Not if you're Korean--and single. That date marks Black Day, an
unusual holiday that has risen in prominence and popularity across South
Korea over the last 15 years.
On Black Day, unattached youth
congregate at local restaurants and consume vast quantities of a cheap
fast-food dish called jajangmyeon--the Korean interpretation of a
Chinese recipe for noodles coated with a chunky dark sauce of pork,
onions, black beans, sugar and MSG.
In South Korea, Feb. 14 is a
day when, traditionally, women give chocolate and other sweets to their
male love interests. On March 14--White Day--men return the favor. And
those who have not given or received a present by the time April 14
rolls around gather to mourn on Black Day.
'It's maybe sad because
they couldn't celebrate the Valentine's Day and the White Day,' says
Kimyo Kim, a 24-year-old Seoul resident and international marketer for a
major Korean automaker. 'But it's not a serious thing. You just get a
chance to gather with your friends and just eat and enjoy and celebrate
the time.'
Still, in a culture where couples are not only esteemed
but also courted by promotional deals for cellphones and movie tickets,
the holiday strikes a bittersweet chord.
On the one hand, its
widespread observance is a sign that young Koreans are no longer ashamed
to admit that they do not adhere to older social customs, such as early
marriage. At the same time, though, the jokingly superficial nature of
the holiday belies the celebrants' poignant vulnerability.
They celebrate the holiday while secretly hoping they won't have to slurp down jajangmyeon next year.
'I
think most people want to have a boyfriend or girlfriend. I haven't
seen many people who just want the single life. I think most people want
marriage,' says Jae Lee, a 24-year-old account executive at advertising
company McCann-Erikson's Seoul office.
'I just want to ignore the day. I don't want to shout it to the world that 'Oh, I don't have a boyfriend.''
When
Kim Hyun-deok Foreman was growing up in Korea, young people often hid
romantic relationships out of humility. In fact, a circle of friends
wouldn't know if two of its members were seeing each other until they
announced their engagement, says Foreman, professor of education at San
Francisco State University.
But now that couples broadcast their
status on social networking sites and sport matching head-to-toe outfits
in public, singles are similarly compelled to publicly acknowledge, and
thereby validate, their status.
'With young people, it's like if
you don't have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, you feel like you are not
whole or you are not popular,' Foreman says. 'It's a new thing. It's a
new phenomenon.'
Even as South Korea becomes more Westernized (its
citizens now marry later and place an increased emphasis on individual
accomplishment), there is still the widespread expectation that to be
single is somehow not enough, according to Roald Maliangkay, a senior
lecturer at Australian National University's Korea Center.
'There's
an idea in the back of their heads that the ideal of happiness is to
have a proper relationship,' Maliangkay says. 'I read so much about
Koreans trying out different things now; they want to hold off marriage.
But whenever I meet my friends in Korea, all I really feel from them
when we talk about relationships is that all they really want is someone
to love.'
The couples culture in South Korea casts a set of
pervasive expectations, according to Georgy Katsiaficas, a professor of
humanities and social sciences at Wentworth Institute of Technology in
Boston, Mass. But Koreans also enjoy activities that are performed en
masse, for example, when large groups go out to eat in honor of
recently-generated national holidays like Black Day.
'In the
United States, we all love to be our own individual, and here--one of
the great things for me about Korea is being part of a group culture,'
says Katsiaficas, who is currently a visiting professor at Chonnam
National University in Gwangju, a city of about 1.5 million at the
southern tip of the nation.
The special noodle dish that
celebrants eat on Black Day, jajangmyeon, is symbolic. The obvious
reason is its color. And it requires foregoing appearances to eat it
properly.
Additionally, its status as South Korea's favorite dish
means that the food is laden with warm memories, according to Jung-Sun
Park, associate professor of Asian-Pacific studies at California State
University at Dominguez Hills.
'It was used as a food for
celebration, for graduation--for the commoners, not the elites, but the
ordinary citizens of Korea at the time. It definitely has that cultural
meaning and sense of nostalgia.'
The significance of jajangmyeon
was highlighted in March, when the South Korean government's Ministry of
Strategy and Finance listed the dish as one of 52 'necessities' it
monitors to control inflation. As a result, its status was cemented as
an item most commonly purchased by middle-class families--along with
other staples like rice, flour, sugar and milk.
Indeed, the day's
observants have expanded to include anyone who likes jajangmyeon,
according to Bryan Jin, 25, who works in Seoul as a consultant for
Wonjin Logistics. He plans to take his girlfriend out on April 14 to
enjoy the signature dish, which, Jin says, costs about 400 won, or $4.11
at 975 won to the dollar.
'[The holiday] is very normal and
natural,' says Hee-Jeong Jeong, who teaches Korean language at Cornell
University. The instructional textbook she uses in her class even has
passages describing Black Day. 'Since I'm in Ithaca, [N.Y.] it's very
small.
I couldn't find any restaurants to buy the jajangmyeon
here.' But, Jeong says, she plans to compensate by buying instant
jajangmyeon at the local supermarket to eat at home. After all, she's 34
years old and single on April 14; the expectations--both to celebrate
and to find a reason not to celebrate next year--are escalating. .

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