Precarious privilege: identity (re)construction among international students returning to South Korea

2.1 Transnational educational migrants, ESA students and returnees

Return migration generally refers to “the process whereby people return to their country or place of origin after a significant period in another country or region” (King 2000, p. 8). As the process of neoliberal globalization has increased the global mobility of people, as well as information and capital, it has brought about the diversity of return migration such as labor migration, international student migration, international retirement migration, and the return of the adult second generation migration (King and Kuschminder 2022). The newly emerging group of transnational educational migrants whose number has doubled during the past two decades has also altered the landscape of global mobility, resulting in an increasing number of returning students after they spend a significant period abroad (Liu-Farrer 2022).

With the strong emphasis on English as a medium of global communication, the number of transnational educational migrants and returning students has been continuously increasing in many Asian countries, including China, South Korea, Japan and Vietnam (Cairns and Clemente 2021; Lo and Choi 2021; Pham 2021). As English is largely considered “an absolutely basic index of responsible care of [neoliberal] self” (Park 2016, p. 458) in these countries, early English education, especially ESA, is not only seen as a means for developing children’s linguistic skills but also is an important investment in maximizing their potential. With the increasing popularity of ESA, its trajectories have diversified, expanding the scope of its destinations to non-Western countries such as Singapore and the Philippines, while showing an increasing diversity of types, forms and length of ESA (see Lo and Choi 2021 for more discussion). Compared to the earlier phase of ESA in the early 2000s, when ESA generally involved short-term migration to a Western English-speaking country and returning to one’s home country, there have been significant increases in the back-and forth movement of these transnational students (Lo et al. 2015).

While ESA was initially depicted as a prominent educational investment strategy for achieving global mobility, it has gradually been “domesticated” and regularized as an extension of the highly competitive education market of a person’s home country (Kang and Abelmann 2011, 2015; Lo and Choi 2021). Kang et al. (2022), who examined the case of South Korean ESA practice, depicted ESA as “a popular option for the middle class as an escape from the intense domestic competition and as necessary preparation for competition against global elites entering the Korean market” (p. 4). Lo and Choi (2021) further argue that ESA is seen as an extension of domestic competitions into transnational space and a source of class inequalities that allow low-achieving students to circumvent South Korea’s highly stratified and competitive educational system and gain entry to top-tier South Korean universities via a special, less competitive admission process. Similarly, Kang and Abelmann (2011, 2015) pointed out that the domestication of ESA posits ESA practice as an excessive but inevitable investment by parents in their children’s education preparation in South Korea, and their ESA outcomes are highly oriented toward a return to their home country.

One of the unique features that separate ESA students from other transnational migrants is their intention to return to their respective countries, hoping that their transnational experience and competence obtained abroad will serve as important social capital upon their return home (e.g., Kang 2015; Kim and Okazaki 2017; Song 2018). Lo and Choi (2021) stated that ESA practice “culminates in a planned return to South Korea in childhood or early adulthood. This return, and the professional career which draws upon those qualities obtained abroad, are hallmarks of stories of ESA ‘success.’” (p. 132). That is, ESA students’ academic trajectories and experiences are largely influenced by their pre-planned return and with their hope that their transnational experiences and linguistic proficiencies acquired abroad will serve as symbolic capital upon their return (e.g., Choi 2021; Kang 2015; Song 2010). Indeed, many returnees before and during their time abroad expect that their English language competence and transnational experiences obtained through ESA practice will bring them privileged opportunities upon return, including receiving special admission to a prestigious high schools or universities^[1] (Bae and Park 2020; Song 2018).

2.2 ESA returnees and their sense of ambiguity and otherness

While one cannot deny that returnees’ advanced English language competence and their transnational experiences can be viewed as an asset upon their return, recent studies have reported that many returnees experience various difficulties and challenges upon their homecoming. Because their return, whether short- or long-term, involves the complex process of reintegration and reacculturation, requires them to “readjust upon reentry to the homeland” (Onwumechili et al. 2003, p. 46). This process is often accompanied by unexpected readjustment challenges, including suffering from reverse cultural shock (e.g., Chaban et al. 2011; Tung and Lazarova 2006), being ‘othered’ as “foreign” or “unconventional” (e.g., Lo and Kim 2015), or experiencing identity conflict (e.g., Moon and Lim 2012; Pham 2021). In particular, a sense of ambiguity is often shared by many returnees by which they express wanting to become a member of mainstream society while simultaneously asserting their uniqueness by using their transnational backgrounds (e.g., Kanno 2003; Pham and Saito 2020).

Despite their strong intention to succeed in their home country while transferring their overseas experiences to maximize their degree of success, many ESA returnees also suffer from reintegration and readjustment challenges upon their arrival. One of the major challenges reported by ESA students is their sense of ambiguity and otherness they experience in the process of reintegration into their home country (e.g., Moon and Lim 2012; Song 2018). Their sense of ambiguity and vulnerability often stems from how their transnational experiences are not always seen as valuable symbolic capital upon their return. In particular, in Asian countries in which the number of returnees has been constantly increasing, returnees’ transnational experiences and qualities obtained abroad do not guarantee success in their home country (Guo et al. 2013; Pham and Saito 2020; Song 2018). ESA returnees, compared to other transnational returnees, are more vulnerable to a discerning gaze that frames their qualification overseas as inauthentic and pretentious. Their relative vulnerability tends to come from the fact that ESA is often portrayed as an excessive educational investment (Lee 2016; Park and Lo 2012), as well as an escape for some students to study abroad. Specifically, the authors point to students who fail to achieve a high level of academic performance in their home country and instead go abroad and waste money that would be better spent domestically (Kang and Abelmann 2011, 2015; Lo and Choi 2021). For example, Kang and Ablemann (2015), who analyzed the mediatized discourse on ESA in South Korea, claim that ESA discourses extensively includes failure narratives in which a type of ESA student is portrayed as “a bad apple returnee who has escaped abroad only to rot further … and who does not profit personally from time abroad and manages instead to bring home the worst of the foreign scene” (p. 46–47). Similarly, Lo and Kim (2015), who examined the case of ESA returnees, stated that they tend to be largely “stigmatized as insufficiently Korean and immoral” (p. 184). These studies all indicate that ESA returnees are often subjected to the ‘evaluative gaze’ that questions their authenticity in terms of the experience of overseas education, bilingual competence, ethnic and cultural identities, and sometimes, morality.

Recent studies have shown that it is important for ESA returnees to distance themselves from the damaging discourse of ESA or other returnees that frame their overseas experiences and bilingual competence as an index of their inauthenticity (Choi 2019; Choi and Park 2022; Vasilopoulos 2015). Indeed, ESA returnees’ advanced English language proficiency and their bilingual display, including Americanized English pronunciation and occasional code-switching, are often seen as pretentious or ‘showing-off,’ which may serve as a visible marker that indexes their non-belongness rather than potentially valuable linguistic capital (Chen 2008; Lo and Kim 2015). Lo and Choi (2017), for example, claim that the display of Korean-English bilingual competence in daily interactions can easily frame South Korean returnees as inauthentic and even disqualify those whose language use is “[filled] with pretentious insertions of American phonology into Korean” (p. 85). Such an evaluative gaze toward returnees’ bilingual display has become increasingly intensive as rising inequalities in South Korea posit English as a purchasable good that wealthy people can easily obtain and ESA as an underlying mechanism that contributes to social class reproduction (Choi 2021; Lee and Jang 2022). In this context, ESA returnees should carefully monitor ideologically and discursively constructed meanings associated with different languages or language practices and models of personhood, and then make a carefully calculated display of their identities and bilingual competence in order to construct and display their transnational experience and qualifications overseas as valuable and marketable in their home country.

3.1 Selectively displaying or disguising their transnational experiences and identities

While describing their experiences after their return to South Korea, the three participants all stated that the presentation of their transnational experiences almost always led to potential marginalization and othering among Korean peers. At multiple points in the interview they shared particular moments or scenes in which their returnee status evoked damaging discourses associated with ESA. Here is a particular experience shared by Minkyu:

At new student orientation, I introduced myself as a half-New Yorker and a half- Seoul resident. I just did that because that’s who I am. But later at one of the gatherings, my colleagues teased me saying things like “I am so jealous of you for enjoying your teenage life in New York and being able to get into this university. Unlike you, we busted our asses off to be here. No life, no fun,” and “You are such a scammer.” I am sure that they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings but I remember being extremely embarrassed and angry. I tried really hard to survive in the United States but for them it was nothing. For them, I just spent a lot of money abroad in order to get a free ticket to this university.

Minkyu and other participants stated that this particular construct of their ESA experiences are common among Koreans. Their experiences are closely related to the mediatized image of ESA students and returnees, by which their transnational educational experiences are framed as a ‘sneaky’ attempt to disguise their academic failure in South Korea or to enter elite Korean universities that offer special admission for those students with a superior command of English (Kang and Abelmann 2011, 2015; Lo and Choi 2021). In addition, their ESA experiences are recognized as an active tool to reproduce social inequalities and a mechanism to articulate class-based privileges where the rich can easily buy their way into elite Korean universities (c.f., Choi 2021). Participants explained that while such a construct and evaluative gaze do not necessarily entail hostility and condemnation directed toward them, these types of negative reactions definitely reflected those who questioned the authenticity of their transnational experiences and qualities obtained abroad (c.f., Lo and Kim 2015).

In addition, it is noteworthy that Minkyu’s display of hybrid identities was read by other Korean colleges as a source of “othering”. Chen (2008), who examined the case of Hong Kong returnees, reported that returnees’ transnationalism and hybrid identities are often seen as a sign of their non-belongingness by local counterparts, and are used as a means to position them as rebels who are too Westernized to fit into society. Such a negative gaze regarding their transnational identities can arouse a sense of ambiguity often shared by many returnees (c.f., Kanno 2003; Lo and Kim 2015; Pham and Saito 2020).

In their narratives, all participants shared multiple moments or events in which their transnational identities and attributes were regarded as an emblem of their non-belongness and otherness by other local Koreans. For instance, Jiho, who described herself as not being able to totally fit into either the United States or South Korea, explained that one of the challenges she had encountered in South Korea was the evaluative gaze cast upon her so-called “Americanized” appearance and demeanor, and her subsequent marginalization among Korean peers.

Koreans tend to follow the latest trends. Apparently, I’ve lived in United States for a long time, so I’m not used to being sensitive to the latest trends and following them. I don’t even know where to start. So I just wear what I used to wear in the United States and do things in the way I used to do there. But a lot of times people see it as my strategic efforts to show off my transnational background. One of my close friends even advised me to wear, act and speak more like Korean because others often badmouth me. According to them, I try too hard to be seen as a cool American, not a Korean.

Jiho explained that this particular framing posits her as someone who does not value Korean culture and Korean identity but who wants to be passed off as American. She also pointed out that choice of outfits, along with other “distinctive” features such as her demeanor, would have easily been considered something unique by other Koreans if they were not aware of her transnational background.

Similarly, all the participants said that it was common for them to be treated as “not Korean enough,” “too Americanized” or “too different” due to their overseas experiences. Some comments that they received are as follows: “If you go to a military service now, you are a dead meat. You seriously need to understand Korean culture;” “Korean companies are highly group-oriented and hierarchical. I am so concerned about you. How can people like you who don’t really understand the importance of the senior-junior relationship survive in a Korean company?” and “You are so lucky. If war breaks out with North Korea, you can just flee to the United States.” These comments all framed participants as someone with limited Korean cultural knowledge and/or a partial Korean identity. This particular framing of returnees highly resonates with wider social discourses on ESA, as well as returnees that often question not only their ‘true’ Koreanness but also their sense of morality (e.g., Choi and Park 2022; Kang 2015).

As Lo and Kim (2015) observed, these ESA returnees are largely “stigmatized as insufficiently Korean and immoral” (p. 184) by local counterparts. All the participants point out that this particular positionality of an American wannabe or an insufficient Korean often entails a historically constructed figure of national traitors who worked for the United States to profit in various ways during the post-Korean war period, or being typified as sneaky and pretentious while lacking patriotism and without decency (Choi 2019; Palmer 2007).

After having these experiences, the three participants all said that they chose not to actively disclose their ESA background and returnee status in South Korea. While they emphasized that they do not necessarily hide their transnational experiences, they tended to selectively display their ESA experiences and transnational identities. For instance, Minkyu, who introduced himself as a half-New Yorker and a half -Seoul resident at new student orientation, said that he no longer presented himself as such because he did not want to elicit an “unwanted and suspicious gaze” (bulpilyohan saegangyeongkkigo boneun) toward him. Similarly, Dokyeom shared his own experience of being framed as an escapee and somehow less Korean, which then made him decide not to share his transnational experiences:

I don’t really tell others that I have ESA experiences or lived abroad when I was young. It’s not like I am really trying to hide it. All of my close friends know it [my ESA experience]. But I have had enough experiences with Koreans who see my ESA experiences as an evidence to frame me as a pretentious escapee or less Korean. I have heard comments such as “he failed in Korean schools and went abroad to disguise his academic failure”, “He doesn’t know anything about Korea or Korean culture because he lived abroad too long” and “he has a free spirit and doesn’t well fit into Korean society”. I don’t talk about my ESA experiences because I have learned enough now to know that my transnational experiences can work against me.

It is interesting to note that all the participants pointed out the importance of selectively displaying their transnational experiences and identities in South Korea. They claimed that while their transnational experiences and identities often invite a discerning gaze in South Korea, they can be seen as valuable capital in certain contexts and for certain purposes. Dokyeom, for example, shared his recent experience of applying for an internship at one of the multinational companies located in Korea, where his transnational background was, as he described it, seen as an asset:

The company is looking for someone with advanced English proficiency and multicultural awareness. During the interview, I tried really hard to distinguish myself from other pure (pyueo) Koreans by emphasizing my long-term overseas experiences and my transnational being and belongness.

That is, returnees are highly attuned to existing ideological constitutions and surrounding discourses related to their ESA experiences and transnational identities, and invest in selectively and strategically displaying their transnational backgrounds and identities in order to minimize the risk of being framed as inauthentic or pretentious, and at the same time maximize their transnational background in certain contexts.

3.2 Selectively displaying or disguising their bilingual competence

Similar to their transnational backgrounds and identities, all the participants stated that the display of their Korean-English bilingual competence is often considered a socially recognizable emblem among Korean that indexes their inauthenticity rather than being seen as valuable social capital. During the interview they stated that their native-like English language proficiency is generally valued in contemporary South Korean society and seen as valuable social capital. However, they pointed out that displaying too much nativeness, can be easily understood as a sign of linguistic inauthenticity among Koreans (c.f., Choi 2019; Choi and Park 2022; Lo and Kim 2015). Minkyu and Dokyeom, respectively, touched on this point as follows:

I sometimes use English words when speaking in Korean. You know, sometimes you just can’t remember the word and you end up mixing it up with English, body language or anything. Everyone does that, right? But when I do the code-mixing, others often jeer and say thing like “whoa, what was that?”, “did you hear what he just said?”. As if I did that intentionally or they did not understand what I said. It happens more than you can expect and it annoys me a lot (Minkyu).

When I speak Korean, I try to avoid mixing English as much as possible. There are many English borrowing words in Korean such as “a banana” and “a computer”. Koreans do pronounce these words with a pretty thick Korean accent but when I use these words in Korean, they tend to come out as more English-like …. Koreans often look at me as a snob who intentionally hyper-articulates English pronunciation and shows off his/her super Americanized English and overseas experiences (Dokyeom).

These excerpts show that displaying their bilingual competence or their near native-like English competence, especially during their daily conversations, is often followed by derisive laughter, jeering and taunting in South Korea. Similar to the above-listed excerpts, recent studies report that bilingual competence and bilingual hybridity, including code-switching presented by returnees, often serve as socially recognizable emblems that evoke historically constructed figures of fakers, imposters and national traitors in many EFL countries where the discourse of colonialism has assumed a hegemonic presence (e.g., Choi 2019; Reyes 2017). In addition, the practice of frequent code-switching between Korean and English, the use of hyper-exaggerated English pronunciation in Korean-medium conversation, and the excessive use of nonverbal linguistic cues specific to English are often considered a socially recognizable emblem that indexes one’s linguistic incompetency or one’s pretentious nature in South Korea (Lo and Choi 2017). Choi and Park (2022), who examined what constitutes an ideal bilingual practice in contemporary South Korea, report that the act of code-mixing and/or using hyper-Americanized English pronunciation are largely seen as socially inappropriate linguistic practices rather than, among Koreans, a sign of bilingual creativity. Similarly, all the participants explained that displaying English phonological features that depart from standard Korean phonological structures, such as the use of /r/, /l/, /f/, /v/, /th/ sounds, often serves as a sign of signifying their linguistic inauthenticity rather than aiding as a sign to index their bilingual and transnational backgrounds. It is noteworthy that all the participants shared their experiences of practicing and using Koreanized English pronunciation in order to disguise their bilingual competence and/or transnational experiences. Below, Jiho and Minkyu, respectively, recall their experiences how they approached such pronunciation and how it was sometimes received by fellow Koreans:

They [Korean colleges] say things like “Wow, your [English] pronunciation is perfect!!” and “I am so jealous of your English.” But at the same time they say things like “Her [English] pronunciation is so buttery (beoteobaleun)” and “You are really exaggerating.” These comments are unpleasant, you see … I am trying to pronounce English words same as they do so that I don’t have to deal with any unnecessary jokes or criticisms (Jiho).

I actually put quite an effort working on my Koreanized English pronunciation. It wasn’t as easy as I thought to change my accents, especially when it involved rolling my tough less and making the sound more flat. So awkward but I had to (Minkyu).

They all said that they strove to use the Korean language with minimal use of English borrowing words or the hint of American phonological features. While describing their efforts to disguise their bilingual competence, participants also pointed out that not only their English language competence but also their Korean language competence, a sign of their ‘true’ Koreaness (Choi and Park 2022), is often used as a basis for questioning their bilingual competence and raising the issue of authenticity. Jiho, for example, shared her recent experience in which her allegedly limited Korean language competence became a source of teasing.

Recently, I played charades with my colleagues and the card I picked contained a Korean proverb. I had never heard about this proverb “sseogeodo junchi [Chinese herring is still Chinese herring even if it is rotten]”. I asked others, “What is sseogeodo junchi?” and “What is junchi [Chinese herring]?” My colleagues laughed so hard and they thought I was joking. [And when they finally realized that I was not kidding], they teased me saying, “You are not Korean, right?” and “I think she didn’t even go to an elementary school.” It was so embarrassing.

Because Korean proverbs and the word “junchi” are not commonly used in daily Korean communication, her lack of knowledge about this particular proverb could simply be understood as a common happening during the game. However, it was understood as a teasable moment among Koreans when she was framed as “non-Korean” and “uneducated.” Similarly, Minkyu said that his Korean language competence often becomes a socially recognizable emblem that frames his bilingual competence as inauthentic:

I think having a good command of English is definitely plus in South Korea. You can easily get a good score in English-medium instruction courses in college, have more opportunities to communicate with people from different countries, and have a better chance to get a high-income job in South Korea. But having a good command of English and living abroad for a long time can be a huge minus. When I misspell Korean words or use slightly awkward Korean expressions – everyone does, right? – , people immediately start to judge me. [They say things like ]“Oh, right. He has lived abroad so long and that’s why his Korean is little off”, and “His English is not perfect but at the same time his Korean is awkward”. The way they evaluate my bilingual competency makes me really unpleasant … I pay extra attention to my Korean use and try not to mix any English words. I am sick and tired of being judged.

As Minkyu pointed out in the above excerpt, all the participants agreed with the conclusion that their bilingual competence, especially their advanced English language competence, is seen as valuable social capital in certain contexts and for certain purposes in contemporary South Korean society. While they generally disguise their bilingual competence in their daily interactions among Koreans, they said that they strategically displayed their bilingual competence and articulated their native-like English proficiency in discursive settings in which bilingual competence is the expected norm. According to participants, these settings include English-medium instruction courses in which professors strongly encourage the students to communicate in English only, and study groups in which members prepare to apply for a job in multinational companies or to take standardized English tests such as OPIc (Oral Proficiency Interview-computer) and TOEFL Speaking. In other words, participants’ (non)use of bilingual competence is highly strategized, wherein participants actively engage in the process of constructing and negotiating imposed language ideologies that govern what constitutes ideal bilingual practice and identities in a given discursive community.