In Human Acts, the trackpants that Dong-ho and Jeong-dae wear symbolize the youthful innocence that was destroyed during the Gwangju massacre. Even for middle schoolers, both Dong-ho and Jeong-dae are small for their age, meaning the exercise suits they wear as gym uniforms hang off them. But these oversized trackpants, initially representative of these boys’ normal, playful, childhood (and of their physical vulnerability) take on new meaning after the 5:18 crackdown. When soldiers shoot down Jeong-dae during a protest, Dong-ho can only identify his friend’s corpse by its pair of “light blue tracksuit bottoms, identical to [his] own.” Later, after Dong-ho has been similarly murdered, everyone from Dong-ho’s mother to the writer herself pictures the beloved boy in his oversized trackpants, an image that speaks to the adolescent phase Dong-ho was in when his was life was taken. Yet if the recurring symbolism of trackpants symbolizes the tragedy of youth cut short, it also provides a sense of strength and continuity to those who outlive Dong-ho. When the writer gets caught in a snowbank, she pictures Dong-ho in his trackpants and finds herself newly able to withstand the cold. And when Eun-sook sees a young male actor wearing a tracksuit, the memories of Dong-ho embolden her: “scalding tears burn from [her] eyes” at the sight, “but she does not look away.” In other words, trackpants represent the inhumanity of Dong-ho and Jeong-dae’s murders, but they also represent the way the boys’ memories ignite and inspire those that survived them.
Trackpants Quotes in Human Acts
Eun-sook closes her eyes. She does not want to see his face.
After you died I couldn’t hold a funeral, so my life became a funeral.
After you were wrapped in a tarpaulin and carted away in a garbage truck.
After sparkling jets of water sprayed unforgivably from the fountain.
Everywhere the lights of the temple shrines are burning.
In the flowers that bloom in spring, in the snowflakes. In the evenings that draw each day to a close. Sparks from the candles, burning in empty drinks bottles.
Scalding tears burn from Eun-sook’s open eyes, but she does not wipe them away. She glares fiercely at the boy’s face, at the movement of his silenced lips.
Middle-school boys all had their hair cut short back then, didn’t they, but it seems to have gone out of fashion now. That’s how I knew it had to be you—I’d know that round little chestnut of a head anywhere. It was you, no mistake. Your brother’s handme-down school uniform was like a sack on you, wasn’t it? It took you till the third year to finally grow into it. In the mornings when you slipped out through the main gate with your book bag, and your clothes so neat and clean, ah, I could have gazed on that sight all day. This kid didn’t have any book bag with him; the hands swinging by his sides were empty. Well, he must have put it down somewhere. There was no mistaking those toothpick arms, poking out of your short shirt sleeves […] It was definitely you.