Courtesy of Tim Mossholder
Eunbi Ko and David A. Tizzard
A professor recently asked me if I have a “bu-gae” on my Instagram. The answer was obvious: “Yes, of course!” I paused for a minute though. First I was worried that he might ask what my ID was. No way he was getting that. Then I was curious how he even knew about such things. Weird!
The term bu-gae refers to one’s secondary social media account. It’s not the one that the whole world can see but rather a more private one. One kept for only our closest friends but generally not our family. And certainly not professors, co-workers, or the many acquaintances we have to make in our day-to-day lives.
Of course we are always told how old people grew up with less regard for privacy: their names and addresses published in a big telephone book for the whole neighborhood to see. But we’re different. We value our digital identity because, in a way, it reflects who we are.
But is the second account really the fake account? Originally, we create it as the equivalent of a burner. One for our day-to-day lives, filled with shopping, coffee, drinking, and everything else that happens in between the moments our coworkers see. But as time goes by, the lines get blurred. The real becomes fake and the fake becomes real. We are pressured into playing roles and adopting masks. Eventually, we start uploading the “reality” of their daily lives, unfiltered, to our second account rather than to the bon-gae (the main account).
While this trend is clearly global, most young Koreans have secondary accounts on their social media. And it is generally a sign of youth. Old people, for example, generally have one Facebook account or one Instagram account. They do not have multiple accounts on the same platform for different people to access. But because we’re online so much, we need to tailor not only our experience of the digital world but also, perhaps more importantly, what people see of us.
We need social media in our lives. What is an option or a choice for some older people is a necessity for us. Anytime a project or group work takes place, young people will often ask for each other’s Insta ID’s rather than a phone number. So we need an online account to communicate and to get to know our new colleagues. We watch and react to what they upload. Become part of the team. It’s one of the easiest ways to show interest in someone and, at the same time, show we are living our own lives. Each like of a person’s post is a digital handshake, each reaction a cyber greeting.
The bon-gae (main account) is for our picture perfect life. It’s where we live the Korean existence known as gatsaeng (God-life). A lot of the pictures we share there will be ones of perfectly presented food. We study, we exercise, we go to fancy cafes, and we socialize. It’s like a professional portfolio that we can use to impress people and put across our best selves to others.
But what if we don’t particularly want to show the world what we are doing? For some people, this might relate to their gender or sexuality and require genuine anonymity. But even for those of us who are straight, we still don’t necessarily want every Kim, Park, and Lee knowing our business.These uploads are viewed by hundreds or even thousands of users. Our lives and even our very existence is judged by others.They also know what we like and what we comment on. It’s terrifying how little privacy we seem to have. Particularly because we always feel like we are competing against other people and being judged. This makes the secondary account necessary. We want something a bit more carefree and away from the prying eyes of people we barely know.
But we don’t want to hide completely. Koreans place great meaning on the sharing of our moments. In my parents' generation, it was Cyworld and Kakaostory. For the MZ generation like me, the culture is the same but the platform is different.
Most of the time, you can choose whether to accept or reject who can see your posts and stories. For our bon-gae, we usually open this to most people, if not everyone. For instance, I accept requests from people on this account no matter how close we are. As long as they aren’t spam, dodgy looking, or from people I actively dislike, I don’t reject or block people from seeing my bon-gae. I also accept my family members as well as my teachers there. They are able to see the few stories or posts I deem appropriate. Of course, while this represents my experience and those around me, the choice to accept or reject someone is sa-ba-sa (a Korean neologism meaning that it differs from person to person).
However, in the bu-gae, people don’t normally let any of their family members see this. Particularly their parents. They also reject any requests from people they are not very close with. In fact, rather than honorific language or non-honorific language, sometimes a good sign of the closeness of your relationship with someone is whether or not they are able to view your bu-gae or not. One of the main ways I choose who to accept to my bu-gae is whether I actually hang out with them in real life, as it shows how close we are. These close friends are the only ones accepted into the user’s comfort zone. They get to see my daily life. Unfiltered. Unedited. And in all its brutal Gen Z glory.
In our society, the public gaze is really strong. Some call it other nunchi, some call it other things. Whatever words you use, there’s always this feeling that you are being watched. That people are observing. Judging. Evaluating and competing with every part of your life, from your appearance, your habits, your music taste, your clothes, and your social media. It becomes necessary for us to look good not just for ourselves, but also in the eyes of other people. Social media feels like an extension of society at times. Where we could once retreat online after getting home, we now know many of those we just left at school or the office are still looking at us. They might not be our actual friends but people we barely know. The internet didn’t free us from reality, it trapped us in another competitive social environment.
That’s why the bu-gae is necessary. It allows us to be ourselves. It allows us some privacy, a place to experiment. It also means we can drop the facade of perfection that follows us around from morning to night. It’s our own little world of digital rebellion.
So if you are a parent, an uncle, or even a teacher, you might think that you are able to see the lives of young people online. However, you are likely only seeing that which we want to show you. Our real lives are messy, unkempt, aesthetic, full of vibes, and sometimes lacking in diligence. But the most important thing is that they are ours. Some people tell you that the internet is forever and that nothing is safe. That may be true. But at least we have our bu-gaes. And you can’t see them.
Eunbi Ko (koyeppi2995@gmail.com) is in her second year at Seoul Women University studying Digital Media and Visual Communication.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online.
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