The Untold Role of Women in Korea’s Ancestral Rites

The Invisible Pillars of Tradition

South Korea is a country often associated with rapid modernization, digital technology, and sleek futuristic aesthetics. But beneath this hypermodern exterior lies a deep reverence for tradition, particularly in the form of ancestral rites, known as Jesa. Performed during major holidays and death anniversaries, Jesa is seen as a sacred duty that maintains familial bonds across generations. However, what often goes unnoticed is that the ritual, as practiced today, relies heavily on the invisible labor of women—a truth that rarely receives public acknowledgment.

 

While male family members typically lead the ceremony in front of ancestral tablets, women play a crucial role in preparing and supporting every aspect of the event. From early morning grocery shopping to cooking, cleaning, organizing, and managing tense family dynamics, women’s roles in Korean ancestral rites are both foundational and underrecognized. In this article, we examine the hidden architecture of Jesa—the roles women have historically played, the cultural implications of their exclusion from formal ritual leadership, and the way this tradition is evolving in the face of feminist critique and social change.

 

Historical Foundations: Confucianism, Patriarchy, and the Gendered Divide

To understand the marginalization of women in Jesa, we must examine the influence of Neo-Confucianism during the Joseon Dynasty. As Confucian ideals solidified into state ideology, family rituals became tightly bound to a patriarchal framework. Lineage was patrilineal; only sons could inherit the family line and conduct ancestral ceremonies. The religious and spiritual duties of the family were designated to the male head of household, while women were confined to the domestic sphere.

 

Women were tasked with “inner work” (안사), seen as virtuous but unworthy of public acknowledgment. They handled meal preparation, table arrangement, and ensured that every detail—from incense sticks to seasonal side dishes—was perfectly in place. Yet they were not allowed to participate in the prayers, bowing rituals, or even be mentioned in the family genealogical records (족보).

 

This division of labor did not evolve by accident. It was deliberately constructed to maintain social hierarchy, with men positioned as carriers of public legacy and women relegated to silent support roles. The gender inequality in Jesa became so normalized that most families never questioned its logic. Even today, some families exclude women entirely from participation, despite relying on their labor to sustain the tradition.

Emotional and Physical Labor: The Hidden Cost of Ritual

The emotional toll of Jesa is rarely discussed, especially in connection to women. Many Korean women describe the days leading up to Jesa as stressful, exhausting, and emotionally taxing. The labor required includes not only cooking multiple dishes from scratch but also cleaning the house, preparing ancestral tablets, buying ingredients, and managing logistics—all while being expected to remain cheerful and respectful.

 

What makes this burden more complex is that it often goes unacknowledged. Male relatives receive praise for leading a 30-minute ceremony, while the women who spent two days preparing are barely thanked. This dynamic fosters resentment, particularly among daughters-in-law (며느리), who are often expected to prove their dedication to the family through perfect execution of these tasks.

 

Moreover, the emotional burden of intergenerational expectation weighs heavily on women. Mistakes are criticized, food placement is scrutinized, and comparisons with other families are common. Women often find themselves in the middle of tension between tradition and modernity, between personal belief and family obligation.

 

Resistance, Redefinition, and Generational Rebellion

As South Korea experiences a generational shift, women—particularly younger women—are beginning to question these roles. The feminist movement in Korea has gained momentum over the past decade, and Jesa has become a site of symbolic resistance. Online communities are filled with posts from women refusing to participate, negotiating new family arrangements, or introducing alternative memorial practices.

 

Some couples now opt for simplified rituals, like lighting a candle and sharing stories about their ancestors rather than performing the full Jesa ceremony. Others rotate responsibilities between spouses, with men participating in food preparation and altar setup. A growing number of families now allow daughters to lead the rite, a practice that was unthinkable even 20 years ago.

 

This process of ritual redefinition is not simply a rejection of tradition but a transformation of it. Feminism in Korea does not seek to destroy cultural identity but to modernize it—to make rituals like Jesa meaningful and sustainable in a world where women are no longer willing to bear invisible burdens.

 

The Rise of Jesa Reform: Academic, Legal, and Social Change

Outside the home, institutions are also starting to reevaluate Jesa through a gendered lens. Korean scholars of anthropology and history have begun to document the unspoken labor of women in rituals. Some universities offer courses on gender and tradition, including Jesa as a key topic. Feminist scholars are actively pushing for reinterpretation of traditional Confucian texts and rituals to reflect modern values of equity and inclusion.

 

Legally, there have been recent court cases involving disputes over ritual inheritance rights, including whether daughters have the legal authority to lead Jesa. These rulings have sparked national debates and led to wider recognition of gender roles in ancestral ceremonies.

 

Meanwhile, media—particularly Korean dramas and documentaries—have also begun to depict the tensions surrounding Jesa. Characters grapple with gender expectations, family disputes, and the desire to honor ancestors without losing personal autonomy. These cultural reflections not only validate the lived experiences of many Korean women but also help bring visibility to issues long hidden beneath the surface.

 

Jesa in the Korean Diaspora: Women as Cultural Carriers

Outside of Korea, Jesa has taken on new forms, especially among Korean diaspora communities in North America, Europe, and Southeast Asia. These communities often adapt rituals to suit new cultural contexts, and in doing so, many unintentionally challenge gender norms.

 

In multicultural households, it’s not uncommon for non-Korean family members—sometimes women married into Korean families—to lead or co-lead Jesa. Others develop hybrid rituals that combine Western and Korean elements, such as using photo displays, recorded messages, or even Zoom-based memorial gatherings.

 

In these cases, women often serve as cultural anchors, ensuring that Korean traditions are maintained across generations and borders. Unlike in Korea, where strict adherence to tradition is often enforced by elders, diaspora communities tend to be more flexible, allowing for women to lead rituals without social stigma. This demonstrates that when freed from patriarchal enforcement, Jesa naturally evolves to become more inclusive and collaborative.

 

The Future of Jesa: From Gendered Burden to Shared Heritage

The question is no longer whether women will continue to participate in Jesa, but under what terms and in what roles. As societal values shift toward equity, mental health, and respect for individual choice, Jesa will inevitably change. And it must. No ritual can survive without relevance.

 

The future of Jesa lies in transparency and shared responsibility. Younger generations are not rejecting tradition; they are simply refusing to inherit inequality. Families that adapt—by recognizing women’s labor, distributing tasks evenly, and allowing inclusive participation—will preserve the spirit of Jesa far more effectively than those that cling to outdated structures.

 

The essence of Jesa is not who bows first or who cooks best. It is remembrance, reverence, and connection. These values are universal. They can be upheld in many forms—as long as the ritual is grounded in mutual respect. And in this reimagining, women are not only participants—they are leaders, reformers, and protectors of tradition.

 

Honoring the Unhonored

For centuries, Korean women have been the silent architects of ancestral memory. They have cooked, cleaned, prayed, and preserved—without names in the books or seats at the altar. Jesa has long depended on their labor while denying them recognition.

 

Today, that is beginning to change. As feminism challenges old hierarchies and families grow more aware of historical imbalances, Jesa is being rewritten. The ritual no longer belongs to one gender, one generation, or one way of doing things. It belongs to all who seek connection with their lineage.

 

To honor the unhonored is perhaps the most fitting evolution of a ritual meant to remember. And in doing so, Korea doesn't lose its tradition—it finally understands its full story.