Kyung Seok Park, 64, is a disability rights activist from South Korea. When he was 22, he was injured in a hang-gliding accident, which left him in a wheelchair. After five years of being housebound, he found the strength to venture out. Shocked by the lack of accessible transport for people with disabilities, Kyung Seok became an activist, spending 40 years campaigning for change.
Here Kyung Seok talks about being a daredevil, protesting peacefully and abuses he suffered at the hands of the police…
I was always a daredevil. I skipped church and missed school. However, I was smart, and during college I enrolled in the Navy, where I was part of the Special Forces. I learned how to parachute and dive. I loved parachuting, and when I returned home two years later to finish college, I wanted to learn to hang-glide, determined to find the same thrill again.
I remember the day of my accident clearly. My mother asked me to go to church, but as usual, I said no. I wanted to attend a hang-gliding event. As I was hang-gliding down the mountain, my parachute malfunctioned, and my life changed forever. I was 22, and I’d become paraplegic from my chest down. It wasn’t just a hang-gliding crash, it was the crash of my life.
I’d always considered myself fit, but after the accident I refused to leave home for five years. In the Eighties, there was no medical care for people like me. I was trapped, alone, in my house without any rehabilitation. I lost any sense of myself, I gave up and just thought about how I could die.
My mum said if I was going to die, I had to go to heaven, so she asked some missionaries to come to my house. A missionary girl started visiting me weekly. She taught me English and later became my brother’s wife. I slowly developed the urge to live again. Another missionary became my girlfriend, but we broke up as her family was against our relationship. However, she suggested I attend a welfare center for people with disabilities close to my house.
In 1988, I left my house for the first time. It was a big year – not just for me, but for my country too. Seoul was host to the Olympics and the Paralympics, which meant there was pressure on the government to prioritize the needs of people with disabilities – but it’s never really happened.
Breaking down the barriers
Living with a physical disability in South Korea is incredibly hard. I use a wheelchair and in the Eighties, mobility was the biggest barrier I faced. Roads were laden with ramps and bumps, buildings lacked step-free access. Public transport was impossible to use. I was lucky the welfare center was close to home, yet traveling along the road was still difficult.
However, I was determined to complete the computer training program so I could get a job with a salary and set a good example for my family and friends. I completed the program after a year, but the center couldn’t give me a job. I wanted a job so badly, so I got into college again, where I received a scholarship for my good grades. I wanted to become a social worker with my degree, but I was told I was too old or that my disability would get in the way.
The people at the welfare center were involved in the disability rights movement and said this problem couldn’t be solved solely by us, it required social change. It seemed radical to me.
They offered me a volunteer job at a night school for people with disabilities. I was shocked to learn that 40 percent of people with disabilities couldn’t finish primary school because of the lack of accessible public transport.
We stepped up our activism and tied our bodies to the railroad to physically stop the trains. All we wanted was for elevators at all subway stations.
Kyung Seok Park
During this time, I found my dream job as a social worker but decided to quit to work full-time at the night school, where I eventually became principal.
In 1999, a student was attending a cultural event and had to use the subway. However, there was no elevator – in fact there were no elevators at any of the subway stations – so they used the wheelchair lift instead. It malfunctioned. They were badly injured and hospitalized for four weeks.
As principal, I couldn’t forgive what had happened, so I started protesting. We took the Seoul subway station to court, won and got compensation for the injured student. As a result, the station became one of the first in South Korea to have an elevator installed. However, during that time, authorities went for a quick fix and tried to install more wheelchair lifts, which we dubbed “murder machines” after an elderly couple died using one. After these incidents, we stepped up our activism and tied our bodies to the railroad to physically stop the trains. All we wanted was for elevators at all subway stations, buses we could access, and a taxi system.
Becoming an activist
I realized that if society was to change, we needed to be included.
Since I’ve been protesting, I’ve noticed that the reaction of the police depends on our country’s leader. Now a conservative government is in power, the attitude has shifted. Authorities have stolen our placards, stopped us from riding the subway and thrown us off the trains. They mock us, damage our wheelchairs and I’ve been strangled to the point where I couldn’t breathe.
Activist Kyung Seok Park speaks at an event for Amnesty International’s Write for Rights campaign. (Amnesty International Korea)
When we go underground, Seoul metro employees are violent. And when we leave, the police issue arrest warrants.
It feels like the mayor has made it his mission to backtrack our achievements, blatantly disregarding the UN’s Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, which South Korea has ratified. He is a thief, who has been taking our rights away for over 700 days now.
We need better protection put in place – and we need to be able to protest and make our voices heard. In Korea, there is a law that says the government must plan to improve the rights of people with disabilities. However, they don’t want to fund it.
The disability rights movement has been a lonely battle, so it makes us feel huge solidarity and warmth to be part of a big movement.
Kyung Seok Park
I am grateful we’re garnering worldwide support. It means a lot to be part of Amnesty International’s Write for Rights campaign. The disability rights movement has been a lonely battle, so it makes us feel huge solidarity and warmth to be part of a big movement.
To those who write letters, I want you to understand this – this not just a problem for those with disabilities. It is an issue we must tackle together. I am 64 now. In my spare time, I enjoy making PowerPoint slides and singing in a band, however activism is a big part of my life, and I won’t stop protesting until I see a positive change.