The Han Flowing Through My Veins
Issue No. 5: Stressed Out!
Words - Sophia Park
Instead of asking, “How are you?” my mom always asks me, “Did you eat?” This common greeting among Koreans is a masked way of asking, “Are you able to eat?” The reason for checking whether or not you can afford to eat is derived from the same place as the question of why an immigrant like me can’t fully distinguish victories from challenges that I face living between two countries, languages, and cultures. This place is where my Han lives. Han is an intangible part of all Koreans that reminds us who we are no matter where we are in the world.
It’s difficult to say what Han is exactly, but most importantly Han is rooted in injustice. It is a mixture of unresolved tension and oppression combined with angst, resiliency, hope, and pride. It is simultaneously an abstract concept and an inheritable personality trait that influences how Koreans navigate the world. Han’s meaning has shifted throughout history; it has been used as a justification to oppressed Koreans, a battle cry during political protests, and a demonstration of filial piety at funerals.
One of the manifestations of Han in modern times is reflected in the communal desire for production and perfection. Many Korean high school students spend their waking hours bent over books due to pressure to enter a good university. In a tough job market, professionals must outperform each other not only in their work, but also in the culture of heavy drinking. A significant consequence of this intense lifestyle is chronic stress. Stress for Koreans doesn’t come just from the negative effects of capitalism; an unspoken, deep stress also comes from the unresolved relationship between South Koreans and North Koreans, and the trauma passed down from years of colonialism and oppression from outside forces. In the age of migration, this stress travels across national borders, which reinforces Han’s power through the Korean diaspora. Han causes stress, but stress also causes Han.
The expectation that one individual carries the weight of Han is unreasonable. While individuals do have to face the daily stresses it produces, the collective also shares this weight. When pushed for a definition for Han, Koreans will use different words to describe it. However, when Han is mentioned in a conversation, everyone will nod and understand immediately. The ability for all Koreans to understand Han is how its weight is distributed. This distribution ensures that Han affects everyone, but also allows the community to heal together.
Science has stepped up to provide a possible answer as to how Han has proliferated. Epigenetics is the idea that outside factors, such as your environment, can impact the very fabric of your being, your DNA. Stress is a factor that scientists have shown can be passed down through generations. With deep ties and interactions between Han and stress, it’s easy to see how Han could intersect with epigenetics, allowing it to cross generations, circumstances, and national borders.
Regardless of the possible answers that science may give us about how Han moves across generations, Han passes through the conversations and memories we share with our community. For an idea that is inherently tied deeply to one land, Han has flourished internationally through the Korean diaspora and the wave of Korean cultural influence.
The stories my family tells me are the foundation for my personal history, but it is much more than that. It teaches me how Han affected the lives of my family members, and in turn how that has shaped me. My grandma’s intimate stories of survival in the countryside after the Korean War and my mom’s stories about the protests she attended during one of the most oppressive regimes in Korean history, demonstrate moments of triumph in times of great stress. They show how that stress, pride, and resilience has been passed down to me in the form of Han.
Because most of my family lives in Korea, I spend many hours on planes coming to and from my homes. I spend plane rides thinking about the identity I create as someone on the Korean and Korean-American spectrum. Existing as an immigrant woman in a country that does not embrace people like me, I wonder about the ways my Han lives and shows itself to the world. I imagine it as a plasma-like substance that is both viscous and fluid. It is firmly planted throughout my body. It keeps me safe and strong, yet reminds me of my humanness by letting stress test me at times. I think about the stresses that generations before me faced, had ingrained into their cores, and passed along to me, just one person in the large stream of the beautiful Korean diaspora.
