Koreans tend to stereotype people based on their hometown and alma mater. When two people meet for the first time in Korea, they usually ask, “Where are you from?” and “What school did you graduate from?” Once, you know the other’s home province, you no longer see him; you see his hometown, and your perception is tinged with regional prejudice. Likewise, once you know his alma mater, all you see is the prestige of his school, not the inner quality of the person. In Korea, therefore, you are invisible because you are nothing but a walking signboard, a sandwich man who flashes his hometown on his front and his alma mater on his back.

In his seminal novel, “Invisible Man,” Ralph Ellison points out that African-Americans are invisible in American society because of racial stereotyping. The protagonist of the novel laments: “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.”

Sixty-five years have passed since Ellison lamented the absurd situation, and yet regrettably stereotyping based on racial, regional or religious differences, not to mention educational background, is still rampant in our society. Ageism is also rampant in Korean society. Koreans seem to think that all old people are hopelessly conservative and obsolete. That is why some inconsiderate politicians assert that those who are over sixty-five should not be allowed to vote or run for a public office. In Korean society, stereotyping is ubiquitous. For example, if you do not drink, you will be immediately labeled an “unmanly, narrow-minded, difficult man to approach or socialize,” which is also far from the truth. Uneducated or illiterate people, too, stereotype learned people, saying, “All intellectuals are liars. They always deceive us, don’t they?”

These days, America seems to resemble Korea. Recently, the press reported that the Trump administration decided to launch a 90 day ban on all entry to the United States from countries with terrorism “concerns,” which applies to seven nations: Iran, Iraq, Syria, Yemen, Libya, Sudan and Somalia. The news did not come as a stunning blow, as President Donald Trump vowed to eradicate terrorism from the face of the earth during his campaign. Nevertheless, people are protesting because not all Muslims are terrorists and there could be a considerable number of pro-American people in those countries. President Trump denied the allegation that the executive order discriminated against Muslims, thereby violating the US Constitution that guarantees religious freedom. Even assuming what he said was right, we still should avoid stereotyping people according to our preconceptions.

In Don Lee’s novella, “Yellow,” the protagonist Danny often encounters stereotyping in American society. When Danny visits his girlfriend, her grandma assumes that Danny is one of the boat people from Southeast Asia. Although Danny is introduced to her as an American who was born in the States, the grandma keeps telling him, “Welcome to America!”

There is a more subtle racial stereotyping, disguised as a compliment. Danny encounters a white woman, Maggie Hartman. Finding out Danny is a Korean-American, she praises that the Korean-Americans are so diligent that they get up so early in the morning to secure fresh vegetables to sell at their grocery stores. She also praises Korean’s passion for education and eagerness to send their children to prime universities. Beneath a thin veneer of her condescending praise, however, there lies stereotyping and preconception that Koreans are those who sell groceries and who are preoccupied with sending their children to Ivy League colleges.

In “Voir Dire,” another story by Don Lee, public lawyer Hank Low Kwon grapples with his defense of a Chinese-American cocaine addict named Lam, who is accused of beating his girlfriend’s child to death. Lam assumes that Hank is Chinese. Racial stereotyping, which is an inevitable dilemma of the minorities in white American society, is rampant in this story. A subtle, but all too familiar racial issue is raised by Hank’s girlfriend, Molly, who says, “Do you think that they assigned this case to you because you’re Asian?”

The point Molly tries to make here is that American society hires Asian-American lawyers mostly for the purpose of dealing with the Asian community. The problem is that while it seems to be a thoughtful consideration, it could also stereotype Asian-Americans; that is, you Asians are different from us, so you take care of each other. Hank ponders such prejudice-ridden cliches as “ABC,” that is, “American-born Chinese.” It is undeniable that to the eyes of white Americans, all Asians look alike and thus invariably called Chinese.

We want to be seen as the person that we are. We do not want to be seen as a stereotype.


By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. He can be reached at sukim@snu.ac.kr. -- Ed.