Koryo-Saram, Korean, Tajik, Uzbek

Milena Abdulayeva on belonging without choosing one identity

Abdulayeva Milena was 18 when I interviewed her in Tashkent. Born in Samarkand to a family of Korean and Tajik descent, she spent the first eight years of her life there before moving with her family to Tashkent. Today, she studies at Ajou University in Tashkent.  

Growing up, Milena was aware that her appearance made her stand out. In elementary school, she remembers small conflicts with classmates because she looked different, particularly in a class where only two students, including herself, were Koryo-Saram. But she does not describe those experiences as defining her education. She felt that she had the same educational opportunities as her classmates and did not encounter significant financial or linguistic barriers. Language, in particular, was something she moved between with relative ease: she speaks Russian and Uzbek fluently and once spoke Tajik well while living in Samarkand, although she says she has since forgotten much of it.  

That ability to move between languages mirrors something broader in Milena’s story. She belongs to several cultures, but she does not feel a need to reduce herself to just one of them.

“I Always Introduce Myself as Koryo-Saram”

When I asked Milena how she identifies herself, her answer initially seemed almost contradictory. She told me that she does not define herself according to one particular identity. Her passport identifies her nationality as Korean, she explained, but when introducing herself to others, she says she is Koryo-Saram.  

At the same time, Milena told me that culturally she currently feels closer to Uzbekistan. She has participated in Korean cultural programs such as OK Friends, traveled to South Korea, and now encounters Korean culture through her studies at Ajou University. Yet when discussing her Korean and Tajik backgrounds, she resisted the idea that she needed to choose between them.

“I prefer not to choose one side—neither fully Korean nor Tajik.”  

Milena reflects on her connection to Uzbek and Korean culture and explains why she does not feel the need to choose between her Korean and Tajik heritage.

Her sense of belonging to Uzbekistan, however, is much less ambiguous. When I asked whether she considers herself part of Uzbekistan, she immediately said yes. She was born there. She grew up there. Her grandparents were born there. “Everything about me comes from here,” she explained.  

Milena explains why she considers Uzbekistan home: she was born and raised there, as were her grandparents, and sees the country as fundamental to who she is.

For Milena, then, identifying as Koryo-Saram does not seem to require feeling less Uzbek. One describes an ethnic and cultural identity; the other describes the place she considers home.

Learning a Culture That Is Also Her Own

One of the most interesting parts of Milena’s story is that her relationship with Korean culture is still developing. She has traveled to South Korea through Korean cultural programs, studies Korean culture at university, and wants to continue learning more about it. When I asked what parts of Koryo-Saram culture she would want to pass down, she focused on opportunities for younger people to learn: educational centers in Uzbekistan, cultural programs, and, for those who want to, experiences in Korea itself.  

Her experience is different from an image of diaspora in which culture simply passes unchanged from grandparents to parents to children. For Milena, cultural identity can also involve actively seeking something out. Korean culture is connected to her ancestry, but it is also something she encounters through universities, camps, travel, and volunteering.

Milena discusses how younger Koryo-Saram can continue learning about their heritage through educational centers in Uzbekistan and experiences in South Korea.

That relationship is also visible in her work. Milena began working as a promoter while she was still in high school, running product tastings in supermarkets and department stores. She told me that being Koryo-Saram has sometimes actually created professional opportunities. At one recent soju tasting event, she was contacted specifically because the organizers wanted a Koryo-Saram woman. More broadly, she has noticed Koryo-Saram working in fields connected to Korean companies and Korean culture.  

Looking Beyond Uzbekistan

Milena does not imagine her future taking place in only one country either. She has considered graduate school in South Korea, where her brother and sister already live and work, but she does not currently imagine settling there permanently. Instead, she hopes eventually to move to Europe and work there.  

At 18, that future is still largely unwritten. Milena is part of a generation of Koryo-Saram whose relationship with Korea can be cultivated through study abroad, Korean universities, cultural programs, and travel in ways that were not necessarily available to earlier generations. Yet none of that appears to make Uzbekistan less central to how she understands herself.

Toward the end of our conversation, Milena told me that she planned to return to the OK Friends program, continue volunteering in Uzbekistan, and learn more about Korean culture. She ended by wishing other Koryo-Saram success and encouraging them to continue learning about Korean culture.  

Milena’s story complicates the idea that belonging requires choosing between countries or cultures. She is Korean and Tajik by descent, introduces herself as Koryo-Saram, feels herself to be part of Uzbekistan, studies Korean culture, and imagines a future that may eventually take her somewhere else entirely. At least for now, she does not see a reason to choose only one.