Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, by Cho Nam-Joo, is a novel written as the psych case notes for a patient. The main symptom in this patient is a strange identity shift, she sometimes answers questions as her mother and sometimes as an old friend, although she seems otherwise perfectly healthy. The story covers Jiyoung’s life, in a dispassionate way, from childhood through university, work, marriage and finally motherhood. It’s interesting partly because it feels like a generic story, more about a generation than Jiyoung in particular. (Apparently Kim Jiyoung is a pretty generic name, too.)  The story is full of elements of Korean life, like mandatory work drinks and strict student hierarchy,  but the endless waves of gender discrimination that Jiyoung experiences feels familiar.  

There is rarely a moment when Jiyoung is directly told that women can’t do something, but there’s a constant stream of invisible obstacles.  It’s a familiar feeling to any woman who’s ever tried to find that magical communication style,  assertive enough to get the work done, but still so likable, definitely not bitchy or hard to work with! Friendly, but not too nice or male colleagues will make advances or won’t listen! Jiyoung is, like many young women, expected to do the invisible office work, and all the women are mommytracked away from promotions, raises, or major assignments. There’s no one moment of horror, just endless ways her life is curtailed by gender discrimination.

And of course, motherhood compounds this. When she and her husband decide to have children, of course it makes sense for her to take time off to give birth and care for the baby. And then, once the baby’s older wouldn’t it be easier to get a little side job with mother’s hours?  There are strict Korean family roles at play here, but there’s — again — that familiarity too.

The biggest difference between Jiyoung’s experiences and mine is that in the US, there’s an occasional high-ranking woman we can point to and say gender discrimination is over. Yes, it feels like all the men in the meeting talked over the women, but maybe you’re just being too sensitive? Sure, that man seems less talented than his female colleague, but can you prove that getting promoted is easier for men? Are you sure that she’s never made a mistake in her life? I mean, Sheryl Sandburg is successful, so maybe the rest of us just aren’t trying hard enough.

The author seems ready for the insistence that maybe one or two women faced discrimination, but all of them? Aren’t you exaggerating a little? So there are regular footnotes throughout, which work to constantly remind the reader that a lived experience is not enough proof.

This is not a suspense novel, but the final pages have a particularly distressing revelation, showing how just deeply unaware of this system even well-meaning, intelligent men can be.