Playgrounds, Parents, and Politics
[The following is a draft of a piece on "Korean culture" for the Dongguk Post. Since tomorrow is Mother's Day in the US, I thought I'd post it here today.]
My family is fortunate to live in an apartment complex with underground parking that has allowed for a variety of playgrounds and play spaces to be built at ground level. Though these spaces are barren during the cold winter months, with spring the playgrounds have blossomed with squeals of swing set delight, tussles over bicycles, and the general ruckus of play. And along with the children come the parents.
Due to the perpetuation of gender roles and the long working hours demanded of working fathers, most of the parents one encounters on the playground are the children's mothers. There is, of course, a smattering of grandmothers and grandfathers adn on Sundays a number of fathers, most of whom spend their time watching sports or dramas on their phones while their children run around and occasionally try to get their attention.
Most fathers and a few mothers tend to be loners, following their children around and making minimal contact with the other parents on the playground. However, most mothers spend a good deal of time chatting together as they monitor events on the playground, breaking up occasionally to settle disputes or tend to a scraped knee. In my opinion, these periods of socializing among mothers anchor the apartment complex's community. Families are tied together through the mothers and the mothers through their children---at least at first.
Because I want to play with my daughter, I tend to be a loner and usually only enter into brief, superficial conversations with the other parents on the playground. From my wife, however, I have learned that through these playground conversations the mothers coordinate many of the most fundamental aspects of their families' lives. They identify the best doctors and dentists. They share ideas about family activities. They disseminate information about good deals that extend the family budget and improve overall quality of life. And perhaps most importantly, they talk about education.
Education is one of the major expenses for every family and is widely seen as the essential ingredient for a successful---and happy?---life. Discussions center on which schools and hagwons are best, which teachers are most helpful, which study habits are the most productive for this or that subject, and how to game the system to get their children into the best schools. And these topics are critical to succeeding in Korea's mercilessly competitive society.
Mothers could do more, though. More than anyone else, Korea's mothers understand the idiosyncrasies of the education system and the challenges it poses to the health and happiness of their families. They know that changes have to be made. But their energies are focused solely on navigating the dangerous seas of unequal educational opportunities.
It seems to me that these playground conversations, these networks of mothers, represent the strongest, undeveloped political resource in Korea. If mothers were to turn their conversations from navigating the system to fixing it, their collective energies would be unstoppable. As busy and hard working as mothers are, some of their time on the playground could be turned to identifying the best political representatives, sharing ideas for shaping policy, disseminating information about how policy decisions are made, and most importantly mobilizing to improve their communities.
Mothers anchor our communities. And mothers can make them better.
