Sexual charades in Seoul

Clearly the sexual double standard is at work here, but it's also important to recognize how, in context, the dynamic of keeping face allows each partner to validate the other's integrity and so makes possible the sexual intimacy they desire. Understood in this light, the game of mock coercion that Eun Jung and I played becomes far more comprehensible, for the illusion of physical violence allowed us each to communicate to the other, without having to say so explicitly, that despite its casual nature, our relationship did not at all resemble the relationship between a prostitute and her customer.

But so what? At some point, all this cultural analysis becomes nothing more than a sophisticated rationalization, a way to see my experience with Eun Jung as an artifact of cross-cultural living, a do-as-the-Romans-do encounter with no real relevance outside of its own context. To indulge this rationalization is to avoid confronting the fact that, whatever its motives, the mock sexual violence I used with Eun Jung echoed precisely the very real violence men throughout the world have always used to force themselves on unwilling women.

To recognize this power imbalance in our relationship, however, is neither to deny the desire and affection we felt for each other nor to demonize my willingness to play the role I did. Eun Jung clearly wanted to have sex with me, as I did with her, and it would have been nearly impossible for her to accept my desire in any other form. Nonetheless, playing the role eventually made it impossible for me to believe that we were merely helping each other to keep face.

Once, feeling in the mood for sex, I reached for her and she pushed my hand away. Thinking this was business as usual, I reached for her again, pulling her gently toward me. Again, she resisted and, again, I parried her resistance, but this time when I reached for her, I saw her eyes harden, and I knew she was not in the mood -- but then, almost immediately, she crawled into my arms, smiling and giggling, as if the previous moment had been a figment of my imagination. At that moment I realized she was going to have sex with me that night no matter how much she didn't want to -- simply because I did.

I felt manipulated and I was furious. How many times, I wondered, had this happened before? How many times had I pushed, however culturally appropriate, past a no that really meant no? Suddenly I wanted neither the responsibility nor the accountability for having to figure out when no meant yes and when no meant no, for it meant that I could never wholly trust Eun Jung's reasons for making love with me.

I started thinking seriously about breaking up with her, but a friend advised me that if I did so, the dynamics of face might force Eun Jung to move away, at least for a while, so she wouldn't have to see me or face the other people in our building who might have known that we had been together. I couldn't bring myself to put her in a position to have to make a decision like that, so I found excuses that made it possible for me to see her less and less, and when we were together I found excuses for not making love with her as often. Eventually, it became clear to both of us that we were only going through the motions of being together.

The last time we made love was a few days before I flew home to the United States. She met me after my classes were over and we went to a hotel not far from the school where I worked. I assumed it would be the last time I would see her.

Two or three days later, however, as I waited for my plane in Kimpo Airport, Eun Jung appeared carrying a gift she wanted me to have as a memento of our time together. It was a doll that she said looked like her, and it did actually: a little Eun Jung dressed up as a woman of Korean royalty, the king's second wife to be precise, complete with the knife such women were supposed to use to commit suicide in the event they were raped. I'm still not sure exactly what symbolic value that doll held for Eun Jung, or what message she meant to convey to me, but I know that when she handed me that doll and all the twists of our relationship flashed through my mind, the detail that caught and held my eyes was that tiny knife.

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