※ Zoomanet[*] hosted a two-day camp last September entitled “Strengthening the Ability to Earn Money Humanely: a Record of the Work I Am Comprised Of”. It was a space for giving names to the work experiences that are not recognized socially or rewarded with money and are therefore made invisible, and for participants to identify the meaning of those experiences themselves. This series shares the writings of Obo, a 29-year-old woman who participated in the camp, in three installments. It also serves as a record of the past selves she could not contain in a resume.

 

[*] Ajumma is the Korean term for “middle-aged woman” or “married woman” which can also take on a derogatory tone. Zoomanet (pronounced ‘jummane’) combines the latter two syllables of this word and the suffix ‘ne’ to create a word that means “ajumma’s place/home”.  The organization describes itself as a “place that assists women’s independence and artistic growth”. Source: https://cafe.naver.com/zoomanett

 

The Empty Spaces on a Resume

 

When I’m writing a resume, night comes quickly. Writing down my name is easy. Next is my birthdate and age. I’m already 29. Any licenses? Don’t have any. And there’s only one thing I can list as work experience. Everything else is simply “experience”. I read the words of the other section titles, one at a time. Values, vision, future, plans, motto, imagination, write freely… Once words like these enter my line of sight, I cannot write anything for a long time. Time passes as I face the gaze that the world fixes on me. Sitting in front of a resume, I don’t have confidence in myself.

 

After graduating from college, I started making movies without even giving a thought to finding a regular job. My first film was a documentary, but production had to be halted in the middle because the protagonist left for mandatory army service. After that, I entered a filmmaking group and made movies. Lighting, cinematography, directing, props, editing—I did anything and everything that could contribute to creating a movie.

 

In high school, a trivial-but-not-trivial incident created distance between me and my friends, and I found myself alone. After I became invisible in the classroom, I began to wonder ‘Why am I alive?’, and that was the beginning of my longstanding depression. The more I tried to find an answer to the question, the more I could see myself sinking deeper and deeper into the Earth’s core. So I went to a place where there were people. Getting involved on a film production site was my way of struggling to live. Then, because I thought I would become neither this nor that if I kept going that way, I began writing resumes three years ago.

 

Even on that day, I was writing a resume. The phone rang when I was staring into the blanks I could not seem to fill. It was Zoomanet, which I’d come to know through a part-time film script writing gig, inviting me to a camp; they said it would be a place where women gathered and talked. Without hesitation, I said I would go. Whatever it was, I needed an escape from this period of wallowing by myself. And a few days later, on a Saturday afternoon, I hopped onto a yellow [chartered] bus headed to the camping site.

 

Carrot Jeon

 

On the bus, I exchanged awkward hellos with unfamiliar faces. One by one, the empty seats filled, and after a couple of hours, the bus arrived in a quiet village. Around us were tall, majestic trees and buckwheat fields, and above us, the endless open sky. It was as if I’d been spirited away into a TV drama. Why had I come to this place?

 

▲ After arriving at our lodgings, the camp participants prepared lunch together in the kitchen. ©Zoomanet

We hurriedly dropped off our bags at the traditional Korean houses where we’d be staying, and headed to one of the kitchens to prepare lunch together. It seemed to be a place to get to know each other while cooking. Under the guidance of Yui, who said she was researching vegetarian cuisine, we bustled around the kitchen. I felt worried about whether I would be okay spending a night amongst all these unfamiliar faces. Even so, I made carrot jeon as if I hadn’t a worry on my mind. I worked hard, and was even praised for successfully flipping over the jeon with a flick of my wrist. While I cooked over 10 pieces of jeon, several people struck up a conversation with me, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was cooking in this heat, even splattering carrot oil on my clothes! Why was I trying so hard, even here? For what? And why did all these people look like they were having fun?

 

After the meal, the 20 women who had come to the camp gathered in a small hall. Still feeling a bit tense, I read the pamphlet that had been passed around. The title was “Zoomanet Camp 2017: Strengthening the Ability to Earn Money Humanely. A Record of the Work that I Am Comprised Of.” Only then did I realize what we were going to talk about. Soon, Osol, the facilitator of the camp, picked up the microphone and began to speak.

 

“Shall we talk about the strongest element in our resumes or cover letters? Why don’t we each share the single most powerful weapon we have.”

 

Oneul said she didn’t have a driver’s license but had a doctoral degree she’d earned through seven years of study. Eunhee talked about her labor attorney certification. For Flowerwind it was her level 2  social worker license. Asa got a food and lifestyle lecturer certification while working at a co-op. Lina didn’t have any licenses but said she was an IT designer. Ssikssiki had founded a small social enterprise. Yui was the CEO of a publishing company, the manager of a guesthouse, and the author of a travel book. Nayoon had opened a restaurant abroad. Garam shared the title of a film she directed. And finally, it was my turn. I had to say something.

 

“A documentary that I helped make received an award at a film festival…”

 

How could it be that a movie I hadn’t even directed, but simply participated in the making of as a crew member, was my most powerful weapon?

 

Time Behind a Makeshift Wall

 

“Just now, we talked about the most powerful element in our resumes. But are these ‘socially recognized work experiences’ the only work that comprises us? This camp began from this question. From now, I want us to share a scene from our workplace that may not be recognized out in the world but is still dear to you personally and is something you keep returning to.”

 

Once again, the microphone was passed on to the participants, and Flowerwind began to speak.

 

“It was in 2007. I’d just had my second child, and was feeling a bit rushed about things like making money. I felt anxious even though my husband was doing fine at work, so I took an early morning job delivering milk for about a year. The day I remember was a cold winter day. I’d seated my two-year-old behind me on the bicycle, and went to an area of small apartment buildings nearby to collect fees. After I’d pressed the doorbell and was waiting for someone to come to the door, I suddenly thought of my kid. When I looked back, I saw my small child shivering.”

 

Flowerwind said that moment still comes to her mind every now and then. Lina, an IT designer, shared a memory from her previous workplace.

 

“I would finish work around 2 or 3 a.m. every day. Because so many of us worked until late, there would be taxis waiting outside the company building. During that time, my body really suffered. I couldn’t even eat properly, and was caught in a bad cycle, but because everyone worked like that I thought that was how it was supposed to be. Only after I quit that job did I think, ‘This is not how it should be.’”

 

How it is supposed to be. All of a sudden, the carrot jeon I sweated over earlier flashed across my mind. I thought that straining myself physically and mentally was how it was supposed to be. I thought it was good to work hard at everything. To the point that I’d once spent my own money to work overnight on someone else’s film.

 

▲ Zoomanet Camp 2017. The participants gathered in a circle. ©Zoomanet

 

Some participants remembered the moments that lent them support throughout the years.

 

“When I was in college, I worked part-time in the library organizing books. There was a small desk that had bookshelves in front of and behind it, with a bit of sunlight reaching it. Usually there was no one sitting there. I remember pushing my cart over to that desk, and reading the whole time while pretending to work.”

 

Nayoon said these moments offered her consolation during the period when she was full of rage and a sense of unfairness. Winter, an actress, continued the discussion with her story.

 

“A few years ago, I was the stand-in actor for the protagonist in a studio film. Before the star would arrive on set, I would show up early to check whether we had enough room for her movements. Once the shooting began and the site became crowded, I would get out of the way and sit behind a big makeshift wall. While I sat there, some light would leak into the dark space. I think that was when I felt most at peace.”

 

Moments behind the makeshift wall, when I don’t need to show myself. As I listened to Winter’s story, an image came to my mind, of me organizing props some distance away from a busy film shooting site. I would sit by a flowerbed with my work gloves on, watching the film site, and soothe the anxiety that had for some reason flared in my heart. The more I listened, the more these moments I’d forgotten came to mind, making me feel all kinds of things at once.

 

After the first session ended, we took a brief walk together. I’d forgotten long ago why I came here, and even the tiredness I felt while making the carrot jeon had washed away. I simply thought about the reason behind the emotion I felt at that moment. But dinnertime came and went without any resolution, and it was time to talk again.

 

[Writer profile] Obo: A jobseeker who has been writing a screenplay while holding various jobs as a part-time script writer, radio recording engineer, member  of documentary film directing team, and member of a film company editing team member. She wants to make a film of her own.

 

Published February 15th, 2018

Translated by Hoyoung Moon

Original article: http://ildaro.com/8125

 

◆ To see more English-language articles from Ilda, visit our English blog(https://ildaro.blogspot.com).

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