한국국제교류재단

‘Born a Crime’
Written by Trevor Noah, Translated into Korean by Kim Jun-su, Buki, October 29, 2020

I used to know Trevor Noah only as the famous political talk show host who emceed the Grammy Awards ceremony at which BTS gave a history-making performance. So, when I spotted Born a Crime, with a black-and-white photograph of Noah appearing like a caught prison escapee on the cover, I picked it up as if hypnotized, completely forgetting that I had been searching the bookstore for a book I needed for my research. From the very first page, the book progressed in the enchanting, fast-flowing, and lively manner the author prides himself in as a show host; I couldn’t take my eyes off the page for a single moment. Defying my expectations that it would be full of far-fetched stories from a distant country, I found it to be almost the opposite. Born a Crime made me look into myself, my neighbors, and our society through the life of a mixed-race person living within the apartheid system, which I have never experienced. Apartheid was a system of racial segregation in South Africa based on the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act of 1949 and many other laws.

“When it was time to pick my name, she chose Trevor, a name with no meaning whatsoever in South Africa, no precedent in my family. It's not even a Biblical name. It’s just a name. My mother wanted her child beholden to no fate. She wanted me to be free to go anywhere, do anything, be anyone”(p. 105 of the Korean translation).

When naming children, we Koreans seriously weigh what each character means, often consulting professional namers reputed for picking good names that grant children lucky and wonderful lives. This is a time-honored practice that infuses parents’ wishes and blessings into their children’s names. On the other hand, Born a Crime offers to its readers an opportunity to think about people’s names and the direction set by them from a different perspective. Noah’s mother wanted her son to be free, and whether her wish has been realized ultimately can be told only by the author.

“It taught me that it is easier to be an insider as an outsider than to be an outsider as an insider. If a white guy chooses to immerse himself in hip-hop culture and only hang out with black people, black people will say, “Cool, white guy. Do what you need to do.” If a black guy chooses to button up his blackness to live among white people and play lots of golf, white people will say, “Fine. I like Brian. He’s safe.” But try being a black person who immerses himself in white culture while still living in the black community. Try being a white person who adopts the trappings of black culture while still living in the white community. You will face more hate and ridicule and ostracism than you can even begin to fathom. People are willing to accept you if they see you as an outsider trying to assimilate into their world. But when they see you as a fellow tribe member attempting to disavow the tribe, that is something they will never forgive. That is what happened to me in Eden Park”(p. 174).

I am friends with people of diverse cultural backgrounds—Korean friends who lived overseas for long periods of time and hold foreign nationalities, mixed-race friends, foreign friends who have become naturalized Koreans, and Korean friends who have become foreign nationals—and witnessed how difficult it is for insiders to live as outsiders. By reading books and watching movies and performances, we can glimpse unfamiliar worlds that we have never experienced. Books are infinitely valuable because they broaden our horizon of cognitive knowledge, allowing us to understand the people who come along with the plot. Having said that, I invite my KF colleagues who are active on the global stage and my peers who are living in an era of varied and explicit discrimination to experience the journey of Trevor Noah, who had to keep on running to escape corporal punishment, court trials, and the punches of his stepfather.

Born a CrimeTrevor Noahdiscrimination