Korean Beauty Routine: How white girls can get K-pop star skin without the K-pop star eyes (YES ASIAN)
I will never not share a K-Beauty tip. Despite being adopted, I wholeheartedly claim K-Beauty. (Also, claiming culture will be in a future post, stay tuned.) But as the multi-step skin savior has become a more mainstream occurrence, I find some of my excitement clouded by frustration.
The idea of cultural appropriation is not new, and in no way am I saying that a white girl buying a Tony Moly mask at Ulta is guilty of exploiting a culture that she has no right to claim. It's so much more ambiguous than that, especially since my lack of cultural ties can theoretically put me in the same boat. I also cannot blame anyone from milking cheap, but quality skin care.
Before the explosion of K-Beauty, I was introduced to it by another Asian friend. I was super excited to hear of something coming out of Korea that isn't K-pop or North Korean refugees. It was something I could immediately latch onto because it was something easy to understand for me and it made me more ethnic. It allowed me to know and actively be a part of the culture people assumed on me.
I loved more that I could share it with all my white friends. It was something that was part of who I was supposed to be. It was also really nice that my skin type was not atypical in K-beauty, they way it was for most American skin products at the time.
Now, as K-beauty can be found in places as local and as white as Target I am more annoyed than I am happy. While I absolutely love the fact I don't have to pay overpriced specialty shops for products or wait for 2 weeks shipping. However, I now realize something I regarded as a cultural practice is now claimed as a fun hobby by white people, no different than something like karate. I know that Korean brands and routines are not mine to claim, but part of me is still bothered by the casual way white women can claim bits and pieces of Korean culture.
It became painfully clear to me when a Facebook page shared a tutorial on how to emphasize the aegyo sal, yet didn't use that term or any language that was too ethnic. It didn't even credit the origins it has in east Asian culture. Of course being the loud and proud feminist I am, I called the video out, but it was largely ignored. This was what cultural appropriation felt like, I was sure of it.
The idea of cultural appropriation is not new, and in no way am I saying that a white girl buying a Tony Moly mask at Ulta is guilty of exploiting a culture that she has no right to claim. It's so much more ambiguous than that, especially since my lack of cultural ties can theoretically put me in the same boat. I also cannot blame anyone from milking cheap, but quality skin care.
Before the explosion of K-Beauty, I was introduced to it by another Asian friend. I was super excited to hear of something coming out of Korea that isn't K-pop or North Korean refugees. It was something I could immediately latch onto because it was something easy to understand for me and it made me more ethnic. It allowed me to know and actively be a part of the culture people assumed on me.
I loved more that I could share it with all my white friends. It was something that was part of who I was supposed to be. It was also really nice that my skin type was not atypical in K-beauty, they way it was for most American skin products at the time.
Now, as K-beauty can be found in places as local and as white as Target I am more annoyed than I am happy. While I absolutely love the fact I don't have to pay overpriced specialty shops for products or wait for 2 weeks shipping. However, I now realize something I regarded as a cultural practice is now claimed as a fun hobby by white people, no different than something like karate. I know that Korean brands and routines are not mine to claim, but part of me is still bothered by the casual way white women can claim bits and pieces of Korean culture.
It became painfully clear to me when a Facebook page shared a tutorial on how to emphasize the aegyo sal, yet didn't use that term or any language that was too ethnic. It didn't even credit the origins it has in east Asian culture. Of course being the loud and proud feminist I am, I called the video out, but it was largely ignored. This was what cultural appropriation felt like, I was sure of it.
Like I said in the beginning though,
It's more ambiguous than that.
Was this my culture to claim? Was my frustration justified? Is this real? (If you remember my first blog post, yes and no.) Despite these questions, the only thing I can settle on is American girls carry on the legacy of assuming "exotic things" that fit their lives. They want the glowing, hydrated skin but they don't want to lose the whiteness giving them the privilege to remain white and American while I am branded the Korean Beauty expert and not because I know a lot. They want the status that comes with knowing lyrics to K-Pop songs, but not the status that comes with having "Asian" eyes. That is what cultural oppression feels like.
Thanks for reading my post! If you think it's relatable or know someone who needs to read it (if you’re using it to call out someone's racism) feel free to share! 살있어
-thesometimesasian
Comments
Post a Comment