With buoy and camera, millennial diver redefines life as Jeju 'haenyeo'

Korea Herald

28-05-2025

Through digital storytelling of her daily dives, thirty-something 'haenyeo' Lee Ah-ran helps carry the island's fading tradition of free-diving women
For centuries, women on South Korea's Jeju Island have dived deep into the sea to harvest seafood to provide for their families.
Called "haenyeo," which literally means 'sea women,' they rely solely on breath-holding techniques, diving as deep as 10 meters and staying underwater for up to two minutes, without the aid of breathing equipment. Their gear is minimal: a simple diving mask, lead weights around the waist to help them descend and a buoy called a "tewak" — a basketball-sized float with a net attached beneath to hold their catch.
But in the village of Hagwi-ri, eastern Jeju, one haenyeo carries something extra into the water: a camera.
At 32, Lee Ah-ran is the youngest haenyeo in the village. Underwater, she harvests sea cucumbers, abalone and other marine delicacies just like her older peers.
Above the surface, however, she transforms into a social media storyteller.
Her Instagram account @_go.rani. has attracted more than 50,000 followers, drawing attention to the daily lives of haenyeo and the beauty of Jeju's ocean landscapes.
Lee is a graduate of the Beophwan Haenyeo School in Seogwipo, one of the two institutions on Jeju established to train the next generation of haenyeo. She went on to complete a three-month internship with the Hagwi-ri village fisheries cooperative to become a full-fledged haenyeo.
Since haenyeo culture has been inscribed on UNESCO's list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, South Korean authorities protect the island's female divers with various measures. A state-issued license is issued to divers who meet several criteria: at least 60 days of diving per year, a minimum of 1.2 million won ($842) in annual earnings from diving and approval from both the local fisheries cooperative and all the other haenyeo in Hagwi-ri.
Lee emphasized that being a haenyeo is about more than just diving deep or holding one's breath. The true essence, she said, lies not in how far you can dive, but in how well you rise together with others.
'At haenyeo school, we learn various techniques — breath control, duck diving, seafood harvesting,' she told The Korea Herald. 'But honestly, what's more important is understanding the culture and philosophy of the haenyeo community.'
During her internship, Lee joined senior haenyeo in the sea, where her teamwork was closely observed.
'The fisheries cooperative evaluates how well you work as part of a team,' she said. 'That's because no haenyeo dives alone. We enter the water together, hold our breath in rhythm and share both the risks and the rewards.'
Before taking the plunge into haenyeo life, Lee spent nearly a decade as a dental hygienist and in marketing at a corporation. So when she began this new chapter, it felt natural to document and share it on social media. Through photos and videos, she has captured everything from "muljil," the Korean term for free-diving for marine products, to everyday moments with senior divers, as well as the striking natural beauty of Jeju's coastline and its seasonal canola flower fields in full bloom.
"I didn't start with the goal of becoming a content creator. I simply wanted to capture the beauty of Jeju and and how it makes me feel. Over time, diving became a huge part of my life, and that naturally turned into (online) content,' she said.
'Now, it's not really about proving I'm a haenyeo, but more about recording this life with pride.'
Her day as a haenyeo flows with the sea. She dives for roughly three hours each day, adjusting her schedule based on tide levels, currents and wind, which decide whether she enters the water in the early morning or afternoon.
Given the unpredictable conditions at sea, diving alone doesn't provide a steady income, so many haenyeo rely on side jobs like seafood sales or restaurant work to make ends meet, according to Lee.
'It's frustrating when ocean conditions improve and I finally get a chance to dive, but it overlaps with my side job. When that happens over and over again, it can be exhausting,' she said.
'But the fact that diving into the sea with just my breath and returning with something in hand gives me a deep sense of pride. It also feels really rewarding to know that I'm helping keep one of the island's oldest traditions alive.'
'Baby' haenyeo makes new waves
Haenyeo and their culture is facing a quiet but pressing crisis: The numbers of divers are shrinking and their average age is rising fast.
According to data from the Jeju Provincial Government, the number of active haenyeo dropped to 2,839 in 2024, a decrease of 216 — or 7.6 percent — from the previous year. That figure represents a nearly 40 percent plunge from 2014, when there were 4,377 divers. Today, over 90 percent of active haenyeo — some 2,565 women — are 60 or older.
As the only haenyeo in her 30s in the village, Lee has earned the affectionate nickname, 'the baby,' from her senior colleagues. But she is no passive apprentice. Lee is reshaping what it means to be a haenyeo — not just by diving, but by documenting, sharing and advocating.
This millennial haenyeo plays a unique role in the community by documenting marine life with an underwater camera, providing data on species and density that gives senior divers a clearer idea of what to expect before entering the water.
On land, Lee transforms from diver to digital storyteller. Her social media posts and videos introduce her village and Jeju's scenic coastlines to a growing global audience.
'I hope Jeju's haenyeo culture is seen not as a tourist attraction, but as a living heritage. To make that happen, I believe it's important for haenyeo themselves to actively share their stories and communicate with the outside world. I'm more than willing to play my part in that,' she said.
'With a tewak in the sea and a camera on land, I move between two worlds, crafting a life that's truly mine.'
Having experienced the effects of climate change firsthand in the water, she now sees raising awareness about the fragile marine ecosystem through social media as one of her personal missions.
'In the summer, water temperatures often exceed 32 degrees Celsius, disrupting the growth of seaweed and marine species. Climate change and marine pollution are real and pressing issues for those of us who depend on the ocean to make a living,' she said.
'As a haenyeo and as someone living in these times, I feel a deep responsibility to speak out. Whether it's joining environmental campaigns or picking up trash, I believe haenyeo must be the voice for the silent ocean.'
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