I’ve never understood Sex and the City. In fact, I have never understood romance in Love
Actually, Friends, How I Met Your Mother or many other Western films and television. And it’s
not because I dislike them or have a vendetta against rom-coms, it’s just that I don’t see myself in
these characters. I’ve never had casual encounters in a big city or been invited to high school house
parties, had rebound sex after a breakup or confessed my love to a best friend’s girlfriend with giant
note cards.
And, let’s not forget the most crucial thing: I don’t look like any of the characters in these shows—my hair
is neither blonde or brunette and my skin has golden undertones. I’m just like other girls. But
ultimately, this sense of disconnect not only stems from the lack of adequate representation in these films
and TV shows, but also because I find it hard to identify with the oversexualized culture and values
portrayed in these shows.
I still have a lot of options though. Long before everyone was celebrating Asian representation in To
All The Boys I’ve Loved Before and Crazy Rich Asians, I was watching K-dramas with my grandma at
the age of three. Naturally, as I grew older, I found myself clicking on Japanese
and Korean dramas on Netflix instead of the latest edition in the “white-girl-meets-white-boy” saga.
K-dramas are South Korean dramas that, while diverse in genre, are often melodramatic romance shows. They
started gaining popularity in Asia in the 90s as part of the Korean Wave, which was the global craze for
Korean culture known as ‘Hallyu.’ With Winter Sonata—a show about first love, separation, memory
loss and reunion—stealing the hearts of many in 2002, the Korean Wave continued to sweep the world
throughout the 21st century, with dramas such as My Love from the Star, Heirs and Descendants of the
Sun. In 2020, the award-winning film Parasite stole the spotlight at the Oscars and
introduced Korean movies to broader Western audiences, according to the Korean
Cultural Centre. In 2021, Netflix’s Squid Game, a Korean dystopian horror drama, became a
blockbuster hit around the world.
K-dramas are also more readily available on popular streaming platforms. According to Variety, Netflix was expected to spend $500 million on Korean content in
2021. Dong Kang, Netflix Korea’s vice-president of content, recently announced that Netflix would continue investing heavily in the South Korean market
in 2022.
Michelle Cho, an assistant professor at the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Toronto,
says the global popularity of K-drama is a welcomed phenomenon and offers exposure to different cultures.
“This means that people are getting to see what things are like in places outside of where they're from,”
she says.
A lot of K-dramas also have a structure that emphasizes the emotional aspects of romance in addition to high
production values and aesthetic visuals, says Cho. “There are beautiful people, beautiful fashion and
beautiful places,” she explains. “Those visual elements of the K-drama create a very enjoyable fantasy space
and it's just really a form of pleasurable entertainment.”
Morshed Reza’s first K-drama was Pinocchio, which follows the relationship between the main male
and female leads as they enter the broadcast journalism industry. The fourth-year business technology and
management student says he fell in love with the show because it showed how familial trauma and societal
pressure can impact two people when they fall in love.
“Unlike American dramas where there is more lust than love, K-dramas emphasize more about how people fall in
love and what that's like,” says Reza. “The build-up is huge and I like the fact that the best thing doesn't
happen too quickly, it takes time.”
Reza says K-dramas make his heart flutter and he’s left craving more heartwarming moments that he sees on
screen. “I value the whole aspect of falling in love and how messy it is,” he says, adding that he finds
watching K-drama rewarding because they acknowledge that love is never
easy and it can be a difficult journey. “There are a lot of ups and downs, back and forth. It shouldn't be
simple.”
Cho says the tradition of melodrama—the strong focus on emotions and world building in K-dramas—is sometimes
a surprising aspect that Western viewers have to get used to or overcome. “That's what becomes the strong,
attractive feature of Korean television shows,” says Cho, adding that this type of feeling structure is very
different from Western romances that emphasize individuality. “It's about emotion, perhaps more than just
physical attraction, or there's less emphasis on sex and more on sentimentality,” she says. When the romance
focuses less on sex and physical attraction, Cho says people can find it more appealing because it feels
more genuine and natural.
Cho also says family dynamics in K-dramas deepen their plots. The story doesn’t just revolve around the main
characters—friends and family are also focal points and can determine what's going on in the relationship.
Watching K-dramas have become more mainstream for all walks of life, especially for Asian Canadians, who
don’t have a lot of options to choose from in a predominately white entertainment industry. During the
pandemic, author and journalist Jan Wong started binging Crash Landing on You, which then led to
her sharing her obsession with K-drama in her column for CBC’s Asian Heritage Month special, “Is
Asian identity even a thing? Who cares, pass the popcorn for K-drama.” She says she objected to the
blanket term of “Asian Heritage Month” and decided to write about her love of Korean drama, instead of
grouping all Asians together in one article.
“I was trying to show that it was just a completely new world for me, one that I really loved.”
Wong says she loves seeing shows featuring all Asian casts, specifically Koreans, being portrayed as normal
people. “At that time, Shang Chi had not even hit the big screen. There were almost no films or TV
dramas that were entirely Asians playing all kinds of characters—young, old, good, bad, not too good looking
and gorgeous people,” says Wong. “It was just so wonderful and refreshing to see a slice of life where an
Asian wasn't the minor character.”
Cho says that a lot of the time, fans of K-dramas are not ethnically Korean but are from other racialized
communities. “They may not see themselves or really identify with the characters that are in mainstream
entertainment in North America.” She adds that K-dramas give viewers an alternative to commonly available
western romances.
Another difference Wong noticed in K-dramas is that relationships were less often sexualized. There are
little to no sex scenes or nudity. The most the audience might see is “a bare shoulder or they're wearing an
undershirt,” Wong adds.
She thinks graphic sex and nudity illustrated in Western media shows are not necessary elements needed to
tell a good story. “What I find so wonderful about Korean dramas is the love and sex is almost ridiculously
chaste,” says Wong. “I love that because we've gotten to the other extreme here in the West where everything
is showing, there's nothing left to the imagination.”
When I’m immersing myself in the romance in K-dramas, I unconsciously insert myself into the main
characters—much like many other K-drama fans do. The man of my dreams doesn’t have to like me because I'm
‘hot’ or great at sex. I don’t mind taking things slow, just like the comforting slow-pace build-up in
K-dramas. As cheesy as it sounds, I want him to like me for who I am. K-drama is able to illustrate this
fantasy for us—a genuine romantic connection between two individuals—one that is ironically too much to ask
for in this day and age.
Still, K–dramas have problems such as lacking LGBTQ+ representation, fatphobia and colourism. After all, it
is nothing but a fantasy. Even though K-dramas are far from perfect, they teach me that true and genuine
love is worth fighting for.