Being Korean, and Muslim
Currently, a third of South Korea’s 150,000 Muslim population is made up of ethnic Koreans. As a minority group in a relatively homogeneous society, the challenges are growing but so are the community efforts to support itself.
It’s Friday evening. A group of colleagues clink their glasses of soju in the air to celebrate the end of a long work week. The Korean barbecue restaurant’s in-table charcoal grill is packed with sizzling pork slices and other meats. But one person joins the toast with a glass of coca cola instead, and on his plate sits a slice of grilled fish.
He is Emir Kim, one of Korea’s 35,000-odd ethnic Muslims.
The group forms a third of the total Muslim population in a nation known for its ethnic uniformity.
The 30-year-old, who used to work as a hotel concierge in Myeongdong, a prime shopping district in Seoul, said: “My colleagues still invited me to hoesik after they found out I was Muslim, but they treated me differently,” referring to the typical after-work dinner and drinking culture common among Korean companies.
Some senior colleagues even nicknamed him ‘Taliban’ and ‘ISIS’ (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) after they found out.
“They may have meant it as a joke, but I still felt bad after that,” said Mr Kim, who accepted Islam in 2013 and now works in the human resources department of Incheon’s Islamic Center, a city 27km south-west of Seoul.
With the strong Confucian values and practices in Korean society, ethnic Muslims are left in a fix because these often clash with Islamic beliefs and practices.
Dr Cho Kyuhoon, a research fellow in religious studies at the Seoul National University Asia Center said it is difficult for minority groups to feel a sense of belonging: “Along with gender and ethnicity, the values of Confucianism and Islam can be flash points of clashes or conflicts between different groups.”
Half the country’s 50 million are either Buddhist or Christian, with a majority of the other half being irreligious.
While the Korean Muslim community is dispersed around the country, Dr Choi Youngkil, Korea Muslim Federation’s (KMF) president, believes most of them are in Seoul, followed by Busan- a city 325 km south of Seoul- although it is hard to quantify due to the lack of official statistics.
But whether in Seoul, where she works now, or in Busan, where she was first exposed to Islam at high school, Miss Bora Song, 30, feels there is no difference: “It’s difficult being a Korean Muslim in any city.”
A stone’s throw from Miss Song’s home is the Seoul Central Mosque — the country’s oldest and the city’s only — where she works as part of KMF’s educational arm. Her daily walks there along the ‘Muslim Street’ of Itaewon pass tourist-filled Halal restaurants, supermarkets and Hajj travel agencies by.
And sometimes, she becomes an unwitting point of interest herself, as locals and tourists alike stare and whisper in hushed murmurs, intrigued by her hijab-wrapped face.
“But to upkeep a good image of themselves, Koreans will not react aggressively in front of your face even if they have a negative perception of Islam,” said Miss Song, a Muslim of 10 years.
Islam’s first known presence in the Korean peninsula dates back to the ninth century when Persian and Arab traders arrived onto its shores. But the religion only gained significant traction in the 1950s during the Korean War when Turkish troops, stationed by the United Nations, shared their faith with local soldiers through public lectures.
Explaining Koreans’ perceptions towards Islam today, Imam Abdul Rahman Lee Ju Hwa of the Seoul Central Mosque said: “Some Koreans perceive Islam negatively because of misinformation through mass media and big incidents like 9/11.”
As a result, Madam Maryam Lee refrains from wearing a hijab in public altogether to avoid others’ discomfort around her. Instead, she dons a long-sleeved top beneath a hoodie, long pants, a cap and a facemask to resemble a niqab.
“This way, people think I’m just protecting my skin from the sun, which most Koreans do anyway,” the 37-year-old added.
Beyond the personal challenges faced by Korean Muslims, the issues commonly extend into their families.
Against his Christian family’s wishes to understand the Quran better, Mr Kim left his hotel concierge job in 2016 for Jordan to study Arabic on a government-sponsored scholarship for a year.
“While in Jordan, it felt like home,” said Mr Kim, who now lives with a flat mate in Incheon and has not made contact with his family in the past three months.
The Korean Muslim converts comprise mostly students, couples who inter-marry and those who return from working in the Middle East, said Imam Lee.
Madam Lee, who is a mother of two, worries about her children growing up in a non-Muslim country: “This country rejects things that are different from the norm.”
She is concerned her five-year-old son and two-year-old daughter will experience wang-tta for being different. A form of bullying in Korean schools where the victim is isolated from the rest of the class, this phenomenon is pronounced in Korea where an average elementary and high school student easily spends 10 hours a day in school.
“My husband and I chose this religion, but my children didn’t, so I must do what is the best for them, it’ll be our dream to move to an Islamic country.”
Yet, there are glimmers of hope that the society will be more receptive to Islam.
Increased enrollment at the Hankuk University of Foreign Studies’ Arabic department is one healthy sign.
Doctorate student Mr Hwang Yuihyun, 27, said: “When students learn the basic Arabic language, they are exposed to Islamic greetings, culture and practices, because they’re so closely linked.”
The outfit has grown from 80 students in the 1970s to about 250 students now, a majority of whom are Korean.
“Most students are here for better job prospects in the Middle East, but there has been a growing interest in Islam as compared to 10 years ago,” said Mr Hwang.
The rising number of sign ups for the World Assembly of Muslim Youth (WAMY) camps in Korea, which began in 1984, is another indication of changing perspectives.
“We had up to 120 sign ups in the past and it was too hard to handle so now we have to cap it at 50 people,” said Miss Song, the camp’s advisor and a former attendee.
Held in Yangju this year, a city 25km north of Seoul, the annual three-day camp is for non-Muslim youth to understand Islamic culture and clarify their misconceptions through lectures, trivia and recreation.
While online, Miss Song regularly puts out fires through her personal Instagram account too. One commenter on her recent post about the WAMY camp said: ’So you are trying to change these students’ beliefs??’
To which she replied: “No, We just try to remove misunderstanding about Islam.”
Such comments sprout up on her account on a daily basis, which has a 139,000-strong following and receives between 30 to 200 direct messages daily. The topics range from k-pop to her personal life to being a Korean Muslim: “It can get tiring to answer but at least people are asking questions at all, and this way, I can fix any misconceptions they have about Islam.”
For questions asked personally on being Korean Muslim, she always says: “Korea is a good country, but it doesn’t mean Korea is a good country for Muslims.”