Non-gae
In 1592 the Japanese invaded Korea (then Joseon), initiating the Imjin War. My mother is a direct descendent of an admiral who is known as the great hero of this war. But when I was in Korea this past summer I became really interested in another figure of resistance named Non-gae. Non-gae, due to Joseon societyās various restrictive rules against women, went from being the daughter of a well-educated man to a concubine to a ākisaengā (an enslaved class of women in Korea that served as courtesan-artists). After the Japanese military invaded and massacred Non-gaeās town, Jinju, the soldiers decided to throw a big party and demanded that local ākisaengā entertain them. During this party Non-gae lured the man in charge of these Japanese soldiers, a general named Rokusuke, to a cliff along a river. There, she embraced him, clutched her hands together with irremovable rings, and jumped into the water, drowning both of them.
Why am I writing about this today, here? I guess, on an obvious level, because Iām thinking about how resistance comes in many forms, not the obvious ones the state offers to us. And Iām thinking about how what we often celebrate as a victory is often, on some level, still predicated on tragedy. Non-gae sacrificed herself on behalf of a state that enslaved her. Her weapon was her chains. Does that make her even more heroic ā or that much more abject?
And for weeks I had promised myself I would give myself the day after grading a full day of writing poetry, but instead I translated this poem about Non-gae that most Koreans have read in high school. Somehow that seemed like a better thing to do.
Byeon Yeong-ro (1898-1961)
NONGAE
Divine rage is deeper than religion, and ignited passion is stronger than love.
O! Above those waves bluer than bean flowers flows that heart redder than poppies.
Those lovely eyebrows were lifted high, and those lips like inside a pomegranate were pressed against Death!
O! Above those waves bluer than bean flowers flows that heart redder than poppies.
As that river water flows continuously blue, your flower-like spirit continues to redden.
O! Above those waves bluer than bean flowers flows that heart redder than poppies.
