not want to be deported. http://world.kbs.co.kr/service/news_view.htm?lang=e&Seq_Code=140527 Accessed 3 September 2019. 283

2. Linking the macro to the micro: why individual stories matter

Through individual stories and ‘thick’ narratives,221 my research has attempted to combat stereotypes and the pitfalls that can affect ethnographic research dealing with minority groups struggling against unfair systems. During my fieldwork I met, observed and worked with many migrant wives and each story was complex. Within my group of Filipina research subjects there was a diversity of experience shaped by age, socioeconomic status, place of residence, religious beliefs, language ability, family background and other factors. In no way did the experiences I observed align with stereotypes of migrant wives as runaway brides, gold diggers or trafficked victims. Instead, Filipino wives had a good awareness of their place in society and agency over many aspects of their lives, including decisions on entering, maintaining or ending their marriages. This is not to say they were not influenced by the media narratives that pervaded everyday encounters and influenced the perceptions of and treatment by ethnic Koreans.

The stories I present give an insight into cross-border marriages and migrant wives’ lives, highlighting linkages between nationality, gender, family, race and individuality. While my research discusses these systemic issues through the frame of reproductive citizenship, I firmly believe that positive changes promoting mutual respect between migrants and Koreans will come from bottom-up approaches. Grass roots organisations like AIDA Maeul can challenge the notion that migrant wives are a homogenous group and enable shared identities for migrant origin and biracial Koreans. The role of biracial Koreans and migrants in contemporary society is ambiguous, often segregated from the mainstream with special

221 Ortner (1995) championed the need for ethnographic narratives to provide a degree of ‘thickness’ in relation to the subjects of study, providing context on the subject with reference to power systems, group dynamics, cultural and individual issues. 284 schools for multicultural students and MFSCs for migrant wives. This isolated grouping of multicultural individuals means they are hidden in the shadows and rarely given an outlet to share their culture, stories and sense of self with ethnic Koreans, denying migrants and multicultural children the opportunity to challenge the stereotypes underlying othering. As outlined in previous chapters, migrant wives are unique individuals who have diverse stories and backgrounds and are capable of far more than being passive reproductive citizens.

Despite pressure from the state and Korean families for migrant wives to be deferential and submit to husbands, in many cases they were becoming leaders in their households. Migrant wives’ resistance to reproductive citizenship was not always overt, clear or obvious on the surface, but after spending time together I gained an understanding of how migrant wives could retain dignity and promote a unique identity while living in a foreign land. A common theme in their stories was that they felt capable of more than reproducing and had dreams and ambitions beyond their children’s achievements. This was not always the case and there were many unfortunate instances where domestic violence limited or took away migrant wives’ agency.

Even in cases of hardship and difficulty, where possible I have tried to present migrant wives’ lived experiences as relatable to readers. This reflects my personal perspective as a migrant wife in Australia married to an Indian-Australian. For the brief periods we have lived in

Korea my family has been classified as ‘multicultural.’ The dark skin of my husband and biracial children created a shared identity with the migrant wives. Like their children, my eldest son also struggled for acceptance in the Korean school system, which remains poorly equipped to deal with migrants and bilingual children for whom Korean is a second language.

This treatment and my knowledge of discrimination against darker skinned persons in Korea made it challenging to maintain separation from my research subjects, who would often ask

285 for my help to navigate life in Korea. Through spending time together and attending campaigns, classes and activities, I got to know migrant wives and learned their life stories.

After building trust they openly shared their sensitive personal stories and struggles. We were all ‘sisters,’ as they called each other and myself, and we became close friends. I cried, laughed, worried and enjoyed moments together with my fellow sisters. Sadly, in many cases,

I was their only Korean friend, reflecting the failings of Korean multiculturalism that has segregated migrant wives from ethnic Koreans and limited opportunities to form friendships.

I have maintained friendships with many of my research subjects, keeping in touch through social media and when I return to Korea. Their insights showed me how to become a strong mother and migrant wife. Spending time together reinforced my understanding of the complexities of being a migrant in Korea, but also gave an insight into how these women justified their choice to persevere in challenging circumstances. It is impossible to extrapolate their lived experiences into a simple chart or graph and compare this to what they imagined before arriving. However, I hope my thesis provides readers a glimpse of migrant wives’ agony, decision-making and dreams to live beyond the confines of reproductive citizenship and how they are using their agency to write their own stories, striving to be authors rather than subjects of multiculturalism in South Korea.

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Appendix: Policy suggestions

Throughout this thesis I have critiqued the Korean state’s systems of multiculturalism and reproductive citizenship, discussing obstacles preventing migrant wives from fulfilling their potential and why MFSCs are reinforcing racial and gender hierarchies. In this section, I offer several brief policy suggestions based on my research to promote the integration of migrant wives and immigrant children into Korean society and promote greater acceptance of migrants and biracial citizens among ethnic Koreans.

1. Customised approaches to assist migrant wives’ integration

To integrate into Korean society migrant wives require customised support that varies depending on their nationality, age, spouse and many other factors that influence their dreams and ambitions for living in Korea. However, Korea’s multicultural support programs approach migrant wives as homogenous groups that should be dealt with in isolation from mainstream society. This approach deprives migrant wives from opportunities to form relationships and build trust with Koreans outside their immediate family. It is a major factor that explains why most Koreans have had no or limited contact with migrants, even though they account for four per cent of Korea’s population.

Most Filipino wives I encountered wanted to work to gain an income and as a way of integrating into Korean society. Their options were generally limited to either teaching in

Hagwons or repetitive tasks labouring in factories. Based on my own experience and national survey data, Filipino wives usually hold tertiary qualifications and have prior work experience in the Philippines, if not other countries. Given their qualifications and experience, their career paths in Korea should not be limited, especially when the Korean state is prepared to spend large sums on adult education for migrant wives.

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An example of where Filipinas could play a valuable role as workers and simultaneously promote better cross-cultural relations is through subsidising their work as carers or assisting the elderly or disabled. This role is still in line with the state’s vision for the role of migrant wives in society and would help to address a chronic shortage of aged care222 that is attributable to rigid Confucian traditions. Filipinas working in these sectors could help to shift

Confucian perspectives relating to the aged and disabled, with older Koreans reluctant to ask for help and the elderly poor and disabled often living on the margins of society.223 Filipinas could benefit from a program where they were to accompany the elderly or disabled on outings, with many migrant wives valuing opportunities to visit new places and learn practical life skills like how to use public transport or where to shop.

2. Korean husbands must be partners rather than beneficiaries of multiculturalism

Within Korea’s multicultural program there is a lack of attention given to Korean husbands.

MFSCs have recently begun providing classes for Korean husbands but their attendance is very low and premised on the basis that they should accompany their migrant wives. Almost without exception, Korean husbands are the biggest influence on how their migrant wives and children acculturate into Korean society. Most Korean men who marry migrant wives have had very little experience with different cultures, often not having travelled or lived abroad prior to meeting and marrying their wives. These men need training to improve cross-cultural understanding and communication, especially in relation to gender roles and expectations.

Within Korea there is deeply entrenched discrimination and stigma against working mothers.

Korean men often are attracted to the idea of a migrant wife by the notion of a traditional

222 Old people struggle to survive as South Korea becomes 'aged society’ www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2018/10/07/old-people-struggle-survive-south-korea-becomes-aged-society Accessed 17 January 2020.

223 What’s behind South Korea’s elderly crime wave? www.weforum.org/agenda/2019/01/south-korea-elderly- crime-wave-ageing-society Accessed 17 January 2020. 288 woman who will be devoted to her husband and children. Yet Filipinas have their own customs and values, including an expectation that migrants should provide regular remittances, while it is common for Filipino mothers to work while relatives care for their children. Pre-marital training for Korean husbands to explain Filipino cultural expectations and values could help to minimise marital conflict, especially when communication is often hampered in the early years of marriage when Filipinas are still learning the Korean language.

Generic training for Korean grooms on domestic violence and how to resolve disagreements in a civil way would also be beneficial. The government’s response to the high rates of domestic violence against migrant wives has been to tighten visa conditions and provide additional training for migrant wives. Yet an obvious solution is to educate Korean men.

Given Korea ranks last among OECD countries in terms of gender equality,224 Korean men marrying migrant wives could benefit from ongoing training to promote marriages built on mutual respect. Currently Korean men wanting to sponsor a marriage immigrant visa for a spouse from seven developing countries225 are required to complete an International

Marriage Guidance Program prior to a visa being granted. However, there is no ongoing training once they are married, which is when these relationships will likely need ongoing support.

While migrant wives from developing countries are required to undertake a marriage adaptation course prior to entering Korea and incentivised to attend courses at MFSCs until they are citizens,226 there are no education or training requirements for Korean husbands.

224 Yet first in terms of gender equality of health, reflective of a narrow focus on women’s reproductive capacity. See World Economic Forum (2019, 208). 225 These countries are determined by the Ministry of Justice as discussed in Chapter 2 and include: China, Vietnam, the Philippines, Cambodia, Mongolia, Uzbekistan and Thailand. 226 See Chapter 2 289

This is despite regular stories of Korean husbands abusing migrant wives, leading to domestic and international condemnation. Instead of focussing on educating Korean husbands, the

Government’s response has been to tighten visa conditions and train migrant wives so that they are more likely to please their husbands. This reflects a framework of reproductive citizenship that prioritises Confucian gender roles and biological reproduction over marriages based on mutual respect and equal partnership.

3. Give migrant wives a say over immigration and multicultural policies

Korea’s multicultural polices are paternalistic and appear to have been developed without input from migrant wives. As documented in this thesis, most Filipinas are not content to be deferential to husbands and devoted mother-carers confined to the home. Yet immigration and multicultural policies promote this Confucian gendered role. In Chapters 4 and 6 I outlined why it is deeply unfair that immigration policies are linked to gender and fertility.

These factors should not influence an immigrant spouse’s security of residency, but in practice they do, contributing to marital stress where the only way to demonstrate the sincerity of a marriage for visa purposes is through having children. If migrant wives were able to control the budget for multicultural family support, they would likely prefer that they received more cash than instruction at MFSCs. They would likely also prefer that greater resources were directed towards influencing husbands and family members, as well as sustaining and supporting community groups. As discussed in Chapter 7, Filipino wives enthusiastically engaged with the AIDA Village, which was able to sensitively broach issues like domestic violence and puberty. By contrast, cultural education classes at MFSCs overlooked these issues and convinced migrant wives that they should use a Korean way of thinking to approach sensitive issues and focus on their husbands and in-law’s happiness.

While there is a role for MFSCs to help marriage immigrants learn Korean and other basic

290 skills to integrate into society, their role should not involve trying to influence whether migrant wives have children or are deferential towards husbands.

When given the chance, Filipinas can be enthusiastic about engaging with processes to influence government policy. This was evident in January 2020 when Jasmine Lee visited

Cheonan representing the Justice Party and seeking political support from migrants through a political event that was attended by some of my research subjects.227 Lee is highly admired and well known among migrant wives as a naturalised Filipina who had recently finished her term in the National Assembly, the first Filipino and naturalised citizen to sit in Korea’s parliament. At the political event in Cheonan many migrant wives from the Philippines and

Central Asia complained that they had been unable to join her party. This was because in some cases their names were more than three characters when written in Korean script (ethnic

Koreans tend to have names that are only three characters) or their phone numbers were registered under another family members names rather than their own. Members of Lee’s party acknowledged this was a problem with their membership system and resolved to fix the error.

4. Establish mechanisms to integrate immigrant children into the Korean school system

As outlined in Chapter 6, there is currently no formal pathway to assist immigrant children to integrate into the regular Korean school system through language education. While there are a few technical and specialised schools for biracial and immigrant children, this is no way near enough. Segregated schooling policies isolate immigrant and biracial children from the regular school system and ethnic Korean children, while limiting their future career prospects

227 For photos of Jasmine Lee’s visit to Cheonan city see www.facebook.com/speakupjasmine/photos/pcb.118498572983983/118498416317332/?type=3&theater and www.facebook.com/speakupjasmine/photos/pcb.118474579653049/118474306319743/?type=3&theater Accessed 24 January 2020. 291 to technical vocations. In countries that have similar migrant populations it is common for regular schools to have special programs that cater to immigrant children who need to develop their language ability.228 Korea could replicate such a program. The alternative is the current system where a large portion of immigrant children are outside of the school system and receive no education. The current structure severely limits immigrant children’s prospects for employment or further education and general life outcomes.

5. A national campaign to create a positive image of migrant wives

Many of the images and depictions of migrant wives presented to the Korean public accentuate their differences with Koreans. A national campaign or support for migrant-made media could help to change the perception of migrant wives, highlighting cases of those who have been well supported to integrate into society. These could include greater awareness that migrant wives work as public servants and in many other professions that are not normally associated with migrants. Raising awareness would be of benefit both for ethnic Koreans and migrants.

228 For example in Finland, where immigrants account for five per cent of the population (compared to four per cent in Korea), schools in areas with a high immigrant population receive extra funding with children requiring help to boost their Finish language spending 25 hours per week in special classes while spending time alongside their peers in arts and sports classes. See www.theguardian.com/education/2011/nov/21/finland-education- immigrant-children Accessed 9 February 2020. 292

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