Prior to visiting Korea, I was told by one of my orientation leaders that I do not look Korean (something new and different) but my hair was clearly Korean...thick, beautiful, and black. Well, I would add one more characteristic to that list and it is something that I would rarely to never associate with Koreans...curly. I would say that my generalization held true for the most part, but there were a special group of ladies who took Korean hair to a whole new level. Look out Ogilvy, there's a new boss in town, and she has hair that could make a poodle duck for cover. Hello adjuma!
The first picture is really the best example of what I'm talking about. The second is a picture of my colleague Jill and I having fun with the adjuma visors at the Korean version of Walmart. :-) In the literal sense, adjuma generally refers to a Korean woman who is married. However, in the stereotypical sense, it refers to many of the elderly women of Korea who have adopted a certain look, after establishing their mark on Korean society. After all, these women have raised their children, lived with their Korean husbands and weathered the growing modernization and youth culture of Korea. Since there is still a clear ancestral and hierarchical approach to life in Korea, as determined by your age, I was left with the sense that I should always be respectful and wary of the adjumas. Whether it was being pushed in the subway, shoved out of doorways, etc. these women were not to be reckoned with. Of course, the first time I saw a supposed adjuma, I was thinking "why in the world are people so intimidated by these women?" Many of them are collectively about 5" tall and look as if they would (or could) not harm a fly. Despite the dirty looks I received from many of them while riding the subway, etc. I didn't see what the big deal was. Of course, that was until I was plowed over by a 90 lb. woman with a perm, trying to get in the door at one of the malls in Dongdaemun. Apparently, I wasn't moving quickly enough. She was vicious. For those of you who know me, I am not a small woman and not easily moved. That adjuma made quick work of me, though. As a hot-headed American, my immediate response was to return the favor by pushing her back or sharing some less than friendly words, but then I remembered that this woman is in some ways, a national symbol of Korea and she is probably about 100 years old, so it would not be the most desirable reaction. Given my history, I'm sure my husband can appreciate this, lol.
Hats off to the established, elderly women of Korea. In a male-dominated society, you've managed to command a clear level of respect and given the many challenges and
life experiences you've had, you are survivors and, in some ways, heroes. Keep fighting the good fight.
As an aside, I'd like to set the record straight for my adorable and dear friend Yoon--I may be an adjuma, on some level (and I embrace that), but I do not need a perm and an enormous visor to leave my mark on society. I stand alone. <3
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