WORLD-DO

A Standing Out Man Spectacle in Yeongdeungpo: The Story Behind the “헌법기각 (Rejected)” Hat

Jaeeun Hong
Editor-in-Chief (Executive Editor) / Managing Editor
Updated
Apr 3, 2025 1:00 AM
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 By Jaeeun Hong, Waldo in Community Desk

YEONGDEUNGPO, SEOUL—When President Yoon declared emergency martial law in early December 2024, many South Koreans saw it as a dangerous overreach that threatened hard-won democratic freedoms. Calls for impeachment soon erupted nationwide. Yet among the large crowds demanding the President’s impeachment, rising anti-impeachment sprang up right here in Yeongdeungpo, attracting thousands who believe impeachment would plunge the nation into deeper turmoil.

That’s where I met an old guy, a seemingly over 50-year-old street performer whose vivid attire instantly pulled me in. He wore an electric-red jacket trimmed with gold tassels, along with bright orange sunglasses. A sticker reading “헌법기각 (Rejected)” was plastered to a homemade visor on his cap. In this sea of dark winter coats, Kim’s outfit blazed like a neon beacon.

“All this impeachment talk is ripping our country apart,” Kim said, pausing to wave his handmade placard. “We need to fix our problems through debate, not by throwing out leaders in the middle of a crisis.”

A Rapidly Growing Protest

The scene around Kim felt like a festival of political expression. According to local authorities, nearly 50,000 demonstrators gathered here in Yeongdeungpo alone, chanting slogans such as “Stop the Steal” and hoisting banners that urged the National Assembly to reconsider impeachment. This local rally was part of a broader trend: polls suggest around 35% of the public wants to delay impeachment, citing fears of a power vacuum—though a larger portion (over 50%) still backs immediate removal of the President.

Critics of the martial law declaration argue it has already eroded civil liberties, but attendees at this counter-rally believe the President’s drastic step was necessary to prevent chaos. For them, impeaching him now would only deepen political disputes. They see themselves as guardians of stability, trying to keep the nation from sliding into what some call “uncontrollable factional warfare.”

“Look, martial law isn’t ideal,” Kim told me with a friendly, almost avuncular tone. “But rushing to impeach a president elected by the people will do more damage. We should talk this out— not toss aside democracy.”

The Performer Who Can’t Be Missed

In the midst of the chanting crowds, Kim Hyo-jun is impossible to ignore. LED lights run along his shoulders, flashing with every step. He also carries a small drum emblazoned with the Korean flag, which he strikes in time with the crowd’s rhythmic chanting.

“As a street performer, I know you need something flashy to stand out,” Kim explained, tapping the drum. “A protest this big can swallow your message unless you make a statement. So I dress like this to remind people why we’re all here: to protect our votes, our voices, and our unity.”

His costume isn’t just for show. Kim says the gold tassels symbolize hope; the small flags stitched along his collar reflect a collective Korean identity that transcends partisan divides.

“People keep saying democracy’s at risk,” he mused, straightening a sticker on his hat. “They’re not wrong. But my point is that democracy means everybody gets a say—including us who believe impeachment right now would be reckless.”

A Nation on Edge

To give some context for readers unfamiliar with the recent crisis: over the last few months, South Korea’s political climate has grown tense. When President Yoon announced martial law in December—something unheard of since the 1980s—opposition groups labeled it a blatant attack on constitutional order. Protests calling for his immediate impeachment spread across the country, particularly in downtown Seoul.

However, the backlash was not universal. Some supporters argue that with heated disputes over trade policy, immigration, and national security, the President’s extreme measures were meant to control unrest. They warn that removing him could spark a larger power struggle. Political analysts are now calling this one of the most significant constitutional standoffs in modern Korean history.

“Everyone’s anxious,” says a policy researcher who joined Kim’s rally out of concern for the economy.
“Foreign investors are spooked. The stock market took a hit right after the martial law announcement. Another leadership vacuum could shake our financial stability even more.”

Finding “Waldo” in the Crowd

As a reporter for The Waldo in Community, I always wonder: “Where’s Waldo?” That answer, on this particular day, is definitely Kim Hyo-jun—whose bright-red silhouette is impossible to miss. He leads the crowd in call-and-response chants:

“President Yoon!” he shouts. “We protect!” they echo, raising Korean and American flags high. 

During a break, Kim offered me a flyer explaining why he believes impeachment isn’t the best path forward. I asked whether he worries about supporting a President who declared martial law—an act many see as trampling civil liberties. He just shrugged:

“I get the criticism,” he admitted. “But I believe we can debate the legality of martial law in the courts, rather than rip away a presidency people voted for. This is my right to speak up, just like it’s someone else’s right to disagree.”

Bracing for the Outcome

Night fell and temperatures dropped, but Kim kept beating his drum. Lanterns lit the sidewalks; makeshift stages popped up for impassioned speeches. An air of anticipation filled the district—rumors suggest the National Assembly might fast-track impeachment. Yet Kim seemed unshaken, continuing to dance, swirl, and rally passersby.

“I’m not trying to silence anyone,” he told me, “I just don’t want to see another president thrown out without a proper plan. The world’s watching us. Let’s figure this out without destroying what people chose at the ballot box.”

While pressure to impeach grows daily, so does resistance from those who see it as too abrupt. Whether the President will be removed remains an open question. But one thing is clear: in this corner of Seoul, Kim Hyo-jun and many others are standing firm, insisting that halting impeachment is the best way to defend their vision of democracy—even if they have to do it with drums, tassels, and neon lights.

Reporting live from Yeongdeungpo for Waldo in Community.