Shin Ho-jin had been freediving only a little over a year – gathering oysters, seashells and other marine life by hand – when she spotted the cluster of abalone. Eager to show the older, more experienced divers that she could keep up, the 37-year-old took a deep breath and was about to plunge toward her prize find when she heard a shout: “Ho-jin, don’t go there!”
It was the 69-year-old Lee Bok-soon, Shin’s boss and the captain of the boat. The experienced freediver of more than 50 years, often called Omma (Korean for mother) by her recruits, had seen that Shin was about to swim right into an old fishing net.
Getting caught in ocean trash is only one of the many trials faced by the haenyeo, the remarkable tribe of South Korean female freedivers who have made headlines in recent years as a supposed “dying breed” of elderly women – a recent survey by the North Gyeongsang provincial government found that more than more than half of the region’s divers were more than 70 years old (9.2% were aged 80 years or more) – preserving an ancient but soon-to-vanish tradition.
Lee herself, and other veteran haenyeo, thought the same, that they would be the last to pursue the centuries-old vocation on Geoje Island, off the south-eastern tip of the Korean peninsula. It is a place from where for years young women would leave to pursue more comfortable jobs.
Then, to their surprise, came the new recruits.
“Unlike other places, the number of young haenyeo has been increasing on the island in recent years,” said Soonam Ruy, a government official at Geoje City Hall.
The first haenyeo – or “women of the sea” – hailed not from Geoje but from Jeju, South Korea’s largest island, and eventually spread along the whole coast.
“During the Japanese occupation the haenyeo profession brought an entire paradigm shift to the lives of females in Jeju,” says Lee Seohyeon, a professor in journalism and public relations at Jeju National University. “Diving let them escape from the shadow of men and achieve a level of independence that few other women in Korean society had”.
It was initially a vocation born out of need, with many haenyeo continuing to work past retirement age. Many of the older women did not expect the practice to continue as South Korea’s economy diversified and the country grew more prosperous, but in 2016, when Unseco inscribed Jeju haenyeo on the intangible cultural heritage list, the country experienced a wave of enthusiasm for it.
On Geoje Island, the community realised that if freediving culture was to survive, potential recruits needed a place to learn. And so the Geoje Haenyeo academy was born, making it possible for women who weren’t born into the practice to access the haenyeo community and learn its skills.
Shin was one of them. Four years ago, the Seoul native with a BA in literature and advertising was working as a project manager in a high-rise office building in the capital, spending every evening in front of the computer. “Korean work culture is very tough. There is no mercy!” she recalled. “But in this community, it’s different.”
Having quit in September 2021 to pursue a career in the ocean, Shin says the support of the other freedivers has been hugely important. “Haenyeo have a warm heart. The elders might seem tough, but they understand. And because we are all women, raising kids, we understand each other. We don’t even need to talk,” she says.
It is not an easy line of work: there is less food to harvest these days, as well as looming environmental threats and injuries caused by water pressure. According to Son Moon-ho, a researcher at the National Institute of Fisheries Science, the climate emergency has heated the ocean, changing the habitats below. “Over the past 50 years, the surface water temperature in Korean waters has risen by about 1.5C, which is about 2.5 times higher than the global average,” he says. “Some fish species are changing and shifting their habitats.” Corals once teeming with life are now grey and lifeless. Large forests of seaweed have disappeared.
Despite there being less marine life to catch, haenyeo are determined to take care of the ocean – to live with it, not against it. If the shellfish they have caught are too small, they let them go. If the sea cucumbers are better to harvest the following year, they wait.
As finding marine life to harvest grows harder, understanding the ocean and how to act as its caretaker is critical. That requires training. Ko Jae-seo, the general secretary of the Geoje Haenyeo academy, says applicants have come from all over the country, as many as 150 of them a year. All the teaching is done under the guidance of local haenyeo. “The haenyeo are the big teachers. Not me,” he says.
So far the academy has graduated more than 100 recruits, with 15 women going on to become full-time divers. It might not sound like a lot, but for Geoje’s community of roughly 90 haenyeo, which requires apprenticeships that can last more than a year, it is a remarkable commitment. Some elders believe that you can’t call yourself a haenyeo until you’ve worked three years. It’s a long process.
Hong Yong-joo might be the 16th. The 36-year-old from Seoul recently completed the introductory course at the academy, but says that although her friends and family have encouraged her, she’s not yet completely sure freediving is for her. “It takes a lot of courage to dive,” she says. “Since it’s a job with my life on the line, I have to be 100% sure about this.”
The growing amount of plastic in the ocean worries her, too. The final day of training is devoted to collecting ocean trash; the recruits return carrying nets filled with bottles, straws and old fishing nets. “I think we are starting to see that the plastic we use is coming back to us,” Hong says.
The haenyeo dive about 150 times a day, each time depending on one lungful of air. Far from land, other boats or people, they are deeply dependent on each other. Some haenyeo were therefore sceptical of new recruits. Lee certainly was at first. Would the younger women keep up? “The work we do is risky. There is no room for mistakes. But every day they become a little better,” she says, admitting she feels “very responsible” for newcomers on her boat. “We’re like family.”
Shin, for her part, hopes future haenyeo will take up the baton once she, too, is eventually ready to pass it on. “I think diving is a job that cannot be replaced by machines. Haenyeo work to preserve nature while reaping the benefits from it. The older freedivers know the cycle of mother nature and follow the rules to keep it alive as they can,” she says. “I hope their story and spirit can be passed on.”
