Korea Unwed Mothers Support Network (KUMSN) Blog “2025 Trends”
January 23, 2025
The Landscape of ‘Unwed Motherhood,’ Its Transformations and Variations
by Hee Jung Kwon
Director, Unwed Mothers Initiative for Archiving and Advocacy (UMI4AA)
#Scene 1, The Invisible Presence
In the summer of 2008, Dr. Richard Boas, a retired American ophthalmologist, set up an office in South Korea to support unwed mothers. He needed someone to run it, and I applied, thinking it would be similar to my previous work at a women’s organization. I got the job, and soon, the office officially became the Korea Unwed Mothers Support Network (KUMSN), with me as its executive director.
When I first began my work, I encountered an immediate shock - I had no idea where to find unwed mothers. Even at meetings meant to discuss policies to support them, the room was full of academics, government officials, and related facilities staff. If an unwed mother did appear, she was anonymized as “Case 1” or “Unwed Mother 1.” They often spoke from behind partitions or in dimly lit spaces, making them unidentifiable. Photography was strictly prohibited, and any personal engagement required permission from institutional gatekeepers who claimed to “protect” them.
Having worked in feminist organizations, I had met women facing various hardships. But realizing there were women so thoroughly hidden, unable to interact freely or even reveal their faces, was my second shock. This was more than discrimination. It was a profound social shame, public condemnation, and the stigma of violating sexual morals.
The third and most devastating shock came when I fully grasped the reality of their lives. Pregnant unwed women were almost always cut off from their jobs, families, and social networks, funneled into institutional facilities. Many were coerced into signing adoption agreements as a prerequisite for admission. Inside, they lived under strict regulations in communal settings. The vast majority of babies placed for adoption were those of unwed mothers. No matter what choice a woman made, she was condemned: giving her baby up meant she was heartless, keeping the baby meant she was selfish. In a society that readily excuses biological fathers from their equal responsibility in an unwed pregnancy, unwed mothers face an impossible choice. If they opt for adoption, they are agonized with guilt; if they choose to raise their child, they are left to navigate exhausting and isolating solo parenting with little to no support. Whether they were teenagers or adults didn’t make a difference.
Confronted with this systemic crisis, I recalled a slogan from the disability rights movement: "Nothing about us without us." Recognizing the urgency of self-advocacy, Dr. Richard Boas and I knew that direct empowerment was essential. That’s when we met a group of brave women who had left institutional care and wanted to fight for their rights. They had participated in discussions with facility directors and policymakers but realized that "while institutions benefited, [their] own lives remained unchanged." Determined to shift the focus, they initiated a self-advocacy movement, forming alliances with civil society organizations and adoptee activists. Dr. Boas also established a fund through the Korean Women’s Foundation for "Support Initiative for Enhancing the Quality of Life of Unwed Mothers" for those who chose to parent.
These women became vocal advocates, boldly engaging in media interviews and refusing to hide behind partitions. Change began to take shape. Childcare subsidies for low-income single parents gradually increased from 50,000 KRW to 100,000 KRW, then to 150,000 KRW. Adoption rates declined as more women chose to raise their children rather than relinquish them. Around this time, the Korea Unwed Mothers Support Network (KUMSN) became a legally recognized organization. By 2012, Dr. Boas had stepped down, and I concluded my tenure after four years of advocacy.
▲ March 4, 2009. Korean Women's Development Institute, 52nd Women's Policy Forum. From left: Hee-Jung Kwon, Dr. Richard Boas, Consultant Ellen Furnari, Dr. Cheryl Mitchell.
#Scene 2, The Disharmony Between What Has Changed and What Has Not
More than a decade has passed. How much has really changed? Recently, I was taken aback while watching TV. On the dating show I Am Solo, a woman introduced herself: "I’m a single mother who never married, raising a three-year-old child." In the past, even the most outspoken activists hesitated to reveal their identities in interviews, often choosing to be shown with blurred faces or from behind. And yet, here was a woman, on a dating show, stating her reality with confidence. The world had changed—or so I thought. Policies had certainly evolved.
Childcare subsidies had increased to 230,000 KRW per month for low-income single parents, 370,000 KRW for adolescent single mothers, and an additional 50,000–100,000 KRW for young single parents aged 25–34. Once divided into maternity homes, transitional homes, and mother-child shelters, institutional facilities had been reorganized into maternity support homes, parenting support homes, and independent living facilities, with more flexibility in admission age and length of stay. But was this enough?
Take the experience of the I Am Solo contestant. She became pregnant in a committed relationship with a promise of marriage, only to have her partner change at the news of her pregnancy. He pressured her to terminate the pregnancy or give the baby up for adoption. When she refused, he denied paternity and refused to provide financial support. She later shared what she went through on her social media. Here is what she wrote:
I had no support during my pregnancy. I went through it alone, struggling with physical changes and financial instability after taking leave from work. There was no one to look after me as I endured labor and childbirth by myself. Seeing other mothers and their babies being celebrated only deepened my feelings of despair and helplessness. At work, I agonized over whether to disclose my pregnancy as an unmarried woman but ultimately couldn’t bring myself to do so. I struggled with severe morning sickness while facing strong disapproval from my parents and those around me. In the end, instead of taking maternity leave, I had to take medical leave and eventually left on my own, away from my family and everyone I knew. Eventually, I left everything behind, found a tiny apartment, and raised my child in a space so small that there wasn’t even room for the baby to take first steps. The defendant, the biological father, must take responsibility for the child, who is the direct result of his actions.
Reading her story, I felt as if I had been transported back in time. The same narrative played on repeat. Absent fathers escaping accountability. Women severed from their families and workplaces, struggling alone to give birth and raise a child. What had really changed? The stigma surrounding unwed motherhood has lessened, and more women are embracing it. But the support system remains deeply flawed. Even with increased childcare subsidies, assistance is still largely targeted at low-income families (those earning 63% of the median income or less). While teenage mothers receive more support, the reality is that most unwed mothers are adults. The I Am Solo contestant was 31 when she gave birth. Even under the new policy, she would have received an additional 50,000 to 100,000 KRW per month, which is barely enough to make a difference. Yes, unwed mothers can apply for institutional housing, but most prefer independent living even if it means to rent a tiny room. Today’s 20- and 30-somethings and younger generations overall want support that allows them to live in their communities rather than be confined to subsidized facilities. Unless they have severe physical or mental health conditions requiring specialized care, they do not want to be institutionalized. In other words, unwed mothers today are more visible and more vocal, but they still have to prove their poverty to receive help. Public housing, tax benefits, and government assistance are still structured around the idea of the normative family, prioritizing married couples over diverse family structures. And beyond all this, they continue to be met with demeaning rhetoric, being labeled as “welfare burdens" or "tax leeches.”
Scene 3: The Evolution of "Unwed Mother" and the Rise of the "Crisis Pregnant Woman"
And just when we thought we had a grip on the discourse, a new term entered the stage: "crisis pregnant woman" or "woman in crisis pregnancy." Last July, South Korea introduced a new policy under the Special Act on Crisis Pregnancy and Protected Childbirth Support and Child Protection (a.k.a. the Protected Birth Bill). This law allows "pregnant woman [in crisis] facing difficulties giving birth and raising due to economic, psychological, physical, or other reasons" to give birth anonymously, relinquish parental rights, and walk away without any legal responsibility (including hospital bills). The Ministry of Health and Welfare even allocated 2 billion KRW to set up 16 counseling centers nationwide and launched an aggressive promotional campaign, plastering subway stations, hospitals, pharmacies, TV screens, and online ads with messages about this new bill. Meanwhile, financial support for pregnant women is still stuck at 1 million KRW, the same as last year. But the government now budgets 1 million KRW per month per child for babies born under the Protected Birth Bill, covering their care until they’re either adopted or placed in an institution. So, rather than addressing the causes of a woman’s so-called “crisis,” the government is only interested in managing the “outcome” and in the process, robbing children of their right to know and be raised by their biological families.
Lack of adequate support for pregnancy, childbirth, and child-rearing leaves many unwed mothers who initially choose to raise their children unable to continue, the strain of unsupported parenting pushing them toward relinquishment. For those classified as "in crisis," the likelihood of opting for anonymous birth may rise significantly. Consequently, a growing number of women may experience enduring psychological distress and guilt associated with the perception of having "abandoned" their child. Simultaneously, an increasing number of children may grapple with profound questions of identity, carrying the emotional weight of knowing they were relinquished.
France permits anonymous births, yet its system provides substantive support for women. Unlike in Korea, all pregnancy-related medical expenses are fully covered, whether a woman chooses to give birth or terminate her pregnancy. If she opts for an anonymous birth, she retains the right to register as the child's parent and provide care until an adoption decision is finalized. Even after relinquishing custody, she has a two-month period in which she can reconsider and assume parental responsibility. Beyond this period, the government offers three years of continued support. Despite these safeguards, the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child has consistently criticized France’s system for violating children's rights, urging the country to address the structural conditions that drive women to anonymous births. If a comparatively robust system like France’s faces international scrutiny, Korea’s approach will not escape similar critique. Labeling a policy as "protective" does not render it ethical.
The Ministry of Health and Welfare asserts that the Protected Birth Bill is designed to prioritize childcare and the rearing of children within their biological families. Yet, within a mere six months, the number of women resorting to anonymous birth rose from 16 to 52. Rather than recognizing this surge as an alarming indication of systemic failure, the government continues to frame these numbers as evidence of the policy’s success, engaging in a self-congratulatory narrative that obscures the realities. If this isn’t a textbook case of willful ignorance, I don’t know what is.
Instead of pouring money into institutionalizing children and easing the process of parental relinquishment, the Ministry and related offices should expand universal support for pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting. This approach would seek to create where no woman is forced to give up her child in the first place and where unwed mothers are not vilified as “tax leeches” just for raising their own children. ----- This column, written by Hee Jung Kwon, director of UMI4AA, was adapted from an article published on Korea Unwed Mothers Support Network (KUMSN) Blog on January 23, 2025
"The Landscape of ‘Unwed Motherhood,’ Its Transformations and Variations" – KUMSN Blog The English summary and translation of this article is provided by UMI4AA. |
