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Roma, 23/07/2012
Shattered Dreams
I could see shattered dreams in her eyes. It was overwhelming, and I need to share
such feeling. She needs me to share this feeling.
I went to the House of Sharing today. A place where eight old women are living
together to feel like a family. To not be alone or because they had nowhere else to go, as
everyone else considered them to be dirty and impure. In other words: sluts.
They all came from poor families, had no education, only their innocence: they were
only children. Then they were tricked, abducted, or sold. And that’s how they became sex-
slaves – or, as they are euphemistically called, comfort women.
Comfort for whom? Japanese soldiers. There was never comfort for them, and I am
not sure that there ever will be. There was no comfort in having a hot iron stick penetrate their
private parts for contracting STDs or becoming pregnant after being raped by up to 80 men a
day. There was no comfort in seeing another little girl being killed in front of their eyes.
There was no need for that soldier to tell them that they were easier to kill than dogs. No need
to call them “bitches.”
As WWII ended, they were abandoned. Maybe they were lucky. The ones who got
home were ostricized. They were not pure anymore. They were not virgins anymore. They
were pregnant with bastards. They could not give birth anymore. They were sluts. No one
wanted to talk about them. Better ignore them. Soon they will die and their filthy and
shameful history with them.
Kim Hak-Soon finally came out in 1991. “We must record these things that were
forced upon us.” And Japan denied it. Then it was forced to admit it. Then it denied it. Then it
was forced to admit it. But it was never forced to apologize. And it never has. Not even now,
as survivors keep protesting in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul every wednesday.
2
Protesting and protesting and becoming the longest protest in world history. They want an
official apology by the state. They do not want Japan’s money. They did not offer comfort in
exchange for money. They were raped. They are not sluts.
I met halmoni (grandmother in Korean) Bea Chun-hui today. She was wearing make-
up, had her hair nicely done, and had a cutely accessorized necklace. She had a flower painted
on her top. She looked like a flower. She is a true lady.
She speaks Korean, Chinese, and Japanese. She sings beautifully. She hit me when I
told her she seemed really sweet. She hit me when I told her she looked younger than she is.
She hit me when I told her that I want to raise awareness on her situation. She asked me why I
would do that, and I could see resignation in her eyes.
She would never look at anyone directly in his or her eyes. Something probably has
happened that made her scared of eye-contact. Yet, she was so sweet.
She does not like to spend time with the other halmoni; she would rather go shopping
with young people, and have fun: sing and dance. The joy she feels when she sings and
dances is palpable. She enjoys herself like a little kid. The little kid she has never had the
chance to be.
She could have become a famous singer, married a good husband, and had loving
children that would have taken her shopping everyday. Instead, Japan raped her of her
dreams. Her strength, however, let her retain her eyes; Japan did not succed in taking away
her sweet, loving, joyful eyes.
As we waved goodbye, I knew I was right. She may not live to see Japan’s apology,
but it is her bravery together with the one of all other halmoni that will slowly gain them
recognition. History will not be rewritten by Japan. Those things that were forced upon them
will be recorded. The whole world will one day be forced to honor them and recognize them
as the brave and beautiful women they are.

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04. Shattered Dreams

  • 1. 1 Roma, 23/07/2012 Shattered Dreams I could see shattered dreams in her eyes. It was overwhelming, and I need to share such feeling. She needs me to share this feeling. I went to the House of Sharing today. A place where eight old women are living together to feel like a family. To not be alone or because they had nowhere else to go, as everyone else considered them to be dirty and impure. In other words: sluts. They all came from poor families, had no education, only their innocence: they were only children. Then they were tricked, abducted, or sold. And that’s how they became sex- slaves – or, as they are euphemistically called, comfort women. Comfort for whom? Japanese soldiers. There was never comfort for them, and I am not sure that there ever will be. There was no comfort in having a hot iron stick penetrate their private parts for contracting STDs or becoming pregnant after being raped by up to 80 men a day. There was no comfort in seeing another little girl being killed in front of their eyes. There was no need for that soldier to tell them that they were easier to kill than dogs. No need to call them “bitches.” As WWII ended, they were abandoned. Maybe they were lucky. The ones who got home were ostricized. They were not pure anymore. They were not virgins anymore. They were pregnant with bastards. They could not give birth anymore. They were sluts. No one wanted to talk about them. Better ignore them. Soon they will die and their filthy and shameful history with them. Kim Hak-Soon finally came out in 1991. “We must record these things that were forced upon us.” And Japan denied it. Then it was forced to admit it. Then it denied it. Then it was forced to admit it. But it was never forced to apologize. And it never has. Not even now, as survivors keep protesting in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul every wednesday.
  • 2. 2 Protesting and protesting and becoming the longest protest in world history. They want an official apology by the state. They do not want Japan’s money. They did not offer comfort in exchange for money. They were raped. They are not sluts. I met halmoni (grandmother in Korean) Bea Chun-hui today. She was wearing make- up, had her hair nicely done, and had a cutely accessorized necklace. She had a flower painted on her top. She looked like a flower. She is a true lady. She speaks Korean, Chinese, and Japanese. She sings beautifully. She hit me when I told her she seemed really sweet. She hit me when I told her she looked younger than she is. She hit me when I told her that I want to raise awareness on her situation. She asked me why I would do that, and I could see resignation in her eyes. She would never look at anyone directly in his or her eyes. Something probably has happened that made her scared of eye-contact. Yet, she was so sweet. She does not like to spend time with the other halmoni; she would rather go shopping with young people, and have fun: sing and dance. The joy she feels when she sings and dances is palpable. She enjoys herself like a little kid. The little kid she has never had the chance to be. She could have become a famous singer, married a good husband, and had loving children that would have taken her shopping everyday. Instead, Japan raped her of her dreams. Her strength, however, let her retain her eyes; Japan did not succed in taking away her sweet, loving, joyful eyes. As we waved goodbye, I knew I was right. She may not live to see Japan’s apology, but it is her bravery together with the one of all other halmoni that will slowly gain them recognition. History will not be rewritten by Japan. Those things that were forced upon them will be recorded. The whole world will one day be forced to honor them and recognize them as the brave and beautiful women they are.