Memorizing Korea's Tragic May: 5.18 Democratization Movement

I read a book, which was recommended by RM from BTS, whom I greatly admire. When I first picked up this novel, recommended by a friend, I knew it would be no ordinary read. As I flipped through the pages, I felt a mixture of anticipation and hesitation. It was a profound and challenging narrative, one that compelled me to write this heartfelt review.   This book is about  This remarkable book delves into the events of the 5.18 Democratization Movement, shedding light on a significant period in history. Every word, every sentence evoked a sense of pain and anguish. It is not a book to be read casually, but one that demands to be embraced fully. The events of May 18, 1980, unfolded when students gathered at the main gate of Jeonnam National University in Gwang-ju, Korea. On May 27, 1980, martial law troops indiscriminately attacked the citizens gathered at Jeonnam Provincial Office, bringing a tragic end to the situation. Over the course of ten days, the official casualties ...

Meeting Gunbam: A Rescue Dog Story from Korea (1/3)

Last January, things at home were tough. My teenage son and I were clashing a lot, and the atmosphere in our house felt heavy most days. A friend suggested something unexpected: "Why don't you foster a dog? It might brighten things up at home."

I wasn't confident at all. Taking care of someone - even my own children - already felt overwhelming to me. A dog? Who would take care of it?!


Instagram's Algorithm Knows Too Much


Still, Instagram's algorithm did its job well. Posts from "Band for Animal," a local rescue shelter, kept showing up endlessly on my feed. "URGENT: Foster needed!" "Euthanasia scheduled this week if no one comes."


I learned things I hadn't known before. In South Korea's animal shelters, dogs can stay for only about 10 days. Because shelter space is so limited, after that they're euthanized by injection. The posts showing euthanized dogs were shocking and heartbreaking. My heart felt disturbed.


There are about 280 animal shelters across Korea. All of them operate like war zones - underfunded, understaffed, held together by volunteers who just keep hanging on. As of 2025, nearly 130,000 companion animals - mostly dogs and cats - are abandoned in Korea each year. That's over 350 animals every single day. About 40% of abandoned dogs are under one year old, often dumped after impulsive adoptions.


I decided to try fostering - just for three months - for a dog that urgently needed temporary care. My family said okay. For me, someone who hadn't had a pet in nearly 40 years since early childhood, this was a huge challenge. Plus, in Korea where most people live in apartments - meaning no yard - I wasn't confident about raising a dog. I even felt sorry for dogs having to live in that kind of environment.

The Dog I Wanted vs. The Dog I Got

Actually, the first dog supposed to come to our home wasn't Gunbam. What I wanted was an "introverted auntie dog." I had no confidence I could handle an energetic male puppy. I imagined lounging around with a middle-aged lady dog in similar condition to me, comforting each other (Oops).


But our home wasn't ideal for most rescue dogs. Many of them have trauma from being abused by adult men. Our household? Three males - my husband and two teen sons. The shelter coordinator was careful. Even though many lives were facing immediate death, she tried hard to send us a dog that would be a good match. She didn't want another failed adoption.


That's how Gunbam came to us - his name means "roasted chestnut" in Korean - a 3-year-old male Jindo mix, the gentlest and least guarded dog at the Asan Animal Rights Center.

Gunbam's Story: Abandoned Before He Even Had a Chance

Gunbam's records included a heartbreaking word: "returned." Someone had adopted him, then abandoned him again.


Gunbam was rescued from a sewer shortly after birth, along with three siblings. They assumed a stray dog had given birth there. His siblings got adopted, but Gunbam missed his window. His body grew quickly, and people lost interest. People only cared about cute puppies. (I remember smoothing out the deep wrinkles on his forehead, thinking maybe they made him look too worried and that's why no one wanted him. "Wrinkles, please go away," I'd say.)


After the sewer rescue, Gunbam stayed at a dog cafe, which must have been stressful - all those people and dogs coming and going constantly. The person who cared for Gunbam for six months before he came to us was a young woman who had to leave for language studies in the U.S.

The Day We Met: Both of Us Were Trembling

I remember that strange, nervous moment waiting for Gunbam in the parking lot at the park. Is this right? Us? A dog?

And then I saw him in person. Oh my god, he's big!


Gunbam wasn't a large breed, but for us - a couple who'd never raised pets - we panicked. In the chaos of getting him into the car, I noticed something: he wasn't resisting at all. Instead, his whole body was shaking like a leaf. Like a dog being dragged somewhere terrible, wondering where they were taking him this time. He went into hyperventilation. My heart broke for him.


That's how our journey with Gunbam began.


This story continues in the next episode, Part 2: "Life with a Jindo Mix: Understanding Korea’s Native Dog.”

Thank you for reading!