Monday, November 7, 2011

Beauty is in the (double) eye(lids) of the beholder

Comparing yourself to others, especially cross-culturally, can warp your self-image. After 2 ½ years in Cambodia, it makes less and less sense to me that Americans enjoy looking tan. While I don’t approve of the skin-whitening products ubiquitous here (no FDA = some are quite dangerous), my appreciation is growing for people’s natural skin tone – including my own pale skin. Sometimes I catch myself wishing my eyes and hair were darker, a thought that never really occurred to me earlier. I struggle not to envy my students’ luxurious, silky black hair that never seems to frizz. I think many Cambodian girls are truly lovely, making us American girls look commonplace and plain by comparison. Still, it’s taken me a while to realize to what extent Western standards and ideals have influenced Asians, particularly Koreans. 

Yes, the “whiter is prettier” value is pretty hard to miss, and as far as I know, it’s true across Asia. But Koreans (and other Northeast Asians?) have added a number of other criteria that yield one unified standard of beauty in Korea. The Korean girls considered “most beautiful” seem to vary in little except hairstyle. By the way, Koreans have a reputation for being naturally good-looking as a country, so it’s intriguing to me that their standards are so specific. 

*Disclaimer: in writing critically about Korean standards, I do NOT mean to let the US off the hook. Americans’ obsession with beauty has led to rampant materialism, eating disorders, etc. I’m convinced that US media are partially to blame for modern Asians’ view of beauty. However, I think the US allows for more variety in traits considered beautiful.* 

Unlike Cambodians, about 80% of Koreans have narrow eyes, which they refer to as a “single eyelid” - Korean has a specific word for it. This is considered ugly; everyone wants a double eyelid, opening their eyes wider. Double eyelids can be attained in two ways. I’ve known for a while that plastic surgery was common and a simple procedure – essentially ALL Korean stars have had it done, as well as many “ordinary” Koreans. (I’m glad I don’t know which of my students have had it done, but I’m sure several have.) “It’s not even considered surgery,” a Korean was quoted as saying in this recent article. Option #2, I just learned, is a special temporary glue that creates the same look for a few hours. This film clip shows a high school student demonstrating its use. Actors and actresses are even commonly required to wear contacts while filming that create the illusion of bigger eyes. During my last layover in Japan, my friend Yumiko and I visited a photo booth...it automatically made our skin paler and enlarged our eyes about 30%. 

The other “problem” with Koreans’ appearance is a bit harder to solve. Many Koreans are very self-conscious about their faces being round or square, rather than oval. They feel that their faces are just too big. There are at least two home remedies for this. One is sleeping on your side, rather than on your back, and alternating sides in hopes that your chin will become pointier. I’ve heard Korean moms sometimes recommend this to their children. The other is using cheek rollers, which supposedly smooth out your cheeks and make them less round or chubby. I know some of my students have been borrowing each other’s cheek rollers lately, so they seem to place some confidence in this technique. 

The more long-term solution is drastic: double-jaw surgery rearranging your jaw and chin. Plastic surgery is a major phenomenon, with 4000 clinics offering it in Seoul. Nose jobs are also common – many women dislike their naturally flatter noses and want ones that are more sharply defined. One in five women have undergone plastic surgery for their jaws, noses, etc. Korea is so competitive about everything - academics, music, appearance, social status – and surgery is seen as a way to get an edge. Reading this article on the topic yesterday made me sad, and also reminded me of a quote from the Korean drama I’ve been watching. “Beauty is always something you can achieve,” a teacher divulges to an overweight girl. “There are no ugly women, only lazy women.” 

At Logos, we’re encouraging girls to have confidence in their inner beauty and find their identities in Christ. Only recently have I realized that I have most of the traits they dream of – double eyelids, a pointy chin and nose, and white skin – in spite of my own insecurities about my self-image. I’m growing in my understanding of what an uphill battle they’re in, and rejoicing to realize how far some have come from these twisted attitudes. My mom says they need their own version of the “Black is Beautiful” movement: maybe “Asian is Attractive”? I’m working, one day at a time, to lead by example in accepting ourselves the way God made us – hair, eyes, chin, and all.

Being a TCK means...

Well, it means being a Third Culture Kid. What’s that? Traditionally, it’s when your parents are from one country, but you grow up temporarily in another country, planning to return to your parents’ country at some point. Therefore, two countries’ cultures strongly influence your childhood and identity.

But it can become much more complicated: I’ve known Cambodian children raised by adoptive American parents in Cambodia, Koreans who have lived in three or four countries but never spent more than a month in Korea, and even a friend in college whose parents were German and Filipino, but who grew up in Hong Kong, Brazil, and America.

To some extent, every one of my students is a Third Culture Kid, because a Cambodian attending an American school with international classmates sees the world differently than his or her Cambodian peers. TCKs have unique strengths and challenges. If you’re one of my students, here’s how being a TCK might affect you:

-The grandma that raised you for five years is in a coma in another country; you’re staying home alone with your cousins while your parents visit her.

-You want to tell your mom about Jesus, but even though you’ve studied Khmer in school and always speak it at home, you don’t know the formal language required to talk about God and royalty. When you try to use more everyday language, it doesn’t make sense to her.

-You know two or three other languages as well or better than your “native” language.

-You’re Cambodian and have never been to Korea, but you know how to write your friends notes in Korean.

-One of your Khmer friends suddenly starts staring at your face. “I’ve never really looked at an African nose before,” she tells you. You’re biracial American.

-You have to miss your senior trip for a “visa run” – a trip to the border to renew your visa.

-Your Filipino peers have started college this year, since they finish high school in grade 10. You’re just now returning to the Philippines, missing the last two years of school with your Logos friends, struggling to regain academic Tagalog after seven years away, and a grade behind your Filipino peers.

-You're Korean, Singaporian, or Malaysian, living in Cambodia, but you get nostalgic for the Dominican Republic, America, Pakistan, or Vietnam more often than for your "native" country.

-Your parents live in a town with no international school, so you’ve been living on your own with your siblings for years to attend Logos. When the school gives your parents an ultimatum – find you a host family or withdraw you from school – they send you to New Zealand to live with Koreans that you’ve barely met. After a year, you’re back at school again, living with a Filipino friend and his family.

-You’re considering college in three different countries, and you can’t agree with your parents on your preferred country. Their applications, expenses, and environments are all completely different. Scholarships determine everything. One year from now, you have no idea what your life will look like.

-Many of your closest friends live in other countries, some in countries you’ve never been to. 

-Spending years in Honduran public schools, surrounded by Latino classmates and friends, means your attitude toward time is diametrically opposed to the attitude of your Korean parents.

-You get – or have– to decide which culture’s definition of success you’ll judge yourself by.

-You get in trouble when you visit relatives because you keep accidentally offending them.

-Your parents are divorced, and one parent lives in a country you haven't been to in over five years.

-You feel to some extent like you belong in neither your host nor your passport country/countries, but are only truly at home among foreigners.

-You have no idea where you’ll live when you grow up.