White Chrysanthemum rightly mourns the death of women’s freedom and pride

Hello hello hello!

The last three months were a thrilling roller coaster ride.
I became a published co-author of a book, which I will talk about here very soon.

I landed a full-time job after 18 months of break.

The weather in Hyderabad city has been beautiful.
My mental health has improved a lot.

I was enjoying all of this and fell into a reading slump.:D No complaints!

Then, I picked up White Chrysanthemum by Mary Lynn Bracht. I came out of the reading slump, but it was hard to recover from the heartbreaking life story of Hana and Emi. The book took me through so many emotions, I struggled to make sense of some of them. Maybe, this piece will allow me to release them.

Let me begin.

It was the summer of 1943. The 2nd world war was ongoing when Korea was one of Japan’s play toys. The story is set on Jeju Island, in (now) South Korea.
Hana and Emi, the lead characters of the book are haenyeo. Jeju Island’s haenyeo, or women of the sea are known for their power, grit and steely determination. They are female divers, a centuries-old traditional vocation, where women dive up to 30 metres deep into the water every single day for harvest, only by holding their breath.

At 16, Hana is among the best divers, deep-diving alongside her mother and fetching only the best catch. Besides this job, Hana has another responsibility that she takes very seriously — of protecting her little sister, Emi. Her mother’s words are etched in her mind: ‘Look at your sister after each dive. Never forget. If you see her, you are safe.’
So, after every dive, and spending around three minutes underwater, Hana rises up to the surface to check for Emi’s presence. On one fine morning, Hana spots Emi but also notices Captain Morimoto, a Japanese soldier, walking towards Emi. Hana rushes and succeeds in diverting the soldier’s attention towards herself, to be taken away by him. Though she is happy that she saved Emi, her unfathomable journey as a comfort woman begins. She is transported to Manchuria, to be kept at a military hotel and forced into sex slavery. Her many attempts to escape are unsuccessful, making her journey as a comfort woman harder to believe for the reader. Hana’s endurance reminded me of Heer’s life in Blasphemy, where some instances are simply unbelievable. But again, when you pause and think about the lives of women around you and the resilience they are forced to show as they navigate through this patriarchal world, Hana’s story does seem realistic.

Meanwhile, Emi’s life is torn apart by the war. She loses her father a few years after Hana is kidnapped. She is then forced into a loveless marriage by a policeman and eventually, she also loses the last fragment of her peaceful childhood, her mother. Every day of her life, she is haunted by the memory of her sister protecting her from the Japanese soldiers, in bargain of her own life. Emi never shares Hana’s story until much later, for the fear that she may taint her sister’s memory. She silently searches for Hana.

Though separated physically, I felt that Hana and Emi were undergoing a shared trauma, that they were collectively feeling a deep loss and pain.
White Chrysanthemum took me through a series of emotions and it began just a few pages into the book. I started off smiling at the beautiful seaside of Jeju Island, haenyeo women at work, chit-chatting about their life that was then undisturbed by the war. I then shared the joy that Hana expressed at the news of getting a little sister. I felt a wave of sibling love when Hana proudly carried out her duty of protecting her little sister while assuring Emi that she will always be safe. I was only getting comfortable with these happy feelings when I was hit with shock and disbelief. Hana’s pain through her abuse was terrifying, while I was astonished at her relentless attempts to free herself from all the painful circumstances.

The book is a fine read, as the author blends historical facts well into her storytelling. But it may be triggering for those who have experienced verbal, physical or sexual abuse. I am happy this story of comfort women is out there, but of course, deeply sad that they were forced to exist in the first place.
White Chrysanthemum, the symbol of mourning in South Korea perfectly captures the death of their women’s rights and freedom and many aspects of Korean culture.

Should you read this book? Yes, it is an important story, but proceed with caution. And yes, I feel a lot better now that I somewhat managed to pen my thoughts about this excellent piece of work!