Documentary "My Heart is Not Broken Yet”
By Lee Young-ju
Published: February 27, 2009
Translated by Marilyn Hook
Song Sin-do is beautiful
She has a dirty mouth.
She is outspoken.
She smiles often.
She cries often.
She sings well.
She is full of spirit.
She is fearless.
Song Sin-do is beautiful.
Song Sin-do, a daring 15-year-old who did not like the
marriage her parents had arranged and so ran away on the first night of her
honeymoon. Song Sin-do, who didn't know the word jeongsindae [the name of the "corps" of sex slaves] but
knew that if she followed the Japanese military she did not have to stay in the
marriage she did not want and could earn some money, and so became one of the
Japanese military’s “comfort women.”
Song Sin-do, who found herself having to spread her legs in
front of a solider she did not know, even before her first period and before
she knew what sex was. Song sin-do, who after her first period, went through
countless cycles of pregnancy and miscarriage, and finally had to pull a dead
7-month-old fetus from her womb with her own hands. Song Sin-do, a mother who had two children
that survived the harsh life of a “comfort woman”, but whom she had to give
away during the war.
Song Sin-do, who was tricked by a Japanese soldier after the
war and followed him to Japan only to be abandoned, and has had to live her
whole life as a stranger with no real home. Song Sin-do, a wife who lived with
an ethnic Korean she met in Japan, but who could not have sexual relations with
her wrecked body, and so lived in a sexless marriage while calling her husband
“father.”
Song Sin-do, who couldn’t forgive Japan and the war that had
trampled on her, and told her story to the world and to Japanese society. Song
Sin-do, who fought her way past a district court and appellate court all the
way to the Supreme Court of Japan only to receive the same answer: “The nation
is not obliged to compensate or apologize for an incident for which the statute
of limitations has expired.” Song Sin-do, who said after the final decision, “I
lost the case but my heart is not broken,” and started to sing about her life
using the melody of a Japanese military song.
Song sin-do, her life has been tumultuous. She has accepted
that tumultuous life and pushes her way through, and her fearless journey is
beautiful.
Support Association –
discovering oneself through these women
After the late Kim Hak-sun’s testimony made their existence
known to the world in 1991, the Japanese military’s “comfort women” became objects
of guilt, pity, and compassion for me. When I met these damaged survivors face
to face, guilt that for so long we did not even know they existed and
compassion for the pain they suffered clashed within me, and I did not know how
to act.
 |
| Song shows tattoos and scars from the Japanese military |
It was impossible for me to even imagine the tragedy that
they had suffered. I could not estimate the weight of their pain, pooled in
each furrow of the long time they had spent living with what had happened to them.
I worried that friendly behavior, a compassionate look, or a word of comfort
from me might instead become another of their wounds. It was difficult to even
strike up a casual conversation. Until now, the Japanese military’s “comfort
women” were such “objects” to me.
However, after seeing the documentary “My Heart is Not
Broken Yet”, I have stopped seeing its subject Song Sin-do as a comfort woman
whose existence is separate from mine, and now see her more like my own grandmother─sometimes
annoying, sometimes emotionally moving, sometimes revealing embarrassing
personal information. The movie invited me into a relationship with her that
seems so natural that it cannot even be perceived.
It might be exaggerating to talk of a “relationship” because
of watching a documentary, yet I really feel like I have formed a relationship
with Song through this movie. To me, her
image is no longer the fixed one of guilt and pity that comes to mind when I
think of a “comfort woman.” Her life has become a part of mine.
This is because of the women of the “Trial for
Korean-Japanese Comfort Women Support Association” (hereafter “Support
Association”) formed by Japanese and ethnic Koreans living in Japan after Song
Sin-do’s existence became known in 1992. Or rather, it is because of the
relationship the women of the Support Association formed with Song Sin-do.
Song Sin-do has a rough tongue and a violent temper. She
told the members of the support association formed to help her, “If you’re not
going to see it through, don’t even start,” and asked a journalist who wanted
to write a positive article about her, “Can you really do this right?” with
suspicion. Not trusting people had become her way of life, and she could not
wholly accept a helping hand or kindness. She continually doubted that these
people would really believe what she said, and that they wouldn’t betray her.
But thanks to Song, the members of the Support Association
discovered themselves. After they lost
the first case, Support Association members asked her, carefully, “Can you see
this through? Are you going to keep fighting?” Instead of answering, Song
Sin-do asked them in return, “Are you all going to see this through, or not?”
These women, who had started this group with the creed of
“whatever Song Sin-do wants” and believed they were asking out of concern for
her, realized with a pang that their concern was actually a part of their own
cowardice regarding carrying this responsibility until the end. Their intention─to
define their position as merely assistants in resolving the issue of the
Japanese military comfort women– was laid bare by one harsh question from Song.
When they had first met Song, the Support Association
members had worried how they would go about fighting in a legal battle next to
the fierce, seemingly cold-hearted elderly woman, but they realized that before
they knew it, she had become the one comforting and giving strength to them.
When they had lost the case and their heads were hanging and
tears starting to fall, what roused them were the uninhibited curses that flew
out of Song’s mouth at the Japanese government. At her scolding thunderously,
“This country is in this shape because of the state its politicians!” and “I’m
telling you no war is ever acceptable!
You need to know that!” and then starting to sing, the Support
Association members were able to smile and stop weeping. They gained the
strength to prepare for the next fight.
This woman is truly the most indomitable of our times.
Whether because of guilt or sympathy, those who had wanted
to help a pitiful or wronged woman to make themselves feel better had no place
in front of Song Sin-do’s harsh questions, merciless scolding, and clear
singing. There couldn’t be “assistants.” True friends of the Japanese
military’s “comfort women” had to become active agents in the struggle. With
this, the “comfort women” changed from abstract “objects” into the other halves
of relationships that permeated my life, which affected and were affected by
me.
Song’s power to make it impossible
to remain an onlooker
I cried throughout the movie. I don’t know if it was because
of the depth of the pain that Song suffered, my rage that no settlement had
been achieved despite the unquestionable occurrence of this tragedy, or my
shame at my sometimes forgetting about this situation as my own life goes on.
But I am sure, at least, that those tears were different
from the tears that I have shed before - every time I go to the Wednesday
protests in front of the Japanese embassy, and every time I have attended a
funeral for one of these elderly women.
It feels like if those tears continued, Song Sin-do would
appear abruptly and scold me, like this: “You’re going to keep leaking and just
quit, aren’t you?” “Can you see this through?” “Your heart is what’s important,
your heart!” I am no longer part of the audience of a movie, or a bystander to
a fight.
*Original article:
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