On a crisp November morning, the usually tranquil campus of Dongduk Women’s University in Seoul was a sea of protest banners and impassioned voices. Students had staged a sit-in, occupying buildings and pavements with a single rallying cry: “We’d rather perish than open our doors.”
The catalyst for this outcry? Revelations that the university administration had been discussing plans to convert some departments to co-education, potentially admitting male students for the first time in the institution’s history. For many students, this represented an existential threat to a space that had long served as a vital incubator for female talent and empowerment.
A Bulwark Against Patriarchy
Women’s universities like Dongduk have a storied history in South Korea, emerging in the early 20th century as some of the only paths to higher education for women in what was then a deeply patriarchal society. Over time, they came to be seen as essential institutions for nurturing female leadership and potential in a country where gender inequality remains a stark reality.
The existence of women’s universities is about advancing women’s educational rights; transitioning to co-education would mean there’s no reason for us to exist at all.
Choi Hyun-ah, Dongduk Student Council President
Today, South Korea ranks a dismal 94th out of 146 countries in gender equality according to the World Economic Forum. Women hold just 20% of parliamentary seats and a mere 7.3% of executive positions at the nation’s largest companies. Against this backdrop, many see women-only institutions as vital bastions of safety, support, and opportunity.
A Deeper Malaise
For Professor Yoonkyeong Nah, a cultural anthropologist at Yonsei University, the protests at Dongduk reflect a broader unease among young Korean women in public spaces. She cites the prevalence of spy cams, stalking, deepfake pornography, and other digital sex crimes as contributing to a pervasive sense of vulnerability and violation.
While providing safe spaces isn’t the primary purpose of women’s universities, students are protesting to maintain what they see as a secure environment for learning – it reveals broader problems in Korean society.
Professor Yoonkyeong Nah, Yonsei University
In this light, the prospect of male students entering previously women-only spaces takes on a more ominous character. For many protesters, it represents not just an administrative decision, but a fundamental breach of trust and safety.
Political Battlegrounds
As the protests have worn on, they’ve increasingly become a political flashpoint. Conservative politicians have condemned the demonstrations as “uncivilized” and called for consequences for the students involved. Conversely, progressive lawmakers have accused their opponents of weaponizing the issue to score political points and undermine the wider cause of gender equality.
For the students themselves, this political tug-of-war has been deeply frustrating. “Stop using us,” pleaded student council president Choi Hyun-ah in a recent interview. “Those who frame this as a gender conflict are simply using students to justify their own views.”
Caught in a Demographic Vise
Underlying the furor at Dongduk are powerful demographic pressures that are forcing many South Korean universities to confront hard choices about their future. With the country’s birth rates plummeting and youth population shrinking, student enrollment has dropped by 18% over the past decade.
Universities face a precarious balancing act: preserving their identity while implementing the changes necessary to secure their future. Even legacy institutions are being forced to reconsider their identities amid unprecedented demographic pressures.
Kyuseok Kim, Higher Education Expert
For administrators at Dongduk and other women’s universities, the prospect of going co-ed represents a potential lifeline – a way to broaden their applicant pool and stave off existential threats. But for many students and alumnae, it’s a bridge too far, a betrayal of the very essence of what makes these institutions so vital.
The Road Ahead
As of this writing, the standoff at Dongduk shows no signs of abating. Classes have moved online, job fairs have been cancelled, and the administration has warned of “resolute action” if the protests continue. But for the students holding the line, the stakes couldn’t be higher.
“We have made history today in our fight for a democratic Dongduk,” declared the student council after a vote overwhelmingly backed the demonstrations. What that history will ultimately look like – and whether Dongduk and other women’s universities can chart a course that upholds their core mission while adapting to new realities – remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: For the young women at the heart of this movement, “perishing” is preferable to a future that compromises the very spaces they hold so dear.
