'I always rushed to work and rushed home' said Chung Woo-sun, 47, who has endured the dual burdens of both a career and traditional motherhood roles. PHOTO: 123RF/ THE KOREA HERALD

SEOUL – For generations, womanhood in South Korea has been inextricably linked to motherhood, a role often defined by self-sacrifice. But today, Korean women are questioning these norms, striving to reclaim their identities as individuals, not just as daughters, wives or moms, and to redefine what it means to be a woman.

To capture a snapshot of this change, The Korea Herald spoke with seven women, ranging from a stay-at-home mom in her 50s who bitterly regrets the limited choices she had compared to today’s peers, to a younger woman who has already ruled out having a baby in her life.

‘I had no doubt back then. Now I regret it’

Kim Myung-ja, 55, quit her job at an insurance company after her first daughter was born. There was no one else to care for the baby, or so she believed. Thirty years ago, paternity leave was unheard of.

“At the time, I earned more than my husband. But no one, including myself, questioned the idea that a mother should give up her career. Back then, it felt so natural,” said Kim, whose first daughter is now 26 and her second 21.

As a stay-at-home mom, she struggled with an inferiority complex toward working mothers for earning salaries and having job titles. “Whenever I introduce myself to strangers, I say ‘I just stay at home.’”

This made her become more obsessed with her daughters’ school grades, as if their performance reflected her own. “If the children’s grades were bad, the entire blame went to mothers at home.”

Now, she feels that the years she devoted to her family have been overlooked by her own children. Once, her grown daughter asked why she did not work like other mothers. “Hearing my daughter compare me to working mothers made me question my sacrifices. It felt like my efforts as a stay-at-home mom were invisible.”

‘Doing both, it was really painful’

Chung Woo-sun, 47, is one among many Generation X working mothers in South Korea who have shouldered the dual burdens of both a career and traditional motherhood roles.

Although her choice might be something Kim, the stay-at-home mom, regrets not having made, Chung said her experience was far from enviable.

“Both my husband and I worked, but housework and child-rearing were always entirely my responsibility,” said Chung, whose daughter is now 17 years old. “Men in their 30s and 40s are in a period when their careers are very active, busy and full of struggles for promotion. When overtime or company dinners overlapped with my husband’s, I was the one who had to come home early.”

“I always rushed to work and rushed home,” she said. “When I came back home, the house was messy. I cleaned it up, made dinner and prepared school supplies. I often rushed to a supermarket late at night to buy supplies.”

Chung’s mother was a stay-at-home mom. “But I had to do both. Juggling work and motherhood felt like an endless battle. It was really painful,” she said.

Looking at younger mothers today, she said they seem to share responsibilities more with their husbands, put their children in all-day kindergartens or use after-school care programs.

“Luckily, I ‘met’ a child who generally behaved well and has good manners. If not, I’d probably feel really frustrated by now.”

‘I got my name back through writing’

Park Ho-yeong, 38, with children aged 11 and 7, previously worked as a dental hygienist. When she gave birth to her first child, she quit her job.

After staying home with her children for a few years, she tried to find a job, but was ultimately unsuccessful. On one of her interviews, she was asked if she had someone to take care of her children while working. When she answered no, she did not get the job.

Since quitting her career, Park often thought she had lost her individual identity. “I’m usually called someone’s mother or someone’s wife. Since I no longer work, I felt like I lost myself.”

Her life began to change after she started writing.

Her first child was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder at the age of 8. Her son suffered bullying at school. Under extreme stress, Park developed a panic disorder. To cope, she began writing on the online blog platform Brunch. Over time, her writings resulted in three published books – two for children and one for mothers raising children with ADHD.

Since publishing her books, Park has felt like she is living life under her own name again. “In the past, I didn’t know what to do. But now, I feel like I have a future and a direction. My anxiety has slowed.”

Now, Park is trying to invest in herself more. Ironically, investing less in her children has made her a more positive parent.

“Before, I invested a lot in my children but didn’t get much output.” She has pulled her kids out of most of their private academies and began to invest in herself. She takes tennis lessons, buy books and take online lessons on writing children’s books.

“I have less expectation for my children because I invest less in them. As they do better than my expectations, I began to compliment them more.”

‘It’s about finding a balance‘

Lee Jung-eun, 36, is an elementary school teacher as well as the mother of a 10-year-old daughter and a 7-year-old son.

For her, the key is finding a balance between her three roles – mother, teacher and herself. “When my children were younger, my identity as a mother was much stronger. As they’ve gotten older, I’ve begun to reclaim my own identity.”

Balancing her career and child-rearing is no easy task, but her work brings her a deep sense of fulfillment, she said. Still, there are times when she identifies too closely with her children’s achievements, feeling as though their successes and struggles are her own. There is a deeply rooted social perception, one that even women today cannot fully escape, which holds that mothers are responsible for how successful their children become.

“On some level, I equate myself with my children and I know I shouldn’t,” she said.

“I want to see them as individuals, separate from me, but it’s not always easy. When they’re praised, I feel proud; when they’re criticized, it feels personal.”

’By caring for my children, I grow too‘

Cheon Hyo-jin, 38, a radio producer and the mother of a 5-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son, felt immense psychological pressure when she gave birth to her two children back-to-back and they were “completely dependent” on her.

“At first, our relationship was one-sided. I had to provide everything for them. I needed to feed them, hold them and do whatever was necessary for their survival,” she recalled.

However, as time passed, she began to see her children as individuals with whom she could grow together. “They teach me things I had forgotten as I got older.”

Her first child is highly proactive. She usually insists on pressing elevator buttons wherever they go. One day, Cheon, feeling pressed for time, hurried to press the button herself. Her daughter burst into tears.

“In the past, that would have been very hard for me. I tried to explain that we were running late and might miss the kindergarten bus. But for her, it wasn’t about logic. She was hurt emotionally, regardless of the reason.”

This experience led Cheon to an important realization about human relationships.

She learned that emotional hurt is not just a child’s experience. It applies to adults too. Adults do not express their emotions as openly as children, but emotions are still at play. From her children, she learned that logic is not everything. Emotions drive relationships, and addressing them with patience can transform how we connect with others.

“When a child is screaming or throwing a tantrum, I might try to leave just one minute earlier, but we end up being 30 minutes late instead. I’ve learned to wait and be mindful of their emotions,” she said.

She also reflects on how this understanding applies to her professional life.

“This skill, which I learned from my children, has naturally carried over to my work. Now, I try to pause and wait one moment longer when dealing with colleagues, ensuring I don’t cause unnecessary emotional harm.”

She no longer sees her children as beings who simply require her unconditional support.

“By caring for my children, I grow too. Over time, our relationship has become less one-sided. We are individuals sharing the same space, living and growing together under one roof.”

’I’m not just someone’s mom — I’m me‘

Park Mi-jung, 31, is just 8 months into motherhood. Previously, she worked as a freelance corporate lecturer, training new employees and human resources personnel. Her job required her to be in front of people, and she was always neatly dressed.

I was dressed in semiformal attire and always wore heels while traveling nationwide to deliver lectures. I felt a deep sense of fulfillment,” she said.

After the baby came, she struggled with postpartum depression in addition to the daily challenges of caring for the infant.

“I remember going to the bathroom to wash my hands and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was shocked. Because I had lost a lot of weight and hadn’t washed properly, my appearance was shocking.”

It was a wake-up call. She needed to reclaim who she was.

“Some people find happiness in losing themselves and embracing their roles as a mother. But that’s not me. I am someone who needs my place in society.”

Park is determined to define herself on her own terms. “There is the ‘me’ who works, the ‘me’ who is a mother, and the ‘me’ who is a woman. My roles have become more distinct and diverse. But this doesn’t mean I’ve become a different person.”

Still, she admits that motherhood has brought unexpected feelings of jealousy and comparison.

“I never used to compare myself to others. I always thought my life is mine, and their life is theirs. But after having a baby, I sometimes catch myself wondering if my baby is crawling faster or slower than others or debating whether I should send her to an English-immersive kindergarten (which costs more than ordinary kindergartens).”

‘My purpose of marriage is not to have children’

Seo Bo-kyung, 34, plans to marry her boyfriend of five years in 2025. The couple has decided to be DINK: dual income, no kids.

Seo’s boyfriend cites financial concerns as the main reason for not wanting kids, but her motivations are more layered.

“I don’t want my body to be ruined by pregnancy and childbirth,” she said, recounting a traumatic experience. “I know someone who died while giving birth, and since then, I’ve been afraid.” She feels that society often overlooks the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy and childbirth. “Society rarely talks about how difficult it is for women to give birth or the lasting effects it has on their bodies.”

For Seo, her perspective is also shaped by her upbringing. Both of her parents worked full-time, and while she admires her mother’s career accomplishments, she often felt her absence. “When I needed my mother, she wasn’t there. And my father wasn’t, either. I was lonely,” she said.

Now working in the human resources department at a large food company, Seo has built a successful career. A graduate of a prestigious university, she has worked hard to secure her position. However, her role in human resources has given her insight into workplace dynamics, particularly the challenges faced by women returning from maternity leave.

“When I look at my female colleagues who’ve had children, they seem to lag behind in promotions and performance evaluations compared to their male counterparts,” she said. “I’m not sure I could endure that.”

Seo also pointed to the unequal burden of parental responsibilities. “When something happens to a child, it’s always the mother who gets the call. Fathers don’t face that expectation. Even women who earn more than their husbands end up shouldering these responsibilities.”

This has led her to question whether it is fair to have a child knowing she would not be fully present for them, especially when she is unwilling to sacrifice her career.

“For me, the meaning of marriage isn’t about having a child. It’s about marrying a partner I love,” she explained. “Some people say the purpose of marriage is fulfilled after having children. For me, it’s fulfilled by choosing him.”

Shifting perspectives on marriage, parenting

As South Korea’s economy has developed and education levels have risen, younger generations of women are rethinking traditional roles. Marriage and parenting are no longer obligations but choices, allowing them to redefine motherhood on their own terms.

“The 1980s and 1990s generation never learned, either at school or at home, the traditional value system where mothers sacrifice and forgo their own lives for their children. Even mothers who lived such lives do not wish for their daughters to follow the same path,” according to Kang Seok-joo at Seoul National University’s Institute for Gender Research.

For them, marriage is no longer a necessity but a choice. In a situation where the weight of that choice is entirely on the individual, those who choose marriage and parenting do so with the intention of becoming “happier,” she went on.

Things that they have enjoyed and considered as essential for quality of living in their life so far, like leisure time, hobbies and a sense of fulfillment through work, should remain intact, while a cute child is an added joy, Kang said.

Jung Mi-kyung, a professor at Kyonggi University and author of the book “Mother, Mom, Woman: The Narrative of Motherhood in Representation and Deconstruction,” said, “While the mother’s generation embodied the traditional image of women prioritizing family and home, today’s daughter generation views self-fulfillment and the pursuit of happiness as more central goals in life. This shift alters their perspective on becoming a mother.”

Jung echoed Kang’s view that motherhood was seen as instinctive and natural previously, but now it is considered a matter of choice. This change seems closely tied to the fact that today’s daughter generation has rapidly become highly educated in Korean society. Young women are now as prepared and qualified to enter society as men are.

“Daughters who have closely observed mothers losing their sense of self by immersing themselves entirely in their children and family do not regard this as an ideal model for themselves,” Jung said. “Instead, they seek to carve out ‘a piece of life uniquely their own,’ joining the path of self-realization pursued by individuals in the modern era,” she said. THE KOREA HERALD/ANN