ID :
54925
Sun, 04/12/2009 - 00:33
Auther :
Shortlink :
https://oananews.org//node/54925
The shortlink copeid
(Yonhap Feature) Fledgling theatre company brings diversity to S. Korean stage (ATTN: photos available)
SEOUL, April 11 (Yonhap) -- Iresha Berera said that early on she was often reminded of how different she was from those around her in the most ordinary, everyday settings, a difference the "actress" is now almost oblivious to after five years in South Korea.
Whenever Berera came out of a public restroom, she says other women waiting in
line would be startled by her appearance. One woman even gasped in surprise, she
recalls, likely not expecting to see someone with such a dark complexion.
Berera's experience, which anecdotally reflects the bias foreigners can encounter
in Korea, is the kind of story that "Salad," a theater company of mostly female
immigrants to Seoul, wants to tell its audience.
"I looked into the mirror in wonder," said the 34-year-old Sri Lanka native. I
think I am prettier. My eyes are large, though my skin is dark."
Berera, now fluent in the language and married to a Korean man, said it never
occurred to her that she could scare people off. She's since gotten over it, she
adds.
"When someone tells me 'you scared me,' I reply, 'You scared me, too,'" she says
with a laugh.
Berera is a main member of the company begun earlier this year. Funded by the
United Nations Development Program, Salad aims to create jobs for immigrant women
like Berera who left their homeland and wed Korean husbands.
With 15 permanent members, including four immigrant women, the group says it
plans to recruit more in mid-May.
"We thought it would help immigrant women to tell their stories on stage rather
than just talk about the difficulties they face in Korea," said Ahn Soon-hwa,
co-chairman of Salad and a Chinese immigrant, at the company's rehearsal room in
northern Seoul.
About four out of 10 newly-wed brides in Korea's rural regions are from overseas
countries like Vietnam or the Philippines, according to recent government data.
But with ingrained notions of ethnic homogeneity a point of pride among many
Koreans, foreign brides often face an array of difficulties ranging from
language barriers to racial discrimination.
Centers that offer Korean language classes and counseling services have
sporadically opened, but still fall short of addressing these and other issues,
such as limited career options for immigrant women.
"We are hoping the company will become a permanent workplace for immigrant
women," said Park Kyung-joo, co-chair of the theatrical group. "This means more
than merely providing financial independence. It is a way of fostering
self-esteem and letting them find a stable place in the community."
Salad aims to eventually enable these women to direct their own stories, Park
said, adding that a script is currently being drafted based on their life stories
to be performed in July.
For Berera, going on stage means making a statement to people like the women she
encountered in local restrooms.
"I think this is a place where I can really talk about myself -- to tell people I
have come to my second homeland, giving up my family and all," she said. "I tell
them 'I'm a Korean, too, and this is my home.'"
The women in Salad describe the past three months since the company's launch as a
transformative period.
"The past three months felt like a journey to self-discovery," said Jasmine
Bacurnay, who met her husband while he was on a business trip to the Philippines.
"I play music all day at home to practice the movements from Mamma Mia. I think I
want to pursue a professional acting career."
Diverse in skin tone and even body language, the self-confidence these actresses
exude binds them together, a bond shared by women who have managed to build
families while bravely adapting to their new homes.
Having lived in Korea for more than 12 years, Bacurnay has picked up on the local
humor, punning on education-obsessed Korean mothers.
"When my son got into a car accident, he had to quit the school musical. He now
tells me that I have taken up on his dream," she said of her 14-year-old. "So I
told him that he can become a doctor, which used to be my dream."
The women know the theater must be more than a place for fulfilling personal
aspirations. They hope it will help to imbue immigrant women with hope and
greater self-confidence.
"When I ask my friends to hang out, many say they don't want to because people
stare at us like we're some zoo animals from strange countries," Berera said. "To
give those people courage, someone has to step up. This is the place to give
these women such courage."
ylee@yna.co.kr
(END)
Whenever Berera came out of a public restroom, she says other women waiting in
line would be startled by her appearance. One woman even gasped in surprise, she
recalls, likely not expecting to see someone with such a dark complexion.
Berera's experience, which anecdotally reflects the bias foreigners can encounter
in Korea, is the kind of story that "Salad," a theater company of mostly female
immigrants to Seoul, wants to tell its audience.
"I looked into the mirror in wonder," said the 34-year-old Sri Lanka native. I
think I am prettier. My eyes are large, though my skin is dark."
Berera, now fluent in the language and married to a Korean man, said it never
occurred to her that she could scare people off. She's since gotten over it, she
adds.
"When someone tells me 'you scared me,' I reply, 'You scared me, too,'" she says
with a laugh.
Berera is a main member of the company begun earlier this year. Funded by the
United Nations Development Program, Salad aims to create jobs for immigrant women
like Berera who left their homeland and wed Korean husbands.
With 15 permanent members, including four immigrant women, the group says it
plans to recruit more in mid-May.
"We thought it would help immigrant women to tell their stories on stage rather
than just talk about the difficulties they face in Korea," said Ahn Soon-hwa,
co-chairman of Salad and a Chinese immigrant, at the company's rehearsal room in
northern Seoul.
About four out of 10 newly-wed brides in Korea's rural regions are from overseas
countries like Vietnam or the Philippines, according to recent government data.
But with ingrained notions of ethnic homogeneity a point of pride among many
Koreans, foreign brides often face an array of difficulties ranging from
language barriers to racial discrimination.
Centers that offer Korean language classes and counseling services have
sporadically opened, but still fall short of addressing these and other issues,
such as limited career options for immigrant women.
"We are hoping the company will become a permanent workplace for immigrant
women," said Park Kyung-joo, co-chair of the theatrical group. "This means more
than merely providing financial independence. It is a way of fostering
self-esteem and letting them find a stable place in the community."
Salad aims to eventually enable these women to direct their own stories, Park
said, adding that a script is currently being drafted based on their life stories
to be performed in July.
For Berera, going on stage means making a statement to people like the women she
encountered in local restrooms.
"I think this is a place where I can really talk about myself -- to tell people I
have come to my second homeland, giving up my family and all," she said. "I tell
them 'I'm a Korean, too, and this is my home.'"
The women in Salad describe the past three months since the company's launch as a
transformative period.
"The past three months felt like a journey to self-discovery," said Jasmine
Bacurnay, who met her husband while he was on a business trip to the Philippines.
"I play music all day at home to practice the movements from Mamma Mia. I think I
want to pursue a professional acting career."
Diverse in skin tone and even body language, the self-confidence these actresses
exude binds them together, a bond shared by women who have managed to build
families while bravely adapting to their new homes.
Having lived in Korea for more than 12 years, Bacurnay has picked up on the local
humor, punning on education-obsessed Korean mothers.
"When my son got into a car accident, he had to quit the school musical. He now
tells me that I have taken up on his dream," she said of her 14-year-old. "So I
told him that he can become a doctor, which used to be my dream."
The women know the theater must be more than a place for fulfilling personal
aspirations. They hope it will help to imbue immigrant women with hope and
greater self-confidence.
"When I ask my friends to hang out, many say they don't want to because people
stare at us like we're some zoo animals from strange countries," Berera said. "To
give those people courage, someone has to step up. This is the place to give
these women such courage."
ylee@yna.co.kr
(END)
