Kyopo: The Spocks and Clark Kents All Around Us

Think about all the television shows starring a human-like being who looks very much like us, but doesn’t understand anything about our culture, or way of life. They bumble their way through, trying (and failing at times) to understand what it means to be one in the crowd, often standing out like a sore thumb. The premise makes for good TV—we have our Clark Kents, Spocks, and Doctor Whos, who at first glance pass as human, but upon close examination, do not truly behave human-ly. And while it is endlessly entertaining to see the ways in which Spock’s Vulcan background causes him to speak stiffly and solve problems with pure logic, or to see Superman try to understand the limitations of humans who aren’t quite as “Super” as him, there also are many episodes dedicated to how lonely it must feel to be the one outlying individual living among millions of others who are largely similar.

This is not too different from what the Kyopo face on a day-to-day basis, especially those who currently live in Korea. Although the Kyopo look very much like your typical Korean, they actually come from completely different cultural backgrounds. Just like Clark Kent, Kyopo often deal with loneliness as they try to fit into the largely homogenous Korean society.

Our Bretheren from Overseas

Who exactly are “Kyopo”? The literal Hanja translation of “Kyopo” is “siblings/brethren from overseas”. Kyopo are part of the Korean diaspora and the term is commonly used to refer to descendants of early emigrants from Korea whose family history stretches back for generations in their countries of residence, or it can refer to recent immigrants who have spent comparatively less time living overseas. Around 84.5% of Kyopo live within 5 countries: China, the US, Japan, Canada, and Uzbekistan, with the US and China hosting the vast majority of Kyopo at around 2.5 million each.

If you consider the fact that the global Kyopo population stands at 7.3 million, compared to the 51.6 million people living in Korea, we can see that the number of Kyopo is nothing to scoff at, and they represent a huge and significant population of ethnic Koreans. This large number of Kyopo is also quite a recent phenomenon, as migration out of Korea was reportedly scarce until the late 19th century. Even then, most of Korea’s migrants would move to China and Russia due to their geographic adjacence. Japan began hosting many Korean immigrants, particularly after the Japanese occupation of Korea, as many Koreans (both forcibly and voluntarily) moved to the Japanese Empire. As for further flung countries like the United States, massive growth in the population of Kyopo was triggered by key historical and political events like the Immigration Reform Act of 1965 (which removed immigration quotas for ethnic groups), and the large number of orphans from the Korean War brought over to the US.

With a significant difference between their new host country and Korea, many Kyopo decide to live in ethnic enclaves within their host countries, in or around huge concentrations of fellow Kyopo. “K-Towns” are the colloquial names given to these areas, where many find a sense of community due to their shared cultural background. Kyopo are better able to provide support for each other within K-Towns, as they face similar pressures and hold similar values. This can include running H-Marts stocked with often “scarcely available” traditional Korean ingredients such as Korean chili paste (Gochujang) and running facilities like Korean-speaking churches, Korean weekend schools, or Taekwondo schools, which are in high demand among Kyopo.

The Complex Identity of Kyopo

As with most ethnic diasporas, Kyopos face seemingly paradoxical pressures. On the one hand, there is the need to adapt to life in their countries of residence; on the other hand, there is the need to feel connected to Korea. Navigating these pressures becomes even more complicated when we consider the varied identities of Kyopo individuals. Some consider themselves citizens of their current nation first and of Korea second; some feel the opposite, and some feel like they are a unique combination of both, with a more fluid ethnic identity.

Physical appearance has also been a serious point of contention over a Kyopo’s “Korean-ness”. In theory, if someone who has a Korean biological parent and has non-Korean-looking physical features wishes to identify as ethnically Korean, they should be allowed to do so. But whether Korean society would be willing to accept an ethnic Korean with “non-Korean features” is certainly still up for debate. The fact that many K-Pop idols with such features have been questioned about their parentage and hounded about their supposed “nation of origin” even when these matters have little relevance suggests that issues of physical appearance are still not a small matter in terms of “being Korean”, with Kyopo not being an exception to this scrutiny and judgement.

Conversely, other Kyopo reference how even though they may look like a “native Korean,” their cover is blown the minute they start speaking Korean. Even with native-level Korean proficiency, because of their detachment from the locals’ mannerisms, slang, and speech patterns, their Korean might sound dated at best and downright offensive at worst. This is especially the case when it comes to honorifics and formalities, as they are explicitly required when speaking to other Koreans on different rungs of the social hierarchy. Many Kyopo cite the common faux pas of accidentally speaking in the wrong formality, with a common example being using annyeong instead of the honorific annyeonghaseyo to a senior. As many Kyopo grow up only speaking limited or informal Korean with their parents and friends, they likely have little experience with flexibly utilizing formal and informal speech in the day-to-day. Transitioning to a much more socially complex conversation style is an uphill battle for Kyopo, as they require more thinking when formulating sentences, even before vocabulary and grammar come into the picture.

Beyond Mere Appearances?

The problems presented earlier seem to be relatively surface level, based on physical appearances, speech, and day-to-day behavior. However, there is a deeper dimension that makes it difficult for Kyopo to find a true sense of belonging even if they “appear Korean” and speak fluent, socially acceptable Korean.

This is mainly because, underlying these conflicts premised on physical differences is a deeper undercurrent of cultural differences that often separate Western countries from Eastern countries. Especially those Kyopo who have received a Western upbringing are exposed to more liberal ideologies than native Koreans are used to. As such, they are faced with a more critical challenge in their day-to-day lives: the problem of clashing cultures, values, and norms. Kyopo may adopt more individualistic orientations, or find it more socially acceptable to express their true thoughts and intentions. One Kyopo exchange student at SNU expressed that though he enjoys talking about politics, he found out that he is unable to do so openly in Korea and expressed shock that it was “taboo to speak about it with others.”

Another Kyopo exchange student expressed that she felt “the differences in perspectives and values create a substantial gap when interacting with native Koreans.” She expressed that while she does value education and academics, she also believes it is important to exercise creativity. She noted that native Koreans tend not to value creativity as much, instead focusing far heavily on academic attainment. Many Kyopo exchange students further expressed the notion that “in the native Korean community, the hierarchical structure is prevalent in every aspect, including the way people address each other and the power dynamics.” With a culture that generally prefers conformity, uniformity, and a strict system of hierarchy, Kyopo with a more liberal orientation may find it difficult to accept these values, given that the culture seems to run completely against Western values of individualism and self-expression.

A clash of values further exacerbates the increasingly prevalent stereotypes about Kyopo spread amongst native Koreans, who sometimes use the term “Kyopo” itself with a negative connotation. In these contexts, instead of being an objective point of reference, the term can act as a label that is associated with the stereotypical emigrant who has lost touch with their Korean roots as a result of staying overseas. A Kyopo, in the negative sense, is thought to have adopted laissez-faire values incompatible with traditional Korean ones. As such, some instead prefer to use the term dongpo, meaning “brethren,” to emphasize the close connections among various overseas groups, even though “Kyopo” is still the more colloquially used and instantly recognizable term.

Lowering the Entry Barrier for Kyopo

It seems like Korea is a place where the entry barrier is high. Looking the part only scratches the surface. The road to Korean-ness"" is seemingly scattered with various hurdles that Kyopo need to jump over: native-level proficiency in the language, a full understanding of the social hierarchy, a willingness to compromise or even give up their values altogether. Some feel that if they stumble over any one of these, the entry barrier to Korean society will grow taller, out of reach. All this coupled together makes it a difficult space for Kyopo trying to find a sense of warmth and comfort. The question now is: how can we help to break down Korea’s prickly exterior and help Kyopo to find a sense of home in Korea?

There is no one simple answer, but being more open to having honest conversations and trying to understand, even if it is difficult to relate to the mixed identity that Kyopo have, are all small steps in the right direction. Kyopo exchange students do acknowledge that they “have a more westernized perspective compared to native Koreans,” but crucially, they display great pride in stating that “[their] roots still lie in Korean culture and values”. Perhaps instead of focusing on the differences between Kyopo and native Koreans, the better way to approach this would be to harken back to the original definition of Kyopo, as “siblings/brethren from overseas”.

Imagine if your sibling were to travel overseas. They may change their appearances to fit into the local environment, and may even have a shift in worldviews stemming from their different experiences. They may even come back as a completely changed person that you may have trouble recognizing. But this doesn’t mean that you pick on these changes, however drastic they are, or that you treat them differently because of that. In fact, there is much more room to find interest in their different ways of life and to ask them questions about their time overseas, understanding their differences instead of shunning them. As “siblings from overseas,” Kyopo wish to be welcomed, have their differences understood, and be guided patiently as they find their own unique personal space in a Korea that is so foreign yet so homely to a Kyopo. As brethren and kindred spirits who have more in common than different, Koreans and Kyopo need to make earnest attempts to bridge this gap, because it is only with well-intentioned, kind gestures that the road to acceptance and inclusion is gradually paved. "