[Author’s Note: The 12-episode Korean TV Drama, Jeongnyeon: The Star was Born, was aired in October through November of 2024. It taps into the post-colonial radical feminist movement expressed in the women-only opera national theater, a new genre created by women singers in the late 1940s culminating in the 1950s. Most striking is that this women-only theater thrived during and throughout the years of the Korean War, the deadliest but forgotten war in modern history.]
The recently aired Korean TV drama, Jeongnyeong: The Star is Born, has drawn a global sensation. Through the tantalizing storyline of a talented but poor young woman in pursuit of her dream to become a successful women-only theater singer in the 1950s, the drama takes viewers to the glorious but short-lived heyday of women-only theater singers who took their destiny in their own hands at the most ravaged time of the Korean War (1950-1953). Since its synopsis and main characters are introduced widely even in the English language, I will discuss some insights concerning the women-only theater and its radical feminist and Magoist properties within its socio-historical background.
As a remake of the webtoon with the same title (the Korean title, Jeongnyeoni),[1] this drama reignites the fire among feminists today, as it exposes the largely forgotten socio-cultural phenomenon of the 1950s women-only opera theater. It may as well be called the post-colonial radical Korean feminist movement in that the phenomenon of the women-only opera theater was not about an equal right or opportunity for women within the current (read patriarchal) system. It was about breaking away from the patriarchal system and unfolding a whole new reality wherein women could act as the normative sex. What really happened with women-only opera singers was that they, in the face of patriarchal devastations wrought by colonialist rule and warfare, took courage to realize the women’s vision rather than surrender to live terrified or discriminated against. They played male roles as well as female roles. More to the point, women actors were so successful in portraying the desirable male image that made women spectators refuse a marriage with a man but commit themselves to the love of a male-acting female actor. It is said that the male-acting female singers emerged as the third gender. The myth of heterosexual marriage was shattered. Woman-to-woman love was desired and pursued in public. Consequently, female agency visualized through women-only theater singing actors and productions provoked the ethos of the Mother World among women. Women spectators enthusiastically resonated with them. Women in general were ready to take off to a new reality when it became tangible.
That said, there would be no more radical movement than the paradigm-shifting feminist movement in that the latter requires dismantling the very foundation of patriarchal society, the belief that the male is entitled to dominate women and Nature. Female agency if claimed has the power of liberating ALL. When women break out of the patriarchal belief, they become the vision carrier. Here the vision refers to the Mother World wherein not only women and men but also all else are found kindred and therefore symbiotic. When women together with men instate the matricentric principle in the institutions of human societies, humans are elevated to the status of a co-administrator of ALL in the Matriverse (Maternally perceived universe). That is because the shape-shifting women represent the Creatrix, the Sovereign of the Matriverse. Humans are not superior to non-human species but can make a substantive contribution to the well-being of ALL. Precisely, the Korean women-only opera theater of the 1950s showed the vision of the Mother World, something that was longed for by women of the time per se.
Women singers created a new genre called the Women’s National Theater by founding and operating women-only troupes nationwide. Korea had been liberated from the colonial rule of Japan a few years ago in 1945. They refused to join the male-dominant musical troupes and broke off from them to begin their own organizations. The term, Gukgeuk (국극 National Theater), is an umbrella term referring to the women-only opera theater organizations. The national theater was a new genre derived from the musical theater (唱劇 changgeuk). “National” in “the national theater”indicates the independent sovereignty of Korea, liberated from Japanese colonial rule. The name of its genre, women’s national theater (yeoseong gukgeuk), conveys the self-identified agency of women as the representative of the national musical drama. The genre title is itself a feminist manifesto that the women-only opera theater stands for the Korean identity or sovereignty. By claiming it the Women’s National Theater, women singers overcame the pitfall of falling into separatism and embraced the whole.
The Women’s National Theater is known to have begun in 1948 and thrived throughout the 1950s. Its heyday in the 1950s comes as an utter surprise in that the mid-20th century of Korea marks the most grappling decades in the wake of the Japanese colonization and the Korean War (1950-1953). I myself did not know that Korean women until the beginning of the 17th century wielded power in socio-political-cultural spheres to a varying degree. The matricentric ethos (Magoism, the Way of the Creatrix) was too strong to be subdued. In fact, Korea was not fully patriarchalized until the beginning of the 17th century. Put differently, Korea has had a relatively short period of patriarchy (about 4 centuries), which was confined to the political arena. According to my research, what made traditional Korea distinguished from her neighboring nations, China and Japan, is her matricentric identity and culture, which I call Ceto Magoism (the Cetacean-Guided Way of the Creatrix). I posit that ancient Koreans were the creator, disseminator, and protector of the Mother World throughout history till about four centuries ago. Although the Neo-Confucian sexist ideology prevailed on the political domain after the 16th century, Koreans remained culturally matricentric throughout the mid 20th century. Thus, it was just natural for women in the late 1940s and the 1950s to choose not to join the male-dominant musical theater but to create their own theater tropes.
Korea had been liberated from the colonial rule of Japan in 1945, as the latter surrendered to the United States after the two atomic bombings dropped in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan (for three days August 6-9, 1945). Those were the first and last use of atomic bombs in history and many Koreans in Japan were among the victims. The death toll is reportedly 1.5 million to 2.5 million in both cities (including 40,000 Koreans). While Koreans had never ceased to fight for the independence, the liberation was consequently given by the United States. It is a mistake to assume that the Korean resistance was not strong enough. It meant that Japan’s colonial rule was too tightly gripping for Koreans to dismantle. Noteworthy is that Koreans are noted for the civilian militia throughout history. People across social status, sex, and age, rose to protect the sovereignty of the nation from ancient times. Shortly after the liberation was given, Koreans faced division between the communist North and the capitalist South. Koreans experienced the deadliest and coldest war in modern history, the Korean War. It is well-noted that Korea in the 1960s was one of the poorest counties in the world. Within such historical backdrops, the women-only opera theater was born and culminated. The women-only opera theater was a socio-cultural-economic venture of women who refused to live with fear or helplessness.
Its history is not completely forgotten. According to Seo Hanbeom, there were tens of women-only opera theater organizations throughout the 1950s. The names of their organizations demonstrate the agential power of women and women’s theater. They include “The Sun Women’s National Theater Troup,” “Women’s National Theater Comradery Company” headed by Im Chunaeng, “Ladies’ National Musical Troup” headed by Yi Ilsim, “Women’s National Theater Association” headed by Gim Wonsul, “Our National Theater Troup” headed by Gim Yeonsu, “Three-stars Musical Theater Troup,” headed by Bak Boa, “The Sun Musical Theater Troup” headed by Gim Gyeongae, “The Women’s National Theater Association” headed by Jo Geumaeng, “Jingyeong Women’s National Theater Troup” headed by Gim Jinjin, “Arirang Women’s National Theater Troup” headed by Gim Jaeseon, “The East Star Women’s National Theater Troup” headed by Yi Jeongsun, “The Pinetree Women’s National Theater Troup” headed by Mun Mina, “Arang Women’s National Theater Troup” headed by Bak Jeonghwa. According to Seo, it is difficult to assess the scale of these organizations because singers frequently moved from one company to another due to the success or failure of their theatrical works or popularities.[2]
The women-only national theater did not die. The first-generation women’s national threat singer, Jo Yeongsuk, writes in her autobiography, Reflecting back the Women’s National Theater:
There is an artistic world in me that I can’t separate myself from. The Women’s National Theater! My heart is pounding at hearing its name. Even in my dream, I don’t forget the heartache I had upon its decline. I, in my dreams, busily traverse the stage of the Women’s National Theater together with the singers who are deceased. The Women’s National Theater of the Republic of Korea takes its root in the traditional Korean musical art, especially pansori (one person’s opera theater). It is a crystallization of the Korean stage-art adapted from drama, music, singing, and dancing, a form of singing drama on the stage created by women singers.[3]
The Women’s National Theater doubtless stood for female agency. At point is that women-only opera theaters culminated during and shortly after the period of the Korean War (1950-1953). Women singers went ahead to form and shape women-only theatrical organizations. Whether they broke away from male-centered traditional opera theaters or brought the genre of the traditional singing theater to an apogee remains disputable. The message is that women could do anything and everything alone without men at the stage.
Among the operas of Im Chunaeng are The Sun and the Moon, The Secret of the Princess Palace, Tower that has no Shadow, and The Shepard and Princess. On the day that she performed The Shepard and Princess in Gukdo Theater. Too many viewers gathered and paralyzed traffic in downtown Seoul. It is said that there were 40,000 people who watched it for the six days of its run.[4]
While people fled to the south as refugees, women singers planned, practiced, and performed women-only operas. The operas were also held at the refugee cities. Women spectators followed them to see their performances. They traveled to cities wherein their favorite singers performed.
Women were, far from being terrified or eroded by fear, charged with the inexhaustible longing for women-only theaters and female actors. That the whole nation was under fire with massive bombings and shootings taking place daily and monthly did not stop women from going out to see them. In fact, nothing could stop them. Such is an utterly astonishing piece of history to modern Koreans and non-Koreans alike, given that the Korean War is counted as the deadliest war in modern history (the death toll mounting to 2.5 million, conservatively estimated, including civilian deaths of more than the half of it during the short period of three years).
They had survived the worst. Until the year of liberation in 1945, which was only 3 years prior to the onset of the Women’s National Theater, Koreans were held under the Japanese colonial rule. If young women under Japanese colonial rule had gone out to streets and protested against Japan’s unjust annexation of Korea to proclaim Korea’s sovereignty at the threat of Japanese police forces, there was nothing that they could not do to right the wrong. Women need not to be excluded or oppressed in any sector of life. The women-only singing theater was in that category. They went out of patriarchal oppression to realize female agency in a war-torn reality.
Women were crazed about this new cultural phenomenon. Some feared to miss the show. A fully pregnant woman came to the theater and gave birth to a child in the theater.[5] Women were under the spell of women-only theaters. Notably, these opera theaters performed not only the Korean classical stories concerning the love and farewell motif of famous historical and literary protagonists. They also performed modified foreign scenarios to appeal to the Korean ethos. They were so successful that they became rich within a short period of a few years.
There was more to this phenomenon. What made women-only national theaters sensational lies in the fact that they created the social space wherein woman-to-woman love relations were allowed and fantasized. Prominent women singers acted as male protagonists. To assimilate with their male roles, they lived their lives as male beyond the theater. The point is that the male-acting female protagonist in love with the female protagonist was more attractive to women than a real man. She may have appeared as the third gender. Although the drama, according to the critics, strikingly tones down lesbian love lines, when compared with its original webtoon, it does not fail to convey the unfettered woman-to-woman affection. The popularity of male-acting females soared. Male-acting female protagonists were so well-liked by women spectators that they brought young women fans wherever they staged. Female love relations were highly romanticized and pursued openly. Lesbian couples formed and continued among singers. Also, singers and their fans formed a female bond. And women spectators fell in love with women singers. Here is a fan letter by a woman:
Sister, marriage is gone for me. I told my fiancé that I love you so much and that, if he does not understand me on this, I will not take this marriage. Upon getting to sleep at night, your face appears to my eyes. I feel like hearing your voice, while walking on the street. Why did you say that you loved me at that time? Is that because I was your fan only? Have you ever loved me even the slightest? Then, I would rather become your apprentice. Please take with me when you go to Busan this time. I will attend to you by making rice, washing towels, and carrying your prop cases. Love is not limited to the stage between the Sun prince and the moon princess. Please don’t take my love lightly, I can dedicate my life to you. To love the prince is the fate of this little woman. Please accept me as your apprentice. See you on the day soon. With love to you, my Sister. Sincerely yours, Seonhwa.[6]
In the above fan letter, the writer, Seonhwa, states that she declined marriage with a man but chose the love with her male-acting female singer. Women sought love from women. Other women spectators mimicked male-acting women singers in their lives. Cross-dressed women were visible in homes and streets. A woman fan went further to ask for a marriage with the male-acting female singer (there is a different version of the story), Jo Geumaeng, out of which the latter posed as a groom in the virtual wedding photo. It is said that the guests in the photos were theater staff members.
Nonetheless, the heyday did not last more than a decade. Some say that it was due to the introduction of the movie-making industry also rising at that time. Others say that it was because of the enforcement of patriarchal government policies upon theaters. As Women’s National Theater began declining, many singers and actors were left without the means of livelihood. Nonetheless, many have survived and continue to stage to this day. Women’s National Theaters did not die. Contrary to the general assumption, the apprentices of the second and the third generations have been trained by the first-generation women singers. If we women want to pursue our visions, nothing can stop us. Even bombing and shootings, I realize. Women do anyway!
[1] The Naver Webtoon was written by Seo Ireh and illustrated by Namon.
[2] Seo Hanbeom, “The 1950s were the era of Women’s National Theater” in Uri Munhwa Sinmun (우리문화신문), April 29, 2014. https://koya-culture.com/news/article.html?no=95203
.[3] Jo Yeongsuk, Reflecting back the Women’s National Theater (Minsokwon, 2022). Cited in “끊어질듯 이어지고 사라질듯 부활”하는 여성국극, 여성국극제작소 박수빈, 황지영 대표를 만나다 by Bak Juyeon. (Accessed on August 16). https://www.ildaro.com/sub_read_amp.html?uid=9701
.[4] Seo Hanbeom, Ibid.
[5] Jo Inseon, “Have you heard of the Women’s National theater, Jeongnyeoni(정년이의 여성국극을 아시나요)?” (Sept 9, 2013) https://brunch.co.kr/@modernhan/34 Cited in https://www.ildaro.com/sub_read_amp.html?uid=9701.
[6] In front of Sigonggan, Myeongdong. Spring of 1963. Letter from Seonhwa to
https://brunch.co.kr/@geunmaek/82 Cited in NEWS M(https://www.newsm.com) https://www.newsm.com/news/articleView.html?idxno=24946.