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Weaving with M/other.

Mother as the Other: M/other

A family is bodily complex and socially relational. Hence, a familial alignment is a micro unit in which to explore the self/other relationship. (1) Mothers in particular occupy an intimate role in the family organization in sharing biological connectivity with their offspring. Calling a mother "Other," then, as I do in this essay, is ambiguous and complex. More broadly, historically, socially, and culturally constructed mothering discourses and knowledge can render "the mother" strange and othered--a m/other (2)--in fact, predetermining, appropriating, and even objectifying her (3) mothering performances and relationships in familial and social relations.

This paper aims to articulate the interrelationality in the m/other (self/other) relationship in dealing with her otherness. By investigating my subjectivities as m/other and the relationship with my m/other, I examine the interrelationship between my mother and me in our situated m/othering context where my mothering performativity (4) and relationship with my mother have emerged. My mother is a weaver, and I have begun learning how to weave from her. Through the concept of weaving, I reconsider my relationship as/ with m/ other in working with the otherness. Using weaving as the embodied experience of researching my relationship as/with m/other, I weave in and out of memories, present-day experiences, and objects which connect my mother and me across time, space, and culture. The temporal and partial encounters with my mother's otherness have enabled me to understand my mother anew. Focusing on Judith Butler's question of "how to treat otherness well," in an ambiguous self/other relationship, (5) I delve into how otherness can be recognized and worked within my m/other relationship.

In the essay that follows, introducing the concept of m/ other and m/othering, I first contextualize and investigate the process of formulating my maternal subjectivities and my relationship with my mother, as well as our roles as daughters, mothers, wives, and daughters-in-law in Korean culture. Our m/othering has been formulated in response to the networks of forces such as the Neo-Confucian ideals of "good" mothers as devotional domestic caregivers, the campaign of scientific mothering for modernizing family, and neoliberal conceptions of "good" education for endless competition that are promoted globally. I then examine my memories and experiences as/with m/ other, with my narrated reflections and analysis. In doing so, I interrogate moments of tension, fragmentation, and excessiveness, which emerged in response to these broader taken-for-granted understandings of mother. Using examples of my mother's woven baskets and family heirlooms, I delve into their intergenerational meaning and transformative materiality in relation to my narratives of m/other. Lastly, through the conceptual project of weaving with m/other, I articulate the process of constructing my m/other relationship by examining its entanglement and segmentation, which invite further connections. Furthermore, I consider, using Goodall and Bailey, how investigating the complexity of interconnection (6) and ontological fluidity of material objects and relations (7) within a family alliance contributes to family methodology.

M/other and M/othering

Feminist studies of mother (8) differentiate the term mothering from motherhood, in shifting their focus from biological and patriarchal theoretical frameworks to the notion of "mother" as socially constructed. In particular, O'Reilly (9) considers "motherhood" as a male-defined term and "mothering" as the female point of view and experience. She also urges scholars to shift from the patriarchal ideology of motherhood to the "explicitly and profoundly political-social practice" of mothering. (10)

The terms I use: "m/other" and "m/othering," (11) signal a new way of understanding a maternal subject's thinking and doing. Situated in a doubled status of mother and the Other, the concept of m/othering troubles conventional understandings of mother and mothering. In Mothering a Bodied Curriculum: Emplacement, Desire, Affect, (12) Springgay and Freedman point out that a dichotomous understanding of a mother as "the Other"compels the mother to objectify reduce, and regulate her mothering practice to the historically, culturally, and socially normalized mothering practice. They argue that the binary understanding of good or bad mother reduces mothers to an essentialized image as passive and uniform to fit the category of good mother, in thinking with their imperfect mothering. Feelings of ambivalence and tension emerge when the mother places herself in-between her mothering reality and her knowledge of the good mother. Yet, in the m/othering project, the sense of dislocation, discomfort, and isolation are not something to be rejected; rather, the doubled status--a mother and at the same time the Other--should be scrutinized to search for more possible ways of knowing of m/ other.

The slash (/) in m/othering neither isolates nor unites the two elements, the mother and the Other. Rather, it attends to both the maternal subject's partial and temporal mothering and othering performances. The slash works in complex and dynamic interactions and movements within the m/other relationship by questioning, challenging, and modifying its boundary of the relationship. Thus, m/othering disrupts a fixed category and seeks a new space to invite multiple realities of "mother." The project of m/othering does not suggest solutions for problematic mothering or liberating the institutionalized mother; rather, it focuses on extending knowledge of m/othering "to the limit, to the unknowable, and to the incomprehensible." (13) By focusing on the moments of confusion, confrontation, and fragmentation in the course of working against its limit, m/othering constantly encounters its otherness. Through the investigation of discursively constituted conditions of as well as the ambiguous processes of m/ othering, the project of m/othering aims to interrogate a seemingly bipolarized mother-other relationship and work within the gap to articulate its connectivity. Using the concept of m/othering to explore my relationship as a mother and with my mother, I contextualize and investigate the constitution of my maternal subjectivities as well as my relationship with my mother. To provide my background of interrogation, in what follows, I present my narrated memories in italics and shift to analysis in regular font.

My Transnational M/othering Journey
"Congratulations! It's a boy!" 1 heard my baby's first cry and finally
was relieved that my big day went well. The miraculous meeting with my
baby was short lived, and I am now lying on my bed alone separated from
my baby for the first time. I try to recall every moment in my labor
process as if I was in an eternal time zone full of uncertainty and
fear. Nobody taught me in detail how to give birth to my baby, and I
have just gone through the natural event that mothers experience!
Holding my baby in my arms was a true blessing; but suddenly I was
surrounded with a strange feeling in recognizing this new
relationship--detached from the umbilical cord--perceiving my baby as
an individual who will need my constant care and love, and at the same
time, trying to make myself familiar with the title of "mother."
When my baby and I came home from the hospital, my real days as
"mother" unfolded. My time and schedule became entirely focused on this
little one's needs. My days and nights reversed, and I was able to do
my chores only when my baby fell asleep. Interestingly, when my baby
demanded my full attention, I realized how selfish I was in thinking of
my own desire as an individual.
That was a strange feeling. I was not ready to be a "good" mother yet.
As my sons were growing, they required my intellectual support more
than corporeal care. I was supposed to search for "good" educational
programs, tutors, and friends for their ideal learning environment. To
be a "good" mother, in contemporary South Korea, means becoming a
partner in the child's academic success, whether the child likes this
or not. As an educational manager, I was to plan, design, and oversee
my children's achievement. For a "good" academic outcome, 1 sat next to
my 5th grader son to help with his final check-up for his school exam
by grading, teaching, and learning together with him.
I usually came home from my work to prepare my child's dinner before he
arrived from school, so he could eat his meal on his way to his private
academies after school. I dropped him off at a math academy, and after
the math class, he would need to go to another academy for his English
lesson. When he returned home from private classes around 10 pm, he had
to sit down again to complete his school homework. The most unbearable
thing for me was realizing that my son was adjusting well to this
competitive educational life and searching for joy through this daily
routine. I had no courage to stop this abnormal practice, because many
children and their mothers lived in a similar manner. These kids hung
around together at academies and competed against each other for their
imaginary successes. I noticed so many intelligent children, but I was
not sure if they had ever thought about (or had an opportunity to think
about) the meaning of friendship. This reality was somehow wrong. I
wanted to live my life differently, if possible.


I am now a doctoral student in the United States. My two sons and I migrated to the U.S. for our new educational journey in 2009, leaving my husband in my home country, South Korea. There, the increasing number of transnational families seeking opportunities for their children's education has become a significant social issue. To avoid or resist the relentlessly rigorous system of education currently in place, a number of parents and their children have moved to another country (particularly countries where English is the first language) to pursue educational goals, mutating and endangering family life patterns. (14) South Korean families in these circumstances are called "wild geese families" echoing the way wild geese raise their youngsters, traveling long distances to find food in order to feed them. In this new transnational family structure, the mother usually migrates with her children to the foreign country, while the father remains in South Korea, working to provide financial support for the family. The new family pattern invests resources in the children's education and transforms the conventional family structure into a new arrangement in a transnational space.

As a parent who has followed this pattern, and as a member of this migratory group, I often ask myself if I want to be simply categorized and identified by this generalized new cultural term, "Goose Mother." My reason for transnational migration is not limited to my children's education, and I do not fully believe that the choice was made by my sole free will. Although eight years have passed since we launched our academic journey to the U.S., pursuing new possibilities, I am still struggling within globally, culturally, and educationally formulated m/othering discourses. Negative remarks emphasize that my decision to be a single parent in a foreign country has caused, for example, family separation, emotional and financial burdens for maintaining two households, and reduced quality time with my children.
Although I wished to resolve my m/othering questions in the U.S., I am
still struggling with feelings of discomfort with my incomplete
mothering. Because I am a full-time international graduate student, I
cannot fully be aware of my children's school schedules or he available
to provide their afterschool programs as I used to do in South Korea. I
have overlooked my children's hardships in adapting to the new
language, schools, and friends, due to my own struggles with English
and the responsibilities of my graduate program. Moreover, as time
passes, my children seem to be losing their interest in caring about
and connecting to other family members in South Korea. I am challenged
again to interrogate what good enough mothering could be for my
children in these circumstances. What would be the knowledge of the
"good" mother, which constantly disrupts me in the binary of good-bad
education?


Re/connected with my M/other

While residing in the U.S., my mother and I have come to create a new relationship. Far from our home country and separated from other family members, my mother visits annually to see my sons and me. Earlier in my life, my mother and I seldom spent time together because she was always busy with caring for a three-generation household as well as pursuing her own career. Once I married my husband, my commitments for my own family interfered with having quality time with my mother. My mother is a basket-weaving artist and has run a local plant-woven crafts museum for 30 years in Gyeonggi-do, South Korea. She devotes herself to studying Korean traditional weaving skills and offering educational programs for community members. Figures 1, 2, and 3 demonstrate my mother's Korean traditional weaving works. She also has a particular interest in learning other countries' weaving traditions. When traveling overseas, visiting local craft museums, antique stores, and flea markets have been her favorite trip routines.

During my mother's early visit to the U.S to see me, she wished to learn about the Native American basket-weaving culture in Oklahoma, the state where I currently live. My mother and I travelled to local Native American museums and developed good friendships with a few weaving artists. She wished to learn and exchange new weaving skills with other skilled weavers. I served as an interpreter to facilitate their communication. In the meantime, I was also curious to explore the differences, similarities, and relationships between the two cultures, Korean and Native American. I decided to study this topic for my doctoral qualitative research course, so I recruited my mother and a female Cherokee weaver as participants. I requested permission from the IRB (the Institutional Review Board that oversees research at our institution) to research their lives as indigenous women artists, as well their cultural awareness of their own cultures.

As the research proceeded, however, I confronted the complexities of researching my mother and the other participant, a Cherokee basket-weaving artist. I was too close to one participant, my mother, to feel impartial; for the other, my knowledge of the Cherokee culture was clearly limited. Challenged by the artist's vocabulary to describe important cultural and historical Cherokee events, I realized that I would not be able to learn enough about the Cherokee culture within the limited interview period. My knowledge and interactions with the artist were just not sufficient for me to speak for and about her life and culture in any nuanced way. On the other hand, when I attempted to interview my mother, I found it troublesome to conduct the interview in the same way I did with my other participant. The identical interview questions did not run as smoothly with my mother. For instance, in an attempt to understand my participants' lives as female indigenous weaving artists, I constructed interview questions regarding their personal life experiences at home, school, and career. Following these research questions, when I asked my mother to reflect on her childhood and school life, my mother began to spin a yarn incorporating my grandmother's, grandfather's and uncles' stories with which I was familiar and engaged. During my interview with her, our conversation inevitably returned to our usual form of communication--celebrating the moments we shared and assuring our solidarity as family. When my mother reflected on how her mother (my grandmother) raised her and how her mother loved and cared for me (as the daughter of her busy daughter), I found myself missing her so much and pondering our similar mothering lives. Moreover, I realized that I reacted differently to my mother's heretofore private and hidden narratives than I did to my other participant's responses. It was challenging to be formal with my mother. My mother also awkwardly recited private stories to me in response to my interview questions, stories that I did not know or even need to know.

I reflected, is it even possible to interview my mother? To what extent can my mother be the Other to me? I am challenged to determine the distance and proximity between me and my mother within the category of a self and the Other. As Rich articulates, a mother-daughter relationship is complex. It is "subliminal, subversive, pre-verbal: the knowledge flowing between two alike bodies, one of which has spent nine months inside the other." (15) Indeed, I was a part of my mother's body before I was born. Though my mother and I share ample amounts of genetic attributes, significant life experiences, and memories, I wonder, really, how much I know about my mother. She is my m/other, too ambiguous and complex to be articulated within a fixed term.

Working Otherness with M/other
I still vividly remember my childhood when I hung around market places
with my mother holding her hand. I also remember the smell of my mother
and the feeling of comfort when she folded me in her arms. Yet, the
intimacy we have seems to mutate into aivkwardness as time passes. Four
decades later, my mother is with me again in a strange place, where I
temporarily stay to pursue my higher education, but I do not know where
to begin with her well. Perhaps the lengthy period of detachment during
my growth to become independent causes this sense of strangeness. I
still want to be her child, but now I am standing next to her as an
adult indvidual--a m/other like her.


I grew up in South Korea in a three-generation family with my parents, two younger siblings and my paternal grandmother until I married my husband. I remember my mother was always busy with caring for her three-generation household, as well as working as a weaving artist. I doubt if she has ever had any leisure time for herself in her lifetime. To me, she seemed to be born as an inherently diligent, sacrificing, and caring person. As far as I remember, my mother hardly ever missed hosting family events such as holiday gatherings, ancestor memorial days, and each family member's birthday party, while managing her professional schedule. Whether or not my mother's way of mothering was her choice, she was devoted to us. I hardly felt my mother's empty place when she worked, because food was always prepared and waiting for me, and she did not leave home during the day for long.

Over two decades have passed since I married, and many things have happened in my family. My siblings are all married and have created their own families. During this time, my paternal grandmother and my father passed away and, suddenly, my mother was left alone looking for her own place to live. She appeared to concentrate more on her weaving projects and to actively work to extend her career position in the field. I barely remember her tears or sighs. To me, my mother was a strong, self-controlled and problem-solving person all of the time. When she faced family difficulties or financial issues in my childhood, I recall standing helplessly but anticipating that she would overcome the difficulty with her strength, wisdom, and self-reliance. She has been my life role model in cultivating her own space as she struggled with normative familial and societal discourse of what a married woman should be like.

Yet, as time flows, my mother's location in our family seems to have changed. From her 30s until her 50s, she raised three children and supported my father and grandmother. Her care for her family, which for all those years had been centered on our family alignment, has shifted. I remember a moment of surprise, which connected my mother and me in a different way, intersecting the memories of my past and present.
We had a pair of classical China style mahogany curio cabinets in the
corridor connecting the living room and kitchen in my childhood home.
Each cabinet had three glass shelves full of my mother's collections of
various shapes and kinds of souvenirs from her overseas trips, and one
shelf held my father's collection of unusual and bizarre lighters. I
remember that I used to stop at the cabinets, open the glass doors, and
play with those exotic pieces. I also remember when my mother stood at
the cabinets in contentment, polishing the objects with a dry cloth and
rearranging them. Her collections were mostly unique specimens of
teaspoons, miniatures of shoes, and small sizes of antique tablewares.
I am still curious how she had accumulated all those treasures amid her
varied responsibilities.
My mother married my father who lived with his mother. They all lived
together for over 40 years. The death of my grandmother and father
occurred consecutively, so my younger sister's family decided to move
into my mother's home, worrying about my mother's feelings of loss and
isolation. At that time, I was married and I lived with my in-law
family. There were no clues if my mother had ever imagined living
alone, but my mother and my sister's family seemed to get along with
each other quite well. My mother seemed to travel more often and
concentrate eagerly on her museum work while living with my sister's
family.
However, one day my mother notified me via Internet chat that my
younger sister faced a marriage crisis. I yet could not expect that
this family incident would put my mother in a difficult situation
having to live in the same house when this transpired.
A few weeks after our Internet chat, my mother texted me that she had
decided to sell her treasures in the mahogany cabinets at a local
antique market, and revealed her struggles and feelings of emptiness to
me. She seemed to be downsizing her property to prepare to be alone.
She was missing my father's presence so much. Although a married son in
a family is expected to support his elderly parents (16) in the Korean
society, my mother seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being a burden
or unwelcome in my brother's home. I thought living independently with
more freedom would be a good experience for my mother because she was
still young (at least to me) and had her own work. But she might have
been afraid of being neglected or forgotten by her family as she aged.
In the beginning of the texting, when my mother expressed her worry
about some difficulties my sister was experiencing, 1 suggested that
she should stay with my sister to help out, because "You're the Mom.
She needs you." Abruptly, the flow of textual conversation ceased.
At the moment of disconnection, I thought again about what I had just
advised her to do. My mother might have been put in an ambivalent
situation: leaving my sister to secure her own space as individual, or
staying with my sister to support her. My careless, taken for granted
expectation for my mother--to be a "good mother"--might have hurt her
heart and made her silent. To a woman who lost her place in her family
complexity, I reminded her of her duty as Mother and touched her sore
spot. In my presumption, my mother should always be there, yielding her
comfort, and sacrificing what she has for her children, as I intend to
do for my children. I was not sure how to help her because she did not
tell me how she would like to handle this situation.
Would my mother's close friends be able to fathom her dilemma better
than I could? I probably was not ready to admit my mother's dwindling
position in our familial arrangement. In her role as mother, I wonder
if she regretted her honesty with me, her daughter. I wonder if the
conversation would have continued if I had responded to my mother with
less expectation, as others in her life would have done. Who is the
real Other to my mother? Is it me, as a daughter who expects a mother's
conventional role even from this distance? Or others who care for and
advise her, and who are in proximity to her?


When I learned my mother wished to sell objects from the childhood cabinet, I requested that she not sell her treasures and memories to unknown others. I did not feel that the collection was only my mother's to dispose of at will; the objects are also embodied within my life and memories and perhaps in other family members' memories with their varying nuances. As a result of my request, I inherited three treasured baskets from my mother when I visited Korea last summer. I uncovered a red cloth over one of the baskets. The collections no longer showed off their novelties as they had in the mahogany cabinet; instead, they were piled on top of each other in three plastic baskets. Some pieces were wrapped with soft tissues to prevent breakage. I felt like I was able to sense my mother's emotion and touch when she removed the items from their place in the cabinet and packed her histories and memories in those baskets. Memories of standing on my toes to reach the curio cabinet and hearing my mother's humming as she polished each item with a dry cloth came flooding back to me. But the piled objects generate different meanings for me at this moment. They have evoked my curiosity about my mother's solitude and my desire to know more about her.

When I was a child, I must have been just fascinated with the uniqueness of those treasures. Yet I am now curious to hear my mother's stories about each item--where and how she obtained these special objects, and her emotional status when she encountered them. I wonder how other family members would remember that collection in the curio cabinet. If I had not requested the items from my mother, the collection might have been scattered into other people's lives and stories. The treasures constantly create new meanings in response to my questions, interacting with my discursive memories with/of my mother as channels of intergenerational communication. These objects do not exist always-already there for me offering static meanings; rather, I engage with them as "evocative companions" to, "material remnants" of, "touchstones" for, and "storehouses" of my family life journey, (17) with particular attention paid to my m/other relationship, and how this transforms their physicality and ontological meanings, as they shift from their place in my childhood past to my adult present, from my memories of my mother to my relationship with my m/other.

Through the family incident of relocating my mother's residence, I came to reconsider distance and proximity between my mother and me. We are interconnected through various forms within the unit of family as mother and daughter, woman, and individual, but there is no way for me to know my mother's individual space. I only partially "know" and understand my mother's life and her status in connection and disconnection with my own situatedness, which constantly flows and shifts. Our dis/connections are un/expected, multi-directed, entangled, and wrapped by, with, and around one another. When my mother and I encounter a moment of disconnection, which arises in the midst of our taken for granted mother-daughter understanding, we are surprised by and question each other's otherness; we challenge and redirect the route of our relationship. Although we rarely discuss our relationship directly, I can sense the layers within our bonds are shaped through our engagement and they also extend to unknown areas. In the following section, I examine our m/other relationship by analyzing my mother's and my own m/othering contexts, which have shaped our m/othering performativities and subjectivities, and our interconnections as women as well as individuals.

M/othering Contextualization: Ml other to M/other

My mother was born in 1948 and raised in Incheon, South Korea when my country underwent the independence from the Japanese occupation and Korean War. The whole nation was struggling to overcome devastation from the war and endeavoring to develop the country from a poor, agricultural society into a strategically industrialized nation. During our interview for my research, my mother reflected that she lived her childhood feeling relatively less deprived than others due to my maternal grandfather's growing business in running several barges at that time. Despite the patriarchal tradition of son preference in Korea, my mother was treated specially as the eldest and only daughter in her family, which included her four younger brothers. For example, at meal times she was served with my maternal grandfather at a separate dining table, while other four younger brothers sat with my maternal grandmother. Despite this unusual treatment for a female child, when my mother grew up and prepared to leave home, her life was gradually directed and molded into what society had valued, expected, and practiced for women.

During this period, "scientific homemaking and childrearing" (18) were regarded as important knowledge for women in the effort to modernize the family unit. Criticizing the patriarchal Neo-Confucian tradition prevalent in the early 20th century, the Western women missionaries in South Korea highlighted the importance of women's education and training in scientific domesticity, claiming, "the best families now demand an educated daughter-in-law." (19) Within this socio-cultural atmosphere, my mother proceeded to enter college, majoring in home economics, which was the most popular area of study for young women pursuing a college degree in the late '60s in South Korea. My mother recollected that most of her colleagues believed that becoming a wise mother and good wife were the ultimate virtues of married women. Being married to a good man and having children as early as possible after college graduation was a common ideal for my mother and her colleagues at that time.

In addition, the wave of scientific mothering encouraged mothers to attend to their children's needs and development through seeking out information and utilizing it. As the nation developed in the '60s and '70s, the significance of early childhood care and education came to be increasingly recognized, with greater emphasis on the mother's role as an educational manager of her children's education. (20) In South Korea, children's education has been highly valued for family wellbeing and national prosperity, ever since the Neo-Confucian tradition was propagated by China as the ruling principles of the Joseon Dynasty (as far back as 1392). The Neo-Confucian emphasis on the "rank of order" and "distribution of roles" in family organization rationalized the mother's domestic care for the children's education as a means to help perpetuate the system of social hierarchy and class inequality. Educational level legitimated an individual's social status and a family's dignity. Therefore, mothers were expected to "bring up their children to be winners with high intelligence, ability, and motivation to succeed in a competitive world." (21) By taking full charge of scheduling her children's educational programs, continuously seeking new information, and expending a great deal of time and financial resources, mothers were responsible for their children's academic success, and in the end, for their families' wellbeing and honor. In South Korea's stable economic era of the 1980s, fueling a capitalist consumer society, the private education industry bloomed.

I remember that I had some private learning experiences in my childhood. It was the 1980s when I was an elementary student. I learned about computer operating systems, playing the piano, and painting skills in nearby private institutes (called hagwons). These learning experiences helped me explore diverse disciplines beyond the school curriculum. Yet, in the name of equal education, Jeon Doo Hwan military government (1980-1987) announced the "July 30 Educational Reform" that banned all types of afterschool private education. Throughout the 1990s, the regulation was gradually loosened, particularly for secondary school students. Transforming the policy of "uniformity and equality in education" to the "neoliberal education" that characterizes the contemporary climate, the first civilian government of Kim Young Sam (1993-1997) adopted English as a part of the elementary school curriculum in 1997 to equip children with global language competence. Followed by the government of Kim Dae Jung (1998-2003), the campaign of "creativity, excellence, and diversification" in education accelerated; neoliberal forces opened a free market for private afterschool education, which stimulated unlimited competition among children, schools, and parents in the era of globalization in the twenty-first century. (22) When I was in secondary school, I took some math and English lessons from a college student even though the law did not fully allow such private tutoring. Why did my mother take those risks in arranging tutors and private academies for me? Despite the cost and her busy schedule, why did she care about arranging my after school program?

Furthermore, different from the 'ideal' image of mother that my mother had shown to me in her mothering of me, she did not teach me "what a girl/woman should be like." My mother did not send me to a "bride school" to prepare me to be a better wife, mother, and daughter-in-law for my "secure" married life. When I married in 1995, specialized institutions (e.g. the Korean Traditional Cultural School and cooking classes for brides) taught lessons about effective house management, child rearing, and traditional etiquettes for in-law family. Learning proper behaviors and manners to be a wife, mother, and daughter-in-law was overtly regarded as a virtue for brides from certain social classes in Korean society. Nevertheless, my mother did not let me hang around in the kitchen because she knew that after marriage 1 would inevitably have kitchen duty to support my own family. She probably did not want me and my sister to comply with women's scripted duties while she cared for us. She might have wished us to enjoy a kitchen-free life while we could.

She also often expressed to me how she hated my paternal grandmother when she did not show up to celebrate my younger sister's birth because she was not a boy. My paternal grandmother was expecting a grandson from my mother, but when my mother had another girl after me, she was upset and worried that she would not have a son to continue the family's bloodline. The Neo-Confucian tradition of patrilineal society regarded a daughter as a temporary member of her natal family; upon her marriage, she belonged to her husband's family. To maintain her husband's lineage, the woman was obligated to produce a boy. Without a son, the woman could be legitimately divorced by her husband and his family because bearing no son was one of the seven sins that a married woman could commit: ([phrase omitted]). (23) These included: disobedience to parents-in-law, bearing no son, adultery, jealousy, hereditary disease, garrulity, and larceny.

The Neo-Confucian ideal on sustaining harmony in a family and society required women's sacrifice and concession as their virtues. The Neo-Confucian gender norm urges women to accept "the burden of nurture and reproduction as their ultimate duties, and keep their proper place in the interior of the household." (24) My mother also confessed her ambition that she once dreamed of being a successful business owner because her rattan woven furniture was on market with a surging number of orders. And yet, she decided to relinquish her desire by prioritizing her family duties to support her mother-in-law, husband, and three children. If she were selfish and courageous enough to sacrifice her children and household for her dream, what would have happened to me and my family? My mother's narratives about her m/othering as well as her life as a married woman in socio-cultural norms were surprising but resonated with my own m/othering ambivalence which is "camouflaged --masked by--the normative discourse of motherhood," (25) in the process of challenging the denial of such reality.

Interwoven M/othering
The society and people's perceptions have been gradually changing, but
my struggles within the binary option between caring for family and
cultivating my career appear similar to my mother's. Having a "good"
balance between the two seems difficult because any choice could raise
family conflicts, constant agonizing, and endless questions to me. When
I had to quit my first job to focus more on my family; when I decided
to resign my teaching vocation outside again and work at home to care
more for my children; when I was overwhelmed by others' expectations of
me as wife, mother, and daughter-in-law, I was troubled with questions
of what "a good enough" woman should be like. Although my mother did
not teach me any patriarchal lessons overtly, they remain in the
network of systems and people's beliefs, constantly disrupted and
contested, and informing my inconsistent ways of thinking and behaving.


Interestingly, I married young, during the year of my college graduation and began my newlywed life with my husband and in-law parents as if I were chasing the way my mother had lived. My in-law parents wished to keep us close to them because my husband was the only son in the family. I could not resist the request because I grew up learning through popular proverbs, folk tales, media, and from my own parents about how practicing filial piety ([phrase omitted]) (26) for parents would be an important quality in order to be a good offspring. I realized that accepting my reality and duties within my marriage structure would be wise. Old sayings had taught me: "Once married, you should become a ghost of the in-law family" and "Live three years as dumb, deaf, and blind after marriage," emphasizing the virtue of obedience and patience for married women. Sure enough, I had internalized these old teachings, and I did not problematize my position in the structured family organization because I believed that my silence would secure my family's harmony. I persuaded myself that raising my children with their grandparents' love and teaching them reverence for the elderly in an extended family setting would also be blessings for my children. In some sense, I might have been proud of myself when I was complimented for being a "good" daughter-in-law who "wisely" sustained peace in the family. Yet, fulfilling my expected roles for my in-laws, husband, and children had been a complex life course for me.

In addition, the Neo-Confucian emphasis on honoring family and national prosperity remains also relevant to my m/othering as I try to meet these societal demands by raising my children to become highly qualified human resources in the neoliberal flow of globalization. Neoliberalism eschews the idea of supporting children with time and flexibility to explore their own learning. Instead, children are directed to achieve academic goals for fast and visible outcomes. Since higher academic achievement gains better recognition for success, children and their parents are driven to live for success in a world of reckless competition in the name of education. (27) The byproducts of a neoliberal market economy include an expanded private education market, extended learning hours for children, and increased financial burdens for parents. The system pushes our young to learn how to excel and surpass other children. In this context, a mother is encouraged to perform as an educational manager (28) for her children taking full charge of scheduling her children's private lesson programs, seeking out new information, and always being ready to provide transportation. In this neoliberal educational context, the mother should always be accessible and responsible for her children's successful academic outcomes, and ultimately, for her family's wellbeing and honor. If a mother is not a fulltime mother, she can feel guilty, isolated, and excluded due to her lack of availability in providing enough time and effort for her children's proper education.

In reconsidering my m/othering for my children, I find that I might have been repeating my mother's way of m/othering. Although a generation apart, our m/othering patterns might be iterative and appear to be similar in degrees, even as our m/othering context has been gradually shifting responding to particular socio-political, economic demands of the society and world. As my mother's mothering performativity had been shaped within the forces of historically, socioculturally, and politically formulated Neo-Confucian, scientific, and neoliberal mothering discourses, these discourses have also influenced the formation of my m/othering in continuum. As a form of resistance to the patriarchal role distribution in the familial structure, my mother refused to teach me "what a girl/woman should be like." Instead, she provided me with rich learning environments and modeled her resistance to the force of contemporary normalized mothering for me. In my m/othering turn, the effect of neoliberal globalization was added; it encourages people to equip for global competence and participate in free competition. Perhaps my transnational m/othering in the U.S. was promoted by pushes and pulls among the remnant of Neo-Confucian ideals, which forced me to be a good mother in response to global trends and middle-class norms for raising my children. My transnational m/othering, as a form of resisting institutionalized familial structure and the normative educational context in South Korea, is still marked by ambiguity and uncertainty, constantly troubled by questioning the meaning of "good" education, seeking other possible ways of doing mothering, by repeatedly rearticulating myself as m/other.

Knowing m/other is never complete, transparent, and universal as I constantly reshape my m / othering narratives which exceed any categorical descriptions of "good" mother in contemporary mothering discourses. In the following section, I examine how otherness (excessiveness) in m/othering can be recognized and treated in a self/other relationship via theoretical exploration.

Working with Otherness

Yet, in the process of troubling the boundary between a mother and the Other, I often find myself being located in an ambivalent situation in terms of morality and ethics--the question of how I treat otherness well. (29) Under the pressure of normalized expectations, rules, and principles, there is always one absolute answer to fit in the category of right or wrong. To be regarded as a good mother and a good daughter, I am supposed to ignore or silence my resistance to the category of good mother. Discursively-constructed societal norms usually tell me how to think and act, but if I deviate from the range of what is called normal, I come to struggle against the feelings of being abnormal and I bind my self within a set of norms where it is unclear who set it for whose sake. Nevertheless, I work to fit the prescribed (artificial) criteria and become a closer image of perfection--the romanticized and illusory version of myself.

On my question of how I can deal with the otherness well, Judith Butler poses a more sophisticated question, "how to treat the Other well when the Other is never fully other, when one's own separateness is a function of one's dependency on the Other, when the difference between the Other and myself is from the start equivocal." (30) As Ahmed articulates about ethics as "a question of how one encounters others as other," (31) in a self/other relationship where we recognize differences provisionally through temporal interactions within particular contexts, it is problematic to place a certain standard in a fixed category. The moments of tension within a self/other relationship emerge through colliding with fixed, preset, and taken for granted assumptions for each other. If I expect my mother to be always strong, sacrificing, loving, and understanding, she will be isolated and reduced in the knowledge of what a "good" mother should be like. In contrast, if my mother always presupposes my filial, obedient, and caring attitudes for her, which are coded within historically and socio-culturally constituted Neo-Confucian teaching of the "good" daughter, I would feel displaced, excluded, and distant from my mother. However, any excessive component that surpasses what is regarded as normal is not something to be expelled, rather it needs to be understood as "force, desire, and relationality," (32) which invites more possibilities in the relationship toward the ever yet known.

The process of dealing with otherness in a self/other relationship is dynamic, complex, and even risky because it challenges dualisms; elements get stuck, push against each other, and move beyond boundaries. In both using and troubling the boundary of the self and the Other simultaneously, the movement brings fertile new practices between them. (33) Springgay (34) challenges the dualistic understanding of self-other relationship by illustrating the meaning of 'stranger.' A stranger is not out there in the world separated from the self, but a some-body already recognized by the self as a stranger. Self and Other are thus already interconnected through this awareness of strangeness. The Other is not an any-body who is 'always-alreadydifferent,' but a some-body who is already recognized with the name of the Other. This self/other relationship is not detached, one from the other; instead, it is already interconnected, open to uncertain and potentially on-going interactions.

In my m/othering process, my taken for granted image of the "good mother" as the Other has been detached from myself as an illusory model that I never attain but always desire to be. Yet, my m/othering actually has been constituted enmeshed with the illusory image of the good mother. My conventional knowledge of the "good mother" has been constructed throughout my lifetime via my private/public learning about 'good mothering'--from my mother's mothering, others' recognitions, media sources and inputs, and interactions with friends, relatives, and other mothers. The knowledge of good mother has permeated my experiences throughout my life course, and I have absorbed and embodied this knowledge in my thinking and behavior. It has played an important role in both determining and evaluating my m/othering. In addition, the otherness of my mother emerges only in encountering my expectations for my mother, particularly when I place us in a binary relation of mother-daughter. In the always-already-different frame of self-other relation, if my mother deviates from my taken for granted image of the "good mother," a moment of tension surfaces: a surprise, silence, hesitancy, and breakage between us.

Judith Butler (35) articulates that when a self and the Other have an encounter, they are already becoming something new. Their recognition of otherness constantly compels them to move beyond what they have been at the moment of encounter. Springgay describes the interrelation as "contiguous and folded, blurring the border." (36) As my interview experience with my mother raised the question of our distance within a separated, power-imbalanced researcher-researched setting, my attempt to know about my mother as a researcher startled, confused, and pushed me to contemplate the otherness of my mother as well as the boundary in our relationship. The moment of abrupt disconnection while texting with my mother from the opposite side of the world as she was struggling to figure out her next living arrangements actually touched and unsettled the boundary between us that I had taken for granted.

Furthermore, the otherness cannot be known, planned, or determined prior to the encounter. My encounter with my mother's otherness in this particular time and space was not intentional or expected. As my transnational space provides me with a temporal path for reestablishing our mother/daughter relationship connecting two geographical points (South Korea and the U.S.), I neither anticipated nor predicted encountering the memories of my mother's collections in the mahogany cabinet; recognizing the distance in the process of researching on/with my mother; experiencing her private space through communication via texting. These encounters enabled my mother and me to emerge as something new, producing changes in our mother/daughter boundary. Through these encounters, the boundary of taken for granted mother-daughter relationship can be blurred; binary ways of being and thinking can be redirected. The moments of dis/connection and re/connection with my mother also continuously disrupt my normalized and routinized knowledge of the "good mother."

The excessive component resists the normalized knowledge and practice, which insist on maintaining stability in the relationship and controlling one another's process of becoming. The resistance destabilizes existing norms, creates a spot for a new possibility, works again to build new understanding in the relationship as my mother's unspeakable story complicated my presumed understanding of my mother and produces new knowledge of mother. By undergoing this process, my mother and I seem to gain, like weaving, more layers in our relationship than we had ever imagined. Yet, this process is not linear; the boundary of the relationship will always shift with new encounters. The unexpected and contingent moment of excessiveness opens spaces for an unknowable and unforeseeable "more." (37) My mother and I have been embodied and embedded within socially and culturally constructed gendered norms and codes, formulated over a long period of time, within a nexus of patriarchal and neoliberal power. By interrogating multilayered power operations and their discursive ways of knowledge production, we may be able to map out how the normalized practices reduce and restrain us in terms of living as mother and daughter in family and society, as well as how they impact our daily lives.

In the following section, I investigate the way of recognizing complexity and dynamics in constituting my m/other relationship by troubling my conventional understanding of weaving. Through the conceptual project of weaving with m/other, I focus on the process of weaving the m/other relationship and its interconnectedness within the woven space as visual analysis.

Weaving as a Way of Thinking and Knowing

Although weaving has been my mother's lifetime career as well as a source of personal pleasure for over 40 years, I have few memories of my mother and I weaving something together. Weaving might have been my mother's private work in which she could enjoy her solitude, distanced from her family duties and routines. Memories of my participation in her weaving remain rare, but I clearly remember the quiet moments in my childhood when I sat by her and watched her weave. I used to concentrate on her calm but skillful hand movements creating a simple knot into a new pattern. Around three decades later in the U.S., I became engaged with my mother's weaving again while I was helping my mother with her project with a Cherokee Nation basket-weaving artist. The act of weaving resonated differently with me this time--more closely related and connected with my inquiry of dealing with otherness in a self/other relationship. During my mother's visit to the U.S., I asked my mother to teach me how to weave a basket for the first time. When she returned to Korea, I practiced weaving at home using the stems of my backyard vines. I attempted to explore dynamics and complexities in a self/other relationship through the concept of weaving. Yet, from my simplified understanding of weaving, only a neatly woven, calculated, and predesigned structure appears. Without focusing on the process of weaving or imagining what I would encounter during the process, I could not think beyond its simplicity or completeness.

Weaving with Dynamics and Complexities
Who are you?
Where are you originally from?
Whom do you want to be called?
I don't know who I am; I don't know who you are.
We are encountered, connected, entangled,
and created with recurrent movements.
And constantly transform
our contours and nuances in different milieus. (38)


When my mother stays with me in the U.S., she weaves new creatures with various materials: a geometric napkin basket with honey suckle and coasters with unnamed vines from my backyard, and a sewing box woven with cattails collected from local swamp areas. After learning about the Cherokee Nation's traditional weaving patterns from local artists, she wove a traditional Korean square tray with bundles of sedge, which she had brought from Korea, incorporating Cherokee patterns. I was surprised with my mother's rapid weaving of the tray despite it being her first attempt to weave new patterns, which clearly required different skills. Yet, the technique was not totally foreign to my mother; she was able to apply her previous weaving strategy and knowledge to weaving Cherokee traditional patterns.

This patterned tray emerged anew through interactions with two different cultures enmeshed within my mother's desire for weaving new possibilities. By incorporating a design of Korean traditional tray with Cherokee patterns and symbols using the material harvested from South Korea, my mother was able to weave and connect these two cultures together. The newly created tray involves provisional, multiple, complex meanings of "culture," woven in the transnational space where national and geographical distinctions blur. Although I know that my mother wove this tray after exchanging different weaving techniques with Cherokee Nation's basket weavers, I do not know all stories that this tray holds. I do not know what inspired my mother to weave this tray, why she attempted to weave it using the material that she transported from Korea, or the other possible designs she considered. The materiality of the woven tray does not have any fixed origin or destination; its meanings are open-ended, derivable, and still in-the-making.
One day I wanted to weave something differently, focusing on what would
occur in the process of weaving, instead of on the product--a completed
basket. While searching for proper weaving materials, I found a box in
my garage that my mother had packed for later use during her stay in
Stillwater. Inside the box were stacked various bundles of dried plants
such as sedge and ramie, neatly transported from Korea and cattails,
collected from local areas near Stillwater. Amongst the piles of dried
weaving materials, I discovered a woven piece that appeared to be
unfinished. It looked like the bottom part of the cylindrical basket
that my mother had left incomplete in its initial stage of weaving. I
decided to continue to weave the unfinished basket. Instead of using
the same material with which my mother had woven, I decided to weave
with different and various materials--colored yarns and raffia, and
strips of paper of my writing.
On top of my mother's neatly woven lines, I began to add my rough
touches intertwining different materials. In so doing, I was inquiring
into how to recognize and deal with otherness in the relationship of ml
other. Like two different strands in weaving, my mother and I are
closely woven together in constructing our relationship. I did not want
to ruin my mother's initial design, so, in an attempt to keep its
shape, I used a cylindrical glass vase as a frame. Without the frame, I
felt like I was not able to maintain the "right" shape. However, in
spite of the effort to preserve the "right" frame of the woven
structure, 1 recognized that the standing strands (warps) were bent due
to the force I exerted in twining two wefts around the warp tightly.
The web of forces such as my fingers pressing, the frictions of the
glass frame, and push-pulls of the various materials, shaped the
pattern and direction of knots and segmentations. I now recognize that
this untitled woven basket has no clear beginning or ending point.
There is no clue to know when my mother began her weaving nor when she
stopped the weaving (or why) and I am not sure where and how I should
finish it, or if I should. Perhaps, on her next visit, my mother can
cont inue to weave the story of the basket further.


In a woven texture, the warp is the support structure and the weft weaves around the warp. In order to produce a woven dimension, the weaver must bind both the warp and the weft firmly, so that neither is loose. Just as in weaving, where nothing new is created without touching and crossing of each strand, my m/othering subjectivities, performativity, and relationship with m/other are formulated through interacting closely with our particular m/othering conditions, which the dominant source of power can easily oversimplify and regulate. Just as the style of my basket emerged through interweaving of my stream of thoughts, technical effects, and different weaving strands, my subjectivities and relationship as/with m/other are shaped within diverse m/othering conditions. Just as a mother is signified and resignified within a network of mothering

discourses (the Neo-Confucian ideal, scientific mothering campaign, educational reforms, media inputs, others' gazes, etc.), the woven lines are generated through a combination of multiple effects of a weaver's finger pressing, frictions among weaving materials, and the weaver's intuition.

Similar to the m/other relationship, in my weaving structure, the warp, usually hidden beneath the weft's weaving, serves as a frame, providing necessary strength to the whole weaving structure. Each weft takes turns to weave and unweave the warp to create patterns as my mother's and my m/othering constantly formulates and reformulates our performativities, by repeating and/or failing to repeat the regulated m/othering norms. (39) While resisting dominant m/othering discourses, my mother and I continue to seek other possibilities in our m/othering, cultivating our own space as m/others as well as individuals. Whether we construct our m/other relationship or our relationship is fabricated by the force of compulsive mothering norms, in the interwoven dimension, it is complex to discern the point of origin due to their simultaneous work. In weaving, the warp does not stand stiff and wait to be woven by the weft; instead, their synchronized and recurrent acts of un/weaving indeed blur the distinction between the act of weaving and being woven. As m/others constantly question and challenge their ways of being, m/othering discourses are expanded and enriched with other possible m/othering vocabularies; while the m/othering context modifies its realm, the boundary of m/othering performativities transforms. This simultaneous work entangles the connectivity of m/other, mother/daughter, and mother/context in the m/other relationship.

When a weft weaves to the end of its length, another strand connects to the middle of the weft and continues to weave. Sometimes, a connection --or stitch--is dropped in this process just as moments of surprise and disruption emerge in the m/other relationship. The fragmentations and inconsistencies in the woven surface do not necessitate hasty corrections; rather, they add more traces to the texture, just as otherness and excessiveness bring more narratives into my m/other relationship. In this sense, any seamless, essentialized, or universalized version of understanding the m/other relationship is unthinkable due to its fluidity, mobility, and changeability. Rather than arriving at a fast conclusion or suggesting a simplified remedy to my question of knowing m/other, mapping out entanglement in the self/other relationship will facilitate a close examination of the segments in the woven space, which are temporally signified by the network of multiple forces. Interplays with the discursive effects in our m/other relationship--historical, cultural, gendered, socio-economics, familial, global, and educational--will bring particular complexities and dynamics to the arrangement, delineation, and nuances in the interwoven m/other relationship.

Knowing M/other in Family Methodology

Researching m/other in a familial alliance is complex and procedural because the m/other relationship is constantly in flux within a shifting network of forces. The inquiry process is contextualized, incomplete, and always in the process of coming to know m/other; knowing m/other happens within temporal encounters and partial understandings. A contingent m/other relationship, thus, cannot be fixed or reduced in any categorical understanding as the knowledge of 'm/other' continuously weaves and creates more connections in its ontological meaning.

In addition, family methodology inquires ontological meanings of self, other, object, relationship, otherness, and context. Focusing on the process of constructing materialites and mapping out networks of entanglement, family methodology investigates intricate connectivity among family constituents and their relational contexts. In doing so, it provides ways to question, trouble, and reconsider any fixed, taken for granted understanding of self/other relationships. As my m/other, mother/daughter, and m/other/context relationships are linked into constant interactions with the demands of the society and world in which I am situated, examining their ontological meanings and their interwoven statuses within context is crucial for "how to treat otherness well" in the course of working with otherness in and on the relationships as/ with/m/other.

Notes

(1) To specify a relationship between a self and the Other in this research, I use a slash (/) for demonstrating a complex, dynamic, and temporal self/other relationship. When the self and the Other are considered in a group, they are lowercased (self/other); for their independent status, the Other is capitalized to indicate its significance to the self (e.g., the self and the Other).

(2) In this study, "mother" is used as a general term, indicating the conventional, institutionalized status of being a mother. "M/other" is used as a theoretical concept to signify a mother's doubled status, being challenged, othered, and troubled by the normalized knowledge of mother. The term draws from Stephanie Springgay and Debra Freedman, Mothering a Bodied Curriculum: Emplacement, Desire, Affect (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012) to attend to the moments of confusion, excessiveness, and disruption in working against/within the limit of her discursively constituted knowledge of mother.

(3) While the title of "mother" is not limited to women, the concepts of the mother and mothering in this study refer to women's particular role or qualification.

(4) In Butler's conception, one's gender is formulated and produced through an iterative process of conforming or failing to conform to discursively constructed gender norms; Judith Butler, Bodies that Matter: On the Discursive Limits of "Sex" (New York: Routledge, 1993).

(5) Judith Butler, "Sexual Difference as a Question of Ethics: Alterities of the

Flesh in Irigaray and Merleau-Ponty," in Feminist Interpretations of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, eds. Dorothea Olkowski and Gail Weiss (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006), 116.

(6) H. L. Goodall Jr., "Narrative Inheritance: A Nuclear Family with Toxic Secrets," Qualitative Inquiry 11, no. 4 (2005): 492-513.

(7) Lucy E. Bailey, "Epistolary Hauntings: Working with and on Family Letters," Education's Histories 3, no. 2 (2016): 1-10.

(8) Brid Featherstone, "Taking Mothering Seriously: The Implication for Child Protection" Child and Family Social Work 4, (1999): 43-53; Andrea O'Reilly, Encyclopedia of Motherhood (California: Sage, 2004); Andrea O'Reilly, Rocking the Cradle: Thoughts on Motherhood, Feminism and the Possibility of Empowered Mothering (Ontario: Demeter Press, 2006); Rosemarie Tong, Feminist Thought: A Comprehensive Introduction (Colorado: Westview Press, 2014).

(9) O'Reilly, Encyclopedia of Motherhood; O'Reilly, Rocking the Cradle.

(10) O'Reilly, Rocking the Cradle, 13. Emphasis added in italic.

(11) Springgay and Freedman, Mothering a Bodied Curriculum.

(12) Ibid.

(13) Ibid., 6.

(14) So Hee Bae, "The Pursuit of Multilingualism in Transnational Educational Migration: Strategies of Linguistic Investment among Korean Jogi Yuhak Families in Singapore," Language and Education 27, no. 5 (2013): 415-431; Jaemin Kim, Branka Agic, and Kwame McKenzie, "The Mental Health of Korean Transnational Mothers: A Scoping Review," International Journal of Social Psychiatry 60, no. 8 (2014): 783-794; Hyunjung Shin, "Social Class, Habitus, and Language Learning: The Case of Korean Early Study-abroad Students," journal of Language, Identity & Education 13, no. 2 (2014): 99-103.

(15) Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1978), 220.

(16) The filial piety ([phrase omitted]) is a compound idiograph of the old ([phrase omitted])' and 'son ([phrase omitted]),' describing a child is holding up his parents. The Confucian tradition teaches to serve parents faithfully as fundamental virtue of human to practice. The hierarchal order in a Confucian family structure often raises a feminist ethical concern of women's care as oppression in the Korean society.

(17) Bailey, "Epistolary Hauntings," 6.

(18) Hyaeweol Choi, "Wise Mother, Good Wife": A Transcultural Discursive Construct in Modern Korea," The Journal of Korean Studies 14, no. 1 (2009): 1-34; Jac Kyung Lee, "The Glorification of 'Scientific Motherhood' as an Ideological Construct in Modern Korea," Asian Journal of Women's Studies 5, no. 4 (1999): 9-27.

(19) Choi, "Wise Mother, Good Wife," 13.

(20) Lee, "The Glorification of 'Scientific Motherhood.'"

(21) Ibid., 17.

(22) Kyunghun Yoon, "The Change and Structure of Korean Education Policy in History," Italian Journal of Sociology of Education 6, no. 2 (2014): 173-200.

(23) Jae Kyoung Lee and Hye-Gyong Park, "Marital Conflicts and Women's Identities in the Contemporary Korean Family," Asian Journal of Women's Studies 7 no. 4 (2001): 7-28; Sang Wha Lee, "Patriarchy and Confucianism: Feminist Critique and Reconstruction of Confucianism in Korea" in Women's Experience and Feminist Practices in South Korea, eds. Chang Philwha and Eun-Shil Kim (Seoul: Ewha Women's University Press, 2005), 72.

(24) Lee, "Patriarchy and Confucianism," 96.

(25)Andrea O'Reilly, Mother Matters: Motherhood as Discourse and Practice

(Ontario: Association for Research on Mothering, 2004), 14.

(26) See note 16.

(27) Bok Rae Kim, "The Problem of Entrance Exam-oriented Education and its Solution Plans in Korea," Asia Pacific Journal of Contemporary Education and Communication Technology," 3, no. 1 (2017): 283-291; So Jin Park, "Educational Manager Mothers as Neoliberal Maternal Subjects" in New Millennium South Korea: Neoliberal Capitalism and Transnational Movements, ed. Jae Sook Song (Abingdon-on-Tames: Routledge, 2010), 101-114; Michael Seth, Education Fever: Society, Politics, and the Pursuit of Schooling in South Korea (Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2002); Clark W. Sorensen, "Success and Education in South Korea," Comparative Education Review 38 no. 1 (1994): 10-35.

(28) Park, "Educational Manager Mothers as Neoliberal Maternal Subjects."

(29) Butler, Sexual Difference as a Question of Ethics.

(30) Ibid., 116.

(31) Sara Ahmed, Strange Encounters: Embodied Others in Post-coloniality (London: Routledge, 2000), 138.

(32) Stephanie Springgay, Body Knowledge and Curriculum: Pedagogies of Touch in Youth and Visual Culture (New York: Peter Lang, 2008), 18.

(33) Patti Lather, Getting Lost: Feminist Efforts toward a Double(d) Science (New York: SUNY, 2007).

(34) Springgay, Body Knowledge and Curriculum.

(35) Judith Butler, "Transformative Encounters," in Women and Social Transformation, eds. Elizabeth Beck-Gernsheim, Judith Butler, and Lidia Puigvert (New York: Peter Lang, 2001), 81-98.

(36) Springgay, Body Knowledge and Curriculum, 60.

(37) Elizabeth Ellsworth, Places of Learning: Media, Architecture, Pedagogy (New York: Routledge Farmer, 2005), 55.

(38) Yeorim Ana Hwang, "Untitled," (unpublished poem, in the author's possession, March 2017).

(39) Butler, Bodies that Matter.

Yeorim Ana Hwang

Oklahoma State University

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