Abstract
She began to swim toward the glistening blue whale, which moved gracefully, slapping its tail and spouting a fountain of water. But no matter how far she swam, she couldn’t get close to the creature. Though its tail waved right in front of her and its shiny skin glistened in front of her nose, the whale was still a distance away (p. 53).
Set in Korean Confucian and patriarchal society from before the Korean War to industrialization, this multi-generational saga follows the lives of three women—an unnamed old crone, Geumbok, and Chunhui—who are commonly subjected to oppression, discrimination, and violence as a result of their intersecting social identities. Whale was originally published in 2004 in Korean. Nearly two decades later, the English translation was released to gain recognition from a broader audience, yet some may find gender-related issues posed by the book to be outdated. This review will examine the strengths and weaknesses of the book by focusing from a feminist perspective on the gendered experiences of the three characters.
The novel connects interlocking structures of power, oppression, and privilege with social identities, such as class, gender, and (dis)ability. Chunhui, born to a beggar woman Geumbok, occupies the bottom of the social caste system lacking hope for upward mobility. Chunhui’s strong unfeminine build (i.e. enormous body, thick eyebrows, dark complexion, and stubby nose) becomes an object of curiosity, pity, and contempt. Her inability to speak makes her seem to others as a lesser human, and people often refer to her as an animal. While Chunhui suffers from these complex burdens, society restricts her agency and overlooks her strengths, such as her ability to empathize with and care for others and to see beauty in ordinary sights, objects, and phenomena. Ironically, these qualities are valued by mainstream Korean culture for virtuous women.
Whale is particularly impactful in its recognition of disability as a socially constructed identity that compounds discrimination, marginalization, exploitations, and subjugation. At the same time, it makes visible the typically unseen privilege of normalcy. In a relatively racially and ethnically homogeneous society like Korea, intersectionality usually concerns gender and social class even though disabled individuals represent the largest minority group in the country. Disability is perceived as a separate category that rarely interacts with other social identities. Rather, it is understood in Korea to be an obstacle to be overcome with strong willpower. However, following the tragic life of Chunhui, Whale reveals how disability is socially constructed through a dichotomized language of normalcy and deviation, and how society can intensify the marginalization and isolation of people with obvious disabilities in an intricate web of social identities.
Cheon superbly highlights how women’s bodies are objectified, first through men’s sexually motivated gaze (e.g. the old crone is “so small and ugly that not a single man gave her a second look” (p. 23)). Women in the book are divided into two groups—those deserving men’s gazes and those underserving—based on their physicality and sexuality. This gaze is critically important to these women because it provides them with access to certain resources and determines their worth as women within a patriarchal society. Whale devotes many pages to describing women’s bodies as inconsequential commodities for trade, equal to two jugs of honey and a sack of rice, for example. Women are also treated like dolls to be preened and maintained for men’s pleasure. Resisting the limitations of being a woman, Geumbok chooses to transform herself into a man of power—her own whale. He then pampers his girlfriend Suryeon, a run-away prostitute whom he purchased for a price, with expensive clothes and jewelry for his own pleasure. The book aptly illustrates how body objectification makes women vulnerable to exploitation, abuse, and violence. In addition, the book describes a prison warden who wants to preserve Chunhui in alcohol for her unusual physique. Cheon, however, shows how subjugation and powerlessness in Korean society ultimately silences women, preventing them from challenging this objectification.
A major weakness of Whale is that it overemphasizes differences between men and women, giving the impression that gender inequality is natural and unchangeable. Additionally, when Geumbok changes her gender identity to elevate her social position, her change is accepted without external resistance, when likely such a change would invite bigotry and discrimination. Lastly, the book repeatedly represents male and female characters in restrictive gender stereotypical roles. Men are often described as lacking emotional sophistication and intelligence, or as sexual predators, whereas women are portrayed as bitter, cold-hearted, and concerned only with personal success. Sisterhood is rarely represented in the book. However, these limitations may reflect socio-cultural conditions of earlier times that subscribed to an essentialist understanding of gender.
Whale has important implications for Korean feminists and educators in advancing gender-related issues. Korean feminists often face harsh criticism because of their failure to include other social identities in the mainstream feminist movement. As a result, they do not gain attention from the general public and limit the movement to privileged groups. This book can serve as a guidepost for discussing and expanding inclusion. The descriptions of body objectification suggest that educating women about its detrimental consequences is urgent and would help them exercise agency in their lives. Whale provides a unique view of Korean gender issues and contributes to the ongoing discussion about sexism. Overall, it is an excellent addition to the collection of social work readings.
