Original post (in Korean): https://brunch.co.kr/@dubliner/13

On the day I went to meet a Korean acquaintance, I drove toward Dublin. After work, I rarely went into Dublin city, so I felt unusually excited for the first time in a while. I put on makeup for the first time in months, pulled out my rarely-worn Adidas checkered leggings, a light sweater, and a jacket, then put on my boots. After passing by the familiar scenery, I arrived at the station, got off the train, tapped my transit card, and once outside the station, checked the text message K had sent me with directions. Her message included a map marked with the promised meeting spot.

K—who, after living in Korea and England, returned to Dublin with her Irish husband—told me that from the very moment she stepped on the plane, until she arrived back in Ireland, she felt a sense of returning to a world full of the Korean behaviors she had experienced during the past six months. Many people already know this, but in Europe, Korean communities exist everywhere, meaning they inevitably become part of one’s life. Sometimes it can feel comforting—there are people close by who can help you during difficult times. But at the same time, the closer you get, the more conflict arises, and for many, these communities become a source of stress.

K also said that while she had met many kind people through the Korean community—people who had eased her homesickness—not everyone had been that way. Especially in spaces connected to Korean immigrant communities, students abroad, or working holidays travelers, she often felt she wanted to avoid them altogether, yet found it difficult to do so.

And here arises the familiar question:

Why is it that we (Koreans), even when living abroad, struggle so much because of other Koreans?

Many Koreans who move abroad initially think, “I don’t want to get involved with Koreans or the Korean community anymore.” But after about six months or a year, that mindset often fades. People start mixing with Koreans again because they find it easier to connect with fellow Koreans or other East Asians (Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, etc.) who share similar cultural backgrounds. Since life abroad comes with many challenges, it can feel natural to gravitate toward people who speak your language and share similar experiences. Koreans, in particular, tend to bond quickly because of similar cultural values and emotional tendencies rooted in growing up in Korea.

1. We’re the Same, but We’re Different

This led me to wonder: “Why do we so often clash with other Koreans even when we’re abroad?”

Through various media, conversations with acquaintances living overseas, and my own experiences, I’ve heard many stories about people struggling not because of conflicts with locals in their host country, but because of conflicts within the Korean community itself.

In conclusion, one of the biggest reasons Koreans have a hard time with other Koreans abroad can be explained through the lens of intersectionality. Of course, not every conflict or personal situation fits neatly into one theory. But when viewed through a socio-cultural framework, intersectionality becomes a useful concept for understanding these dynamics.

From the perspective of intersectionality, we can say: Koreans become close easily because we share the same identity, but that very closeness is what eventually leads to deeper conflict.

To explain again: Koreans abroad often bond quickly because of the many “common points” rooted in shared identity. But as interactions deepen, differences in values, ideologies, social and economic backgrounds, personality, and ways of thinking begin to surface more starkly. In this process of discovering profound differences, conflict arises, and relationships can deteriorate just as quickly. These experiences can be explained by the sociological concept of intersectionality.

However, many people experience conflicts within these communities—disagreements, friction, arguments—and often choose to distance themselves again.

3. If You Don’t Want to Get Hurt Again…

The concept of intersectionality isn’t something that applies only abroad. In Korea as well, we often meet people who attended the same school or grew up in the same region, bond quickly over shared backgrounds, become close in a short time—and then discover, not long after, that we actually don’t suit each other. Conflicts arise, distance forms, and one or both sides end up emotionally hurt. So how can we prevent these situations from repeating?

The method I recommend is based on intersectionality: “the mindset and attitude of recognizing both myself and the other person [as different individuals].”

Even if they are Korean like me—speaking the same language, sharing the same ethnicity—it doesn’t mean they’ll fully understand my difficult experiences or empathize with my struggles. So don’t pour too many things [e.g. your entire life story] into the relationship too quickly. Take a breath, create some distance, and listen attentively to what the other person values and how they think. And never assume that sharing cultural or national similarities automatically makes people the same. Especially avoid the assumption that someone who shares your identity markers (such as gender, race, or ethnicity) will automatically share your worldview or hardships.

This is a mistake many people make, especially in situations where they feel socially vulnerable—such as when dealing with discrimination, cultural disadvantages, language barriers, or power dynamics in foreign countries. At such times, we tend to assume that anyone who shares our group identity will naturally understand us.

For example, if you, as a Korean, feel marginalized or stressed in a host society because of language or racial differences, you may expect another Korean to immediately empathize with your struggles. But that Korean person may come from a completely different social and economic background. In Ireland, for instance, differences in socioeconomic class, occupation, income, visa status, and living conditions can shape your experience in drastically different ways.

You might be someone desperately searching for safe housing or dealing with housing insecurity every day. Meanwhile, the Korean you meet may already own property there, attend a prestigious graduate school, or have a stable visa and strong family support—allowing them to live comfortably without facing the same hardships.
Even though you are both Korean, in the end, the conversation might end with my venting and the despair of not being understood.

It can be despairing when you expected someone to relate to you but received no understanding or support. That disappointment alone can feel like emotional injury.

This is why you shouldn’t open up too quickly or assume closeness. And if you don’t want to repeat the pain of past conflicts, you need to build relationships more slowly—observing, listening, and approaching others with care.

4. Building Looser Connections

But of course, we can’t end the story here. Even if someone hasn’t lived exactly the same life or gone through the same experiences as me, does that mean every interaction will disappoint or hurt me?

That’s why I recommend building “loose, flexible connections” rather than tight, intense ones.

There are still difficulties we face because of shared identity, so instead of expecting deep closeness right away, we can maintain a gentle, loosely connected relationship over time. For example, in the housing situations mentioned earlier, people may face different specific challenges—but Asian women, for instance, may share similar experiences of gender discrimination or racialized sexism. In those areas, they can support and comfort one another.

In other areas where experiences differ, they can acknowledge those differences while still offering support regarding the broader structural challenges they both face.

Maintaining this kind of loose but mutually respectful connection can be incredibly helpful for forming long-lasting, healthy relationships abroad.

5. We Don’t Always Live Under Unfair Conditions, and We’re Not Always Powerless

Lastly, don’t fall into thoughts like:
“But I’m Korean (or a minority), so why is life so hard only for me?”
or
“People like me should understand me automatically—we’re the same.”

When I catch myself thinking that way, I try to remember the concept of privilege—the advantages I hold that others may not.

One of the most important insights intersectionality gives us is that everyone has privilege in some parts of their identity.

The Korean word “특권” (privilege) may feel too heavy or accusatory, but in reality, the term simply means that in certain areas, I experience fewer disadvantages than others. It’s a more neutral and precise expression of the idea.

I also found that after meeting all kinds of people—Koreans and non-Koreans—I often felt discouraged, thinking, “Why is life only difficult for me?” But as I listened to their stories and got to know them better, I realized that in many areas of university life, I actually had more privilege than the disadvantages I focused on.

What I had considered hardships or discrimination were sometimes overshadowed by the privileges I possessed as an East Asian woman from Korea. Through this process, I began to recognize how many advantages I had taken for granted.

For example, unlike some of my friends, I rarely felt stressed about visa issues. I only had to renew my visa once every few years, and even then, the process was simple. Korea is considered a country with lower rates of corruption and crime, so compared to friends from the Middle East or Africa, I was inspected less strictly at airports and immigration, and I didn’t have to wait long for visa applications to be processed.

Also, although I wasn’t wealthy and couldn’t begin my time in Ireland as a working holiday traveler or language student like many others, I was fortunate to start working immediately and build a career in local community services. Because of that, I gained access to information, networks, and opportunities that other Koreans didn’t have, allowing me to experience rapid career growth.

When I think about it more closely, none of us live a life that is always disadvantaged or always privileged in every aspect. That is why we need to remember the privileges we do have, so that we don’t unintentionally hurt others or compare ourselves too harshly. Approaching people with a cautious heart and forming loose, flexible connections helps.

Not everyone will be the same as me, but that doesn’t mean everyone must be completely different, either. Rather than rushing to judge whether someone “gets me” or not, let’s try meeting people slowly and gently.

Relationships, like cooking a pot of soup, become richer and more flavorful when given time—when warmth fills the pot and the ingredients blend together gradually. In the same way, letting things simmer gently—giving space for differences to soften and harmonize—helps us build relationships that truly work.