Weddingbee bios

I'm from a sleepy village in South Western Ontario which is surrounded by corn fields and cows.  From the time I was 14, I escaped the countryside during the summers to volunteer and work in other areas of Canada and abroad.  I completed my BA in Religious Studies at Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, and my MA in Islam and Hinduism at McGill in Montreal.  I was supposed to teach English in South Korea for a year before my PhD, but fate had other plans for me.  I have now been teaching in Seoul for four years, and am currently a professor at a Confucian university. I live in a cozy apartment with my two Shakespearean character cats.  When I'm not teaching, you can find me shopping in the maze of Seoul shopping streets, cooking, studying Korean, and attending Korean and foreign rock concerts with FI. 

My FI is North Korean but born and raised in the hyper-competitive world of Seoul.    He first started dedicating himself to learning English after traveling Australia for two months after military service knowing only 'yes,' 'no,' and 'I don't speak English.'  A 'proper' Korean automotive engineer and Hyundai Motors 'salary man' by day, he is a punk-clothing wearing avid concert-goer by night who also runs a mildly-popular music blog.  He also loves hiking the many mountains in and around Seoul.  Once a kimchee-only kind of guy, since he started dating this Canadian girl, he has fallen in love with smelly cheese, red wine, Mexican food, and just recently...olives.

We very much identify with our 'ddee' or Chinese zodiac symbols and have a tradition of taking pictures with our respective animals everywhere we go (Me-Monkey, FI-Cow).  We also love going on Catholic, Buddhist, and Shaman pilgrimages and finding quiet restaurant gems.  And of course...if you can't find us there...you'll find us in the middle of the crowd at a concert.^^

Yes that's right...I was FI's teacher.  Three months after first arriving in Seoul, I was teaching a weekend class to business people.  That weekend Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was being released, and I was telling my students that I not only was in love with HP but also that two of the members of my fav band (Radiohead) were in the film. 

Being a huge music fan, FI started asking me about the Canadian music I loved, and I was shocked to find out that he had seen Arcade Fire in concert and was in love with Stars, a band which is not known well in Asia.  At the end of the last class, he asked me to a concert on Christmas Eve.  Being a traditional-Christmas kind of girl, I declined because I couldn't imagine going to a concert instead of celebrating the holidays.  However, he seemed like a nice guy, so I gave him my number and told him he could call me if another concert came up.  He called again on Christmas Eve...and I refused his offer again.  Trying one last time, he called me again in early January, and this time his persistence paid off.  He took me to see Huckleberry Finn, which is now my favourite Korean band.

Four and a half years after we met, we will walk down the aisle to The Reindeer Section, hear Bjork as our musical interlude, read from The Decemberists during the ceremony, and bind ourselves to each other through the lyrics of Lasse Lindh. 

 I can’t even begin to count the amount of times I’ve heard that Canadians don’t have cultural traditions.  Okay – Chinese-Canadians are supposed to have traditions – French Canadians are supposed to have traditions – Muslim-Canadians are supposed to have traditions.  But your average white quasi-Christian the-motherland-is-somewhere-in-the-hazy-past Canadian is supposed to lack anything special or unique about their cultural traditions.  There is some truth to this claim.  In many cases it’s hard to compartmentalize traditions that sometimes span across the Canadian-American boarder, or across the Atlantic to those distant ancestral lands, or fall somewhere into ‘modern Western traditions’ – a category as broad and mythical as magical realism.  But the implication that people lack culture, expectations, or social boundaries dissipates the longer you live abroad.  And there is nothing more indicative of this, as the expectations that arise as soon as you start contemplating marriage.

     In my Canadian cultural milieu, the man buys a ring.  Then he plans an elaborate proposal…she agrees…they plan an elaborate way to announce their engagement…and then they are expected to pick a date and venue as soon as possible.  The first question always asked is ‘how did he propose,’ and the listener expects a thrilling narrative of romance, creativity, and emotional proclamations of love.  It is supposed to have a certain rhythm – stock characters – stock themes – perhaps a botched attempt or a moment where everything goes wrong but is then salvaged by the bride’s answer ‘yes.’  This narrative is ritually retold to adoring groups of women (and men) who might reciprocate with their own fantastical tales from the past. 

     I don’t mean to trivialize or ridicule this tradition.  In fact, I also love to indulge in these stories. But it really is interesting that in addition to knowing where you were when you found out Kennedy had been shot (my father was buying shoes), or when OJ had been acquitted (my 11^th grade history class watched the verdict together), everyone is supposed to have a proposal story. 

     On the other hand, my engagement was upside down.  Around May we discussed getting married at some point 2010.  Around June we decided to get married in Korea spring 2010 and Canada summer 2010.  Around July we set the Korean date.  Around the beginning of August my mum accidently found out we were engaged.  So we just started telling random friends when we bumped into them that we were getting married.  In the middle of August we made a semi-official ‘surprise’ announcement to Canadian family and friends although about half of the people already knew about our decision (thanks to a Facebook mishap).  And at the end of August, I bought my own ring with my mother…not my FI.  Part of the reason for this ‘backward’ approach was that A) my FI…while being an incredibly thoughtful person who really does strive to make me happy, does not have a romantic bone in his body.  I gave up on ever getting flowers years ago…so a romantic proposal was never in the cards.  B) While there are, on occasion, romantic proposals complete with diamond rings in Korea, a spectacular over-the-top proposal is relatively uncommon.  Therefore, FI had little cultural reference or cultural pressure to make such a proposal.  C) I got sick of waiting.^^

     Now, from a feminist perspective, this seems like a good engagement.  It was a mutual decision…reached rationally after much discussion…dates picked according to the pre-scheduled family flight schedules…and the ring bought by the person who was actually going to wear it forever.  A nice rational decision by two mutually agreeing parties without the intervention of sappy love songs or even 궁합 (kunghap), the Korean pseudo-scientific method of determining if two people are a proper match. 

     In reality, it was fascinating to see the general public’s reaction to our unorthodox approach.  Previous to our big announcement, the acquaintances and coworkers I told seemed a bit confused.  With the absence of a proposal narrative…the absence of a large rock…I got tentative nods…veiled confused looks…and my mother’s initial reaction was…’oh that’s nice.’  In fact, apart from a very small number of very close friends, the first outburst of joy that I experienced about our engagement came when we made the official big announcement in Canada, which was followed with screams and even some tears.  It was only when we followed an engagement protocol – the big reveal – that our engagement was taken seriously.  In fact, just last night when I was out with friends, I was asked to relate my proposal story.  When I couldn’t produce one, a dear manly-man friend quickly moved to another friend’s uber romantic narrative which was then discussed and dissected at great length by the group.  In the absence of my story, another’s was needed to fill the void. 

     I’m not relating this story to complain about the initial lack of enthusiasm at our engagement, but rather to wonder at the necessity of following the established engagement rituals.  In fact…the greatest outpouring of excitement was when we changed our Facebook statuses.  My aunt Facebooked me to scold me for not changing my status from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘engaged.’  When we did, I was astounded by the enthusiasm our virtual announcement generated.  It seemed like for many people, we were only officially or publically engaged when we put it on Facebook.  In other words, there is not only an unspoken sense of what people should traditionally do, but also a modern virtual component.

     In all honesty, I myself had some misgivings about our chosen process.  It wasn’t so much that I wanted a romantic story or a ring to show off…but other’s reactions validated or invalidated my own sense of a new stage of life.  With the absence of their validation, it seemed as if no decisions had been made – no life change had occurred.  I was surprised by my own need to have others recognize our engagement, and by my doubts that we had maybe gone about committing ourselves in the ‘right way.’

     Interestingly, Koreans had a much different reaction to our engagement.  The first question I am always asked is ‘do his parents approve?’   The second question is always if we are going to live with his parents and/or if our future children will live full time with his parents!  And a common question from older people is always ‘did you do 궁합?’ No Korean has ever asked to see my ring or hear my proposal story.  There is no expectation or a grand announcement. Our engagement is much more about his family’s reaction to me than about our personal story. 

     It’s interesting to experience this cultural divide: to have one set of questions, always asked in the same order from one group, and another entirely predetermined set from another group.  And it’s also been interesting to see how personally I take the one set and how flippantly I answer the second.  I am a creature of my own cultural expectations, regardless of the years I have lived abroad, or the cultural traditions I have straddled.  It’s also interesting to note that despite our unorthodox engagement and unorthodox personalities, we have decided to have a very ‘proper’ Korean traditional wedding and a very ‘proper’ WASPish Canadian wedding.

     I don’t know how many times I’ve heard ‘it’s YOUR wedding.  Do WHATEVER you want.’  But that’s not really true is it?  Apart from religious or legal reasons, the main reason people have a public ceremony is so that they are socially recognized as spouses within their social group.  And the way they are recognized by society as ‘married’ is by a set of prescribed rituals, so that even if they seek to change the outward appearance of the ritual, they still must retain the form and structure in order to be recognized.  So, therefore…I now have my ring.  I have my wedding dates.  And I’ve posted e-ring pics on Facebook.  I am now officially a ­ modern Canadian bride-to-be.  Whether or not that makes me a proper Korean bride-to-be is entirely another matter.