What Haenyeo Taught Me
Meredith, a science teacher and ocean lover, embarked on a journey across three different coastal regions—Seattle, Zanzibar, and Jeju Island—to research how women and the sea are deeply intertwined across cultures and time.
Through this journey, she discovered one of the most unique sea women communities in the world: the Haenyeo of Jeju Island.
Meredith and I first met in 2025 during the Jeju Haenyeo Camp, where I coordinated and led Haenyeo programs for multinational participants. She stood out to me because her reason for joining the program was very different from that of typical travelers, whose main purpose is usually to experience Haenyeo diving itself. She joined the program as part of her school grant project and research about women and ocean cultures across three different regions, while also gathering inspiration for the book she is currently writing.
A year later, luckily, I reconnected with her and had the chance to interview her again, reflecting on what she learned from spending time with the Haenyeo and the fishing village community in Jeju.
Jeju Feels Different
Meredith visited multiple ocean cultures, but one thing stood out clearly:
Jeju doesn’t just have Haenyeo culture.
It lives it.
From the moment she arrived, the presence of Haenyeo was everywhere—from stone statues and museums to everyday village life.
Unlike other regions where sea women traditions exist but remain less visible, Jeju has deeply integrated Haenyeo culture into its identity.
Even as their numbers decrease, their cultural footprint remains strong.
Just a generation ago, however, being a Haenyeo was not considered prestigious work. It was physically demanding labor and often a necessity during a time when Korea was recovering from war and poverty. Many families hoped their daughters would avoid this difficult path by pursuing higher education and white-collar careers instead.
Today, that narrative is shifting.
As the number of Haenyeo continues to decline, their legacy is increasingly being recognized not only as cultural heritage, but also as a sustainable way of life the world can learn from.
Women-Driven Matriarchal Society
In many Haenyeo villages, women have historically been the primary source of household income for generations, which naturally led them to take strong leadership roles within the fishing village communities.
What stood out most to Meredith was not only their leadership, but also the structure of the Haenyeo hierarchy itself.
The Haenyeo community traditionally operates through a skill-based hierarchy system called:
상군 (top-level divers)
중군 (middle-level divers)
하군 (beginner-level divers)
The ranking depends on diving skill and experience, but despite the hierarchy, the system is deeply collective rather than competitive.
Experienced divers support younger and less experienced Haenyeo because the community is built around:
Collective survival, not individual survival
Knowledge sharing across generations
Interdependence within the village
Care for both people and the marine ecosystem
For Meredith, this became one of the strongest examples of how women-centered ocean communities can create sustainable systems that protect both nature and human relationships at the same time.
Ocean Superpower
There is something almost mythical about the Haenyeo from a Western perspective.
They free-dive without oxygen tanks.
They withstand extremely cold temperatures.
They dive repeatedly, every day, for years.
Scientists have even studied their physiological adaptations—suggesting that generations of diving may have shaped their bodies in unique ways.
But beyond biology, Meredith saw something else.
To her, the Haenyeo represent the closest real-world version of what we imagine as ocean superhumans.
She describes them as: “Ocean superheroes.”
For most of us, the ocean is emotional.
It is freedom, beauty, healing.
But when Meredith sat down with elderly Haenyeo—women who have spent decades diving into cold waters to harvest seafood—she encountered a completely different perspective.
When she asked a simple question: “If you could dive in any ocean in the world, where would you go?”
The answer was immediate: “Why would I leave?”
The ocean, she realized, is not universal in meaning. Its meaning changes depending on how deeply your life depends on it.
For the Haenyeo, the ocean is not an escape.
It is home.
It is an inheritance.
It is survival.
Reciprocity with Nature
One of the most powerful lessons Meredith took from her time with the Haenyeo was something modern society often struggles to practice:
Reciprocity with nature.
By connecting with real Haenyeo in fishing villages and learning Haenyeo diving firsthand, she came to understand that the Haenyeo way of harvesting is deeply rooted in restraint and balance.
They do not overharvest.
They follow seasonal rhythms.
They protect the marine ecosystem not out of activism, but out of necessity.
Because if the ocean collapses, so does their community.
This creates a rare balance: The ecosystem is sustained, the community is sustained, and future generations are sustained.
It is not sustainability as a trend. It is sustainability as a survival system.
Meredith noticed this same pattern again in Zanzibar and even in Indigenous coastal communities near Seattle.
Three different places. One shared principle.
The Sea and She: Her Journey Never Ends
Inspired by her journey across three different regions—Seattle, Jeju Island, and Zanzibar—Meredith has now begun a new chapter of her work.
Recently, she opened an exhibition at her school, curating photography and videography captured throughout her learning journey.
Her exhibition explores three central themes:
Reciprocity with nature
Matriarchy
Anti-dominance mentality
At the same time, she is also writing a novel that spans nearly 100 years across these different cultures.
Through the story, she explores one central question: What if these ocean women separated by geography and time and shared a deeper connection?
At the heart of the novel is a Haenyeo character who carries knowledge across generations and borders.
For Meredith, this journey transformed her relationship with the ocean.
From something she loved to something she understood.
And once you understand the ocean as life—not simply beauty— you can never see it the same way again.
