Non-Sexual & Non-Romantic K-Drama Heroines
If you’ve read my blog or know me personally, you know that I’ve been a BTS fan for almost two years. Through BTS, I’ve cultivated a desire to learn more about Korean culture, language, and even food. But although I’ve spent a lot of time slowly learning about and appreciating all of these things, I only recently started branching out into other Korean media by embracing the K-Drama. If you’re unfamiliar with K-Drama, the name tells you the basics: these are Korean dramas (hence the “K”) of various types, whether television or movies, covering various themes and topics.
In general, K-Media is diverse and broad, so K-Dramas go
beyond merely the “drama” genre, and span to comedy, romance, or any other
genre you can think of. Of course, most of this media is in Korean starring
Korean actors and singers in the lead roles, but the other thing that makes
them unique is that so many of them are extremely good. In
general, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen television shows or movies that are
so uniformly well-written, brilliantly acted, and entirely original. In a world
where we’ve spent years getting sequels, spin-offs, and remakes, K-Drama
manages to breathe new life into concepts and ideas, even when they’re based on
something preexisting.
But in addition to being creative and captivating, I’ve seen
several K-Dramas that have surprised me in a very unique and personal way – they
have been wholly devoid of sexual content and/or have presented relatable
characters whose stories are not defined by sex or romance. This trend has
surprised and delighted me so much that I knew I had to do a blog post about
it, discussing three examples of female characters in particular who manage to
be non-sexual and non-romantic, but also manage to dodge every trope in the
book while they’re doing it, coming across as effortlessly strong, complex, and
relatable characters.
Squid Game (minor spoilers)
Kang Sae-byeok
from Squid Game
If you’ve read any of my “Ace Safe Space” posts, you may be
surprised to hear that I absolutely loved this show, since in those posts I
often discuss how squeamish I am when it comes to things that are overly gory.
And I won’t lie to you, fam, Squid Game is very violent and very bloody;
thus I ended up spending a lot of time peering out of the cracks between my
fingers while watching it. But for as brutal, terrifying, and sometimes
straight-up heartbreaking (if you know, you know) as it is, it’s also full of
extraordinary characters that demand to be watched. The main character Seong
Gi-hun is an extremely likeable and relatable character, played with intense
emotion and utter brilliance by actor Lee Jung-Jae, and the entire ensemble
cast is extraordinary. But if you’re looking for a tough as nails female
character, look no farther than Kang Sae-byeok.
Sae-byeok is a North Korean defector whose family has been
desperately trying to escape the country to find freedom in South Korea. While
Sae-byeok and her younger brother Cheol manage to make it, their father dies
during the dangerous crossing, while their mother is captured and sent back to
North Korea. As a result, Sae-byeok is in the games in the hopes of getting
enough money to finally rescue her mother, get her brother out of a children’s
home, and build a life for the three of them. At first glance, she seems
like a stoic and emotionless character, but this is quickly shown to be a tough
exterior she wears as she fights to try and better her family’s situation.
Because of this, her family is the crux of her story, rather than any
type of partner or relationship.
In general, this is something I really found myself
appreciating about Squid Game, because nearly all of the deepest
relationships in the series are based around platonic bonds – whether that be
between family members or friends. While there are competitors in the
game who are married (and even a married couple that’s there together, which
goes about as poorly as it sounds like it would), most of the emotion of the series is
based on hoping characters will be able to help each other or that they can better the lives of family members – as is the case when we see Sae-byeok with Cheol.
If you’ve read my Tropes series of posts, you know I often
rage against the tendency media has of portraying non-sexual or non-romantic characters
as fundamentally cold and lacking as people. Often times, it’s shown that this
coldness makes them unlikable, and they need to be fixed somehow if they ever
hope to have normal relationships. I was immensely pleased to see this
sidestepped with Sae-byeok, because out of all the characters on the show, I
feel it would have been easiest to fall into that trap with her, making her a
one-dimensional and stereotypically cold young woman without substance who
finds emotion within the hardships of the games. And while she is shown to have
emotions related to the things and people around her (again, if you know, you
know), I feel like the series never shows this as something she needed to
discover, but rather something that was always there that we should have seen
and expected from her based on the interactions she has with her brother and others.
Obviously, given the nature of Squid Game, it’s not
as though a character like Sae-byeok exactly has room to develop a romantic
relationship, given her most important goal is, you know, trying not to die.
But I can’t help but feel like another show would take the backstory of a
character like her and would decide the audience could only really connect with
her if she wasn’t as stoic and/or had a romantic or sexual relationship she was
trying to get back to, rather than a parent and sibling; or, if not, would
punish her in some way for her stoicism. That’s why I as an aromantic asexual
woman chose to focus on Sae-byeok in particular and why I found her such a
refreshing character – especially because she’s not alone. Even just having the
brave and determined Kang Sae-byeok as a stand-alone character from K-Drama for
me to relate to would have been enough, but as it turned out, she was just the
first I would get to experience.
Dr. Song Ji-an
from The Silent Sea
Although not nearly as high-octane as Squid Game, The
Silent Sea is a chilling and cerebral mystery – still intense and brutal at
times, albeit less bloody – with tension that calls to mind the 1986 film Aliens,
but in very unique and different ways. What really killed the previous crew of
the Balhae Lunar Research Station? What dangers lurk there now? Among the crewmembers left to answer these
questions is our main female character, an astrobiologist named Dr. Song Ji-an.
Like Sae-byeok, Dr. Song is a bit of a stoic character, but this isn’t shown as
a character flaw. Also like Sae-byeok, the main relationship that is explored
for Dr. Song is a sibling relationship. In this case, most of the tension in
her life and thus in her story centers around the recent death of her older
sister, who was part of the deceased team of researchers in the very same lunar base that Dr.
Song and the crew now find themselves trapped in.
Dr. Song comes into the mission with a great deal of regret
in not having been able to properly say goodbye to her sister, and we see that
play out in her story. I’ve grown sadly accustomed to stories that act like stoic
characters don’t know how to feel at all, rather than seeing characters whose stoicism is written to show they’re processing extreme
emotion and hardship in this manner. Too often, the thing that brings their walls down is a
romantic or sexual relationship. Again, although the circumstances of this
story make it that survival is far more necessary than sex or romance, the fact
that it’s neither included in Dr. Song’s story at all nor framed as a defect is
noteworthy.
In fact, the only time such a thing is even remotely
approached is when the crew’s medical doctor – the other female crewmember
on the mission – mentions to Dr. Song that some of the men on the crew are “eye
candy.” It’s a statement that Dr. Song expresses absolutely no interest in,
which again, I find interesting. It may seem small, but moments like these are tiny
character establishing moments, and too often I’ve seen instances where they
are used to set up a character for later failure. With a disappointing
frequency, characters who express zero interest in even something as small and
harmless as “enjoying the eye candy” are often made out to be unsympathetic and
unrelatable because of it, or, in cases where they are likeable characters,
they are usually made to be the punchline in many situations. Again, that’s not
exactly likely to happen in the course of a tense and serious sci-fi thriller,
but it’s not outside the realm of possibility. In The Silent Sea’s
case, it never decides to make Dr. Song the punchline because of this, nor does
it frame the other character as being in the wrong either. Rather, it allows
them both to be established as different but nevertheless valid personalities,
rather than framing one as correct and one as incorrect. I really appreciate
this and wish it was something we could see more of.
Although in some ways I do wish there was more
to see from Dr. Song, I also appreciate how her story unfolds and
how she as a character operates. Something I've noticed (and
subsequently adored) about the K-Dramas I’ve watched is that they do a
remarkable job with pacing. Think about how frequently you’ve
consumed a piece of media and found yourself wondering why the plot ever felt
the need to slow down to add a nonsensical or shoe-horned in romance plotline
that did nothing for the story. I know it’s happened to me quite a lot, even in
media with similar concepts to these where, despite the intense situation, we
have to establish romantic or sexual relationships for the characters, either
in the present or in flashbacks. Thus, to find a show that manages to sidestep that
expectation and never take its eyes from the plot is a delight. As I said above
when discussing Squid Game, I’ve grown used to the trend of justifying a
character’s motive with a romantic or sexual relationship, which makes it even
more marvelous that it never happened, and that Dr. Song’s story is instead
focused on her grief and regret related to a sibling. And this doesn't stop with just her - even the motivation for
the captain of the ship centers around succeeding in the mission in order to
help his critically ill daughter rather than specifically being focused on
returning to a romance. For that to happen in one show is great; for it to
happen in two shows is a dream come true. But three shows? That might be
something close to a miracle.
Min Hye-jin
from Hellbound
As if Kang Sae-byeok and Dr. Song Ji-an weren’t incredible enough already, I managed to save the most bad-ass of our three female characters today for last – Min Hye-jin from the Netflix series Hellbound. The series, as the name implies, follows an unexpected phenomenon in which people are told of their impending demise by a supernatural being, as well as the bone-chilling detail that they are going to Hell. When their time comes, enormous and terrifying creatures come to swiftly and brutally take possession of them, leaving behind nothing but charred bodies and horrified spectators.
Naturally, people don’t believe this until it begins
happening more and more frequently. At that point, a fledgling religion known
as the New Truth starts to gain traction, under the guidance of a charismatic
young leader. This leader tries to bring a sort of spiritual catharsis to these
shocking and brutal deaths – which become known as “demonstrations” – by making
the assumption that all of these people must be sinners and encouraging people
to live upright and righteous lives so the same doesn’t happen to them.
Meanwhile, Min Hye-jin makes her entrance to the story as a lawyer, whose life
is changed when a woman comes to her law firm. This woman has been given the
warning of her own impending death and has been offered an enormous sum of
money in exchange for the New Truth being allowed to broadcast her
demonstration on live television.
Hye-jin tries to help the woman as best she can, offering us
our first clear moment of doubt regarding what the New Truth is saying about “sinners”
and these hellbound proclamations. We also see how good and decent Hye-jin is
while she’s doing this, and the lengths she goes to in order to protect
innocent people from the shocking turn of events. When it comes to her personal
life, Hye-jin is no less self-sacrificing and noble. Once again, we see a
character whose focus is not a romantic relationship or a spouse or anything of
the kind; rather, it’s her connection to her terminally ill mother, whom she is
striving to protect even as her involvement in the case puts her in the
crosshairs of a sinister group called The Arrowhead, which violently upholds
the edicts of the New Truth.
Hellbound is an absolutely wild ride with insane
twists and turns. Much like Squid Game, it has its bloody and disturbing
moments (every demonstration is not only gory, but heart-wrenching), but is so
well-written and well-acted that there were many times I found myself holding
my breath. As such, I won’t spoil Hye-jin’s story arc much, but I can
definitely confirm she goes from an everyday lawyer to an absolute fierce and
determined protector, one of the coolest characters – male or female – that
I’ve seen in a very long time. I always love and appreciate seeing completely
kick butt female characters, and I do love when we can see fierce warrior women
who can be both tough and romantic (ex: Cassandra Pentaghast from the game Dragon Age: Inquisition, one of my absolute fave characters ever). But it’s also
extremely refreshing as an AroAce woman to see a character like Hye-jin, for
whom romance is never mentioned or hinted at, as is true of any of the female
characters I’ve discussed in this post.
Just like Sae-byeok and Dr. Song, Hye-jin’s story is allowed to be non-sexual/non-romantic without this being a reflection on her worth as a person. Instead, we are shown a great deal about her character based on how she interacts with people, ranging from her sick mother to the woman she tries to help at the law firm. As the story goes on and things become more and more intense, Hye-jin practically becomes something of a vigilante, fighting to protect people from the terror and violence inflicted by The Arrowhead, and to shelter them from the cruelty of those who believe the condemned must be sinners. I wouldn’t describe Hye-jin as a stoic like our other two heroines, but like them, we are shown her value as an individual, and that value is not linked to whether or not she has a relationship in her life. Rather, we get to know her as a character through her actions, and we see her emotion, her goodness, her desire to help people, and the depths that her character is allowed to have as she progresses on her journey. As a result, she is one of the most compelling characters I’ve seen in a long time – or at least since my last K-Drama.
---------------------
In the case of these shows, I’m basing this analysis on only
a few episodes – all of them have only done one season so far, seasons which
consist of nine episode, eight episodes, and six episodes respectively. As
such, I know there’s no guarantee that these characters won’t eventually get relationships
or will have something revealed in their past about a relationship. While I of
course desperately hope that won’t happen, I find myself trusting K-Media far
more than I trust most American media. That trust is actually how this entire
post started, stemming from a conversation with my dad where we expressed our
belief that most American media would not have been nearly as willing to let
these women stay unattached. I trust that, whatever happens to these
characters, their writers and creators will treat their stories with respect
and will write them well, and that trust is extremely rare for me when it comes
to media. Whatever happens moving forward, that I had these experiences and
moments at all is so valuable to me.
Beyond that, though, here’s the most incredible thing – this
trend doesn’t stop with just these three shows and these three characters. Later
in the year, I plan on doing yet another “Ace Safe Space” list, and in that I
am very excited to share even more examples of K-Dramas (including a movie or
two) whose characters don’t have sex or romance, or who are in romantic
relationships that don’t define the entire story. In the case of the former, one
of those characters will be a sort of honorable mention that I didn’t have time
to include in this post – yet another tough female character who stays
unattached throughout the media she’s in and is not ostracized for it. In the
case of the latter, I can’t wait to talk about characters who are in
long-standing romantic relationships that help them through difficult
situations, but are portrayed in unique and refreshing ways that tell better love stories than I’ve seen from anything in a while.
In general, I know that not every K-Drama is not going to give me the exact same mileage when it comes to these types of characters and situations. As mentioned at the beginning of this post, for instance, romantic K-Dramas do of course exist where romance and a couple’s journey together is the entire point. And naturally, not every K-Drama will be non-sexual (there was even a brief sexual encounter in Squid Game, although it was easy enough to skip over and was not between any of the main characters; in fact, it was actually between two characters who are considered more villainous than any of our main squad). But even just having had the ability to enjoy these characters and these shows without being made to feel out of place has been a joy that I will always cherish. You may remember my post from a few months ago where I talked about the dangers streaming poses when you’re like me, and how media on streaming platforms can become a minefield to try and navigate. Those challenges are still present, and I don’t doubt that they’ll likely be present for quite a while still. But if nothing else, my recent discovery of these K-Dramas proves that maybe I just hadn’t been looking in the right place, and that gives me hope moving forward.
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