Korea’s Model of Multiculturalism: Concerns and Challenges

Korean multiculturalism has emerged as a response to profound demographic changes, marking the country’s transition into a more heterogeneous and pluralistic society. This transformation began in the 1980s with the arrival of two distinct foreign populations: marriage migrants and migrant workers (Kim Reference Kim2009). Recognising the growing diversity, the Korean government adopted multiculturalism policies to address the challenges and opportunities related to cultural diversity in 2006. This shift marked a pivotal moment in the country’s historical trajectory, traditionally known for its racial and cultural homogeneity and began to challenge the perceived belief in exclusive racial and ethnic nationalism (Watson Reference Watson2012).

The development of Korean multiculturalism has been the subject of significant scholarly critique, particularly regarding its implementation, underlying motivations, and societal impact. While the Korean government has designed policies to respond to the increasing diversity within its population, these have faced criticism for their assimilationist, exclusionary, and instrumentalist nature. Seol (Reference Seol2010: 605) argues that the Korean model of multiculturalism is designed primarily to serve the interests of the majority population by promoting the assimilation of immigrants into the dominant cultural framework. It mainly targets marriage migrants, intending to assimilate them into Korean society by positioning them within the households of Korean husbands as a means of reinforcing patriarchy and national belonging (Jang Reference Jang2022). In a more contentious argument, Nagy (Reference Nagy2014: 169) contends that what is often characterised as multiculturalism policies in Korea is, in reality, better understood as migrant policy. He argues that what is commonly labelled as multiculturalism in Korea is, in fact, a migrant policy focused more on linguistic and cultural assimilation than on fostering a genuinely pluralistic society. This tendency toward assimilation, as Watson (Reference Watson2012: 236) observes, often sharpens rather than dissolves the boundaries between foreigners and Koreans, thereby reinforcing their visibility. Such an orientation is evident in the state’s emphasis on social integration, often at the expense of recognising and protecting migrants’ individual rights (Yun and Park Reference Yun and Park2011). This policy approach is compounded by the persistence of exclusive racial and ethnic beliefs in Korean society, which many scholars identify as a fundamental barrier to the advancement of multiculturalism (Watson Reference Watson2012: 234). In this context, cultural homogenisation remains a defining feature of Korea’s socio-political landscape. As Kim and Jeon (Reference Kim and Jeon2017) argue, the lack of comprehensive anti-discrimination laws represents a critical weakness in its multicultural model. Lim (Reference Lim2019:3) offers a more pointed critique, characterising Korean multiculturalism as structurally exclusionary, marked by hierarchical stratification, deeply entrenched gender bias, and an instrumental logic that prioritises migrants based on their perceived utility to national interest. He argues that immigrants’ rights and privileges are closely linked to the social and economic benefits they can contribute to the country. This creates a hierarchical system in which certain immigrant groups, such as highly skilled professionals, ethnic Koreans from Western countries, and marriage migrants who are assumed to serve as dutiful mothers, wives, and daughters-in-law, are prioritised for their contributions to the economy or demographic stability. All these critiques show that the Korean multiculturalism is designed primarily to integrate migrants without challenging existing hierarchies or fostering genuine pluralism.

Important studies have examined the underlying motivations behind the adoption of multiculturalism in Korea. Kim (Reference Kim2015) observes that multiculturalism in Korea is strategically constructed as a tool to foster national development and enhance the country’s global position, reflecting a broader aspiration to align with the values and standards of Western countries. As a consequence, Kim (Reference Kim2015: 16) argues that Korean multiculturalism demonstrates a sense of national inferiority against the liberal Western countries while simultaneously asserting superiority over migrants’ countries of origin. In addition to that, Han (Reference Han2007: 59) claims that multicultural discourse in Korea is predominantly characterised by superficial declarations of general principles and hollow political rhetoric, rather than by a genuine mechanism for societal transformation. The multiculturalism, as Han suggests, should entail a systematic analysis of realities within Korean society or the challenges faced by multicultural communities. Responding to these critiques, this study engages with the concept of multiculturalism by examining how it is experienced and negotiated by Indonesian migrant women while navigating their everyday lives in Korea. This is crucial to examine the ground-level realities of multiculturalism, providing a more nuanced understanding of how diversity is navigated in everyday life.

Framing Multicultural Experiences through the Lens of Everyday Otherness and Intersectionality

Extensive research has examined multiculturalism and cultural diversity across different social and historical contexts. Earlier studies often focused on how multicultural policies foster social cohesion or, conversely, intensify segregation. These approaches typically framed multiculturalism through state-driven programmes, regulations, and cultural celebrations. However, a significant shift in scholarship has emphasised everyday multiculturalism, a term initially introduced by Stratton (Reference Stratton1998: 138) and later expanded by Wise and Velayutham (Reference Wise and Velayutham2009), which shifts attention to how multicultural encounters unfold in ordinary settings. This perspective highlights how multicultural policies are negotiated, enacted, and sometimes contested in daily life, exposing not only moments of conviviality but also racism and othering (Li and Lawrence Reference Jing and Lawrence2023: 40). Unlike official multiculturalism, which views culture as static, everyday multiculturalism foregrounds the dynamic and evolving nature of cultural interaction (Colombo Reference Colombo2016: 29).

Everyday experiences of cultural differences can reveal power dynamics and conflictual issues that arise. Interactions with different cultural groups can lead to tension, fear, unease, and conflict, which can heighten and intensify the boundary between the majority and ethnic others. To understand how multicultural interaction is experienced, this study builds on Radford’s (Reference Radford2016: 2130) concept of everyday otherness, which describes how individuals navigate and reconcile both the conscious and unconscious differences experienced by members of different communities. These differences influence how people feel, see, experience, understand, and interpret interactions with one another, particularly when they are aware of the presence of others within their community. ‘Otherness,’ as argued by Radford (Reference Radford2016), is a process of identification in which an individual is categorised and perceived as different and less valued than the majority. Sites that embody difference play a significant role in how cultural differences are engaged and contested, how tolerance and acceptance of difference are developed, and how cultural belonging is claimed and recognised (Pardy and Lee Reference Maree and Lee2011: 306). This approach exposes the implicit boundaries that persist despite formal multicultural recognition, revealing the everyday struggles and negotiations involved in maintaining a sense of belonging in society.

Understanding the dynamics of everyday experiences of otherness requires recognising how social identities such as race, class, gender, religion, and migration status intersect to shape differentiated forms of exclusion and privilege (Crenshaw Reference Crenshaw1989). Rather than operating in isolation, these social categories are situated within wider social and political processes that construct and position individuals in relation to power and inequality (Yuval-Davis Reference Yuval-Davis2006: 199). Empirical studies have illustrated how intersectionality exposes layered forms of discrimination. For instance, Seo and Kubota (Reference Seo and Kubota2022) demonstrate that African American female English teachers in Korea experience a form of racialised marginalisation distinct from that of their White counterparts, despite their shared linguistic privilege. These women navigate the paradox of being privileged as native English speakers while simultaneously being racially marginalised in a society where whiteness is closely associated with linguistic authority, beauty norms, and social status (Seo and Kubota Reference Seo and Kubota2022: 10-14). Similarly, the work of Tariq and Syed (Reference Tariq and Syed2018: 508) shows that the second-generation Pakistani women in the United Kingdom face not only gendered but also ethno-religious penalties in the pursuit of employment. Taken together, these studies illustrate how overlapping identities shape unequal access to opportunities and reproduce hierarchies of power and exclusion (Werbner Reference Werbner2013).

To further conceptualise these differentiated experiences of exclusion, this study adopts Trochmann’s (Reference Trochmann2021) proposition that otherness is best understood as both an intersectional and evolving identity. She (2021: 99-103) argues that the construction of the Other is not fixed but evolves across time and space, shaped by changing social constructions, institutional norms, and discursive processes. Building on this perspective, Haldrup et al. (Reference Haldrup, Koefoed and Simonsen2006) further emphasise that the Other is not an essentialised figure but as a relational category constituted through everyday encounters. This evolving and situated understanding of Otherness challenges the notion of a fixed, unchanging identity and instead highlights how difference is produced and contested in lived experience. Intersectionality, in this study, is not treated as an independent theoretical framework but as a lens that complements and enriches the analysis of everyday otherness. It enables a more open-ended investigation of how shifting contexts and identity positions interact within multicultural settings.

Research Contexts and Methodology

This study employs a qualitative approach as it enables a deeper understanding of social reality in real-world settings (Hastie and Hay Reference Hastie, Hay, Armour and Macdonald2012: 79). Data were collected through semi-structured interviews, allowing participants to reflect on their lived realities while offering space for emergent themes. Fieldwork took place during Korea’s highest level of COVID-19 social distancing, necessitating online interviews except for one conducted in person under safety protocols. Fourteen Indonesian migrant women married to Korean men were recruited via personal networks and a KakaoTalk group of Indonesian Muslim women. Snowball sampling was also employed to ensure demographic diversity in terms of region, religious affiliation, and length of residence in Korea. Interviews conducted in Indonesian lasted between two and three hours and were transcribed verbatim. In emotionally charged moments, when some participants shed tears while recounting difficult memories, they were gently reminded of their right to pause or stop the interview at any time. Informed consent was obtained from all participants after a detailed explanation of the study’s aims, their right to withdraw at any time, and how data confidentiality would be maintained. No pressure or expectation was placed on potential participants. Participants were assured that their personal information would remain confidential and that pseudonyms would be used in all publications.

As an Indonesian migrant woman, wife, and mother living in Korea, I shared overlapping identities with my participants. These shared experiences, especially my visible Muslim identity through the hijab, created a natural sense of familiarity, making it easier to connect, build trust, and enhance openness during interviews. Having built a life in Korea alongside a fellow Indonesian, I was largely insulated from many of the everyday cultural encounters that typically arise in cross-national marriages with Korean spouses. As a result, I initially overlooked the subtle forms of exclusion that migrant women married to Korean men navigate. The narratives shared by participants challenged my assumption and deepened my understanding of how race, religion and gender intersect in their daily lives. This shift in perspectives reflects not only the depth of participants’ narratives but also the importance of remaining reflexive as a researcher whose own expectations may need to be unsettled in the field.

Throughout the article, I use the term “migrant women” as a more open and fluid category, following Piper’s (Reference Piper2003: 462-463) thesis, which challenges the simplistic dichotomy that defines them solely as either migrant workers or marriage migrants. This conceptual framing is particularly relevant given the diverse trajectories of the Indonesian women I interviewed. Several had already lived and worked in Korea or had frequent business trips to Korea prior to meeting their spouses. Other Indonesian migrant women came and reunited with their Korean spouses and families. Despite these different starting points, by the time of the interviews, the women had taken on a range of roles, including teachers, volunteers, entrepreneurs, office workers, and housewives. This diversity illustrates the dynamic and complex nature of Indonesian migrant women’s lives within the context of international marriage, where labour and intimate roles often intersect in nuanced ways (Piper Reference Piper2003).

It is important to contextualise Indonesian migrant women within the broader regional trends of cross-border marriage. Marriages between Korean men and Southeast Asian women are prevalent, with a significant number being facilitated by marriage brokers. However, unlike contexts such as Vietnam, Cambodia, or Thailand, where highly organised and commercially driven matchmaking industries have burgeoned, brokerage arrangements are less institutionalised in the Indonesian-Korean context. A large proportion of participants reported meeting their Korean spouses through personal networks, while a few formed relationships via chat applications. Most participants were well-educated, having obtained undergraduate degrees from Indonesian institutions, while a small number had studied at universities overseas. The remaining participants included one who had attended but not completed university, one who had completed only primary school, and another who had finished high school. This range of educational backgrounds reflects the diversity of socio-economic status and migration trajectories among the women in this study. Participants ranged in age from thirty-one to fifty-seven, and the duration of their marriages varied significantly from as short as one and a half years to as long as thirty-two years. All but one retained Indonesian citizenship; one participant had become a naturalised Korean citizen following her relocation. Five resided in the Greater Seoul area, while the others lived in smaller cities such as Daegu, Daejeon, and Geoje, and elsewhere. The majority of participants were Muslim, with their spouses having converted to Islam to comply with religious requirements that prohibit Muslim women from marrying outside the faith. Many wore hijab, a headscarf commonly worn by Muslim women as a symbol of modesty and religious identity, while the rest of the participants identified as Christian or Catholic.

This study utilises a narrative analysis to delve into the stories migrant women share about themselves, others, and the world around them, which often reveal underlying assumptions, social norms, and power dynamics (Eastmond Reference Eastmond2007: 247). As Baynham and De Fina (2016: 31-32) explain, narrative analysis grounded in a social constructionist paradigm offers a means to explore how individuals make sense of themselves, others, and the social values that inform their identities and interactions. Stories provide a fundamental platform for researchers to explore how less-privileged groups subjectively experience otherness and how these experiences are told, understood, and made meaningful within individuals’ lived realities.

As everyday otherness is often shaped by intersecting categories such as race, gender, class, and sexuality, narratives bring in a holistic examination of how multiple dimensions of identity interact in individuals’ lives (Crenshaw Reference Crenshaw1991). As Çalışkan (Reference Çalışkan2015) reminds us, migrants’ experiences of otherness must be situated within the broader cultural, historical, and political contexts that shape their lives. Through this lens, the study highlights that multiculturalism is not experienced as a unified or coherent policy framework but rather as a shifting terrain of embodied negotiation and narrative meaning-making (Radford Reference Radford2016: 2130).

Racialised Embodiment and Everyday Otherness

The empirical data collected from the interviews showcase the enduring scrutiny of physical appearance in public spaces. Nearly all Indonesian migrant women reported recurring instances of being judged based on their physical attributes during encounters with Koreans. These experiences of bodily otherness are dynamic and deeply embedded within the fabric of physical and social interactions. Notably, the findings reveal two distinct patterns of bodily encounters in public spaces that can be delineated temporally as occurring before and after the formal adoption of multiculturalism as a national policy framework.

Before the implementation of multicultural policies in Korea, everyday encounters between Indonesian migrant women and local residents frequently reinforced a sense of ‘otherness’ which was usually perceived as fear-inducing and threatening. This perception was rooted in tangible experiences that the Indonesian migrants encountered while navigating public spaces. One such example is reflected in the narrative of Riri, a non-Muslim, who recounted her experiences upon settling in Seoul, the capital:

Riri, who identified as having a fair skin complexion due to her Chinese heritage, was surprised that her physical existence was still perceived as ‘bodily other.’ She was genuinely shocked to find herself in the lower social class, a stark contrast to her previous experiences in Indonesia and during her time in the United States, where she had pursued her undergraduate and master’s degrees and worked before settling down in Korea.

Any skin complexion perceived as less fair or lighter than the normative of the Korean standard was often identified and categorised by Koreans as African or Black people, as Riri and other Indonesian migrants narrated. This categorisation was frequently linked to pejorative stereotypes of backwardness and primitiveness, a racialisation that many participants found deeply unsettling and intellectually dissonant. Several recalled that during the 1990s, when Korea was still undergoing rapid economic development, Seoul appeared less developed than Jakarta. They noted the limited presence of skyscrapers and modern urban infrastructure in the Korean capital at that time, contrasting sharply with how Koreans later associated darker skin tones with underdevelopment. From their perspective, Koreans held a naïve and simplistic construction of skin colour, facilitated a racial mapping of blackness onto Southeast Asian bodies, positioning them as ‘out of place’ within the socio-cultural fabric of Korean society.

Another account by Jayanti, who had lived for more than thirty years in the country, shared her vulnerability and fears:

The racist attitudes that Jayanti, Riri, and others encountered, ranging from being pushed back in public spaces to being subject to avoidance, made them acutely aware that their presence, as Indonesian migrant women, was often unwelcome and perceived as threatening. These experiences contributed to a heightened sense of otherness. As Haldrup et al. (Reference Haldrup, Koefoed and Simonsen2006: 178) argue: ‘One does not just perceive another body as a physical object; rather one is affected by the meaning of its appearance.’ The meanings attributed to the bodily practices of the ‘other’ often associated blackness with backwardness, inferiority, and diminished value, as reflected in the narrative of the Indonesian migrants. These mundane yet racialised encounters experienced by Jayanti, Riri, and others illustrate how everyday spaces become sites of exclusion, discomfort, and marginalisation, reflecting what Park (Reference Parks2016) describes as the racialisation of routine activities.

Several Indonesian migrant women in this study explained that the Koreans’ misperceptions and misjudgements of their distinctive bodily features often stemmed from limited exposure to racial and ethnic diversity. Until 1989, when overseas travel restrictions were lifted, most Koreans had little direct contact with racial others, contributing to a reductive and stereotypical understanding of difference. While participants recalled moments of racial discomfort, many downplayed these experiences, attributing them to Koreans’ lack of multicultural awareness. Their own multicultural upbringing in Indonesia, where ethnic and religious diversity is common, enabled them to interpret such encounters with greater perspective. This downplaying illustrates how Indonesian migrants navigate racialised interactions by managing emotional dissonance. Rather than reacting with offence, many interpreted rudeness as a result of unfamiliarity, fostering a sense of resilience in the face of subtle exclusion. Echoing Radford’s (Reference Radford2016: 2140) notion of the ‘strangeness of otherness,’ participants exercised interpretive flexibility in navigating ambiguous situations, using empathy and cultural comparison to reduce tension and maintain dignity in daily encounters.

Although many Indonesian migrant women attributed everyday rudeness to unfamiliarity, limited exposure to racial difference does not excuse the persistence of racialised beliefs. This suggests that racialised attitudes are not merely products of interaction but are socially and historically constructed, aligning with Kim’s (Reference Kim2015) contention that imagined racial hierarchies can emerge even in the absence of direct contact. Central to this is the Korean construction of ‘blackness,’ a socially imagined and constructed category that plays a significant role in shaping national identity. This construct is not merely a reflection of phenotypic difference but a mechanism for asserting Korean national identity and establishing a racial standing. By positioning ‘blackness’ as inferior and distinct from Korean identity, this racial imaginary reinforces a sense of racial superiority over other racialised groups.

With the adoption of Korean multiculturalism in the mid-2000s, the everyday experiences of otherness for Indonesian migrant women have evolved. Previously dominated by narratives about Africans and blackness, the contemporary racialisation of Indonesian migrant women is increasingly situated within emerging discourses of Southeast Asia, which is characterised by assumptions of economic inferiority and gendered subordination as discussed further below. In the past, fears associated with otherness manifested through a variety of avoidance techniques, often involving provocative and aggressive behaviours. Today, othering practices directed at Indonesian migrant women reflect subtler and less hostile practices, as Southeast Asian people are now perceived with diminished levels of fear and threat. This shift may be attributed to Koreans becoming more familiar, accepting, and knowledgeable about the phenotypical differences of the foreign residents.

Many of the Indonesian migrant women I interviewed described their daily encounters with locals as unpleasant and socially fraught. While more overt expressions of discomfort, such as visible avoidance or unwelcome remarks, have diminished since the adoption of multicultural policies, Indonesian migrant women continue to face persistent and layered forms of exclusion that are less visible but remain embedded in everyday encounters. These encounters were often marked by intrusive gazes, stares, bodily distance, dismissive and condescending attitudes. Participants’ reflections, along with stories exchanged through informal networks, revealed a shared sense of marginalisation shaped by racial and religious difference. For instance, Ghea, who worked and lived in Seoul, recounted a challenging experience at her workplace:

Ghea’s narrative illustrates her feelings of belittlement and disrespect, which she attributed to underlying racial prejudices and the enduring remnants of Korean superiority. As a representative of her workplace where she outsourced a Korean vendor, she asserted that the supervisor should regard her as an equal business partner, acknowledging her seniority and professional standing, rather than treating her as a subordinate. Her account further underscores not only the persistence of racial hierarchy but also the systematic undervaluation of women’s position and roles within Korean society, reflecting the interconnectedness and interaction of various social categories: nationality, race, and gender come into play. At the same time, her confident and assertive response exemplifies the strength and agency with which migrant women navigate and contest these power asymmetries in their everyday professional setting.

Similarly, Elsie, who lived in the city of Sejong and worked in a Korean company, shared her sentiment based on what she had often observed about how Koreans treated women from Southeast Asia:

Elsie’s narrative demonstrates how embodied perceptions of Southeast Asian women in Korea are deeply entangled with discourses surrounding mail-order brides from countries, particularly from Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and the Philippines. Despite the fact that these Indonesian migrant women met their spouses without involvement of commercial marriage brokerage, they were frequently misrecognised and categorised alongside mail-order brides from neighbouring countries. This misclassification led to widespread stigmatisation and discriminatory treatment, particularly among Indonesian women residing in rural areas, who reported facing more prejudice than those in larger cities such as Seoul. In response, some husbands advised their wives to avoid mingling with other Southeast Asian brides as a way to reduce emotional distress. This distancing practice reflects both a protective strategy and an internalisation of stigma, illustrating how racialised and gendered hierarchies are actively negotiated within transnational marital relationships.

The Korean state has actively promoted the recruitment of Southeast Asian women as mail-order brides to address the demographic crisis in rural areas. While presented as a pragmatic solution, this policy has contributed to the construction and perpetuation of negative stereotypes about Southeast Asian migrant women. These women are frequently portrayed by Koreans as poor, uneducated, miserable, and submissive. As Kim (Reference Kim2008: 27) argues, the selection of mail-brides’ nationalities is influenced by the state’s emphasis on national ranking in the global hierarchy. This emphasis not only reproduces but also legitimises a racialised social order that positions Southeast Asian women as inferior. Korean mainstream media, including television and newspapers, play a significant role in disseminating and normalising these stereotypes. As Byfield (Reference Byfield2014) notes, state and local institutions, including the police and media, are central to shaping and maintaining racial classifications and divisions. Together, these state narratives and media discourse instrumentalise women’s bodies and reinforce intersecting hierarchies of race, gender, and national status.

Beyond media and state narratives, the layered impact of racial identity, gender, and legal status amplifies the marginalisation of Southeast Asian women in Korea. One participant, Nirina, offered a contrasting experience. Having lived in Seoul for eight years, she reported few encounters with stigmatisation, which she attributed to her physical appearance conforming more closely to Korean beauty ideals. These phenotypic traits were read by Koreans as markers of a superior racial type, revealing how embodied markers of racial hierarchy shape perceptions of value, desirability, and belonging. Yet, Nirina’s account underscores, rather than contradicts, the pervasive nature of racial stratification. Her experience illustrates how certain bodies may be conditionally included based on proximity to idealised racial features, while others remain hyper visible, stigmatised, or excluded. In this sense, individual privilege do not disrupt the broader racial order; instead, it reflects and reinforces it. Structural inequalities and racialised standards of belonging continue to shape the everyday realities of Southeast Asian migrant women in Korea.

This phenomenon is unsurprising given the deeply entrenched logic of racial categorisation in Korean society. The tri-racial system, as outlined by Kim (2020: 82), positions Koreans at the top of the social order. The intermediary group, known as ‘honorary Koreans,’ includes East Asian immigrants, light-skinned Central Asians, Korean-East Asian multiracial individuals, Korean-White multiracial individuals, and other light-skinned non-Koreans. Positioned at the bottom is the collective dark group, which consists of Southeast Asian immigrants, South Asian immigrants, Middle Easterners, dark-skinned non-Koreans, Korean-Black multiracial individuals, Korean-Southeast Asian multiracial individuals, and Black people. This racial hierarchy reflects a preference for whiteness, which is often associated with ideals of femininity, beauty, and purity (Park and Hong Reference Park and Hong2021). These hierarchical distinctions reveal the complex interplay of race, gender, and immigration status in shaping the everyday experiences of Indonesian migrant women.

Everyday Otherness and the Hijab: Religious Symbols as Sites of Exclusion

Turning to the interview data on everyday cultural encounters, discussion surrounding otherness frequently centred on the visibility of religious symbols, particularly the hijab. As the country with the largest Muslim population in the world, the hijab holds profound significance for many Muslim Indonesian women. It serves not only as a symbol of religious identity but also as an expression of modernity, cosmopolitanism (Heryanto Reference Heryanto and Pinches1999: 76), and piety (Jones Reference Jones2007). Despite its cultural and religious significance, several Indonesian migrant women who wore hijab reported encountering hostile stares, derogatory remarks, and even being labelled ‘terrorist’ by passers-by which made them feel unease, vulnerability, and nervousness in public spaces. In some cases, these women endured more aggressive acts, such as having their hijab pulled. Irene, who has been married for seven years, shared her personal cultural encounter.

Irene’s narrative highlights the vulnerability faced by visibly Muslim women, where religious attire heightens exposure to public scrutiny, stereotyping, and aggression. I, too, have encountered such responses. Before the onset of the pandemic, I was often subjected to overt gazes from strangers where random Korean people were scanning me from head to toe. One incident in the subway particularly stood out, after I sat beside an elderly woman, she quickly changed her seat. Her facial expression left no doubt that my physical presence was unwelcome. As Shaker and Ahmadi (Reference Shaker and Ahmadi2022) argue, the visible presence of Muslim bodies can activate historical anxieties, evoking mistrust, fear, and hostility. This not only marginalises Muslim individuals but renders them into symbolic threats, objects of fear, or targets of aggression. While dominant scholarship has centred Muslim marginalisation within Western contexts, Irene’s narrative and others in this study reveal that Korea is not exempt from such racialised and religious exclusions. As Cesari (Reference Cesari2004) notes, the stigmatisation of Muslim bodies transcends national borders, taking root in places like Korea, where everyday interactions are shaped by unfamiliarity, fear, and deeply embedded stereotypes.

Perceptions of Islam and Muslim womanhood in Korea are shaped less by direct engagement and more through global media representations, particularly those filtered through Western discourses of securitisation and cultural othering (Fathil and Fathil Reference Fathil and Fathil2011: 136). In a country where exposure to Islam is minimal, especially compared to Western societies, Muslim women become hyper-visible embodiments of otherness. Stereotypical portrayals of being uncivilised, patriarchally oppressed, or linked to violence are not organically formed within Korean society but are mediated through global narratives that reproduce Orientalist logics and racialised hierarchies. The global association of Islam with terrorism, exemplified in the media portrayal of ISIS, has intensified suspicion toward Muslims in Korea, particularly those who wear religious symbols such as the hijab. Eum (Reference Eum2017: 844) argues that prejudice against veiled Muslim women in Korea is not simply a matter of cultural misunderstanding but emerges at the intersection of ethnonationalism and transnational Islamophobia. Koo (Reference Koo2018: 181-182) further illustrates how domestic actors such as Korean Christian organisations actively reproduce and localise these narratives, framing Islam as a moral and national threat. Together, these forces sustain what Said (Reference Said1978: 55) calls an ‘imaginative geography’ of Islam, where Muslim bodies, especially those of women, are positioned outside the bounds of modernity and belonging. For visibly Muslim Indonesian migrant women, this not only marks them as religious others but also intersects with racial, national, and gendered hierarchies, reinforcing their marginalised status in Korean public life.

The prevailing negative sentiment towards religious symbols has compelled some Indonesian women to renegotiate their religious identities in response to everyday experiences of othering. Wearing the hijab, a marker of both faith and cultural identity, often heightened their visibility, making them targets of public scrutiny, discomfort, or even hostility. These shifts in veiling practices, ranging from stylistic adaptations to selective use reflect how Indonesian Muslim women navigate public visibility in Korea. Mhima, a PhD student in Busan, recounted her decision to remove her hijab:

Mhima’s narrative highlights how the hijab, rather than simply expressing piety, became a contested symbol of otherness. Her decision reflects a strategic negotiation of belonging, shaped by the desire to ease social interactions and to avoid making others uncomfortable due to visible religious expression. Yet, it also reveals the internalised pressures to assimilate within a context where Muslim visibility is racialised and problematised. The act of veiling or unveiling thus becomes a site of negotiation between self-expression, dominant cultural norms, and the normative boundaries of belonging in Korean society. Her visible difference within the largely homogenous Korean society heightened her vulnerability to marginalisation. This response can be understood through the lens of ‘strategic invisibility,’ whereby individuals from minority groups deliberately downplay or conceal elements of their identity to gain social acceptance and mitigate potential discrimination, a practice that echoes Goffman’s (1963) foundational analysis of stigma.

Almeera, who has been married for over 20 years, echoed similar themes but revealed a different strategy in negotiating her veiling practice:

Almeera’s choice of headwear closely mirrors contemporary hijab fashion, fully covering her hair while adopting a modern aesthetic. Similarly, Irene, who initially wore a wide and long hijab upon her arrival in Korea, later transitioned to a turban-style veil, often perceived as a more fashionable and less conspicuous alternative to traditional hijab styles. Both women frame their veiling choices as personal interpretations of religious practice shaped by their status as ethnic and religious minorities. By incorporating modern fashion elements into their religious attire, they aim to reduce social tension, avoid negative public attention, and subtly assert agency over their visibility. These adaptive veiling practices reveal an underlying concern with being marked as visibly Muslim in public space, prompting careful negotiation of appearance to manage both real and perceived threats. Their strategies reflect not only personal resilience but also the structural pressures faced by Muslim women in navigating everyday encounters in a largely homogenous society. Rather than acts of religious concession, they represent agency strategies to navigate belonging, minimise scrutiny, and assert dignity within a context where Muslim identities are frequently misread or marginalised. These embodied practices reveal how veiling becomes a flexible strategy through which Indonesian Muslim women negotiate social visibility, asserting presence while navigating the layered exclusions embedded in Korea’s cultural and religious landscape.