What does it mean to have a gay Korean American man as today's best-known face of so-called "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" controversy?
In my narrow mind, rainbow flags don't match military camouflage patterns, and Korean blood doesn't mix well with American coca-cola. In front of my face, in a picture, Dan Choi (pronounced like che) wears a smile in a built body in front of a rainbow flag, out and proud and patriotic. I guess.
I have avoided talking, writing, or even thinking about him until now because I knew that if I had been to question him, I would have had to talk intensely to myself as an anti-militaristic Queer Korean man. Am I ready yet? Probably not. But I just couldn't ignore my inner questioning self.
In case you haven't noticed, I believe that everyone should be discouraged to join military, whether Queer or not-yet-Queer-minded. I also believe that everyone should be encouraged to develop critical thinking and anti-oppression ideology. If one is to call "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy oppressive, one shall also point out the oppressive nature of militarism. Therefore, my brain refuses to accept any ideas but "Don't Serve, Don't Kill." And of course, I'm particularly against U.S. (and Japanese) military because of its past and ongoing wrongdoings in various world regions like East Asia, Pacific, and Southwestern Asia (aka Middle East). If people were to understand Corean/Korean history somewhat like I do (and some Zainichi experiences might be a good spice), I believe that they would all be anti-military, be it Japanese, U.S., or whatever.
When people ask Choi why he joined, he says that he wanted to serve something greater than himself. And I think that's quite a twisted way of thinking.
Choi's mother, a Korean war orphan, opposed his joining. I can understand. His father, a hardcore Christian, has told him that in "Korea," a man wouldn't be treated as an adult no matter how old he is if he didn't serve in the military. Here, I take a deep sigh. Oh "Korea." After millions of us killed in decades of war and colonization, "Korea" still haunts the minds of so many Koreans, men in particular, on both sides of the "border" and elsewhere.
"Korea" often refers only to the southern part of the Korean peninsula, or the Republic of Korea; meanwhile, the northern part, or the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, is always called "North" Korea, as if there are two legitimately opposing nations and two different peoples. Many Korean Americans seem to identify with "South Korea" more than "North Korea." I know that many people still believe in one Korea/Corea, too; however, I have observed that so many of them still do not question the common assumptions about "North Korea," thus lazily aligning themselves with "South Korea" just because it's less demonized and more familiar. (This can be said to some Zainichi Koreans as well, to some extent.) After all these years, Koreans all over the world have gotten used to the division, and are having difficulties even imagining one Korea again. And some of us don't even know who divided us and why. The most critical part of our contemporary history is missing, sometimes entirely, from our knowledge. That's what really divides us.
Anyway, the tragedy, from my point of view, is that this Korean guy believed that serving in the U.S. military is about "serving something greater" than himself, and that having an oppressed identity neither stopped him from nor made him question doing that. Instead I ask: why has our country been divided? Why is it that men in "Korea" need to serve in the military in the first place? Why would it be so honorable to be trained by our enemy to kill our own people?
My discomfort also comes from this feeling that whenever he is hailed as the anti-Don't Ask, Don't Tell person, it makes me feel like the Korean War is being legitimatized and justified, even more so by some patriotic White American gays and lesbians who happen to be the main people working behind this "controversy" to make it a controversy, as if this is more important to all parts of diverse Queer communities than creating safe schools, securing equitable and sustainable health care, and so on. In other words, all the issues that are important to me seem to become invisible behind Choi's smile.
In addition, I can't help but think that he is being (or will be) tokenized. In the event that he is allowed to serve again, Choi will likely be seen as the token of "diversity acceptance" of the U.S. military. A gay Korean man, who would have been too "foreign" only a few years ago, serving the U.S. military publicly to signify both the tolerance of the U.S. and the patriotism of Queer and Korean/Asian American communities, without a real recognition of his people in the northern part.
Hyung, not that it's your fault, but I will be ashamed to near death on that day.
