Wearing Uzbek-Korean label J.Kim, descendants of USSR ethnic Koreans speak on identity, community and redefining home abroad

Koryo SaramInterview & Research · 5 min
koryo-saram
koryo-saram
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“To get around to your identity, you probably first need to learn about the history of your people and your family,” Jenia Kim says. “If nothing can be taken from the past, if it is impossible to reach for any historical facts, then you need to look for support in the present.” Since founding fashion label J.Kim in 2013, the Tashkent-based designer has been creating clothes as a means of exploring her own identity and heritage that spans continents and cultures. Born in Uzbekistan to an ethnically Korean family, Jenia is one of over 500,000 Koryo-saram, descendants of ethnic Koreans mass repressed and interned in the Soviet Union, now living throughout Eastern Europe and Central Asia.

The history of the Koryo-saram — or Soviet Koreans — dates back to the late 19th century, when the decline of the Joseon Dynasty compelled many Koreans to leave their homeland in search of better lives elsewhere. As the Qing Dynasty had sealed the Chinese borders, these migrants were obliged to move towards the Russian Far East, where they settled and flourished, primarily as rice farmers and fishermen. Not even a century later, however, the 1937 Stalin-led repressions — the mass deportation and ethnic cleansing of Koreans in Soviet Russia — uprooted these people and survivors were forced to resettle across Central Asia. Today, the Koryo-saram are a diaspora spread across countries including Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Russia and Ukraine. “I think that the main unifying factor [of the Koryo-saram] is a struggle to understand who you belong to and some kind of abandonment,” Jenia explains. “For me, this is like a separate nation or ethnicity, scattered over different territories — not having its own state.”

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With J.Kim, Jenia has spent the better part of a decade reflecting on her Koryo-saram identity. “As a separate ethnicity, the Koryo-saram don’t really have a folk costume. I wanted to come up with something of my own: a folk costume of Soviet Koreans of sorts, but placed in the contemporary world,” she says. A patchworked floral jacket — now on display as part of the V&A Museum’s Hallyu! The Korean Wave exhibition — was the designer’s first attempt at creating one such folk costume. Over the course of 10 years, spent mixing and merging Korean and Uzbek elements, Jenia has come up with her own, singular design language. And she’s come to better understand her identity along the way.

Now that Jenia’s search for her own identity has come to an end then, the designer is looking outwards. “I want to find out how relevant it is for other people like me and find out their thoughts on this matter. I want to know how they feel,” she says. In the last few months, the designer reached out to a handful of Koryo-saram hailing from different backgrounds and experiences to speak with them about their own journeys.

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Q
Do you think it is important to be in touch with your Korean-ness?
A
I grew up among Koreans and somehow I felt this [particular Korean] essence. I didn’t realize the value then, only my parents did. Since they were already from that generation with mixed blood, for them it is valuable. They, of course, are wary that it will all disappear. But we did not particularly feel it, and only later, with maturity, do you feel that it must be preserved. If I hadn’t been involved in photography, I might still not have understood. Embracing Korean-ness is necessary for my children, my grandchildren, although they may not touch upon it yet, but sooner or later the question arises where they come from.
Q
When did you learn or realize that your parents had been repressed?
A
With regards to repressions, or “resettlement,” we were growing up just like the entire Soviet Union, not knowing our own history thoroughly because it was not covered anywhere. Parents kept silent about this more often than not. You somehow overheard something, and it settled in your memories. In 1988, [under] glasnost, the media began to open archives, and then we learned about the repressions, that we were taken, packed and resettled. My generation had known, but we had no idea of ​​the scale.
Q
Do you think Koryo-saram became more in touch with their identity and with each other after that?
A
Only in the early 90s, when [ethnic] cultural centers were formed in our country, did some [Korean] cultural things begin to revive — the harvest festival, the New Year, etc. Then people began to show interest in our origins.
Viktor, 75, photographer
Viktor, 75, photographer

Creative Director

Jenia Kim

Hair & make-up

Fariza Rodriguez
Masha Vorslav

Producer

Tosya Bakashina

Photography & light assistant

Alexander Kimyaev

Production assistant

Alina Yaskova
Alexander Loginov

Stylist assistant

Daria Tanzharikova
Polina Boroday

Interviews & translation

Sofia Yukina
Vlad Ilkevich