“Kim Hye-jeong’s Politics of Anti-Sexual Violence” Series: Thinking of the Citizens of Namtaeryeong
By Kim Hye-jeong
Published: June 2, 2026
Translated by Se-young Kim
At the subway station, people dressed in
colorful clothes and holding picket signs are busy shouting. It is the run-up
to local elections. Rather than promoting policies, the phrase “Vote for Number
X, So-and-so” is
repeated.
The first thought that comes to mind is astonishment
at the sheer number of people aspiring to enter politics. It is said that there
are 2,335 electoral districts for these [nationwide simultaneous] local
elections. The total number of elected officials includes 16 [major] city and
provincial governors, 227 heads of districts, cities, and counties, 804 members
of city and provincial councils, 129 proportional representatives for
metropolitan[1] and provincial
councils, 2,650 members of district, city, and county councils, and 385
proportional representatives for basic councils. Including the 16
superintendents of education, a total of 4,227 people will be elected
nationwide, and 14 National Assembly members will be elected through
by-elections. There is a total of 7,723 candidates, and that is a lot.
I intently scrutinize posters in alleyways, and
flyers in public informational materials. With what philosophy, resources, and
desires are they stepping onto the path of becoming “representatives of the
residents”?
When Elections
Reproduce Gender Discrimination
On May 18, the Korean Women’s Organizations
United (KWOU) highlighted the issue of gender imbalance in party nominations.
Women accounted for approximately 34% of the 7,723 candidates registered with
the National Election Commission. The situation becomes dire when excluding proportional
representation candidates, who are placed under an alternating gender system.
The situation is relatively better for regional constituency candidates for
metropolitan/province-wide council members (23.7%) and local council members
(26.3%). However, only 9.3% of candidates for metropolitan/provincial heads and
7.2% of candidates for local heads are women. There is only one female
candidate for a metropolitan/provincial head role in each of the Democratic
Party of Korea and the People Power Party.
The male dominance of politics, the hyper-male
dominance of politics at the metropolitan or provincial level, and the
pyramidal gender structure render the grassroots nature of local autonomy
meaningless. In essence, the realm of public service known as local autonomy—which
organizes the movements of the thousands of people across the nation striving
to become [elected] "public servants"—is
being reproduced in a sexist manner on a large scale. Gender analysis does not merely
count the percentage of candidates or the number of people by gender. It
reveals that politics and local autonomy are distinctly male-centered.
The National Assembly by-elections, dubbed the
"biggest battleground" of this election, have attracted the most
media attention. On May 18, 55 women's civil society organizations, including
the Korea Sexual Violence Relief Center, the Korean Women's Organizations
United, and the Korean Women's Hotline, issued a statement condemning the “problematic
nature” of the career history of Kim Yong-nam, the Democratic Party of Korea
candidate running in the Pyeongtaek-Eul by-election. Mr. Kim defended
approximately 30 sexual violence perpetrators during his time as a lawyer.
“Group
sexual violence in which six men around the age of 20 conspired to intoxicate a
female student in her second year of middle school and committed sexual
violence in turn,” “sexual violence by a relative in which the defendant
claimed there was no intent, even though he had told the victim to touch his
genitals as a form of discipline,” and “a case in which a person who provided
food and lodging to a runaway teenager and recruited and arranged male
customers for her to engage in prostitution with, using it as a source of
income for himself, argued that he did not do it ‘as a profession’” are all
cases that he contested in a district court located in southern Gyeonggi
Province, or handled appeals for.
To think that the person who opened his law firm
when he first entered politics in 2012, and who, until 2024, bounced among the
Saenuri Party, the People Power Party, and the New Reform Party [all three of
which are conservative parties] while continuing to defend perpetrators in
local sexual violence and sex trafficking cases with seriously problematic
content, is the protagonist of the Democratic Party of Korea’s ‘strategic
nomination.’ This is ‘male politics’ that completely excludes the victims of
sexual violence, the citizens supporting the victims, and their allies in the
southern Gyeonggi region over the past 10 years.
Meanwhile, Cho Kuk, the candidate for the Cho
Kuk Innovation Party in Pyeongtaek-Eul, has a history of defending a male poet
who perpetrated sexual violence and then shamed his victim online [after she
came forward]. Despite countless demands for Mr. Cho to apologize and express
condolences following the victim's death on April 17, he has not made any
respectful statement.
The Cho Kuk Innovation Party presented an unprecedented promise that if Cho Kuk is elected, the 12 lawmakers belonging to the party [who are already members of the National Assembly, representing other districts] will divide up and handle local livelihood issues in Pyeongtaek-Eul's towns, townships, and districts. He is using the hierarchy of the party leader to privilege the region while simultaneously objectifying it.
What transformations of standards, institutions,
and power structure are necessary to prevent gender discrimination from being
reproduced in local elections and democracy?
The second thought that comes to mind as I look
at the local election campaigners lined up at the subway station is the feeling
that this year’s elections are extremely fragmented. I am not an activist who
primarily monitors and deals with local issues in my neighborhood, but an
ordinary resident who participates in cooperative activities on weekends. Nevertheless,
[I know that] rallies regarding the Sewol Ferry tragedy were held in our small,
bustling downtown area, people carrying local flags attended presidential impeachment
rallies, and there were heated debates opposing a pledge to dig a tunnel nearby.
However, what kind of bridge are these current local elections serving as?
The presidential election held following the Winter Square movement for the impeachment of Yoon Suk-yeol and for grand social reform was hailed both at home and abroad as a victory for democracy and a victory for citizens. But has the political landscape since then, centered as it is on close-up shots of the president's mouth and his words, been truly reflecting the current state of our politics? During live online meetings, the president boisterously reprimands the incompetence of public officials, casually eats hotteok at the market, sells his long-time home to lower housing prices and boost the stock market, and roars like a lion condemning Israel for suppressing Palestine solidarity activists. Social activists seeking political and social change are now following the president's movements to meet him, and writing comments and sending DMs on social media mentioning him. Just as the sense of democratic efficacy seems to have inadvertently turned into a spectacle of presidential shorts [short videos], it appears even more difficult to see which policies are being meaningfully evaluated and discussed in this upcoming local election.
The president, the government, the central assembly, and local governments and local councils are supposed to form an interconnected democratic system. However, elections do not serve to connect and facilitate the flow between the central government, the legislature, local governments, and local councils; instead, they function as a barrier. When one visits the government to seek institutional reforms and legislative changes regarding the delayed issue of violence against women, they are told, "The legislature must act," and when one visits the National Assembly, they are told, "The election must happen first," and the issues are delayed yet again.
Elections, meant to gather and validate strength, should be the venue for the so-called ‘social consensus.’ However, conversely, with social consensus never attempted, elections have been transformed into a structure that hides and excludes agendas and issues.
I see campaign vehicle speeches that repeatedly declare, “I am the force to eradicate insurrection, and so is our party!” ‘Eradication of Insurrection Forces’ is even written on the campaign vests. However, when a male candidate from the blue party lectures middle-aged female campaigners to line up properly and hold their picket signs straight, while a young male candidate from the Red Party [lacking money and connections because of his youth] diligently hands out business cards alone while bowing politely, I wonder if insurrection is the only problem.
Therefore, the demands of the public square, which had called for the liquidation of the insurrection, also called for major social reform. Hundreds spoke out about the need for anti-discrimination laws and gender equality. They waved flags as sexual minorities, irregular workers, and farmers.
From that square, through the presidential
election, to these local elections, when did gender equality and
anti-discrimination laws get silenced? I am simply dumbfounded. The election
results broadcast begins at 6 PM on June 3rd. The numbers and occupancy
rates—showing what color each region turns and what percentages they
represent—will form a spectacle throughout the night. However, will major
social reform truly begin “when the election is over” and "after it’s over,"
gathering the strength and will of the residents of 2,335 regions? The citizens
of the square are still hoping and waiting.
The Citizens
of Namtaeryeong Are Now
I watched the documentary The
Longest Night: Namtaeryeong
(directed by Kim Hyun-ji), which was recently released. The people of the night
of December 21 and the dawn of December 22, 2024, whose faces turned from red
to blue moment by moment in the cold winter, as well as the people across the
country and citizens overseas ordering pizza and hand warmers while watching
the live broadcast, were vividly portrayed.

From the documentary film The Longest Night:
Namtaeryeong (2026), directed by MBC Gyeongnam producer Kim Hyun-ji
At Namtaeryeong, the conversations were filled
not with "Vote for Number X, So-and-so," but with statements that
began with "I’m So-and-so" and progressed to "So, I didn’t realize
X before, but today I am learning Y."
Amidst the 2026 local elections, where the call
is "This is who I am, so choose me," I find myself recalling Namtaeryeong,
a place of listening, solidarity, and learning, where people met others and
opened up a new perspective. The citizens who gathered in Namtaeryeong are
likely the very people who went so far as to hang rainbow-colored banners of
solidarity on every single banner of a candidate for Seoul Superintendent of
Education who did not hesitate to include hate speech in his campaign promises.
They are likely the people who have compiled and publicized gender equality
pledges, which are hard to find amidst the overflowing number of candidates. I
think of these citizens of Namtaeryeong. What are they doing right now? Even when
this election is over and after it’s over, or rather, regardless of the
election, wouldn’t they be continuing to do what needs to be done?
About the Author: Kim Hye-jeong. Since 2004, she
has been learning about people and observing the world through her experiences
in the anti-sexual violence movement. She believes that people who understand
sexual violence create a more thoughtful and liberated world. She is currently
the director of the Korea Sexual Violence Relief Center and a full-time
activist.
*Original article: https://www.ildaro.com/10469
[1] Editor’s note: “Metropolitan” is used here to refer to Korea’s eight
major cities known as “province-level
cities”.



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