Bundled in coats and scarves, they chant in unison, their fists clenched toward the sky. They are some of the last remaining comfort women, those who endured rape and torture at the hands of Japanese soldiers during World War II.

Every Wednesday for the past 15 years, they demonstrate in front of the Japanese Embassy in Seoul, pleading for an apology that never comes.  

Panning the scene with her video camera, filmmaker Hein Seok stands on the sidelines. Two years ago, the recent CalArts graduate and Fulbright award winner journeyed thousands of miles to South Korea to document the lives of former comfort women residing in what they call their final resting place. 

Her harrowing documentary, “House of Sharing,” a project for her senior thesis, emerged just in time to help inspire change.

On Feb. 15, three survivors testified against Japan at a congressional hearing in Washington. A new resolution, which at press time had yet to be endorsed by the House, urges the Japanese government to “formally acknowledge, apologize and accept historical responsibility in a clear and unequivocal manner” for the mass brutalities. If passed, the resolution could grant the survivors their final wish.

Beginning in the 1930s, an estimated 200,000 girls were forced or tricked into sexual slavery by the Japanese military, some as young as 15. About 90 percent were from Korea.   

Former comfort women demonstrate in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul every Wednesday.

Those who remain are now in their 80s and 90s. Through her lens, Seok shares their stories.     

Nestled between lush trees in the outskirts of Seoul lies an unassuming establishment called the House of Sharing. The buildings include a historical museum, a temple and two brick dormitories, home to nine survivors. Founded in 1992, the mission of the House of Sharing is to educate the public on the past atrocities and to provide the former slaves with a safe, nurturing place to live.

When Seok was attending high school in Korea, she heard of villagers protesting the opening of the House of Sharing. They thought such a place would tarnish the image of the conservative community. Seok couldn’t understand why.

Her interest in the subject matter was further fueled in college as she leafed through dissertations, government documents and testimonies, trying to get a grasp on it all. She wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

In 2005, she was finally pushed into action when she heard about the passing of Soon-Duk Kim, one of the most well-known and vocal comfort women. She decided to turn her research and interest into a documentary, showing a real-life portrait of former comfort women in today’s world.   

Survivor Koon-Ja Kim (center) holds gifts from audience members after sharing her story in Los Angeles.

“Everyone is slowly disappearing,” says Seok, 29, who spent four months filming in Korea. “The problem is that people think that this is over. To the public, it’s past news.”

When Seok first met the survivors at the House of Sharing, she was taken by their warm personalities. She learned that they don’t like to be called comfort women, a euphemism created by the Japanese. They would rather be called halmeonis, the Korean word for grandmothers, a piercing detail since many could never bear children, due to shots to prevent venereal diseases.