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'Selling flowers' in North Korea
Editor's note: This story was written by a female North Korean national who has
since left the North. The story is intentionally uncredited.
May 8, 2005
In recent years, I have occasionally had to make business trips to Pyongyang
and Wonsan. In these cities, I discovered aspects of the life of women in North
Korea that I hadn't previously been aware of.
On a trip to Pyongyang, I decided to see what the city was like at night and
left my room for a stroll. I headed toward the train station and black market.
At the market, I looked at prices, looked at people, and after a bit, a man
came up to me. "Do you have flowers for sale?," he asked.
I thought this was a bit odd and politely responded. "Sorry, I don't have any."
However he muttered things like, "Actually, someone not selling?" and "Just how
much would it cost?" Felling peremptorily dismissed, I looked him up and down.
From his clothes, he appeared to have money.
"I don't have flowers and I'm not standing here selling them. Why don't you try
a flower stand?"
He looked surprised and when I proved to be above commerce, give a wry smile
and walked away. His rude manner made me angry, but I dismissed it.
In a few minutes, it grew darker and women began to appear, each clutching a
fresh or artificial bouquet. The scene touched my heart and I asked a woman
with particularly beautiful flowers, the price of a blossom. The woman,
somewhere around 30, gave me a sharp glance and said, "Who are you kidding?
These aren't for sale," and walked off.
Whatever was going on, I completely did not understand. I went off to the side,
spread a handkerchief on the ground and watched. The women stood by themselves
with small bunches of flowers and occasionally a man would come up to one,
"Sister, I'm buying!", pass over the price of the bouquet and off the two of
them went.
In watching all of this, I vaguely realized these were "women of the night" and
was seized with the notion of observing them more with an eye as to how women
could solve this social problem. Of course, it wasn't as if I could interrogate
the customers or experience this work for myself. When my business trip was
done, I calle clenched teeth,
women, young and old, loitered by lights and trees planted along the streets,
inviting the men who passed by.
By arrangement, my classmate approached a younger woman, asking to buy flowers.
The woman was startled by a man already escorted by another woman, but my
classmate introduced me as his sister. I said as if it were natural, "If you
are nice to my brother, I'll pay." The woman told me to come and we set off.
We had gone three blocks and entered an apartment building when she turned to
us and said, "Even supposing you're his sister, it's not like you'd be out here
buying flowers for him. Who are you?"
I was startled, but felt there was nothing to do but tough it out.
"Truth is there's no blood relationship between us. We came on a business trip
and this person said he would escort me. Don't worry - I'll pay and we just
want to spend the night, nothing more."
I don't know whether she was convinced, but at any rate, she led us to a third
floor apartment. The apartment had two rooms and a floor covered by oiled paper
applied some distant past. To say the room was obviously old – certainly so,
but it was looked after and didn't feel dismal. A man was already there and the
two of them conferred by the door. They were probably discussing me and after a
few minutes he came to us. "Welcome strangers, relax and enjoy yourselves," he
said and adding he had an errand to run, he disappeared.
After he left, I went to the foyer door and turned the key. I bought out some
liquor and snacks. We sat there drinking, just lightly talking to make her feel
more at ease. I can't say whether it was the talk or the liquor, but after a
while, the atmosphere softened and I ventured some questions about her man and
family.
Her "man" was actually her brother, age 25, she was 23. Once upon a time, they
had lived as a normal family with their parents, but as the country's economic
situation worsened, even as their father continued to go work, there were no
rations and no money, and first her mother and then her father died from
hunger. The two of them couldn't marry, they stayed together, attempting to
maintain a household, but with no way of earning a living, life was a struggle
just to maintain two meals a day.
She spoke directly and I felt ashamed about concealing my own thoughts and
motivation. I answered in kind, stirred up by the collision of our worlds. I
wanted to know what she was thinking – of course, I still meant to pass over
the agreed sum, but I also wanted to take care of her, keep her out of
prostitution. She seemed to follow me and bit by bit her speech flowed more
freely.
"I get up at noon, clean house, prepare drinks and snacks, prepare my own body.
When it's dark, I apply thick makeup, go out with a bouquet to the train
station, drinking places, wherever people gather. In choosing a customer, I pay
attention to their dress, whether their face is scarred. When I decide on
someone, I approach them, saying "Please buy my flowers." They know the
meaning.
By her account, most customers are high ranking officers or bureaucrats.
However, taking customers on sight has its own risks. The higher their
position, if you end up in their apartment, you're likely to be debased,
treated lower than a animal. Step inside and they will rip your clothes off,
display you, you will crawl while they watch… For a few pennies, they force you
to perform. The worst is after abusing you to their heart's content, when they
are finally satisfied, you get half the agreed upon price. Using their position
as a shield, they threaten you…"
I hurt to hear her speech. As a woman, I felt revolted toward North Korean
society in general, North Korean men in particular. As someone who had gone
about her life without a clue as to what was happening around me, I had to
overcome any sense of futility or resignation.
Prostitution is normal, everyday commerce in the northern half of the Korean
pennisula. Not just high ranking officials, but ordinary citizens, while
shouting out devotional slogans to their leaders, engage in this life in the
shadows. They live off the party to which they loyally adhere, flattering all
and sundry. But it is women who are crushed under their heel. After this, I
realized I could no longer bear to be in this country.
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