Adjumas are prevalent in any city in Korea. You can see them congregating in groups and you can tell them a block away. You know why? Because you can hear the cacophony of conversations emitting from the gaggle of ladies.
How does one become an adjuma? Well for one thing, you must be above 40 or 50 to be one. And you must wear stretchy pants like this.
The more flowery, the better.
Then you throw on these loud blouses to pair with your flowery pants. The more the colors clash, the better. (Can see a pattern here?) It's like an early system warning for other people. Loud flashy colors down the end of a street? It's an adjuma coming!
To top the adjuma ensemble is a wide-brim visor like this.
Or Darth Vader visors like this.
Another adjuma trademark is the cap of curly hair. Bill asked me why do almost all adjumas have the same hairdo? Is is like a membership card or something? LOL
Adjumas can be stubborn as hell when you try to get them to do something different. Like take out the takuan (pickled radish) out of the kimbab roll (I hate takuan).
They can also be very opinionated and won't hesitate to correct you or tell you what you are doing is wrong. Good thing I don't really speak or understand Korean that well and a blank look usually shuts them up.
But they can also be very caring and understanding, like that time I was standing on the bus and an adjuma pulled Billy on her lap and took my heavy bag to hold it for me. Or that time an adjuma sitting beside me on the bus stop with her friends took kimbab rolls to pass around. I was included in the pass around and felt privileged to be included in the group.
Adjumas, you love and tolerate them at the same time. Sigh.
3 comments:
My husband used to call them "Darth Visors", as in, "Look out, here come a bunch of Darth Visors!".
Also, whenever we wanted to get on a crowded subway, we shouted, "Adjumma arms engage!" and shot our elbows out like Inspector Gadget. Ah, good times.
Nakji,
One funny incident I can recall was when we were getting down a pedestrian overpass and there was this adjuma coming up the steps. She was dressed in all black (a rarity) and her visor was down in front of her face.
As she passed us by, Bill decided to do the heavy breathing sounds and said "WHOOSH, WHOOSH... LUKE, I AM YOUR MOTHER". I died laughing and I swear the adjuma thought we were some crzy foreigners giggling on the steps.
Came upon this blog as I was searching for the pejorative definition of "adjuma". I'm biracial American--my Mom is originally from Korea. I'm pretty sure she and all of her expat friends have no idea of the negative connotations of that title, as most of them have been in the US a long time. Ever since I was a young child, and my Mom was in her twenties, I was expected to address her friends as adjuma. So, it is interesting and funny to discover this about something I've been saying all my life.
My Mom wouldn't be caught dead wearing those old lady clothes, nor would she wear one of those large visors. She's also more likely to let someone go ahead of her in line than to cut in line herself. Unfortunately, she does have the short curly hairdo, but that is mostly due to the fact that her hair is thinning and she can't wear it long.
Interesting blog you have here!
Post a Comment