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By Ellie Goodwin
Having beauty standards is not unique to Korea. Different countries and cultures have their own sets of criteria to determine what is and isn't 'desirable.'
But Korean beauty standards border on the absurd. For women, a slim figure, flawlessly pale skin, distinctive jaw and large, double-lidded eyes are examples of the supposedly attractive ― yet simultaneously unachievable ― features.
For men, considerable emphasis is placed on body types, particularly androgynous or chiseled physiques.
Camilla, who recently moved to Korea from Australia, spoke about her difficulties relocating to a more image-centric country. “I consider myself a healthy weight. Here, I've been told that I'm fat and that I'd look so much better if I lost weight ― just because I don't look like some K-pop star who weighs less than 50 kilograms,” she told The Korea Times.
Unlike its Western counterparts, body positivity is practically non-existent in South Korea, as is appreciation for diversity. The absence of exposure, alongside unrealistic expectations, provokes toxicity for self-image. “To be honest, I have a really bad relationship with my body now,” Camilla added. “I never did before.”
South African-born Trina, who has been living in Korea for three years, gave a succinct description of the prejudice that comes with body standards. “White skin is attractive in Korea,” she said. “I'm not white so, therefore, I'm unattractive.” The rigidity of this mold gives way to a tunneled perspective on what constitutes 'beautiful' with variations of body types, height, weight and skin color receiving the irrevocable branding of 'ugly.'
Charlotte, who is presently on work placement here for a U.S. engineering company, got a rude introduction to the local office culture. “I've been snacking at my workplace and told to stop because I was eating too much,” she said. “The same person then went on to point out another co-worker who never snacked and had such a nice-looking body.”
Commenting on another's eating habits and appearance has been normalized to the extent that it is no longer viewed as a form of body shaming.
“It's so accepted here. I've had people who I would consider friends tell me that my teeth are too big, that I'm too skinny and need to go to the gym. It's sad because my friends really think they're doing me a favor by saying this,” high school teacher Aiden said, adding his concern for the “damage this warped view on what is attractive will have on younger kids.”
For some, attractiveness is equated to success, be it in the form of securing a better job or more lucrative marriage partners. How well a person fits the beauty mold holds as much importance as qualifications, if not more in some cases. Greta Nishan, 23, recalls her takeaways from conversations with Korean friends. “It's like there's a checklist ― I need to be slimmer. After that's done then I need to get smoother skin, and then after that I need to have thicker hair,” she said. “If people tick more boxes, then they're immediately more attractive and they'll get a richer boyfriend or a good job.” This noxious perspective, referred to as “lookism,” thrives in South Korea.
The existence of lookism propels the marketing of beauty products with the promise of quick and easy solutions to help the consumer fulfill what they supposedly lack. Luke Hayman told The Korea Times, “I've had weight-loss tablets given to me. I was told that I needed to lose weight and get some muscle.” When asked how that impacted him, he said, “My self-esteem took a nosedive. I tied a lot of my self-worth into how I looked.” Whether orchestrated subtly by means of marketing or done obtrusively by means of outright comments, it ensures that misguided perceptions of beauty and health are reaffirmed in an individual's subconscious.
The right to comment on another's eating habits and appearance is a byproduct of the Korean monolithic body type, with many adhering to the “this is what you should be” narrative. Unsurprisingly, negative self-image is the inevitable outcome of an institution that parades the 'ideal' while simultaneously reminding the viewer of their supposed shortcomings. In more serious cases, it is a breeding ground for eating disorders.
A woman, who asked to be identified only by the initials E.E, spoke about the deterioration of her well-being. “I was bombarded by so many pictures of tiny Korean girls that I started to become so critical of my own body. I weighed 54 kilograms but thought I was fat. I started overexercising and skipping meals. When I didn't see results, I started making myself throw up.”
One person, wishing to be identified by the surname Wilcox, said, “I developed bulimia. I saw images of women with a flat stomach and wanted that. Of course, nobody mentions that women are not biologically built to have a flat stomach because of our reproductive organs.”
Matthew Kenworthy, 28, spoke candidly about his worsened body image and relationship with food. “I just started to feel guilty whenever I ate which was a first for me. It started off with skipping meals ― drinking more coffee and smoking more cigarettes. And I justified that because it's something that everyone here does ― it's normal,” he said. “Then one night I went out with friends for barbecue, ate so much and felt so guilty about it that I came home and made myself throw up. It was a one-time thing, that turned into once every few weeks, and before I knew it, I was doing it pretty much every day.”
Kenworthy is an example of just how dangerous these virulent body standards can be to a person's well-being. It is the reason why he did not renew his work contract and will be leaving Korea in the upcoming month. “I need to be somewhere that is healthy for me, and that's not Korea,” he said.
Hayman added, “I started mistreating my body. I used laxatives and appetite suppressants. Calorie counting started it all ― everywhere I went there were reminders about how I should be skinny ― I'd go for walks by the river and painted on the footpath were the number of calories I can burn.”
The promotion of this toxic mentality is not constrained to media but is also reflected in local governing schemes. “I went to Damyang and saw what I thought was a wooden sculpture,” recalled Rachel Thiessen. “My friend told me that it actually showed the ideal level of thinness for a person's age ― that if you're thin then you should be able to squeeze through the gap.”
There are many such wooden frame apparatuses across Korea declaring what is the apparent appropriate weight-to-height correlation, without considering different body builds. In some cases, these wooden bars are accompanied with signs like 'How's your belly doing?'
Though the intention is to motivate individuals to adopt a healthier lifestyle, the execution is poor, reiterating again that a certain figure is desirable. It makes addressing body image issues all the more complicated when the government reinforces them.
This homogeneous beauty mold is not compatible with the new emerging Korea, one with increasing global influence and a more multicultural society. Open conversations about the damage these insidious standards can cause is one example which will help to create a gradual perspective shift. Improved media diversity and body empowerment are other ways to help show Korean beauty standards for what they really are: unhealthy and unachievable.
Ellie Goodwin is a teacher who has taught in schools across China, and is currently teaching in Gwangju. She also writes for Gwangju News.