SEOUL â€" Young Chun is hardly the only U.S. citizen working as an English language teacher in South Korea. But he may the only one who landed the job after being forcibly recruited by the South Korean armed forces â€" and then shipped off to Afghanistan.
Chun, 36, was born in the United States and grew up in Seattle, Washington. As one of the only Asian-Americans in his school, he remembers being bullied and discriminated against. â€œWhen I was in the States, I thought if I go to Korea, Iâ€™ll fit in," he recalls. "But once I got to Korea, I realized I donâ€™t fit in at all."
Chun first came here in 2002 â€" mostly for economic reasons, but also in search of identity. Because he didnâ€™t really speak the language or know the customs, he felt even more of an outsider than he had back in Seattle.
And yet much to his surprise, Chun also discovered â€" while filling out paperwork at a local government office â€" that he was as much South Korean, legally speaking, as he was American. "I went up to the counter and the officer said, "You canâ€™t get a visa. Youâ€™re Korean." It was a shock to me. It was news to my mom as well," he says. "It was the first time I ever heard that I had Korean citizenship as well.â€
"Life was miserable"
Chun still isn't sure who in his family registered his birth in South Korea. What he did find out is that South Korean citizenship comes with a price for men. Due to North Koreaâ€™s ongoing military threat, all South Korean males must put their lives on hold for about two years to serve in the military.
At first he was in denial about the prospect. But then some ominous notices showed up in the mail. â€œOne was the draft paper and the other was a notice from the Ministry of Justice saying that I couldnâ€™t leave the country," he says. "I was just really confused. Going to the army was never really a possibility in my mind until that point when I saw that paper. I started calling people and they were like, "Well thereâ€™s nothing you can do about it now.""
Chun says the US Embassy in Seoul was no help. He fantasized about sailing to Japan under the cover of darkness. Then a friend gave him some advice â€" join the U.S. Army instead. Chun enlisted and was about to get on a plane back home to start training. But then South Korean authorities pulled him out of line at the airport on a U.S. base here. Turned out Uncle Sam couldnâ€™t save him either.
Chun was then dropped off at the South Korean armyâ€™s boot camp and later sent to a base in the city of Daegu. â€œLife was miserable in Daegu, I was so frustrated," he says. "People were picking on me, teasing me, making fun of me, yelling at me." Chun says that what really made him stand out was the difficulty he had speaking Korean. â€œMy pronunciation, my pronunciation was awful," he says. "And I couldnâ€™t really speak a whole sentence.â€
Dropped in a war zone
In order to get away from the torment, even though his language skills werenâ€™t very good, he signed up to be a Korean-to-English interpreter and was sent to what was then one of the most hostile battlefields in the world: Afghanistan.
Chun deployed to the U.S. Air Force's Bigram Airfield, where South Korean troops fought as a part of the coalition against the Taliban. Upon arrival, he was given a bulletproof vest and an ammo-less rifle. A fellow interpreter had recently been killed and alarms signaling incoming fire were an almost daily occurrence.
Chun got used to the strange environment. But he says his Korean comrades never got used to him. He remembers once when an Korean soldier introduced him to a visiting U.S. soldier. "This is Young, heâ€™s almost American," the Korean said. "And the U.S. soldier was like, "What does he mean by almost American?"" Chun recalls.
"Later in the deployment, I was working in the office and another officer came up and said, "Oh wow. Youâ€™re almost Korean now." I thought thatâ€™s really weird: Iâ€™m not American, Iâ€™m not Korean. In their eyes I am not sure how they saw me,â€ he says.
Free at last, and no regrets
Chun returned to South Korea after his six-month stint in Afghanistan. And in 2006, his conscription finally came to an end. â€œFirst of all, just stepping outside of that gate was amazing," he recalls. "Just knowing that was the last time that I would never have to go back again. One thing they told me the day I was getting discharged is that I would have to give up one of my citizenships, because I finished my military service, Iâ€™d have to give up one.â€
The choice was a no brainer. So after going through the quintessential experience of being a South Korean man, Chun renounced his South Korean citizenship. He left Korea to travel and see his family back home.
And yet a year later, Chun came back to Seoul and enrolled in grad school here. He now teaches English at one of the top universities to get by while he focuses on his true passion: fiction writing. He also wrote a non-fiction account of his experiences, a recently self-published book called The Accidental Citizen Soldier.
Looking back he says he doesnâ€™t regret his two-year stint in South Koreaâ€™s military â€" in part because it helps him better understand what his male students go through, but also because the experience gave him time to ponder the issue of identity.
â€œReally Iâ€™ve gotten to a point where I just donâ€™t care about identity anymore," he says. "I came to the conclusion that maybe there is no one place, and I am fine with that.â€
A court in Spain usurps custody of the one-year-old boy living with his mother in the "deep" part of the Galicia region, forced to instead live with his father in the southern city of Marbella, which the judge says is "cosmopolitan" with good schools and medical care. Women's rights groups have taken up the mother's case.
A Spanish court has ordered the withdrawal of a mother's custody of her one-year-old boy because she is living in the countryside in northwestern Spain, where the judge says the child won't have "opportunities for the proper development of his personality."
The case, reported Monday in La Voz de Galicia, has sparked outrage from a women's rights association but has also set off reactions from politicians of different stripes across the province of Galicia, defending the values of rural life.
Judge María Belén Ureña Carazo, of the family court of Marbella, a city on the southern coast of 141,000 people, has ordered the toddler to stay with father who lives in the city rather than with his mother because she was living in "deep Galicia" where the child would lack opportunities to "grow up in a happy environment."
Front page of La Voz de Galicia - October 25, 2021
Front page of La Voz de Galicia - Monday 25 October, 2021
Better in a "cosmopolitan" city?
The judge said Marbella, where the father lives, was a "cosmopolitan city" with "a good hospital" as well as "all kinds of schools" and thus provided a better environment for the child to thrive.
The mother has submitted a formal complaint to the General Council of the Judiciary that the family court magistrate had acted with "absolute contempt," her lawyer told La Voz de Galicia.
The mother quickly accumulated support from local politicians and civic organizations. The Clara Campoamor association described the judge's arguments as offensive, intolerable and typical of "an ignorant person who has not traveled much."
The Xunta de Galicia, the regional government, has addressed the case, saying that any place in Galicia meets the conditions to educate a minor. The Socialist party politician Pablo Arangüena tweeted that "it would not hurt part of the judiciary to spend a summer in Galicia."
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