Often compared to the Japanese geisha, the Korean kisaeng's trade offered her unique artistic freedom not enjoyed by other women of her day.
Sin Yun-bok (신윤복), Playing the Gayageum by the Lotus Pond (청금상련(聽琴賞蓮) : 연못가의 가야금)
Hwang Jini, Korea's best-known Kisaeng
Hwang Jini (황진이) (1506-1567) was a gisaeng (기생), or a woman professionally trained to entertain guests at banquets, drinking parties, and brothels through singing, dancing, and playing musical instruments. Because of the nature of their trade kisaeng were also well educated in Hangul and Classical Chinese. There were two types of kisaeng: those who belonged to the government and those who did not. The royal court owned about 100 gisaeng in Hanyang (Seoul), and each local government owned about 15-30. Although kisaeng were very well educated in order to succeed at their trade, they were of the lowliest status in the Korean social hierarchy, and were essentially seen as property. Nevertheless, their highly specialized training in the arts allowed them a unique form of freedom not enjoyed by women of other classes.
Typically, gisaeng began their schooling at the age of fifteen. They received strict coaching on courteous language and behaviour, music, calligraphy, painting, and dancing. The main goal of a gisaeng was to make herself appealing through cultivating a charming personality of noble integrity in order to attract clients and gain repute. Kisaeng who were especially skilled were sent to the Royal Office of Music, or Jangagwon (장악원), which dealt with entertainment, music, and dancing within the royal palace. Kisaeng who were commissioned by the Royal Office of Music were viewed as top artists, and even gained celebrity status.
Often identified by her penname Myeongwol (명월 (明月), or “bright moon,” Hwang Jini was one of the most famous kisaeng of the Joseon dynasty, and remains among the best-known Korean woman literary figures to date. Because of her excellence at poetry, as well as her wit and cleverness at discussing Neo-Confucian matters with members of the yangban nobility, she became a renowned icon of Joseon Korea, allowing much of her work to remain preserved up to the present day.
Song of the Viridian Mountain
Oh, that I were a viridian mountain and my love’s affection an emerald stream,
whose green waters flow continuously through her crest, never changing.
Though he rolls away from the mountain’s peak, the stream can never forget his love for her, and trickles along crying endlessly.
(trans. McKenzie Johns)
Mountains Remain the Same
Mountains remain the same today as they stood in times of old, but the rippling stream is ever-changing
Flowing day by day, could it ever be the same water?
Like a fickle creek, heroes come and go, never to return.
(trans. McKenzie Johns)
My Dizzy Heart
Confusing is my life, I did not know I would long for you so.
If I asked you to stay, you would have gone regardless.
I cannot express the [hopeless] affection I feel for you now that you are gone and I am left alone to miss you.
(trans. McKenzie Johns)
Because a kisaeng's patrons were noblemen--who were often married--her lowly status prohibited them from marrying or making long-term commitments. Oftentimes, kisaeng were not even allowed to leave the bar/brothel where they lived and entertained guests. Thus, abandonment and yearning are common themes of kisaeng poetry--though whether the longing was authentic or a tactic for getting clients to return for business is up for debate among scholars.
Song of the Half Moon
Who carved the weaver maid’s comb
from the fine jade of Mount Kunlun?
Was it the herder boy who forsook his lover?
At parting it was she [the maid] who cast herself into a deep, blue void of despair.
(trans. McKenzie Johns)
Song of the Half-Moon includes many references that are quite difficult for anyone who is not familiar with East Asian literary culture to understand--but don't worry! I'll explain. Here, Hwang Jini references the age-old Chinese legend of a young weaver maid and herder boy who met while picking flowers and fell in love instantly. There are countless versions of the story, but in each one, for varying reasons, the boy sets sail across a deep river. Sometimes it is because he must return to his family--who are members of a rivaling clan--and in other variations, it is so that he can make money to marry the maiden. Yet, in each version, he vanishes after the river floods, never to return to his beloved.
In some versions of the story, the herder boy scales the mythical mountain of the gods--Kunlun, or the jade mountain--to obtain materials fine enough to craft an ornate comb for his lover. This indicates his deep dedication to the weaver maid, and acts as a model for couples to emulate. However, shortly after gifting the fine comb, the boy disappeared, leaving behind his lover.
Because Hwang's admirers are unable to dedicate themselves to her, she uses the story of the weaver maid and herder boy as a point of reference for the sorrow she feels at her constant abandonment. She focuses on the despair of weaver maid, who is left behind to pine after her lover, forever wondering why he never came back.
In addition to the sentiments of sorrow and loss this story evokes, Hwang also refers to the legend as a signifier of her refinement and vast knowledge of classical texts. Unlike upper-class women, who were scolded for speaking up or expressing signs of intellect, kisaeng were praised for their wit and skill in the arts. Thus, Hwang would have enjoyed unique opportunities not allotted to other women of her day. However, her freedom came at the lost of her lowly status as a piece of government property.
References and Further Reading:
Jieun Kiaer and Anna Yates-Lu. 2019.Korean literature through the Korean wave.
Hai-soon Lee, The Poetic World of Classic Korean Women Writers, Seoul: Ewha Women’s University Press, 2005.
Pae-yong Yi & Ted Chan, Women in Korean History, Seoul: Ewha Women’s University Press, 2008.
Young-Key Kim-Renaud, (ed.) Creative Women of Korea: The Fifteenth Through the Twentieth Centuries. Armonk & London: M.E. Sharpe, pp. 122–41.
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