They don't use oxygen tanks. Honestly, that’s the first thing that hits you when you stand on the jagged basalt rocks of Jeju Island and watch these women disappear beneath the freezing crest of the Tsushima Current. They just... hold their breath. For two minutes. Sometimes three. They are the Haenyeo, the legendary "sea women" of South Korea, and if you think this is just some quaint tourist performance, you haven't been paying attention to the bruises on their hands or the way their lungs whistle when they surface.
It’s a brutal way to make a living.
Jeju’s landscape is beautiful but harsh. This isn't a tropical paradise with white sands and palm trees; it’s a volcanic rock in the middle of a temperamental sea. For centuries, the men of the island went out on deep-sea fishing boats or got caught up in the endless wars and taxes of the Joseon Dynasty. Many didn't come back. So, the women stepped into the water. By the 18th century, the Jeju Haenyeo had basically flipped the entire social structure of the island on its head, becoming the primary breadwinners in a country that was otherwise deeply patriarchal.
The Science of the Sumbisori
When a Haenyeo surfaces, she makes a sound. It’s a high-pitched, eerie whistle called a sumbisori. If you’re standing on the shore, it sounds like the ocean itself is sighing.
Actually, it’s a very specific physiological technique. After holding their breath at depths of up to 30 feet, their bodies are starved for oxygen and screaming under the pressure of carbon dioxide buildup. The sumbisori is a way to rapidly expel that CO2 and take in fresh air without causing the lungs to collapse or the diver to faint from a sudden pressure shift. It’s specialized. It's ancient. And it’s something no machine can replicate with the same soul.
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Scientists from the Jeju Haenyeo Museum and various maritime universities have actually studied the physiology of these women. They’ve found that many of them—some in their 80s—have higher lung capacities and better cold-water tolerance than people half their age. But don't get it twisted; it takes a toll. Chronic ear infections, headaches from the pressure, and "diver’s disease" (the bends) are just part of the job description.
Why the Jeju Haenyeo Matter More Than Ever
Most people think the Haenyeo are a dying breed. And, well, the numbers don't lie. In the 1960s, there were over 20,000 of them. Today? Maybe 3,000 or 4,000, and the vast majority are over the age of 60. You’ll see grandmothers who can barely walk on land, hunched over from a lifetime of carrying heavy lead weights, suddenly transform into graceful, powerful predators the moment they hit the water. It’s wild to watch.
But they aren't just "living fossils." They are actually the original environmentalists of the Korean peninsula.
The Haenyeo operate under a strict communal law. They don't use scuba gear because it’s too efficient. If they used tanks, they’d strip the ocean floor bare in a week. Instead, they only take what they can grab with their bare hands and a kakuri (a hooked tool). They have "no-harvest" seasons. They collectively decide when a certain patch of conch or abalone is getting too thin and they just... stop. They wait. This kind of sustainable resource management is something modern industrial fishing could learn a lot from, quite frankly.
The Hierarchy of the Sea
You don't just jump in and become a "sea woman." There's a rigid, respected ranking system:
- Hagun: The beginners. They stay in the shallows.
- Junggun: The middle tier. They have the lung capacity to go deeper.
- Sanggun: The elite. These are the leaders who can dive deepest, stay down longest, and guide the others through dangerous currents.
Becoming a Sanggun isn't just about breath-holding. It’s about knowing the temperament of the water. They can read the tide by the way the foam looks or the smell of the wind. This isn't "intuition" in some mystical sense; it’s thousands of hours of data points recorded in the brain through sheer survival.
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Dealing With the Modern World
The 2016 UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage designation helped put them on the map, but it didn't solve the underlying problem: the water is getting warmer.
Climate change is hitting Jeju hard. The "whitening" of the ocean floor—where seaweed dies off and is replaced by a stony white crust—means there's less food for the abalone and sea urchins. Then you have the pollution. And the fact that the younger generation would much rather work in a high-tech office in Seoul or run a trendy cafe in Jeju City than risk their lives in 50-degree water for a bucket of sea squirts. Can you blame them?
Yet, there is a small movement of "new" Haenyeo. Some young women are ditching the city life to return to the sea, drawn by the independence and the tight-knit sisterhood of the bulteok (the stone fire-pits where the women warm up and trade gossip after a dive).
What You Should Actually Do if You Visit
If you're heading to Jeju, don't just snap a photo from a distance and leave. To actually understand the Jeju Haenyeo, you need to engage with the community respectfully.
First, go to the Jeju Haenyeo Museum in Hado-ri. It’s one of the few places that doesn't feel like a tourist trap. It gives you the gritty reality of the 1930s anti-Japanese protests led by these women—they weren't just divers; they were revolutionaries.
Second, eat at a "Haenyeo House" (Haenyeo Uichon). These are small, often rustic restaurants run by the divers' cooperatives. The seafood is as fresh as it gets because the woman who served it to you probably caught it three hours ago. Try the jeonbokjuk (abalone porridge). It’s the ultimate comfort food and gives you a taste of why this harvest was once reserved for royalty.
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Third, look for the bulteok ruins. These circular stone structures are scattered all along the coast. They were the heart of the Haenyeo community—part locker room, part boardroom, part therapy group.
Actionable Insights for the Conscious Traveler
If you want to support the preservation of this culture without being "that" tourist, keep these points in mind:
- Support the Cooperatives Directly: Buy your seafood from the small stalls marked with the Haenyeo signs rather than big supermarkets. The money goes directly into the community funds that support elderly divers.
- Respect the Work Zone: If you see orange buoys (called taewak) bobbing in the water, stay back. These women are working. Getting in the way for a "cool" drone shot or a swim-by selfie is dangerous and disrespectful.
- Acknowledge the Labor: Understand that the price of abalone reflects the physical risk taken to get it. If it seems expensive, it’s because someone risked a localized stroke or a jagged rock to put it on your plate.
- Learn the History: Read up on the 1932 Haenyeo anti-Japanese movement. Knowing they were the largest female-led labor movement in Korean history changes how you look at them. They aren't "mermaids"—they are warriors.
The reality of the Jeju sea women is far more complex than a postcard. It’s a story of survival, environmental stewardship, and a unique form of feminism that grew out of the salt and the cold. As the ocean changes and the old guard fades, the weight of their legacy remains as heavy as the lead belts they wear to sink into the deep.