Does the name make the person or the person make the name?
Long-time readers of the site are likely familiar with the antics of our writer P.K. Sanjun and those familiar with Asian names will quickly spot that his name isn’t Japanese but Korean where “P.K. Sanjun” is just the abbreviated pen name of “Park Sang-jun.” This is because P.K. was born and raised in Japan as a third-generation Korean man.
P.K. is what’s known as a Zainichi Korean, a term that refers to Koreans who came to Japan prior to the end of World War II and many of their descendants. Zainichi Koreans are not Japanese citizens and technically remain de facto citizens of North or South Korea even if they’ve never set foot in their “home” country.
Another unique aspect about Zainichi Koreans is that they often go by a kind of official alias called “tsumei” which are identical to Japanese names. P.K. himself does not use a tsumei, but growing up he knew his grandfather not as a “Park” but as a “Matsumoto.”
The reasons will be explained a little later on but there has recently been a lot of controversy on social media about the continued use of tsumei. On one hand, some believe they help ethnic Koreans function more smoothly in Japanese society and avoid discrimination. On the other, they are sometimes seen as showing shame for one’s heritage, clinging to a dark period of colonization, and using what could be likened to a “slave name” in the USA in many ways.
It’s a complex and sensitive situation, so it might be best to hear how P.K. himself feels about the matter and hopefully gain some insight. The following is a direct translation of the article he wrote recently regarding tsumei and Zainichi Koreans.
My thoughts as a Zainichi Korean on why people continue to use tsumei
by P.K. Sanjun
Social media has been abuzz. I don’t usually get involved in that stuff because it doesn’t interest me much, but all of a sudden the conversation turned to Koreans living in Japan. Among the many posts, the issue of tsumei came up and it left me feeling uneasy.
Actually, a tsumei doesn’t mean anything to me. I guess that’s just how it is when you’ve never really thought about it. Still, as a Korean living in Japan, I’d like to try to explain why I think ethnic Koreans in Japan continue to use tsumei.
What made me feel uneasy were posts saying things like, “If you’re a Korean citizen, use your real name,” “Tsumei are fake names,” and “If you want to use a Japanese name, become a Japanese citizen.” I don’t mind people having opinions like those, but they feel too one-sided to me. I wonder if those people ever seriously contemplated what a tsumei really is.
It takes a lot of energy to write an article like this, but I’ll do my best to talk about tsumei in the hope that I’ll never have to write about it again. This is my opinion having lived as a Korean in Japan for 46 years and of course, it’s a subjective opinion. These are not the opinions of all Koreans living in Japan nor is it the general opinion of this website.
That being said, there was a time in my life when I seriously thought about the concepts of a “name” and a “tsumei” so I would appreciate it if you read this while keeping that in mind.
…But first.
・No Tsumei
I am a third-generation Zainichi Korean living in Japan whose grandfather came here from Korea, but I do not have a tsumei. I was born Park Sang-jun.
My father used the tsumei “Matsumoto” and my mother used the tsumei “Sadayama” but I and my two sisters have never used a surname other than “Park.” By the way, up until high school, we always pronounced “Park” as “boku” [Japanese for “I”] so it was always like, “I’m Sang-jun.”
・Starting Point
Anyway, first off, I would like to explain one of the starting points for the use of tsumei: Soshikaimei. As you may know, there was a time when Japan colonized Korea and Soshikaimei was one of the policies implemented at that time. It was then that Koreans with surnames like Kim, Lee, or Park were given Japanese-sounding names for the first time.
Soshikaimei is a controversial topic with some arguing that it wasn’t forced and that it was what Koreans wanted and others saying that they were stripped of their names against their will. Whichever was the case, the fact remains that it was when Koreans took on Japanese names and as a result, my grandfathers (possibly great-grandfathers) took on the names “Matsumoto” and “Sadayama.”
・2nd Generation and Beyond
To put it another way, imagine if someone named “Ahn Jung-hwan” up until yesterday suddenly became “Taro Yamada.” I’m sure there were some Taro Yamadas who saw it as an opportunity as well as some who shed tears of resentment.
Moving on to the second generation, let’s say Taro Yamada – formerly Ahn Jung-hwan – names his newborn child “Jiro Yamada.” Naturally, little Jiro will live his whole life as “Jiro.” This is very obvious, but humans can’t decide their own name the moment they’re born. A name is something given by parents, so little Jiro’s life begins this way without his consent.
・Gift
Of course, a child’s name isn’t something parents just cook up on a whim. They consider the child’s future…
They wish for them…
They pray for them…
They hope for them…
They worry about them…
They entrust the name to them.
A name is the very first gift the parents give to a child.
・The Ball is Rolling
And no matter what that name is, if you call yourself “Jiro” and everyone around you calls you “Jiro” then you’ll eventually grow attached to it. I’m also attached to “Sang-jun.” Try saying your name out loud and you’ll probably feel an attachment to it too, right?
So, whether it’s “Luke,” “Leia,” or “Sang-jun,” everyone’s names are names that were chosen against their will. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tsumei or not, as long as Jiro has been named “Jiro” and lived his life with that name, then he is Jiro.
But when the Japanese no longer occupy Korea and Jiro is told he doesn’t have to be “Jiro” anymore, he’s dumbfounded. His father Taro could go back to being “Jung-hwan,” but what about Jiro, his son Saburo, and his grandson Shiro?
The reason Korean people choose to use a tsumei isn’t just because they’re attached to the name, but also because their personal history is as “Jiro.” So, it’s nonsense to tell people like that to “use their real name,” and if it was a gift from their parents, I think they should just leave it as is.
In principle, the reason Korean people continue to use tsumei is because of their own personal and family history, so outsiders shouldn’t be quick to judge them and tell them to “do this” or “do that.” It’d be like telling a family who always goes out to eat after voting on election day to stop doing that for some reason. And especially when it comes to the painful history of tsumei, I think each family’s decision should be respected.
・Change is Good
All that being said, this is based on things in my lifetime, and I think it’s a good thing to discuss the matter moving forward – for instance, ideas like “children born from now on shouldn’t use tsumei” or “those who want a Japanese-sounding name must become citizens.”
There are also opinions that “it’s unfair only certain people can have a tsumei” and it would be good to discuss the possibility of anyone being able to use one. Honestly though, I don’t know anything about getting a name change because I never seriously thought about it. I’ve never wanted to do it and I don’t know anyone who has changed their name so my area of knowledge is very small. Sorry about my ignorance on that.
・Why I Don’t Have a Tsumei
All of this made me call up my father and ask him why he didn’t give me a tsumei. My dad was born shortly after the war and lived as “Yoshio Matsumoto” until he graduated from university. He told me that the reason he didn’t give me or my sisters a tsumei was that even if we had it, it didn’t change that we were Korean by blood and he also thought Japanese culture would become more accepting of it in the future.
My grandfather named my father “Yoshio Matsumoto” for his own reasons and my father named me “Park Sang-jun” for his own reasons. My family is probably a little unique for that, but it’s the same process that makes some families continue to use tsumei.
I think the reason Koreans in Japan continue to use tsumei is a series of questions that parents ask themselves like how they want their child to live and each family comes to their own conclusion while praying for the best for their child.
Also, it’s not like people just suddenly started using tsumei on their own. It was pushed on them by the Soshikaimei policy. For what it’s worth, I’d like to tell Koreans who have been using tsumei for generations that, as someone who’s mainly lived in Tokyo, I’ve fared quite well with my Korean name. I’ve been “Sang-jun” for 46 years and my name has served me surprisingly well, though I do wonder what the future holds.
・Get a Jump On It
I’m going to take the initiative and address some things because I know I’ll get all kinds of flak for putting out an article like this.
First of all, the reason I don’t become a citizen is because it’s just too much of a hassle. If it were even as simple as getting a passport, I’d do it today. And when the topic of naturalization comes up, I’m sometimes asked; “What will you do if there’s a war?”
My answer to that is I’ll fight against the Koreans and Japanese in order to protect my daughter. That answer wouldn’t change if I remained Korean or became Japanese. By the way, after careful consideration, my daughter is a Japanese citizen.
Of course, even if I do naturalize, I’ll live as Park Sang-jun and it’s not because I’m especially proud of it but because I’m just attached to being “Sang-jun.”
When I was young, I studied abroad in Korea for about two years, but at the time I really hated it. I realized that I was closer to Japanese people, but I have to admit, the food was amazing there. Still, even though I’m not down on Korea like I was then, I don’t feel the slightest bit of pride as a “Korean” person. Not even a bit.
On the other hand, I am proud of surviving for 46 years as a Korean resident of Japan – as a minority in Japanese society. I never experienced blatant discrimination, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced the loneliness of being a minority.
・In Summary
While I like Japan, it’s also true that recently as a technical foreigner, I’ve felt pressured to have to “demonstrate” that I like Japan. I mean, I like Japan as much as the next guy, but is it even possible for a Japanese person to like everything about Japan?
When I write stuff like this, there will always be people who say, “If you don’t like it, get out,” but of course I like Japan.
I’ve been rambling for a while, but whenever I see people talk trash about tsumei, I just think they should leave people who use them alone. I think the reason why Koreans in Japan continue to use common names is because it’s a reflection of their parents’ dreams of how they want their children to live and because it was decided by each family wanting the best for their kids.
Finally, I just want to reiterate that this is purely my own personal opinion.
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