Crash Landing On Hope

The first K–drama that I watched­—which no K-drama fan will have missed out on—was Crash Landing On You (CLOY). The heart of this show is the romance between a South Korean chaebol heiress, who finds herself in North Korea after a paragliding adventure goes wrong, and a North Korean soldier. Like most people who like K-drama, I loved the show. And suffused in the warm glow of Yoon Se-ri and Ri Jeong-hyeok’s (the lead pair) love story for weeks, I missed them for days after I finished the last episode.

Despite my love for CLOY and having liked the few other K–Dramas that I have watched—special mention for My Liberation Notes which is one of the most well written shows I have ever seen—I am not steeped into the genre. Friends know that I play catch-up with different genres of television, and don’t have the patience to sit through a K–Drama season of sixteen one-hour long episodes. But, with every K–Drama that I have watched, I have come away amazed at the nuanced portrayal of the inner and outer worlds of characters. The dense, emotional and socio-cultural layers explored in the dynamics between man–woman, parent–child, co-workers, siblings, friends—any relationship for that matter—leave you feeling richer because of new meanings that you have discovered, and which have now become a part of your being.

S, a close friend and fellow CLOY lover commented on the female gaze prevalent in K–Dramas. That is understandable because most of them are written by women.
S has watched a lot more K–Dramas than I ever aspire to, so I believe it when she tells me that the evolving K–Drama heroine is more empowered compared to the gendered tropes that were common earlier. A typical theme in older shows would be poor-girl-meeting-rich-boy, falling in love and marrying him as a gateway to a happy, comfortable life. But not anymore. Gender roles are being subverted with leading women depicted in positions of power, and they can be mean and selfish to get what they want as in some recent shows she has watched like Itaewon Class and Start-Up. S finds K–Dramas’ exploration of the emotional worlds of Korean men unparalleled. Shown as gentle, caring, attentive, and sensitive, these are men in touch with their softer side. In fact, I discovered that there is a phrase for it— “Soft masculinity”. With the world-wide popularity of K–Dramas, Korean men are supposedly raising the bar for men around the world. In a phenomenon called the Netflix Effect, hundreds of women from North America and Europe are traveling to South Korea in search of love. Whether they are successful or disappointed is another story altogether.

Are K-Dramas a true reflection of South Korean society?

Kim Ji-young, Born 1982, is the 2016 debut novel of Cho Nam-Joo, a former television scriptwriter. The novel is the story of a young Korean mother who descends into psychosis because of systemic misogyny in South Korean society. Cho Nam-Joo took only two months to write the novel because according to her, “Kim Ji-young's life isn't much different from the one I have lived. That's why I was able to write so quickly without much preparation.” The book sparked a feminist wave in South Korea. But when K-pop singer Irene, a member of a band called Red Velvet said in a March 2018 interview that she’d read the book, irate men burned and shredded her photos. Whatever happened to ‘soft masculinity’?

To understand this some more we must look a bit closer at Korean society. Women’s social position in Korea started deteriorating in the 1392–1897 Joseon period when neo-Confucian ideals were adopted as the state’s ideology. Confucianism espouses a social hierarchy for a harmonious and balanced society — father over the son, ruler over the ruled, and husband over the wife. Especially for women, it has guidelines called the Three Obediences and Four Virtues that ensure their subjugation under men. The Three Obediences require that women "obey the father before marriage, obey the husband after marriage, and obey the first son after the death of the husband". The Four Virtues require sexual morality, proper speech, modest manner, and diligent work. In my research for this piece, I did not come across any subservient Confucian Obediences and Virtues that men should follow for societal harmony.

Coming back to Kim Ji-young, Born 1982, the novel became an international bestseller and was adapted into a hit movie in 2019. One of the film’s screenplay writers said, “Today’s women don’t just want to see women portrayed favourably, they want to see women who can do anything — even if that’s lie, cheat and fight for power.” I am reminded of the show that S mentioned — Itaewon Class. K-Dramas may be getting some things right.

Outside of K–Dramas, fighting for themselves is what Korean women are doing off late, whether it is against patriarchy as a whole or specifically against one of its offshoots — rigid beauty standards for women. Escape the Corset, a feminist movement that gained popularity in 2018 saw women cut their hair short and go barefaced without makeup.

4B, another feminist movement that is radical and smaller in scale could be growing. An extreme movement, it is about cancelling men altogether. 4B is shorthand for four Korean words that all start with bi which means no. The movement stands for no heterosexual romance, no heterosexual sexual relations, no marriage, no childbirth. One reality of South Korea is that it is one of the world’s most technologically advanced countries and a cultural powerhouse. The other is the lived reality of women in this deeply patriarchal country. At 31%, South Korea has the largest gender pay gap in the rich world. Despite this along with their careers, women are expected to slog it out at home too, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the husband, and in-laws’ needs. The state thought it was being supportive and making it easier for women when it issued pregnancy guidelines on its official website (it was taken down after considerable backlash). These had directions in the form of a checklist on things the woman should ensure are taken care of at home before she went into labour, so that her husband doesn’t face trouble when she is away giving birth to another human being. And of course, once this new human comes into her life, she says goodbye to her career.

Mr. Confucius is still going strong in modern Korea.

The saying goes that Art should reflect society. But I find more meaning in what German artist, Paul Klee says— “Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible.” According to S, K–dramas have deep, nuanced lessons on life and values. But one thing that stands out for her is that there is always hope.

Is K–Drama making women visible? Is it giving them hope?