Virginia Tech and South Korea

Today I walked into my classroom and a table of students were whispering with worried expressions on their faces.

Finally they looked up and said:
"Jennipa, umm... Virginia Tech....we're sorry."

I was a little puzzled, because the way they said it seemed to be a personal apology, as if it were somehow their fault. Then I remembered that the gunman was born in South Korea. I thanked them for their apology, but they went on:

"South Korean blood... Americans... will think...immigration bad.... Americans not like South Koreans. "

To this I replied as simply as I could, because of the language barrier:
"But the gunman was crazy, that is unrelated to the fact that he was South Korean; I think most Americans will realize that."

And they said:
"But American newspaper, ABC, headline said: 'South Korean Gunman kills 32'"

I was surprised by their sincerity and shame, because it was as if they were apologizing for something that they themselves were responsible for. My initial reaction to their apology was shame for my own country. I was ashamed to think that they would assume that Americans were so quick to judge. I told them that I didn't think Americans would blame an entire country for a violent act that was carried out by a former citizen; however, in the back of my mind, I thought it was possible that they'd raised a valid point. hated to think that our country had gained a reputation for making such sweeping generalizations and placing blame on immigrants and foreign nationals. My students actually expected American immigration to refuse entry into our country due to this atrocious act by someone who happened to be a foreign national from South Korea.

At this point it hadn't occurred to me that there was something else at play here which had nothing to do with America and everything to do with Korea. It is why many Korean-Americans in our Fulbright group were warned upon arrival that their life could very possibly be much harder in Korea than the rest of us. It is why in my classes, no student wants to sit at a table by themselves, even if it's just by chance and doesn't mean anything, nor do they want to call out the answer if they're the ONLY one who knows it. There is a collectivism in Korea that as an American is hard to understand, because it links everyone together, making conformity the ideal and everything else undesireable. This is one of the biggest cultural differences between Korea and the USA. In Korea you're either in or out; if you can't be defined as Korean, then you should be clearly recognizable as a foreigner. America is composed of immigrants and foreigners from all over the world. If an American had done something similar in a foreign country, I would feel horrible, but I wouldn't be ashamed, as if it were someone related to me by blood who had shamed my family and our name. Here there is a different mindset about what it is to be a Korean, and a sense of pride that comes with being Korean. A Korean is a Korean and nothing can change that, you either are or you aren't Korean, and there are certain expectations that come with being a Korean. These expectations are linked to everything, from the way you walk to the way you talk, dress, and act. It is not O.K. to be a Korean and not fit the mold.

The shame and apologetic attitude that I found in students and teachers at my school today was not limited to my school and my city; I have heard accounts of similar reactions from Fulbright teachers around the country. Many Fulbright teachers have been taken aside and offered sincere apologies for what happened. Another similarity is the tendency for Koreans to refer to the gunman as Chinese. It's bizarre, because everyone knows that he's South Korean, and although there may have been a short amount of time when it was unclear exactly what his origin was, his name is distinctly Korean and it has been verified that he is indeed from Korea. Still, when I arrived at school this morning, my co-teacher said, "I'm very sorry for what happened at Virginia Tech..." I said thank you, and she went on,"especially when I heard he was Chinese." To this I raised my eyebrows, saying, "you mean South Korean?" and she said, "oh, yes, yes." It's almost a subconscious way of dealing with the shame, trying to re-categorize him or disown him. I'm not saying that my co-teacher actually believed he was Chinese, I'm not sure why she said that, but it's interesting, because other Fulbright teachers have reported similar experiences where teachers referenced a Chinese gunman rather than a South Korean.

Later, when I checked my e.mail and read that there was a rumor (started by a Korean radio station in L.A.) circulating about how the parents of the gunman had committed suicide, it seemed like yet another way of trying to diminish this intense shame that has caught South Korea by surprise. It also seems like an assumption that Koreans would make, because in a nation where your repuation is everything, the logical thing to do when faced with such unbearable shame would be to take your own life. Another Fulbright teacher reported that a teacher told her the gunman had committed such a horrible act because of his "American way of thinking." I also think this is a result of the shame, a way of rationalizing it or trying to make sense of something that is almost impossible for a Korean to believe that another Korean would do.

The fact is that this young man was deeply disturbed, he must have been, or he couldn't possibly have done what he did. The sad thing is that he had no help, not from his parents, not from professors, not from the school, not from other students. This in no way means that he was justified for what he did, nor does it mean that it could have been prevented, but it is a sad situation for everyone involved. Sadder still, is how we forget about these things, as if they're minute details not even worth mentioning, but do not hesitate to make this mass murder into something more political (i.e. gun control, immigration, etc.), more personal (South Koreans thinking that they are to blame and me being ashamed of American prejudice) instead of realizing that the event is simply tragedy at its worst, not preventable, perhaps not even understandable; the most appropriate thing to do is not to argue, not preach, not rationalize, not blame, but simply to mourn.