Growing Up Korean But Not a Citizen: The Truth About Multicultural Families in South Korea

If Korea Is Where Your Child Grew Up, Why Are They Still a Foreigner?

I have been living in Korea since 2004.

My child grew up here. Korean was part of our home. Korean schools, Korean friends, Korean holidays, Korean everything. And yet the question of legal belonging — of what it means to truly be from a country — is one I have thought about more times than I can count.

So when I heard about Dr. Mohammad Nazmul Hasan — known to many as Nadim — I understood immediately why his story stayed with people.

A Scientist Korea Trained and Then Lost

Dr. Nadim came to South Korea as an international student. He had already completed his master's degree in Sweden — someone who had clearly demonstrated the ability to thrive in demanding academic environments across different countries and cultures.

He came to Korea, pursued his PhD at the Korea National University of Transportation, built a life here. His family grew. His child was born on Korean soil.

He envisioned a future contributing to Korean society through research and expertise.

It did not work out that way.

Employment challenges, visa limitations, the difficulty of building a stable long-term future as a highly skilled foreign national — eventually, the path forward was clearer somewhere else. Today Dr. Nadim works as a scientist at a research institute in Oklahoma.

Korea trained him. Another country kept him.

I do not say this to criticize Korea. I say it because the pattern is real, it is repeated across many fields and many nationalities, and it raises a question that deserves an honest answer: how many talented people does Korea lose simply because the system was not built to keep them?

The Numbers Behind the Question

This is not just a human interest story. It is a policy problem with a demographic dimension.

South Korea has one of the lowest birth rates in the world. The population is aging rapidly. Businesses, universities, and policymakers have been discussing for years how to attract and retain skilled foreign professionals — people who can contribute to research, industry, healthcare, education, and the broader economy.

And yet the pathways for those professionals to build genuine long-term lives here remain difficult to navigate. Visa categories are rigid. Employment opportunities for foreign graduates are limited in certain fields. And the question of what happens to a family — to children born and raised here — when a foreign parent's immigration status becomes complicated is one that many multicultural families live with every day.

The Child Who Grew Up Korean But Is Not Korean

Here is the part of this conversation that feels most personal to me.

South Korea, like many countries, bases citizenship primarily on the nationality of the parents rather than the place of birth. A child born in Korea to foreign parents does not automatically become a Korean citizen. Countries like the United States and Canada operate differently — birth on the soil confers citizenship. Korea does not follow that principle.

What this means in practice is that a child can grow up here from infancy. They can attend Korean schools from kindergarten through high school. They can speak Korean as their first language. They can celebrate Chuseok and Seollal, study Korean history, sing the national anthem, and have friendships and memories and a whole childhood that is entirely, completely Korean.

And still be legally foreign.

I have watched this happen in our own multicultural community. Children who are, by every lived measure, Korean — who would feel lost and foreign in the Philippines or Indonesia or wherever their parents came from — carrying a legal status that says otherwise.

As they get older, that gap between lived identity and legal status starts to create real problems. Administrative hurdles, employment complications, residency questions that their Korean classmates never have to think about.

The issue is not just paperwork. It is about who gets to belong to the place they call home.

A More Diverse Korea Is Already Here

The debate about citizenship and belonging sometimes gets discussed as if it is about a future Korea — a Korea that might one day become more diverse and need to figure out how to handle that.

But that Korea is already here.

International marriages, foreign professionals, migrant workers, multicultural families — they are woven into Korean society in ways that were barely imaginable thirty years ago. The children of those families are in Korean classrooms right now. They are growing up, entering the workforce, building their own lives.

The question is not whether Korea will be a diverse society. It already is. The question is whether the legal and social frameworks will evolve to reflect that reality.

Where This Conversation Is Going

I want to be clear: I am not arguing that Korea should simply adopt birthright citizenship tomorrow. These are complex policy questions with legitimate perspectives on multiple sides. Immigration and citizenship policy involves economic considerations, social cohesion, security concerns, and questions of national identity that communities need to work through together.

What I am saying is that the conversation is happening — and it matters.

Korean policymakers have already introduced various reforms to support foreign residents and multicultural families over the years. More changes are likely coming as demographic pressures intensify. The direction of those changes will say something important about what kind of society Korea is choosing to become.

A Final Word

Dr. Nadim's story is not unusual. It is one version of a story that plays out over and over in communities like ours — talented people who came to Korea, contributed to Korea, built families in Korea, and then found the door to a permanent future here harder to open than they expected.

For those of us raising children in Korea, or who have spent decades here building our lives, these questions are not abstract policy debates.

They are personal.

If a child grows up speaking Korean, dreaming in Korean, calling Korea home — at what point does the legal category of "foreigner" stop reflecting reality?

I do not have a simple answer to that question. I am not sure anyone does.

But I think it is one of the most important questions Korea will need to answer in the years ahead. And I think the people best positioned to be part of that conversation are the ones already living it — including the multicultural families who have made this country their home, one ordinary day at a time.

About the Author

English Instructor in South Korea | 22 Years of Teaching Experience

Majella Pagayon is the founder of Pinoy Sarang, a community platform dedicated to helping Filipinos navigate life, work, education, and immigration in South Korea. She regularly writes practical guides, safety tips, and educational resources for Filipinos living and working abroad.

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