A few years ago, a newspaper column titled “Define Chuseok” came out, causing a buzz among Koreans. Countless memes and parodies followed shortly after. The writer of the column offered a witty (perhaps even sardonic [1]) way to deal with extended family on the holiday of Chuseok, one that always brings large families together.
During Chuseok season, it isn’t uncommon for younger family members to face a never-ending stream of questions, like:
And of course, there’s little room for recourse [2], and attempts to shy away from the questions might yield the following response from the asker: “I’m just asking because it’s Chuseok…”
However, the column suggests that when people say they’re just asking because it’s Chuseok, you might consider responding with “Define Chuseok.” When asked about marriage, hit back with “Define marriage.” Eventually, in frustration, you might get asked if you’re out of your mind, in which case, respond by asking what insanity is. It is unlikely the readers have taken the column’s advice seriously, but the joke has made Chuseok more bearable.
Regardless of how others might define Chuseok, a clear image comes to mind when I hear the word: On an autumn night, farmers have gathered to pray for a fruitful harvest in the coming year before the full moon. Also called Korean Thanksgiving, Chuseok is a holiday for celebrating the cornucopia [3] of food, and humbly praying for another year of abundance. Put it this way, its spirit seems to be a far cry from the nitty gritty of family happenings.
The column’s advice gave its readers a good laugh, albeit in a facetious [4] manner; who would throw a sarcastic remark like, “Define aunt” to an interrogative aunt? Or perhaps, it wasn’t meant to be a joke after all. To challenge a person to define their action is to hold a mirror in front of them, forcing them to self-reflect and reflect on the nature of Chuseok.