F+2011+1st+Semester+Daniella+Ant+Farm

= **Lee Yun-joo: A Korean Comfort Girl in 1937 ** =

**__Character Profile__**



http://www.religioustolerance.org/sla_japa.htm
**Name:** Lee Yun-Joo (이윤주) **Age:** 13 (in 1937) **Gender:** Female **Occupation:** Elementary School Student **Appearance:** Short, skinny, black-haired, small but innocent eyes **Location:** Korea **Personality/Quirks/Unique Personality Traits:** Quiet and inexpressive, mature and respectful to teachers and adults **Family:** Parents (missing), sister (Ki-Joo, age 16) **Education:** Attending Goyang Elementary School (고양 국민학교) **Languages you speak:** Korean **Your main concerns at this time and in life:** She experiences extreme hardship as a sexual slave, called "comfort women." She is highly concerned about her unclear future in foreign lands, where she is abused and raped more than ten times a day.

__**Diary #1**__

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 130%;">**January 1st, 1937** Nanking

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">Dear Diary,

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">Mom and Dad have been missing for months now, but Ki-joo and I could not wait any longer. Early that morning, I stepped outside and wandered around the village, in search for rice. I found, not rice, but a huge, black truck, with well-built soldiers standing in front. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">They didn't look familiar, but one of them asked, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;"> "Hungry? We have rice for you and your sister, while your parents are away. We're heading to Nanking. Coming?'

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">Recognizing his inarticulate Korean, I quickly acknowledged he was a foreigner. I was always told never to follow strangers, but he seemed polite and welcoming. We had no time to hesitate; my sister and I climbed on to the truck, where around thirty other girls were sitting in. Some of them I recognized, others I didn't. But no-one talked so I stayed silent too, just occasionally glimpsing at each one of them. Immediately, the trucked rolled on, and just kept going and going, and I had fallen asleep.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">I don't know when, but I woke up, finding myself in Nanking. I heard terrible cries and screams in the near distance. I soon found myself in a hall-like room, with countless girls, just like me. Quickly, I turned around in search for Ki-joo, but she was not behind me. I forced myself to stay calm - assuring myself that she'd be back in a few minutes. But honestly, I was terrified. Not knowing what to do, I just followed the general's commands, and queued up behind these frightened girls.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">I had no knowledge of time, but it felt like a few hours had passed, and finally it was my turn. My turn to receive rice, I thought. I cautiously stepped into the dark room, where a tall soldier was standing. Knowing that he would not understand me, I just waited till he handed over my food. But suddenly, he locked the door, and turned off the lights. It was not rice that I had come to receive, but blood, sweat, tears. I bled so much after he gave me my gift, that it was difficult for me to stand up. I was kicked out, after my turn and I could barely see the next girl walking into the room. Wordless, I froze outside the room, until a general (Keisuke Furuya) had kicked me out of the hall. I felt betrayed, but it was nothing compared to what I had experienced with my body just five minutes ago.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">I walked outside the building, with cold tears dripping down my heart and cheeks. The wind pierced through my face, and cold blood dripped down my body. I sat myself down, on the pavement. A lanky man (Annie) stared at me, and then walked away. I wanted to reach for help, but I did not have the strength to raise myself up. Hours had passed, and a petite girl(Zhang Bai Zhi) was racing toward me. Even after hearing that it was not my name, I just hoped it was my sister. Her blurry face appeared in front of me. My stomach growled, and steadily, she had helped me stand up. She smiled. But I was in no condition to smile back. She led me to her house, where I was to actually receive some rice. The rice filled my empty stomach, but I was still in extreme pain, after the brutal beating.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">Even though I could not say anything complex, we were able to tell each other our names and age. She was my age. Pale, black-haired, but Chinese. She seemed like my sister, but the more I tried to talk to her, the more I missed my sister. It seemed like she'd already known what had happened to me today. That night, I had no choice but to stay at her house. I fell asleep in her bed, as my teardrops smeared into the pillow.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 22.4px;">__**Diary #2**__ <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 19.2px;">**January 2nd, 1937** Nanking

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">Dear Diary,

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">I woke up the following day, but I didn't want to stay any longer. I did not say thank you. Nor farewell. I didn't know how. But I was sure that she had listened to my heart. The breeze had increased my pains, and my skin was covered with dry blood that was not wiped from yesterday. I didn't know where to go, but I just wandered around, pleading for help, but no-one understood me. I think I was… 'homesick' - a strange feeling that I had never come across before. Scared, depressed, cold, and lonely it felt. I decided to head back to the building I was raped in. I didn't want to bring back any memories, but I had to look for Ki-joo, who was probably 'homesick' too. In the hall, I observed the same scene I had yesterday. Horrifying, bloody, filthy, and ugly are the words that I used to describe this imagery. I called out Ki-joo's name several times. No reply, but from a new general who had stomped over to keep me quiet. He hit me again in the place I was scarred. I cried out loud, but the crowd cried even louder. Again, I was forcibly lined up behind several other girls. I knew it was coming, but I couldn't escape.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">It was not just once today. Several times - perhaps twelve, thirteen, fourteen. I don't know – I lost count. But one thing was for sure, this act was inhumane. I had no say though – I was young, weak, small, and I couldn't speak Chinese. I learned how to write a few words, but this pain could not possibly be described in words. It was like a rotational service for the soldiers. All the girls were worn out by the end of the day, and a doctor had come to check for any diseases. I was not quite old enough to know the consequences of unsafe sexual relations, but one thing was for sure – it was not safe. It was not so surprising to learn that even the doctor who had come to check us, was a rapist. Speechless, I was. I didn't even scream. I was just part of an bloody race. I certainly wasn't the runner, but the baton.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">After my rotation had ended for the day, I felt sick. Scars, scratches, and blood was nothing compared to my internal destruction. However, I had no time to feel my pain – I was picked up by another Japanese man(Yamamoto Isoroku). I was sold for a very cheap price, almost nothing, into the next slave station.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 150%;">__**Diary #3**__ <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">December 27, 1941 Hong Kong

Dear Diary,

Midako, Yijae, Sayako and I perform the same daily routines each day. I am now the second oldest out of us four (age 17) and Midako is the oldest (21). It's been four years since I became a toy for the three hundred men, who come to abuse me at least fifteen times a day. Our station has become our home, where we are responsible to cook and do laundry, but mostly get raped by the soldiers. Especially during the night time, we're forced to serve the Japanese soldiers if we don't want to get all our hair pulled out of get beaten to death.

I really can't illustrate my life in words. I don't even like mentioning my life in my diary because it's not even one that belongs to a human being. Even the Japanese doctor who's supposed to help my body survive through the brutal processes, comes to rape me, just like the others. I cannot state that I am used to this environment; I will never be. I move from one station to the other. Imperial Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor was successful. I guess that's why I'm moving to Tokyo now. How is it that all these militarily strategic and strong and courageous people decide to do such horrid things to thousands of girls each day. We give them "comfort" they say.

My predictions were correct; I was moved from Hong Kong to the temporary land of victory, Japan. It's been years since I've visited my real home land, Korea but I have not yet found a new one. I get moved around from place to place, depending on where they want to locate me. I was captured in the port of Hong Kong, and then shipped abroad to the Japanese land of Tokyo, along with some other men and women, most likely factory workers, debtors, or prisoners (Tom,Li Feng).

The same Japanese naval admiral who had bought me, had decided to sell me. Maybe I've lost value. My body cannot make its own decisions, nor my mind.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 150%;">__**Diary #4**__ Dec. 28, 1941 Tokyo

Surprising it was. One of the Japanese men refused to rape me. At first, he tried to cease a Japanese admiral from raping me. Then, he got in a small quarrel with the man who was using me, and then all those who lined up behind him told him to get out. I wonder why he stood up to do this, but it turned out to be that he was forced to rape me too. It must've been peer pressure that had encouraged him to rape me. But I'm sure he realized it was a crime against humanity, in which history must remember. I don't think I can survive for long. I have cigarette burns all along my neck, with rashes all over my body, and blood constantly dripping from everywhere. This isn't just happening to me – there are countless numbers of us, suffering like me or even worse. Experiencing this irresistable pain each day, in a dark, cold room inside a comfort station. While most of the people only remember those who are in fear, fighting in the violent war, they must realize and remember that there are those who are suffering far worse pain that bullet shots, each day, on a regular basis.

My life has been wasted, in these comfort women homes, in which I don't think I'll ever be able to escape. It's sad to think that I've wasted my life, being a toy or a baton for those hundred soldiers who are praised and respected by the crowd. But it's more depressing to think that we will never be remembered by history. I highly doubt that we will be recognized by anyone, from anywhere. We will just be remembered, and buried in the mud as those who gave "comfort" to the hard working soldiers. No-one will remember the inhumane processes in which we go through each night and day, the sufferings we go through when locked up in a room with a Japanese soldier.

What I've been through in the past few years is certainly the most filthiest, darkest, dirtiest, and unacceptable system of labor in human history.