I’ve had the privilege of living in three different countries I could truly call home. By “home,” I mean a place where I unpacked my life and settled in for more than three years. Over the years, I’ve also traveled widely and have now lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years. I have lived in different cities across America, but my current city is the most diverse. I live in a neighborhood filled with immigrants from all corners of the globe.
On my block, there are, of course, families who have lived in the U.S. their entire lives. But many of my other neighbors are from Mexico, Nepal, India, Taiwan, China and Korea. My daughter’s closest friends have parents from Nepal, China, Thailand, Japan, Peru, Colombia, and Korea. This multicultural patchwork has shaped our daily life in ways I never imagined.
Between Pride and Disillusionment
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my friends with diverse backgrounds, it’s that “home” is always complicated. It evokes pride and nostalgia while also triggering frustration and disillusionment. This is probably because no nation is a simple monolith—each place is a patchwork of beauty and chaos, pride and disappointment.
Korea, the first country I called home, is no different—and yet, at times, its contradictions feel even more dramatic than those of other places. Depending on which aspect you focus on, Korea can seem like a miraculous success story or a suffocating place that many feel desperate to escape.
The Many Faces of Korea
Korea is known by many different labels:
“Miracle on the Han River”
Korea’s transformation from war-torn poverty to a booming economy is legendary. In just a few decades, the country vaulted onto the global stage with an economic vigor once thought impossible.
Fair and Just Korea? – Justice in Unexpected Places
Outsiders are often stunned by Korea’s track record of sending both former and sitting presidents to prison. Some even see it as proof that Korea is a truly fair society.
All of my Korean friends (yes, ALL, and I am not exaggerating) are outraged by government corruption. Yet, my non-Korean friends sometimes express admiration, calling Korea “surprisingly just.” One friend was particularly struck by BTS’s mandatory military enlistment—a stark contrast to her own country, where military service is determined by lottery. She insisted that if BTS were in her homeland, they would undoubtedly receive an exemption, and no one would question it. The fact that even global superstars are not above the law left her amazed, seeing it as a rare example of genuine fairness. (If you have any Korean friend and ask them about the issue of celebrities and military service, they will tell you the long history behind South Koreans’ very determined attitude toward this. Maybe, I can share this in my blog some time.)
K-Culture & Cutting-Edge Tech
K-Pop, K-Dramas, and K-Movies have catapulted Korean pop culture into every corner of the world, as seen in global phenomena like BTS, Squid Game, Parasite, and more. Household names like Samsung and LG, renowned for their cutting-edge electronics, along with Hyundai, one of the world’s major automakers, further cement Korea’s image as a hub of innovation and technological progress.
Green and Clean
Visitors frequently marvel at Korea’s meticulous approach to recycling and composting. According to OECD rankings, Korea is second only to Germany in its dedication to waste separation and eco-friendly practices.
Spice Fiends
Kimchi is practically considered a mild side dish in Korea. Fiery “bul-dak” (불닭,“fire chicken”) noodles from Korea are now a global sensation and can easily be found in U.S. supermarkets. One viral tweet in Japan even warned people never to trust a Korean who says, “It’s not that spicy”—because, in the Korean culinary universe, “not spicy” is still blisteringly hot by most standards.
A Nation Raising Unhappy Children and Exhausted Youth
Korea is often known as a country that relentlessly pushes children to study, depriving them of sleep and free time. It has earned a reputation for its harsh education system, where students juggle late-night cram schools, convenience store meals, and grueling academic schedules.
In 2013, Le Monde reported that Korea had “the most unhappy students in the world”. Two years later, in 2015, NPR also wrote about “The All-Work, No-Play Culture of South Korean Education.”
Nearly a decade has passed since these reports, but the situation remains the same—if not worse. According to a 2018 report by the Korea Development Institute (KDI), 81% of Korean college students described their high school years as “a life-or-death battlefield,” a figure nearly twice as high as in China or the U.S. The pressures of this system run so deep that 39% of Koreans aged 13 to 39 have considered emigrating. Many of them refer to their homeland as “Hell Joseon”—a term reflecting the disillusionment of young Koreans trapped in an unforgiving society.
A Nation on the Brink of Disappearance
For years, international media focused on Korea’s extreme education culture. But at some point, the conversation shifted—to a crisis of plummeting suicide and birth rates. In a country where more people want to die, and fewer want to have children, Korea is facing an existential crisis.
Journalist Colin Marshall, who has written extensively about Korea in publications like The New Yorker and Los Angeles Review of Books, recently published a book in Korean, No Summary of Korea Allowed (한국요약금지). In his book, he wrote, “Every journalist covering Korea will, at some point, must write about suicide. Not only does Korea have one of the highest suicide rates in the world, but the act of suicide is also deeply intertwined with various aspects of Korean society.”
While youth suicide rates are declining globally, Korea’s suicide rate continues to rise. Among OECD countries, Korea has the fourth-highest suicide rate, and the numbers are even more alarming for specific demographics: Korea has the highest elderly suicide rate among OECD nations, and for people in their teens to 30s, suicide is the leading cause of death.
At the same time, fewer people are getting married, and even fewer are having children. Korea now holds the world’s lowest birth rate, with a staggering 0.7 births per woman—a number that signals a nation quietly vanishing.
Why Write About Korea?
All these facets prompt the question: What does it really mean to be born in Korea and grow up there? What are the elements that shape this country so profoundly that it can simultaneously be an economic miracle and a place some call hell on Earth?
For those of us who have lived in Korea, the contradictions are daily realities. And for those trying to understand it from the outside, there’s a lot to learn—both cautionary tales and inspiring stories. Perhaps this is one reason I want to write about Korea: to explore these extremes and see what lessons might be gleaned without having to pay the price of mistakes ourselves.
In upcoming pieces, I’ll provide more cultural and historical context to paint a fuller picture of growing up in Korea. My goal is to utilize as many sources as possible that have not been translated into English, offering fresh insights and lesser-known perspectives. I’ll explore the tapestry of factors that have made Korea both an inspiring economic miracle and a crucible of immense pressure.
Thank you for reading. If you found this interesting, consider subscribing to my Substack to follow along with the rest of the series (It’s a free subscription!). I’d love to hear your thoughts, questions, and experiences as we delve into the nuanced world of Korea.
