Kim, Sung Kyung (2014). “I am well-cooked food”: survival strategies of North Korean female border-crossers and possibilities for empowerment. Inter-Asia Cultural Studies, 2014, 15 (4), 553–571.
1. Introduction
Although the “feminization of migration” is actually a global trend reflected in overall economic flows (Piper and Roces 2003; Castles and Miller 2003; Parreñas 2001), the high number of females among North Korean border-crossers requires a more nuanced explanation, particularly since North Korean border-crossers are commonly categorized in public discourse as “victims” and/or “refugees” rather than “economic migrants.” [553-554]
This victim discourse is commonly based on the fact that North Korean migrants are likely to be severely punished as traitors once they are repatriated to their home land by the Chinese government. This has been too readily used as the basis for broad assumptions regarding North Korean mobility as a source of human right violations. However, the rapid increase in North Korean mobility—especially by its high proportion of women—cannot be fully explained by the brutal violence of the North Korean regime. Rather, it instead stems from the high demand for women in the borderland between North Korea and China, reflecting the growing economic flows that North Korea, China and South Korea operate as part of a global economic system, and their gendered position within North Korean society that provides relatively more mobility-friendly conditions [554]
2. Towards a more complex, gendered, understanding of North Korean border-crossing
The North Korean government itself condoned border-crossing to some extent until the late 1990s and, unlike in more recent years, did not harshly punish those who did it (Lankov 2004, 871). The number of border-crossers skyrocketed in or around 1999, at which point most did not have any intention of returning to their homeland, preferring to stay in China or even move to third countries, especially South Korea. As a result, the North Korean government began to apply stricter punishments, treating them as political criminals and sentencing them to up to three years in a kwalliso, a political penal labour colony (Hawk 2003). Punishments were variable rather than uniform. For example, penal regulations were changed in 2004 to distinguish between the economic and political motivations for border crossing. Economic migrants were to receive relatively minor punishments, but political defectors, in contrast, were to be charged with treason, subjecting them to extended detention (cited in Chang et al. 2009). Furthermore, the treatment of border-crossers by the government tends to have few fixed principles or legal processes in place, so consequently, this allows a significant number of exceptions to be made. The variability in the application of controls inside the North Korean regime left space for many to escape harsh punishment. “Children or young people might just get a couple of clouts with the hand, while adults face up to three months of forced labour. But with some bribery, even adults are free fairly soon” (Choi 2012). [555]
Their claim was that, given that stricter punishments were bringing overwhelming fear of persecution, North Korean border-crossers must be categorized as refugees sur place.3 The problem of a politics based on oversimplification began at this time. The problem certainly does not lie in “refugee” and “humanrights” discourse per se, but in the use of an oversimplified and overly rigid dis course that gives too little consideration to context and to the specificities of North Korean mobility. It is true that North Korean border-crossers do suffer in detention facilities and that their human rights should not be neglected. However, this approach produces a unified notion of exploitation and punishment by the authoritarian North Korean regime. [555]
Even the issue of legality is blurred. A significant proportion of North Korean border-crossers are permit-holding legal visitors in the beginning, but later extend their stays in China in the absence of legal status. [556]
First, the North Korean government issues permits (pangmunjung in Korean) to visit China for up to 90 days to persons with relatives legally in China, and in recent years, people over 65 have also been able to get this type of permit irrespective of family status. Second, North Koreans can go to China on visas from China. They may apply for such visas only through the North Korean government (North Korea Immigration Control Law No. 2, Article 9 and 10). The government carefully checks the origin and political attitude of applicants and purpose of travel, before handing over the completed visa applications to the Chinese government. The final option for North Koreans to cross the border legally is a travel pass (Tonghangjung in Korean), which is available only for residents of the borderland. Travel passes are interchangeably used as passports and visas for visiting China. Both the North Korean and Chinese governments agree to provide travel passes to North Koreans (including overseas Chinese residing in North Korea) and Chinese (mostly Korean-Chinese living in China) that allow pass-holders to stay on the other side for up to ninety days. [556]
In attempting to redeem the cost of travel documents and maximize the economic benefits from a stay in China, many originally legal North Koreans end up overstaying their permits in China, or even settling there.6 They can work legally, and most of them do so in the caring sector (sanatoriums for the elderly or disabled, nurseries, etc.) or in restau rants. [556]
In addition, there are still significant numbers of smugglers regularly crossing back and forth across the border. Most have close links to border guards and government officials in the borderlands; this is how their cross-border businesses operate smoothly [556]
3. Contextualizing marriage brokers: traffickers or facilitators?
The human trafficking network is divided into two types: informal human trafficking networks and organized crime groups (Kim et al. 2009, 160). Informal human trafficking seems to be based on personal networks involving North Koreans and Korean-Chinese in the borderland; but the better-organized human trafficking networks are crime syndicates involved with Han ethnic Chinese. Marriage migration appears to rely on the informal human trafficking infrastructure; on the other hand, organized networks operate in the sex industry. It is important to bear in mind that most North Korean women are trafficked for marriage rather than sex (Lee 2006). It is not my intention to question whether or not some North Korean border-crossers are trafficked, or whether or not border-crossers are victims of human trafficking. Undoubtedly, a certain number of North Korean border-crossers suffer this fate in the process of migration. [558] However, the over-generalized “trafficked victim” discourse that is applied to North Korean female border-crossers hides a wide spectrum of mobility and ambivalent features across gender. [558-559] In this sense, it is better to deconstruct trafficking stereotypes and carefully unfurl the multi-layered meaning of trafficking in order to contextualize North Korean mobility. [559]
Some of the major problematic issues that surround notions of human trafficking are fraud, deception, force, and/or receipt of payments. In the case of North Korean female border-crossers, there do appear to have been trafficking cases involving force or abduction since the beginning of the 1990s. However, as the economy declined further in the late 1990s, more and more women started to voluntarily contact recruiters, who offered them better life opportunities in China (Kim et al. 2009, 160). [559]
Among North Koreans, these traffickers are better known as “brokers” or “guides,” and not only the women themselves but also their parents contact them for help with border-crossing for both marriage and work (Kim et al. 2009, 163). [559]
4. Becoming a “care worker” in marriage
It can even be argued that marriage is the social institution in which a woman’s labour, especially via domestic work, is most likely to be exploited. Given the blurred distinction between marriage and labour migration, issues of legality and vulner ability should also be considered. [560]
Both marriage and economic North Korean migrants are likely to have no legal status. The constant danger of being repatriated and subsequent punishment exacerbate their vul nerable status, meaning that they tend to prefer those options that provide maximum secur ity. Marriage is one feasible option. To their understanding, marriage, living in a small village and contacting a limited number of people, may be a better option than working in industry, as it makes it easier to hide their illegality. [560]
There are two main groups; marriage migrants from the beginning; and labour migrants who, voluntarily or involuntarily, become marriage migrants later on. The former group migrates to China for marriage, and Korean-Chinese and North Korean brokers in the borderland facilitate their mobility. The latter group migrates to China for temporary workin restaurants, factories and in the care industry, often via relatives and acquaintance networks in the borderland, but later choose to become wives in order to escape low-skilled, poorly paid jobs (cf. McKay in Piper and Roces 2003). [560-561]
Importantly, illegal status often jeopardizes their jobs, so they tend to look for safer and more stable ways to settle; namely, marrying Korean-Chinese or Han Chinese. At the same time, due to the severely imbalanced sex ratio in China, poor and relatively isolated men, most of them farmers in the deep countryside, look for “wives” who can take the role of “wife” as well as “worker.” [561]
Getting a certificate of residence costs around 3,000-10,000 yuan, which could easily be serious money for a farmer in the countryside. It is also common for husbands not to support the process since they are con cerned with the possibility of escape if legal status is obtained (Lee 2010). Because of this, most North Korean women in China are in de facto marriages and are exposed to constant anxiety over their legal status. [561]
However, the more she settled into her new life, the more resentful she became towards her husband and her perceived sense of exploitation, that he was treating her as little more than a worker and a carer for his parents. As her brother-in-law worked in a bank in the town centre, taking care of her elderly parents-in-law was one of the most important roles required of her by her husband and other members of the family.
My husband was very lazy and drank all the time. I was the one who had to work in both the fields and at home… In the end, my brother-in-law was not able to take care of his parents because of his job in town. So my husband [his younger brother] had to take care of their parents.
That is, Case E became a farmer’s wife with multiple roles and tasks: “wife”; “care worker” for the parents-in-law; and a “worker” on the farm. [561]
security and basic survival were two important factors for consideration when they chose to get married, so other conditions, especially double burdens, may not have been too seriously considered in the process.[561-562]
I did not really like him much. I just needed someone who could protect me in China. [...] She clearly realized how limited her agency was, and so saw her body as an important resource for survival in the borderland. [562]
5. Final destination: back to good “daughter,”“sister,” and “mother”
Other cases settled in China also prioritize supporting their families back home. The geographical location of the borderland allows them to remain closely connected to their families and that is the reason why they do not want to migrate to South Korea.
Many South Korean pastors have asked me to go to South Korea. They offer to pay for every thing. Even my husband wants to go to South Korea, but I don’t want to go. In the past, I wanted to be here to keep a connection to my sister in North Korea, but now [since she lost contact with her sister] I have to be here to get any news about her. Also my nephews may come here. I will be waiting for my sister here. [566]
6. Conclusion
On one summer’s day during my ethnographic research, which took place in 2011–12 in Korea and China, I went to a swimming pool with a couple of North Korean women and their children, and we started to talk about marriage and family. One of them spoke very frankly, calling herself “well-cooked food.” By this, she meant that she was capable of survival wherever, under any circumstances, because instrumentalizing her sexuality meant there would always be “men” to appreciate her. In other words, she was “food” ready for “man.” It was her strategy, one that had guaranteed her survival in the harsh environment of mobility. She did not mean that she was passive, being locked in a patriarchal system; rather, that she actively made herself “appreciated” by “men.” It was a survival strategy within her limited agency. In a similar vein, she said she was looking for a South Korean husband on the basis that doing so was the best and quickest way to settle in South Korea. She skilfully subverted the common understanding of marriage in order to survive in the turbulent condition of mobility. [567]