Professor Oh began by shortly introducing Jeju Island's unique historical context. Before its incorporation into Korea, it had been an independent territory. It later experienced tragic events like the April 3 Uprising, during which thousands of residents were killed or displaced. These layered histories made me deeply aware of how politics and violence can profoundly shape the identity of cities and regions. Moreover, I had never heard of this before. Professor Oh also discussed Jeju Island's transformation into a modern tourist destination. Since the 1960s, it has been marketed as “Korea's Hawaii,” now attracting over 30 million visitors every year. Tourism and urban development have reshaped the island's landscape, increasing property values while sometimes marginalizing local communities. I was fascinated by social media's critical role in this transformation. Instagram and YouTube vlogs had created an image of Jeju as a peaceful, healing paradise—filled with images of beaches, sunsets, and the daily lives of short-term visitors. While these visuals attracted more tourists, they concealed contradictions like the displacement of indigenous people and environmental destruction. This made me feel deeply upset, but it also reminded me once again of the influence of digital culture. Another key concept of the lecture was “internal colonization.” Professor Oh explained that land once collectively shared by villages is now frequently privatized for tourism and real estate development. This process not only disrupts economic structures but also dissolves the social and ecological relationships on which communities depend for survival. This concept is powerful because it shows that urbanization is not only about buildings but also about the distribution of power and the ways communities exist. This event made me understand that cities are not just physical spaces, but living entities shaped by history, culture, politics, and media. Jeju Island both demonstrates the promise of globalization and exposes its dangers. It offers beautiful scenery and a place to escape, yet at the same time reveals the realities of inequality and population migration. The event inspired me to look beyond the surface of Instagram photos and uncover the hidden stories behind the city. In addition, Professor Oh said that her work as a scholar is to help more people understand and know the hidden stories behind. She found it deeply meaningful when she saw her students visiting the memorials and taking photos. She think it was really meaningful to her. I am so touched when l heard it.

Overall, as I reflect upon this culture pass event, it was interesting to hear the outsiders perspective on Korean hats. It seems like Korean Culture over the past 10 to 15 years has grown world wide especially with the rise of Kpop groups, dramas, or even films, but I realized that Korean culture has been noticed internationally for a while, with one focul point being hats. 

The event I attend was a lecture by Professor Youjeong Oh from the University of Texas at Austin. The lecture focused on Jeju Island, exploring how tourism, development, and local identity intersect. Professor Oh began by explaining Jeju’s complex history, especially how the tragic April 3rd Incident that shaped its modern identity. This war caused many people lose their lives, and led to economic decline and deep historical scars. She emphasized how Jeju has transformed from a marginalized region into a major tourist destination, sometimes called “the Hawaii of Korea”.

Using examples, professor Oh showed how Instagram and YouTube images have reshaped Jeju’s global image as a peaceful paradise while hiding social and ecological inequalities. The rise of tourists and real estate investors has displaced local communities and destroyed collective land traditions that once sustained in the local Jeju citizens. I learned that these transformations are not just economic but deeply cultural and political. It was like an internal colonization, because it does marginalize the local citizens.

She highlighted Jeju’s traditional communal systems, where villagers shared land, forests, and fisheries based on collective ownership. The destruction of these commons under modern capitalism represents both ecological loss and moral disconnection.

One thing that especially moved me was her discussion of “healing tourism”, where urban Koreans seek temporary "refuge" on Jeju to escape stressful lives. While this idea of “one-month living” appears peaceful, it paradoxically contributes to the change and destroy of Jeju from both environment and urban planning perspective. The lecture made me think deeply about the duality of development and construction.

I realized that modernization often comes with hidden costs like displacement, loss of identity, and inequality. Professor Oh’s opinion challenged me to think about how the development of tourism become more ethical and sustainable. Overall, this event taught me to look beyond the surface of tourism and think critically about both the benefits and problems of the development of tourism.

The presentation also highlighted the influence Korean headwear had on foreigners as many foreigners who visited were surprised at the amount of hats worn. They also held a great fascination for the types of hats worn in which many Foreigners took a liking to. Over time though the hat culture dissipated due to western influence on Korean culture and the belief that modernization in Korea required moving away from traditional clothing. Eventually resulting in the government passing a law that barred citizens from wearing traditional hats stripping traditional culture and accelerating westernization.

Overall, I thought the presentation was interesting and brought forward a perspective that I did not know existed. Most of my previous knowledge of Korea focused on King Sejong and his creation of the Korean language. I had no clue that headwear in Korea had such an impact on shaping Korean social identity. It was also interesting to see the return of Korean headwear in modern media, showing a renewed pride in Korean heritage. In the end, I found the presentation to be a refreshing and eye opening look into Korean culture that I otherwise would not have known about.

One slide that caught my attention showed an old photo of a hat shop in Seoul, revealing how deeply hats were connected to everyday life. I also learned that Korean hats were made from materials like felt, paper, straw, and horsehair, allowing both air and sunlight to pass through. I found it beautiful how practicality and symbolism were blended in such delicate craftsmanship.

Hats could reflect not only gender and status but also seasons and ages. The professor mentioned that this kind of symbolic division was less distinct in China, but personally, I think it still existed in a different form. For example, in ancient China, children often wore tiger-head hats to symbolize protection and vitality, while scholars and officials wore black gauze hats or jinxian crowns to represent wisdom, virtue, and authority. Even within the imperial court, different ranks had distinct hat shapes and decorations.

After the lecture, I found myself reflecting on how culture often reveals itself in the most ordinary things. Hats, once used simply for warmth and protection, turned out to be silent storytellers of identity, class, and time. The lecture also helped me slow down and appreciate how every material, color, and shape carries meaning: how art, fashion, and daily life constantly influence one another. It reminds me that culture is not something distant or historical. It is something we live and wear every day.

Crafted from lightweight bamboo and horsehair, its airy, woven structure was both delicate and purposeful. The broad brim created a sphere of personal space around the wearer, encouraging a dignified posture and a respectful distance in social interactions. It acted as a frame for the face, suggesting a person who was composed, observant, and engaged in thoughtful contemplation.

While no longer everyday wear, the gat remains a profound cultural icon. It continues to appear in ceremonies and artistic performances, serving as a timeless emblem of Korean heritage, embodying the historical ideals of wisdom, propriety, and grace. It held a deep meaning in the old days.

This lecture did more than teach me about hats. It made me see them as a silent language of values. They speak of a society that deeply respected hierarchy and learning but also practicality and even hidden beauty. It makes me look at our modern styles differently what do our choices in hats or clothes say about our world today. Though its everyday use has faded into history, the spirit of the gat endures. It remains a powerful and poetic symbol of old Korea, frequently seen in the solemn beauty of ancestral rites, the dynamic energy of traditional dance, and the vivid storytelling of historical dramas. More than a relic, it is a delicate, woven crown that continues to carry the weight of a sophisticated and graceful cultural heritage.

Gonggi is actually a bit like jacks. The player uses five small stones/plastic pieces, and the goal is to toss and catch them in specific patterns using just one hand. It sounds easy, but honestly harder than it looks! I always fail when I try to catch three pieces at once.

Jegichagi is another game I tried. It is also very popular in China, especially as a common exercise among the elders. But I have never played this before. A jegi looks like a little shuttlecock made of paper and coins or rubber. The goal is to keep it in the air by kicking it repeatedly without letting it fall to the ground. I thought, “How hard could it be?” — but my jegi dropped after just one kick! However, my friend shows great talent in this game, she didn’t do this before as well, but she can do almost 5 times in a row at her first try!

Overall, I think this event is very interesting. It gives me the opportunity to learn about different Korean games and traditional calligraphy, getting more knowledge about Korean culture!

I found it interesting how each hat’s shape, size, and material reflected the wearer’s social status, gender, and even the season. For example, a wider brim often indicated higher rank, while certain hats were reserved for scholars or officials. This level of symbolism showed how fashion in historical Korea was closely tied to social order and Confucian values.

What impressed me the most was how every small detail of these hats had meaning. The material, color, and even the width of the brim could represent someone’s age, status, or level of education. For example, aristocrats and scholars often wore the gat as a sign of refinement and discipline, while commoners or workers had simpler, sturdier designs suited for daily labor. Even the season affected which type of hat people wore—lighter ones in summer and thicker ones in winter. I was amazed by how much thought and symbolism was woven into what seems like an ordinary piece of clothing today.

The lecture also made me reflect on how culture can shape everyday things in ways we often overlook. In modern times, most people wear hats purely for style or comfort, but in the past, something as small as a hat could reveal so much about a person’s beliefs and social role. It made me think about how the things we wear today might also say something about who we are, even if we don’t realize it—whether it’s our taste, our confidence, or the culture we belong to.

Overall, I really enjoyed this event. It reminded me that tradition isn’t just about the past—it continues to influence how we express ourselves today.

This year, AEROK was invited to represent the KSA in BC's multicultural dance event that includes dances from all over the world: Africa, India, Ireland, and many more. They performed a series of famous songs, such as Accendio by K-pop group IVE, as well as S-class by Stray Kids. While they were only able to perform one set, the cheering was overwhelming when they were performing.

After the performance, I find myself still wanting to watch more. The moment when I can see the dances from songs that I listen to every day is simply magical. I am looking forward to their own dance concert next semester, where they will include more dances from K-pop as well as traditional Korean dances. AEROK serves to be a group that spreads K-pop culture and shares the beautiful dance works with the rest of the world.

The lecture also discussed how hats in Korea symbolized hierarchy and social status. For example, the Samo was worn by government officials or grooms during weddings, while a white hat was used for funerals. Even babies had their own hats, and indoor hats like Tanggeon were often worn by Confucian scholars. The wider or more layered the hat, the higher the wearer’s rank. Professor Jin compared this to China and Japan and claimed that Korean hats uniquely reflected class and culture in a way those countries did not.

Another fascinating part of the talk was about cultural exchange. When Western influences reached Korea, people began experimenting with Western-style hats, which led to hybrid designs. However, the professor also pointed out that women in ancient Korea had fewer opportunities to express identity through hats. Instead, they often covered their faces with scarves; therefore, headwear did not symbolize status for women.

I really enjoyed the visual presentation during the lecture. Professor Jin showed many vivid images that brought history to life. Seeing the detailed textures and shapes of the hats helped me understand how much effort went into their design. I learned that hats in Korean culture are not just accessories, but they represent identity, social order, and tradition. This event made me appreciate how fashion can embody history and values. It was both educational and visually inspiring, and I left with a deeper respect for Korean culture and craftsmanship.

Dr. Jin began the lecture by explaining why Korea was often called “the land of hats” during the Choson dynasty. Western visitors were amazed by how deeply symbolic and beautifully crafted Korean hats were. Artists like Elizabeth Keith and travelers such as Charles Varat wrote about their admiration for the fine materials—especially horsehair and bamboo—and the refined craftsmanship that reflected the elegance of Korean society. These hats were not just decorative items; they represented a person’s character, education, and moral discipline.

Through vivid images and historical examples, Dr. Jin showed how different hats were linked to social hierarchy. The samo was used by government officials or worn during weddings, while the tanggeon was commonly worn by Confucian scholars studying at home. White hats were used in funerals, and even infants had special hats symbolizing protection and good fortune. The width, height, and number of layers of a hat often revealed a person’s social rank and level of respectability. Dr. Jin also emphasized that, unlike in China or Japan, Korean hats developed into a much richer system of cultural symbolism closely tied to Confucian ideals.

One part that particularly caught my attention was how Western influence later introduced new hybrid hat designs that blended traditional Korean and European elements. These changes showed how culture evolves through contact and adaptation. However, Dr. Jin also noted that women in ancient Korea did not have the same opportunities to express social identity through hats. They often wore scarves to cover their faces, which reflected the restricted roles of women in traditional society.

What I appreciated most was the visual depth of the lecture. The detailed photos allowed me to almost feel the texture of the materials and imagine the people who once wore them. This lecture made me realize that even a simple object like a hat can hold centuries of meaning. It represents art, history, and philosophy all woven into daily life. I left with a deeper respect for Korean culture and the beauty of how identity is expressed through tradition.

I learned how different styles of hats were used in the past to signify social rank and ideals. Dr. Kim also showed pictures and videos of how current artists and K-pop performers use traditional headgear in creative ways, such as the "Saja Boys" group in K-pop's "The Devil's Advocate," which combines traditional headpieces with lights and modern fashions.

It's incredible how old traditions are incorporated into current art. This performance made me consider how clothes tells tales about identity and heritage. Dr. Kim emphasized that even small design decisions, such as the color or form of a hat, have tremendous meaning.

Her approach to contrasting cultural identity and creativity struck me. I recognized that cultural symbols do not remain fixed throughout history, but rather develop throughout time. This event provided me a new perspective on Korean culture and piqued my interest in how artists integrate history and contemporary culture.

A vase from the Goryeo dynasty with a jade green glaze was one of the most beautiful pieces I viewed. I appreciated the artistry and focus on natural beauty that characterized traditional Korean ceramics because of its accuracy and elegance. The amount of work that these artists must have put into these pieces is truly impressive. The artwork seemed to be very symbolic as well, depicting clouds, animals (cranes), and mountains: symbols that represent harmony, spirituality, and peace in Korean culture.

          The area showcasing Korean calligraphy and paintings was also very fascinating to observe. It was interesting how philosophical ideas impacted art in Korea at the time. 

Overall, my trip deepened my understanding of Korean culture and my personal Korean identity. As a Korean American myself, I think it is very important to connect and educate yourself with your culture. I felt like I learned a lot about Korean culture, as well as myself regarding my cultural identity. 

The cultural event focused on the profound significance of hats throughout Korean history, exploring their role as markers of identity, class and culture. I learned that for over 500 years, Korean men, from the commoner to the noble, were defined by their headwear, with specific hats like the Gat, Samo, and Baengnip denoting their precise social status and occasion. The event highlighted how this complex hat culture captivated Western observers, who even referred to Korea as "The Land of the Morning Calm," a title partly inspired by the ubiquitous and intriguing hats.

One of the most fascinating things I learned was the intricate craftsmanship involved in making a Gat, using materials like horsehair, silk, bamboo, a hat block, lacquer, brim irons, and a knife to create a hat that was both elegant and functional, designed to let in air and sun. I thought the concept of the "Hybrid Hat," a Western-style bowler crafter with traditional Korean methods, was a powerful symbol of cultural adaptation during a period of intense modernization. This was directly tied to the 1895 Haircut Act, which I understood as a monumental, forced shift that made Koreans, for the first time, not defined by their hats. It was striking to see how this was not just a fashion change, but a state-mandated alteration of identity.

The event also touched on the role of hats in performance art, such as in the "Your Idol" dance, where hats were used to play with mystery and identity, which I thought beautifully connected ancient symbols to modern artistic expression. Furthermore, the mention of the use of these elements in "K-Pop Demon Hunters" signaled that traditional culture isn't gone but has been powerfully modernized. Ultimately, I believe the lecture masterfully illustrated that these hats were far more than accessories; they are vessels of story and identity, and their evolution is a direct map of Korea's journey through tradition, forced assimilation, and modern reclamation. The event was a vivid reminder that culture is never static but constantly being reinvented across generations.

There's a profound sadness in the loss of that intricate world of meaning, where every hat told a story. Yet, there is also a deep sense of hope seeing a new generation pick up those same symbols, not as rules to live by, but as a heritage to reimagine. It left me reflecting that our own identities, much like those hats, are not fixed objects but ongoing creations, shaped by the pressures of our history and the enduring human need to express who we are.

In this exhibit, there many different kinds of ceramics on display. Walking around, I was able to see how Korean pottery had developed overtime and the many different types of things they made that served different purposes. Among the many items, the flower vases caught my attention first. I took note of the Plum Blossom Vase (maebyeong) and thought its description of originally being crafted for wine was interesting. I really loved the jade green color of a lot of the ceramics. I learned this is celadon and it was transported to the Goryeo capital Gaeseong. I also learned about Buncheong ware, which is a grayish stoneware, used by the upper class in 15th and 16th centuries.

One item I found interesting was the ritual bowl. This bowl was used in Confucian ceremonies and had a white finish which appealed to Neo-Confucian ideals. Apart from all of the vases and bowls, I also saw many practical items such as tweezers, nail cleaners and hair pins. It was fascinating to see how items like these have existed for so many years and developed overtime from different regions of the world.

I really enjoyed exploring this exhibit because it helped me gain a broader understanding of Korean history and culture that goes hand-in-hand with the language we are learning. This trip has left me interested to learn more about Korean history. I will definitely return to see more in the future!