SSIRENS SIRENS IRENS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF COUNTRY OF COUNTRY OF COUNTRY
We would like to acknowledge the traditional custodians of the land on which our editorial team and readers reside, and pay our respect to any Elders past and present. We extend that respect to any Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people reading this publication.
RUN THE WORLD RUN THE WORLD RUN THE WORLD
Editor-in-Chief
Amrita Chahal
Editing Manager
Sunny Yu
Writing Manager
Mia Rea
Writing
Angelene Cocepcion
Areebah Khan
Jessica Houston
Jinjin Zhao
Maeve Shin
Editing
Aditri Anagan
Ayra Kamal
Caroline Sinn
Ishrat Zaman
Janice Mak
Jacqueline Ge
Valerie Fan
Graphic Design
Ashmini Ganesh
Lihini Jayasekara
Mandy Li
Nerine Chan
Teodulfo Jose Reyes
EDITORS’ ADDRESS EDITORS’ ADDRESS EDITORS’ ADDRESS
Hi!
Welcome to Issue 1, 2024 of “Run the World”, titled “Sirens”. The theme for this issue is a simplistic, singular world, chosen to be a representation of the two sides of the coin women in the legal field are often faced with. Rooted in Greek mythology, the creatures represent the allure and power of traditional femininity. When juxtaposed with the word’s connotation of an alarm signalling danger, the term “siren” begins to embody both empowerment and caution. This dual connotation encapsulates the complexity of what it means to be a woman.
This complexity is the primary reason for our use of such a broad theme. In contrast to previous editions of “Run the World”, the writers and editors were not given any criteria or restrictions on the topics they chose to write about, or the style that they wrote in. The theme was chosen only after they had presented their ideas. In a world where women are often told what to do and how to do it, we thought it best to allow those in our team to have full rein to speak on the conversations that were important to them. These stories transcend the boundaries of mainstream discourse, bringing the thoughts and desires of women in law to the forefront.
Prepare to be inspired and empowered by the strength, vulnerability and insights shared so kindly and eloquently by our team. Finally, on behalf of us all, thank you for reading.
Amrita, Mia and SunnyPRESSING PLAY
True crime has been an emerging aspect of media over the last decade, becoming an international staple. The pervasiveness of true crime in popular culture is attributed to the rise of social media platforms, which have introduced access to non-fiction media concerning real crime. Indeed, true crime undertakes many forms and ranges from documentaries, limited series, podcasts, videos, novels and film adaptations. The wide-ranging sources of true crime media enable a greater demographic to press play and fall into the realm of non-fiction criminality.
EPISODE ONE: RAISING AWARENESS
For many individuals, true crime is a gateway to understanding how the legal and criminal justice system operates (or fails to operate). The continuous production of true crime media provides audiences with access to digestible forms of cases that they would otherwise never gain exposure to.
Documentaries and podcasts are arguably effective tools in raising awareness of criminal matters. Informative true crime media is a powerful instrument in rendering cold cases back into the public and legal system. For example, Crime Junkie, a Spotify podcast committed to releasing weekly episodes covering a myriad of missing persons, infamous cases and murders, has played a pivotal part in bringing justice closer to families and victims. Notably, a plethora of the podcast episodes cover unsolved cold cases, which the hosts iterate in the closing minutes is intended to provide the matter with broader attention for justice to be obtained.
The Crime Junkie podcast hosts, Ashley Flowers and Brit Prawat, also provide ‘UPDATE’ episodes that provide listeners with an update on cases they have previously covered. Such episodes include a variety of content. Sometimes, the succeeding ‘UPDATE’ episode may contain further evidence obtained, or in more successful cases, the completion of a trial, the arrival of a verdict or a ‘cold case’ gaining enough momentum to be re-opened.
However, Seppälä (2020) posits that true crime podcasts, like other mediums invested with bringing criminality into the realm of consumption, may produce outcomes that are a consequence of linguistic delivery of such gruesome depravity-centric cases.¹ Therefore, while true crime provides an entry point into understanding how crime and the justice system operate, it is important that the content is handled with respect, grace and sensitivity.
EPISODE TWO: SENSATIONALISATION
Despite the benefits of true crime media in facilitating justice for unsolved cases, true crime consumption is a double-edged sword. The constant reproduction of true crime media is not immune to the saturation of sensationalism which often raises the question of whether it remains informative or is another product of capitalism.
Since the media is often likened to narrative or fiction, the realm of true crime is apt to fall into the world of storytelling. Many documentaries, films and podcasts, in their endeavours to engage the audience, could use tools more appropriate to discuss real cases, real perpetrators, real crimes and real victims. Here, such tools may engage in the correct terminology, consulting those privies to the stories and discussing the actual offenders and victims with grace and mindfulness.
However, the sensationalisation of victims, crimes and perpetrators often feeds audiences with a narrative that fails to adequately account for the real circumstances, consequences and gravity of the cases. Additionally, casting well-known actors to portray serial killers or victims may alter the perception of the crime and the criminal themselves – borderline formulating another fiction for mass consumption.
This was pertinent preceding the release of ‘My Friend Dahmer’ (2017) and ‘DAHMER’ (2022), which saw Ross Lynch and Evan Peters portraying serial killer, Jeffrey Dahmer. The reception of these true crime productions was rapt of sexualisation, glamourisation and public expression of desire for the actors undertaking the role of Dahmer. Within these contexts, Hollywood’s commitment to capitalisation often compromises the integrity and genuineness of the plight of victims and legal advocates when bringing these cases into the public arena.
By reducing real serial killers to merely caricatures of the media or ‘villainous characters’, the depravity of their crimes risk becoming eroded and overshadowed by the glamour inherent in Hollywood articulations. Ultimately, a greater critique can be drawn that such portrayals of these individuals may even ‘encourag[e] the spectators to sympathise.’² Milde (2021) has observed that the ‘Hollywood’ reconstruction of real criminals have resulted in fictional representations [becoming] pop-cultural antiheroes.³
As such, it has become increasingly concerning to observe the steady sensationalisation of perpetrators. Arguably, this has resulted in the blurring of reality and fiction by media consumers.
EPISODE THREE: CONSUMED BY CONSUMPTION
The prevalent discourse surrounding the effect of true crime media consumption raises the question of whether the continued production of true crime media is contributing to a wider phenomenon of desensitisation within society. Despite the efforts of social media sites to restrict material conflicting with their opaque ‘community guidelines’, we are nonetheless exposed to the harsh realities of crime that occurs. This raises the important question of whether ample consumption of true crime relegates our interactions with one another: By absorbing a steady flow of true crime content, can we be considered as active bystanders and conscious audiences condemning such atrocities that plague our society?
¹Ellen Seppälä, ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop? - An Analysis of the Evaluative Language Used by the Hosts of the True Crime Podcast Crime Junkie when Discussing Law Enforcement’ (MPhil Thesis, Abo Akademi University, 2020).
² Eirunn Milde, ‘The Changing Portrayals of Serial Killers in Popular Culture - How ’My Friend Dahmer’ and ‘Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile’ Invite to Sympathy for Serial Killers’ (MPhil Thesis, University of Oslo, 2021).
³Ibid.
legacy of learning: amotheranddaughter exploretheirgeographical andeducationaltapestry
Fiona
This July it is 25 years since I was admitted as a Legal Practitioner in NSW. I am currently a Sole Practitioner Director of an Incorporated Legal Practice in Bathurst. I primarily represent clients in the NSW Local Court and District Court. Throughout my career, I have had a diverse range of clients across a range of locations. The introduction of AVL technology for Court appearances has completely changed the nature of representation and broadened the range of locations. I also hold a position as an adjunct lecturer with the NSW College of Law. I am a mother of three and also a grandmother to three grandchildren. I studied in the 1990's by distance
Neither of my parents was university-educated. I was raised in a fibro house in a country town, so upon reflection, it seemed rather ambitious for me to stick a poster on my wall that said "I want to be a lawyer" when I was sixteen years old
Although she was not university-educated, my mum was an avid reader. I like to think of a generational thread that carries on. For me, that is the love of reading that I then shared with my family.
I was nineteen years old when I started my studies by distance. In a plot twist, I then became a mother to my eldest child, Jessica, just when I was twenty years old. Studying by distance in the early 90s meant that the lectures were sent by mail on cassette tape and assignments were posted back by mail to the university. By then we were living on a farming property in rural NSW. I sat my exams in a country hall alone with a supervisor for three hours each time. I also had to attend intensive on-campus sessions for each subject once each semester My two eldest children were born during the years I was studying, so back then, I was juggling breastfeeding, house and partner duties together with my assignments.
Now that I look back, perhaps it had been the words of encouragement that I received from those around me that had kept me persevering amidst all the difficulties. In particular, till this very day, I thank the words of kindness that had been uttered by the lecturer as I sat in the lecture theatre holding my baby in my arms: "to that young lady with the baby, we all welcome you in this class." Really, it’s a lovely example of how strong of an impact word of encouragement can have on one’s life.
When my daughter Jess started her studies this year, we strolled together across the campus at UNSW. Jess grinned when we walked into the law library, and I enthusiastically showed her a case in the old-fashioned Commonwealth Law Reports. It is certainly very interesting to compare the differences in our educational journey
I think it is well-known that the hardest part of being in the legal profession includes the constant workload, stress levels and adrenaline (caffeine required). Having said that, the best part about being in the legal profession is the privilege of working with a range of colleagues
To my daughter Jess, at the beginning of this journey and to students reading this article who are currently juggling study, work and family commitments, a good quote from Nelson Mandela:
"It always seems impossible until it's done."
Jessica
The smallest unit of spoken language is known as a phoneme. Recognising this sound-language process is crucial for learning to read. Phonological awareness involves learning the melody of language, where individual sounds harmoniously blend to form words. Each evening, as dinner gently simmers nearby, I sit at the kitchen table with my son, guiding him through reading and writing, just as my mother once did with me. In these tranquil moments, we share more than mere lessons; we pass down a cherished family tradition, imparting the rhythm of language from one generation to the next.
This nightly routine transforms once he's tucked into bed and I begin my own studies. Although phonemic awareness and legal studies differ significantly in content and objectives, they share striking similarities in their methodologies of teaching and understanding. In phonetic learning, students’ progress from basic sounds to complex texts, much like how law students advance from fundamental concepts to intricate legal theories Seated under a soft pool of light, I delve into case law and legal theory, which unfold into a tapestry of human experiences. Each paragraph and legal precedent represents not just a set of rules, but a slice of life, capturing real emotions, conflicts, and resolutions. As I pore over these texts, my focus is not merely on memorisation but on forming a deep connection with the lives entwined within the legal narratives.
Law has always been in my blood, and I have observed a lot through osmosis. So why didn't I do law when I was 18? It would have been a perfect fit It was because I was very cynical. Copying my mother's profession at the time seemed so predictable and boring. I would scoff at the students in high school who went into professions that were the same as a parent; what a ground-breaking, safe choice. Do you not have your identity? Your own dreams?
A sense of belonging to everything is crucial, weaving a tapestry of connection and acceptance. You are not just adjacent to others but interlocked intentionally and rightly, making you feel like you are a vital thread in the fabric of your surroundings. This belonging doesn't demand change to fit in; instead, it celebrates your uniqueness. I enrolled in a UNSW Juris Doctor when I was 29 years old.
Is Jess still at uni?
How long will that take?
You're too old
[Lots of disconcerted looks]
However, the feeling of contentment and belonging - a profoundly comforting and fulfilling experience - quickly drowned out this unease. I feel a sense of peace and satisfaction with what I have decided to take on. Entering law at 29 years old, especially as a mother, comes with a distinctive set of advantages. I knew it could be done, as my mother had completed law in her early twenties with her eldest two children. Growing up in a country area, my mum ' s role as a lawyer seemed like a norm to me, but when I think about it, I can't recall anyone else's mum in the same profession. She was simply mum - always there at every sport and running the household, reminding us, "I might be a lawyer, but I still have to mop the floor." When I reflect on those days, I see how brilliantly she juggled everything.
Deciding to pursue law is a testament to perseverance and the value of diverse life experiences in enriching the legal profession. It provides me with a unique opportunity for personal growth, career advancement, and the chance to contribute a much-needed perspective to law. Though challenging, it is incredibly rewarding, and I am committed to making the most of this opportunity. When there is a resilient inner calm and a profound connection to the world around youthat is when you know you ' re on the correct path.
My son may not realise it, but he inspires me daily with his grasp of basic concepts, his diligent efforts, and his awareness of the areas he needs to improve. At seven years old, he is laying the building blocks of language, just as I am establishing my own fundamental understanding in law. Every phoneme he masters reflects each legal principle I am beginning to grasp, underscoring that all sophisticated comprehension starts with mastering the basics. This evolution in perspective - ignited by my son ' s learning and influenced by my mother - comes full circle as I recognise the profound impact of foundational knowledge, both in language and law, on personal growth and community connection.
This perspective is priceless.
END
Authored by Fiona Sams, a Legal Practitioner in New South Wales and her daughter Dr. Jessica Houston, a first-year Juris Doctor student at the University of New South Wales.
JJEOPARDY EOPARDY Double
‘Culturally and linguistically diverse’ women, domestic violence law in NSW, and ‘reasonableness’
In November 2022, the NSW Parliament was the first Australian jurisdiction to criminalise coercive control.¹ The absence of an offence criminalising coercive control was the subject of much criticism, grounded in concerns that the conceptualisation of what a ‘domestic violence offence’ constituted failed to appreciate that ‘coercion’ and ‘control’ do not necessarily amount to a criminal offence.² Parliament distinctly criminalised coercive control after passing the Crimes Legislation Amendment (Coercive Control) Bill 2022 (NSW), which contained the new provision, s 54D. The section criminalises a “ course of conduct… that consists of abusive behaviour” between intimate partners, provided that: (a) there is intention to coerce and control through the conduct; and (b) a reasonable person would consider the course of conduct likely to cause fear of violence or a serious adverse impact.³
The invocation of a standard of ‘reasonableness’, particularly in relation to domestic violence raises concerns about what that standard is. In the context of intimate partner violence, tests of ‘reasonableness’ are often sites of marginalisation; in the sterile environment of the courtroom, under the scrutiny of the ‘objective’ judiciary, victims’ conduct is often seen through individualised, Eurocentric, and ‘masculine’ frameworks, divorcing them from their social, cultural, and economic relativities.⁴ This conceals the structural character of domestic violence in these victims’ lives. Ultimately, the criminal ‘justice’ system is faced with serious questions concerning whether they are adequately addressing victims’ needs, or whether they are falling short and (re)traumatising them in the process.
To momentarily suspend this theoretical analysis and consider the issue on a more practical level, let us consider ‘culturally and linguistically diverse’ (‘CALD’) women and their unique experiences of domestic violence. To illustrate this, the experiences of South Asian migrant women are useful examples. Experiences of coercive control through financial abuse, specific to South Asian migrant women, include abusive partners: exploiting women’s customary marriage gifts; and jeopardising women’s long-term finances by excluding them from property titles and financial investments.⁵ Victims of domestic violence in this context suffer a ‘double victimisation’: firstly, at the hands of their intimate partners; and secondly, at the hands of the institutions that regularly fail to recognise their unique needs.⁶ Institutions, including the police and the courts, often fail to recognise the distinctive cultural attitudes that propagate subcultures of gendered violence in these communities, including cultural constructs of ‘honour’ and ‘shame’ that contribute to women’s silences and under-reporting of their experiences.⁷
Returning to the issue of ‘reasonableness’ in such context of coercion and control, it is clear there is a large risk of (re)traumatisation of CALD women. For example, South Asian women’s understandings of their cultural constructs of ‘honour’ and ‘shame’ difficult to explain and difficult to prove in Eurocentric and ‘masculine’ settings such as the police station and courtroom would be obscured, despite their role in shaping experiences of coercive control. This exemplifies how CALD women experiencing coercive control may face risks of (re)traumatisation and marginalisation at two levels, should they pursue criminal ‘justice’.
Firstly, police tend to fail to understand the complex wishes victims have regarding their safety in situations of physical violence.⁸ Extending this to situations of non-physical and culturally unique situations of violence, which are more ‘subjective’ than situations of physical violence, it is difficult to imagine that, without directed training, police institutions would be equipped to deal with CALD women’s experiences of coercive control. At this level, women face the first risk of (re)traumatisation and marginalisation: police institutions making prosecution judgments about the ‘reasonableness’ of victims’ cases without the capabilities to understand their unique experiences of coercive control.
The second risk of marginalisation is the legal test of reasonableness, where legal actors employ a counterfactual by assessing the facts through the perspective of the ‘objective’ ‘reasonable person’. Problematising the positivist ‘objectivity’ of the ‘reasonable’ person is an essential first step in reckoning with the law’s shortcomings in addressing the needs of CALD women. The Eurocentrism and ‘masculine’ standards that are often perpetuated in these judgments doubly jeopardise CALD women, creating a high risk for (re)traumatisation should victims report their experiences.
This does not mean political and legal institutions should become paralysed in their goal of addressing the needs of CALD women in situations of coercive control. However, there should be a hyper-sensitivity to the elements of the new offence that, on paper, seem to address the concerns outlined in legal and political academia, but in practice potentially create risks of (re)traumatisation for victims. At the very least, there should be serious cultural shifts and more flexibility in what policing and legal institutions consider ‘reasonable’; more appropriately, I argue, we should abolish the threshold altogether, and aim to deconstruct the presence of the Eurocentric masculine ‘gaze’ in contexts of gendered violence.
Policymakers must interrogate the efficacy of criminalisation itself as an intervention for this issue, particularly with regard to CALD women. Evidence demonstrates that CALD women underutilise family dispute resolution and family law services;⁹ this suggests a higher disengagement with the criminal ‘justice’ system, which has graver repercussions than civil frameworks. Considering this, is identifying a ‘gap’ and then ‘filling’ it with new legislation the most effective course of action here?¹⁰ Contrarily, does ‘gap-filling’ myopically focus on the quality of provision-drafting, without considering the “structural… settings” for offences?¹¹ Effective policymaking necessitates an understanding of the sociocultural settings in which policies will be implemented – particularly for CALD women, whose experiences in their socio-cultural environments may require comprehensive solutions outside of the criminal law. Thus, in the current climate of heightened awareness and reporting of gendered violence, we must evolve beyond reactive measures that merely address ‘gaps’ in the legislation; effective solutions require victim-centred frameworks that holistically address victims’ needs in order to successfully disrupt cycles of intimate-partner violence.
GGRAPHY RAPHY Biblio
¹ Francois Kunc, ‘Coercive control legislation’ (2023) 97(1) Australian Law Journal 9, 10-11
² David Brown et al, Criminal Laws (The Federation Press, 7th edition, 2020) 668 [7.6.5.1].
³ Crimes Legislation Amendment (Coercive Control) Act 2022 (NSW).
⁴ Elizabeth A Sheehy, Julia Tolmie, and Julie Stubbs, ‘Defending battered women on trial: the battered woman syndrome and its limitations’ (1992) 16(6) Criminal Law Journal 369, 384-7
⁵ Punita Chowbey, ‘Women’s Narratives of Economic Abuse and Financial Strategies in Britain and South Asia’ (2017) 7(3) Psychology of Violence 459, 464-5.
⁶ Aisha Gill, ‘Voicing the Silent Fear: South Asian Women’s Experiences of Domestic Violence’ (2004) 43(5) Howard Journal of Criminal Justice 465, 466.
⁷ Ibid.
⁸ Australian Law Reform Commission, Family Violence A National Legal Response (Report No 128, October 2010).
⁹ Helen Rhoades et al, ‘Improving the family law system for clients from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds’ (2012) 26 Australian Journal of Family Law 240, 242.
¹⁰ Julia Quilter, 'Evaluating Criminalisation as a Strategy in Relation to Non-Physical Family Violence' in Marilyn McMahon and Paul McGorrery (eds), Criminalising Coercive Control (Springer Nature, 2020) 111, 124.
¹¹ Ibid 125.
LILAC BLOSSOM MAEVESHIN
❀
2024, Sydney, Australia
A wildflower arrangement class is underway at a cozy floral studio nestled in Sydney’s eastern suburb. Among the attendees of the class is Mirae, a young adult who has lately embarked on her academic journey in a country far south from her homeland. One-day classes are a rare treat for her as an international student, and she’s thrilled to experience her first flower arrangement experience in Australia.
“Today, we’re making a bouquet of overflowing lilacs!” says the instructor. “I guess most of you are familiar with lilacs. Commonly blooming in late spring, they are resilient shrubs that endure harsh winters to bloom an abundance of delicate flowers. Now, before we dive in, there are a few things to keep in mind…”
The lilac’s resilience strikes a chord with Mirae.
❀
2013, Busan, South Korea
It was 5.30 a.m., and just like any other day, Mirae’s eyes popped open even before her phone alarm the chance to go off. Mirae still had almost two hours before heading off to school, but that didn’t stop her from getting out of bed and sitting at her desk. Another monthly mock CSAT exam¹ was approaching, and the weight of the pressure was choking and suffocating her. Her results from the latest mock exam showed a slight decline in her literature score, which her teacher scolded her mercilessly for. Feeling weary, she reluctantly opened her literature book.
Although short breaks between each subject were given during the mock CSAT, concentrating was always a challenge for her. Yet, mock test days were the only chance to return home before sunset. So ironically, Mirae sometimes found herself awaiting a mock CSAT, albeit with the stress and fatigue that followed it.
To others, Mirae appeared to be academically successful. She had always been nominated as one of the high performers among liberal arts students. However, responding to praise for her academic achievements was bittersweet moment for Mirae, because the truth was that she was no more than a little girl, dreaming of the possibility that she would be offered a spot a top university.
One ordinary day, Mirae had a pivotal argument with her teacher on where her future lies. “Miss, I believe students are allowed to choose whether to study liberal arts or natural sciences by the end of Year 11. Is there any chance I can switch to natural sciences?”
Her teacher’s answer was a firm no. “I’m sorry, but our school policy comes first. You’re locked into the liberal arts track. And don’t forget, we’ve decided to support you as the most promising student in the liberal arts track. You’re not gonna let us down, are you?”
Getting shot down didn’t sit right with Mirae, with burning thoughts about making the switch running through her mind. The thoughts had already bothered her for a few months, draining her mental energy and making it challenging to stay motivated. She knew she needed the final blow to sway her teacher’s mind. So, for the first time ever, she played truant the next day. When her parents asked about her absence later that day, Mirae decided to get it off her chest.
“I need to tell you something.” She finally spoke up. “I want to study natural sciences rather than liberal arts. I tried talking to my teacher, but she refused to hear me out. I am losing motivation day by day, as studying to get into a major that I don’t want to study is so torturous and meaningless.”
A moment of silence followed before Mirae’s father broke it. “You how harsh the reality is. Do you believe you can really catch up maths and sciences in a year? Besides, you are always the highest-g student in liberal arts. Just focus on maintaining your grades. going well.”
This was not the first time she spoke to her parents about switching to natural sciences. When Mirae first brought this matter months ago, her authoritative father swiftly dismissed it. Since been an elephant in the room in her household. As Mirae grew older sister barely convincing her father to let her study design after a year of back-and-forth with him, Mirae was hesitant to again after her father’s initial rejection. Likewise, her father seemed mentioning her interest in natural sciences.
There was a towering wall before Mirae and she didn’t know what to do. Later that evening, her mother came to her room. “Mirae, I know you really regret your initial decision to study liberal arts. But I think your father is worried about you from the bottom of his heart. I understand where you are coming from, but it’s hard for me to persuade him to support what you want.” Surely everyone, everything in life was against her. She was alone. The next day, Mirae was at school as usual. Her teacher went on with the lesson, not mentioning her small ‘protest’ from the previous day.
❀
2015, Seoul, South Korea
Mirae found herself entering a top university in Seoul, greeted by congratulations from everyone around her. They told her she had a wonderful road ahead. A few months passed, the initial excitement waned, and the hustle and bustle of orientation events slowly dissipated. Now, she was seeking more moments of solitude than before. In those quiet times, her internal monologue grew louder. Mirae wondered if this was indeed what she wanted. At first, she made a conscious effort to put aside nagging doubts. Notwithstanding her efforts, such feelings only seemed to grow, and she discovered herself retreating into those questions even more often. These thoughts that entered her mind unwelcome only to linger on and on and on…
My acceptance at this university helped my high school gain popularity. I also made my parents proud. But what’s left for me? I’ve totally lost myself since high school. Was I merely a tool in someone else’s selfish game? I can’t what’s happening to me. I want to take a semester off or two and pull together. But what will my professors and future employers think of gap? I had never heard of anyone taking a break from university to discover themselves or simply to rest.
There were certainly some acceptable reasons for taking a break from university, like preparing for civil servant exams – a path to which many university students in Korea, regardless of their majors, devote their twenties. decided to say she would prepare for a civil servant exam since she think people would allow her to take a break just for personal reasons. Eventually, Mirae got written permission to apply for a leave of absence.
In the following weeks, Mirae cocooned herself in her small studio. The self-doubt and anger in her boiled up until it exploded in bursts of tears. She was certainly depressed, and she couldn’t snap out of it. As a girl who had always prided herself on productivity, Mirae didn’t even allow herself to lie down for a minute in her high school days, yet here she was. It was always in these moments that a voice would lurk its way into her mind overwhelming her with an immeasurable sense of inadequacy.
I don’t know how to rest. Being busy all the time is the way I have lived. Now, I’m suspending my studies by my own decision, but I think I’m a slacker and lazy too.
She spoke to her parents on the phone, but she didn’t share the inner restlessness she was wrestling with. The idea of burdening her parents with her turmoil only made her feel guilty, so she opted to make up a story about preparing for a significant exam instead. At the same time, she was surrounded by an air of melancholy after realising that she couldn’t confide in her own parents. Night after night, racing thoughts kept her from sleeping, leaving her with an endless cycle of despair. Placed on the window sill, her lilac’s delicate form weathered day by day.
One day, the doorbell rang. Mirae’s grandmother stood there with a shopping bag in her hand.
“Grandma!” Mirae exclaimed. Although they were both living in Seoul, it had been quite some time since they last met, as Mirae always excused herself by saying that she was busy with her study commitments. “I didn’t expect you to visit today,” Mirae told her. She was uncertain if her grandmother knew she had decided to take a break from her studies.
“I just dropped by to bring you some Banchan,²” her grandmother replied with a faint smile. Bringing Banchan was how her grandmother showed her tender care for Mirae. As Mirae led her grandmother to a small dining table, she could not shake mixed feelings swirling inside her. Her grandmother was someone who fervently desired higher education, despite it being uncommon for women in her generation. However, her dreams were shattered by the Korean War. Mirae wondered if her grandma could even grasp the turmoil she was experiencing while attending a prestigious university. “I heard from your mom you’re taking a break from uni,” Mirae’s grandmother uttered. Mirae felt her body tense up.
Mirae’s mind was busy thinking about how to broach the subject.
What if my grandmother wants to have a serious conversation about my decision? I don’t think I have the mental space to handle it right now.
Her grandmother was the first to break the silence. “Finally, you can spend quality time with me!” her grandma exclaimed cheerfully. Mirae was caught off guard by the unexpected response. “Do you have any plans today?” her grandma asked Mirae.
“Not really…” Mirae replied hesitantly. She was not used to saying that she had nothing scheduled, always feeling the urge to do something productive.
“Nice. Let’s get some fresh air! Why don’t we go hiking now?” Her grandmother proposed, which came as no surprise to Mirae. Her grandmother had often encouraged her to go for a walk, but Mirae had always prioritised her studies. Various thoughts and feelings intersected in her mind. Mirae lukewarmly agreed to her grandmother’s suggestion as it dawned on her that she had been avoiding her invitations for so long.
Mirae and her grandmother walked along the village road leading to a hiking trail encircling Seoul. As the wooden gate appeared at the end of the road, her grandmother, walking ahead of Mirae, pushed it open with a creaking noise. They stepped through the gate and continued along a dirt trail flanked by lush trees. Before long, they reached a point where the trail diverged into two paths. One path appeared more trodden, with a more defined and wider trail. Contrary to Mirae’s expectation, her grandmother towards the other path. Mirae wondered why her grandmother was this strange and unknown path, but she blindly trusted her and followed in her footsteps.
the bush got thicker, her grandmother began to talk. “A few years ago, to always stick to the more travelled path. One day, I still don’t know but something happened. I ended up hiking this trail! I was a bit lost at but as I went along, I gradually became more aware of my surroundings. realised that each path has its own twists and turns, contributing to the beauty of each path.”
As her grandmother finished speaking, the path they were walking on veered into a less travelled route, covered with more bushes. Walking side by side with her grandmother, Mirae took a step forward.
❀2024, Sydney, Australia
“We’ll now give our lilac arrangement a varied height!” The instructor’s voice brings Mirae back to reality. The instructor continues explaining: “Some lilacs are almost in full bloom, and some of them are half bloomed. I recommend you have a good mixture of those stems, as half bloomed ones will have a longer vase life and make your bouquet long-lasting. Here’s another hack. Use flowers with different stem lengths, as it will allow each flower to not only have its moment in the spotlight but have better air circulation and sunlight exposure.”
Mirae looks at the array of lilac stems in front of her. Each flower has a unique shade of purple at various stages of blooming. Some stems are long and straight, while others bend gently. None of the blooms are the same, but they will blend together to create an overflowing, sweet-smelling lilac bouquet. There was a time that Mirae deemed the darkest chapter of her life. She doesn’t know how the future will unfold, but she does know one thing for sure: life will not be linear. Its ups and downs, twists and turns, will become the path itself. With a faint smile, Mirae picks up a gracefully curving stem with a lilac blossom, its petals unfurling in the soft light.
¹ South Korea has a national-level entrance exam called the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT) (also called Suneung) which is held in November every year.
² Korean side dishes.
A Robot Woman
A Robot Woman
In the skyscrapers, bathed in sunshine’s glow, A robot woman sits quietly, With glazed eyes and rigid hands. Anger ran through her pen, She gazes at a man with an expression blank, The echoes of heels on marble fades.
With a silver fork in hand, a storm rages outside the kitchen, A robot woman stands quietly, Mechanical arms and backs curved in slight. Monotony is the shredded cheese on pesto pizza; She gives a gentleman a hug, expression unread, Dish soap bubbles rise, before soon bursting away.
In an old house, with a gentle breeze outside, A robot woman nods quietly, In a black dress, a smile without emotion. Obedience clicks among the goblets.
She skillfully recites a toast to a gentleman without a trace, Tiramisu collapses under the spoon’s embrace
Note:
The poem captures the inner turmoil and suppression experienced by a woman who feels trapped under societal expectations and norms, depicted metaphorically as a “robot woman”. Despite the external appearance of composure and conformity, there is a deep sense of frustration, anger, and longing for freedom and respect bubbling beneath the surface. Each stanza portrays different scenarios where the robot woman is outwardly calm but inwardly conflicted The imagery of skyscrapers, kitchen, and old houses symbolizes the cages, oppressive nature of the environment, she finds herself in (work, life and social circumstances). The repetition of “expressionless” highlights the contrast between her inner struggle and her outer numbness, while the mundane actions described, such as gazing, a hug, or a toast, serve as metaphors for her suppressed emotions and desires Overall, the poem captures the theme of inner conflict and the yearning for liberation from societal constraints of most women in the society.
© RUN THE WORLD 2024 ISSUE 1