When the Camellia Blooms (Yaejin)

    In search of fresh small-screen content, I delved into a realm I have not touched since 2016: Korean dramas. Unlike American television shows, which, if successful, might extend over years, Korean dramas are packed into single seasons with sixteen to twenty-four episodes. The one I chose, When the Camellia Blooms features Dong-baek, a single mom, adjusting to a new town, Ongsan. 

    Initially, my interest lay in the portrayal of single mothers, who in Korea are still socially stigmatized. But in the end, I was charmed by the girl power displayed in the show. There is no self-righteous moralizing message. Every character has grave personality flaws, regardless of gender. Sexism is rampantly apparent. However, ultimately, each person makes a decision for him or herself; people pave their own lives. This is the first time I have seen such true equality in the agency exercised by all characters. This is partly due to the drama’s setting. 

    While most landmarks and cities mentioned in the series actually exist, Ongsan is a fictional town. Located in South Korea, it is rural, known primarily for its marinated crabs. Several blocks and alleys make up the entire perimeter of the town. Because of its size, the community is extremely close-knit. It is almost like a clan; everyone knows each other through some connection. The bookkeeper is the uncle of the butcher’s wife’s second cousin’s best friend from middle school: this is completely made-up but it is an example of just how random each connection is. As one person says, you cannot dent a stone pot at home and expect no one to know about it. As nosy as everyone is, when a random neighbor shows up for dinner, the family puts an extra pair of chopsticks on the table. 

    Adding to its flavor, Ongsan is matriarchal. Run by mothers and grandmothers, restaurants are the greatest source of revenue for this town. Recipes are passed on to daughters or daughter-in-laws, which continues this tradition of power. While the governor and politicians are primarily male, women hold more direct power over the townspeople.  A widow with three adult sons rules the streets of Ongsan; none of the other women can face up to her wisdom and experience. The most educated person is a divorce lawyer, an alumna of the top university in South Korea; she has incredible connections beyond the town. 

    This is where Dong-baek raises her toddler son for six years. Infamous as the Princess Diana of Ongsan, she receives unwanted male attention, stirring the cattiness of her neighbors. Although she runs a successful bar that pays for her son’s tutors and baseball lessons, the townspeople refer to her as a bargirl. Instead of using honorifics, which is expected when speaking to adults in Korean culture, everyone speaks to her using language intended for close friends and children.

    Despite the consistent disrespect and her shy personality, Dong-baek will defend herself. Some highlights include when she informs her wealthy landlord that the price of alcohol does not include the right to her smile, and when she asks the neighborhood women why she should be ashamed of raising her son alone. She is neither holier-than-thou nor a withering, subservient wallflower. She is not a caricature: she is an honest hard worker who speaks up when necessary and cries when overwhelmed. She is often strong and sometimes vulnerable, but she is never weak. She is the feminist character I have been waiting for. 

    

Comments

[Kayle Graham]

I just started this show and I love kdramas. The women with leading roles are usually submissive and quiet, they hardly stand up themselves but rather bow and politely scurry away. It’s refreshing to see a stronger female lead!
Love this show so far.

[Tom]

My wife of 27 years is Korean but oddly we just started watching kdramas. Our first was Crash Landing on You and we suspect it will be our fave as we work down the list (we avoid tv MA). Camellia is our second foray and while some of the acting and melodrama is cheesy we eagerly anticipate each new episode. The lead actress is amazing. In fact, our observation is that the female leads are far more convincing than their male counterparts. Just an opinion of course. Anyway, Netflix has more to offer so we'll see how goes...

[Sue Lee]

I liked this drama, thank you for a fair and insightful review. It's sad that injustice that 55 percent-minority had to endure has been diluted as simply a "gender issue" now. Nothing against other genders, but I feel that our chance has gone by when there was a glimpse of hope in year 2020. I have come to enjoy kdramas more and more over the years, because they are written by women writers (I haven't heard of any male writers) and they make efforts that are fair to audience.

[Sue]

I think the portrayal of the dynamics between females and males, especially for married couples is fair and common in Korea.