WITNESS UNBOWED
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hy am I writing about Korean comfort women?
I am a Korean American woman who came to the United States as a
graduate student. I was born in northern Korea while Japan ruled our
country, made us change our names to Japanese, speak their language, and
worship their emperor. In the spring of 1945, my chest bubbling with the
happy feelings of an enthusiastic first grader, I was playing a popular game
with five small stones, throwing them into the air and placing them in sets.
The animated chatter and laughter of girls, as I recall, spread through the
schoolyard like a symphony of spring.
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"It's bad enough that Japan committed such a
horrendous crime against humanity but it is even worse to avoid responsibility for the wrong you
committed."
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A Japanese teacher suddenly grabbed my arm and jerked me to my
feet. "You are speaking Korean!" "Of course, I am!" I said, fearful but with
pride. She took me to a huge teacher's room. I was ordered to stand by a
window where everybody could see me, stretch my arms upward like a
surrendering soldier, and repent! One by one, the teachers went home.
When the evening dusk started to set in the sky, I was told to go home. On
the way, I was met by my mother, who ran toward me from a distance. Only
at the touch of her hand and the sound of her gentle voice did I begin to cry.
Living in America, I, like many others, decided to let my past be. The
war and the colonial experience of both victims and victimizers has been
largely repressed, buried with anger or sorrow. Most Americans of Asian
roots whose ancestors experienced the horrendous atrocities committed by
Japan do not know about that "uncomfortable past" and perhaps they don't
care to learn. We were born in America, what do we have to do with that?
Let's deal with the pressing issues here.
This is, however, one of the pressing issues of America and indeed of
the world. The story of the Second World War is not just about problems
between the European/American powers and Japan; it was not just a war
between yellow and white. It was also yellow against yellow. It was about
what Japan did to fellow Asians and others under the pretext of emancipating
the Asian race from Western imperialism. This is a neglected story. Further,
if America is truly a nation of immigrants from different roots, we Americans
must attempt to understand each other's roots, each other's history.
The story of comfort women is a neglected aspect of war, of human
rights violations, and of human brutality. Equally important, it is an ignored
issue of gender. Further, it is a story of mostly Asian women from
predominantly poor and uneducated families, a case of triple discrimination
and neglect.
In August 1995, I went to the NGO Forum on Women in China held in
conjunction with the Fourth World Conference on Women to help place the
issue of Japanese military sexual slavery before the eyes of the world. On the
fourth of September, I attended the International Symposium on Violence
Against Women in War and Armed Conflicts and was honored to translate the
testimony of a former comfort woman from South Korea, Chung Seo Woon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dai Sil Kim-Gibson is an independent filmmaker and
writer. In 1993 she directed Sa-i-ku: From Korean Women's Perspectives, a
documentary video about Korean immigrant women and the 1992 Los
Angeles Riots. Her latest project was a 60-minute documentary about the
Coreans taken to Sakhalin by the Japanese as forced laborers during World
War II and abandoned in the Soviet Union. Her forthcoming book is
tentatively entitled Broken Memories of Comfort: Korean Comfort
Women. That book is the basis of a documentary which Kim-Gibson is
currently producing. Upon completion it will be broadcast nationally by PBS.
Kim-Gibson was born in Korea. She lives and works in the Hudson Valley
region of New York State.
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At age seventy-five, with lines of age on her face, she still exuded
dignity and beauty. As she went to the podium, I disappeared into a
translation booth.
"I was born an only daughter with no sons in a family of a well-to-do
landowner in southern Korea," she started. Her voice flew out like a quiet
stream. I listened to her every word and put them into English with my
heart's devotion. "Half a century has passed since the time when every day
was a dreadful nightmare for me, but Japan still tells lies and avoids
responsibility. How can they do that in the presence of myself and many
others like me, victims who are alive and kicking? The seed the Japanese
planted, the evil seed, they must harvest no matter how dreadful if they wish
to be part of the human race. Don't you believe so?" Loud applause. "Then
they say, 'For all those poor Asians, we will raise private funds and help.' I
have a message for you. I might be poor, but not that poor. I demand the
compensation that is rightly due to me, even if I would burn the money after
it's in my hand. It is not a matter of money but of principle. The Japanese
defiled my body but not my spirit. My spirit is strong, rich, and proud."
With the thunderous applause, I took off my headphones and stepped out of
the booth. She stood by the podium with her head lifted high in front of the
people who honored her with a standing ovation. With my arms around her,
we came down together and sat in the front row of seats.
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