Expectations, expectations

From the fast food burger that never looks quite as appetizing as the ad to the dollar store frozen burrito that's just as disgusting as you'd anticipate, expectations are embedded in the fabric of our everyday life.

The expectations we hold work in many ways. While the former scenario results in the characteristic disappointment we often associate with having expectations set too high, the latter reminds of "you get what you pay for." After all, you did just spend one dollar.

But why settle? From the Buzzfeed $1 street food video that reminds us 100 pennies can go so much farther than a sodium catastrophe, to the news paper headlines of another American Dream lived out, its evident that viewing everything from a singular perspective can halt progression. The same is true for our relationships. Expectations developed from societal preconceptions can hinder the development of deeper connection. In Pachinko, Min Jin Lee explores how factors such as gender, nationality, and socioeconomic status build relationships that cannot progress because of the oversimplified lens characters view each other through.

Pachinko is set during a time of Japanese imposed Korean oppression. Asian countries were just beginning to open themselves to the western world, and still held many traditional ideas about gender. Against this backdrop, Sunja, in her quest to look for her (illegitimate) son Noa, approaches her son’s father, Hansu. Instead, she comes upon Mieko, Hansu’s wife. Mieko is unaware of Sunja’s identity. She sees Sunja as a poor Korean, and little beyond that. Given her identity as a female, and surprised that Sunja knows of Hansu’s address, she briefly considers the possibility of her being a mistress, but then quickly discards the idea, deciding “she was not attractive enough to be one of Hansu’s whores.” In doing so, Mieko makes several significant assumptions that reveal her attitude towards poor Korean women. She believes their primary connection to her husband would be as his “whores'', if they’re beautiful enough. Otherwise, they’re simply another “poor Korean beggar.” These assumptions lead her to believe she understands the situation at hand, when she doesn’t.

Instead of giving Sunja the information about Hansu’s whereabouts she requests, she tries to act as a “savior” figure, giving handouts to Sunja. Knowing her husband to be Korean, and his feelings of duty towards his fellow countrymen, she feels compelled to help her. Sunja’s identity becomes her nationality, and Mieko sees her as little beyond that. Mieko assumes her simple dress is a signal that she needs financial aid, because of how societally suppressed Koreans were at the time. Their communication is hindered by Mieko’s inability to see beyond Sunja’s race and inferior socioeconomic class. Sunja repeatedly tries to say that she isn’t looking for charity or money, but Mieko isn’t able to understand this, as her assumptions have led her to only expect to see a poor Korean, and she can't process anything beyond that. She views Sunja through a narrow, fixed lens, and goes on to judge Sunja, seeing Sunja’s decline of food as ungrateful, noting that “she disapproved of the beggars’ boldness.” She even goes on to mentally berate Sunja for her actions, which Mieko believes is outside the proper conduct for someone of her status. She thinks to herself, “it was evening, and this was no time for a woman of any age to beg.”

Mieko's relationship to Sunja should be more complicated than the giver and the receiver. Mieko never comes to know that Sunja and her have much in common. As two women, irrevocably tied to the same man, each with burdens to carry from this relationship, they have a bond that is multi-faceted and harbors much potential. Instead, by creating a generalized profile of Sunja based on what she thinks she knows, Mieko is never able to form a true connection. She instead harbors a light animosity towards Sunja's unexplained and odd behavior. Their relationship is at a stand-still, and frozen.

These simplified relationships are evident later in the story as well. In introducing Mieko’s marriage to Hansu, Lee makes it clear that it is because of her father’s wishes, and it was essentially an arranged one.

“It would be good for her to marry him, because he was a real man and he would take care of her.” The justification for the marriage is very matter-of-fact. Mieko marries despite not feeling any attachment to him. There is no excitement or harbored resentment. In fulfilling her duty as a daughter, bringing her family wealth, and ensuring a prosperous future for herself and her children, she engages in a exchange of sorts. Hansu knows this, and reciprocates the sentiment. Hansu marries Mieko because of her affluent Japanese family, which will bring his Korean bloodline honor. Both have something to gain when quantified in terms of worldly success. This is evident in their attitudes towards family. His lack of love and investment in marriage leads to little love and investment in his family. He is critical of his daughters and wife, describing his daughters as “too skinny like their nervous mother, who looked fragile and perpetually bothered.” He thus has a string of affairs, which his wife is aware of. At the same time, Mieko doesn’t try to keep their family close. She chooses to ignore the lack of faithfulness in marriage and tolerates his poor attitude towards her and her daughters. Neither of them attempt to reconcile or even do anything about it. Since the marriage was established on cold terms, neither tries to seek deeper understanding or emotional intimacy. This painful relationship shows again how societal expectations are barriers to meaningful connections. Hansu expects to marry a “rich Japanese woman” and Mieko expects to marry a “good man,” someone who will ensure stability for her future. With these thoughts in mind, neither try for anything more and view each other singularly. Societal standards and expectations assign assumed characteristics that may or may not be accurate. People are forced into molds that are not necessarily accurate for them. These imposed, perceived, boundaries make external people unable to see past the surface. Creating glass ceilings that are often impenetrable, expectations limit the development of meaningful relationships, with much more significant consequences than a wasted fast food dollar.