When I finally got around to watching “KPop Demon Hunters,” all I could think about was how prevalent Korean culture has become in Western media. The movie garnered more than 236 million views in the first month of its release, claiming the title of Netflix’s most-watched animated film, while its songs took multiple top spots on Billboard charts — Rumi, the lead character, was also the most popular Halloween costume of the year.
Seeing the widespread normalization and admiration of Korean culture brings me back to my childhood, when I struggled to understand my identity. Growing up, being Korean American felt like a source of shame — a marker of difference that led to alienation in classrooms and on playgrounds. Back then, my attempts to fit in with my peers came with a simultaneous rejection of my Korean identity. Weekends were spent fighting with my mom about going to Korean school, and throughout the rest of the week, I’d insist on getting the processed, pitiful-looking school lunches over bringing home-cooked curries or stews with their poignant smells. With each turn away from my culture, the discomfort in my own skin only increased.
Meanwhile, I learned to be proud of my American identity. From the group of patriots that declared independence from the British Empire to the United States’ role as a global power after emerging victorious from both world wars and the Cold War, the American education system imbues its students with a sense of pride and nationalism.
In comparison, Korea’s history seemed riddled with losses. I learned about how it suffered under Chinese and Japanese imperialism, a kingdom diminished to its current state at the tip of a peninsula. And up until the mid-2010s, it seemed like all South Korea was known for was its hostile neighbor to the North — and my peers’ lack of knowledge about the country only cemented my insecurity that South Korea was a place of little significance.
It wasn’t until 2012, with the virality of “Gangnam Style” by PSY, that a newfound interest in the nation sparked. My mom, who was attending college at the time, spoke to me about feeling more accepted on campus and less judged for her accent and unawareness of American norms. Instead, she began attracting interest in her culture and her country’s history. In subsequent years, aspects of Korean culture — K-dramas, K-beauty and traditional foods showcased in mukbangs — have only continued to proliferate in global media.
I noticed non-Korean students beginning to attend my Korean school. Their enthusiasm for learning the language and eager participation in cultural events triggered another wave of internal strife, in which I battled feelings of guilt and confusion. Where could I place my hatred for all things Korean when it was no longer socially acceptable?
The move to college weakened my Korean fluency. Stumbling over my words in calls, unable to update my family members or convey my authentic feelings to the extent I could in English, made me realize that learning the language was never about distinguishing myself from my peers — it was an avenue of connection to my family members whose English-speaking was limited.
It seems silly to admit that K-pop was what spurred my self-acceptance, but it was less the media itself and rather the shifting attitudes from those around me that facilitated this growth. It allowed me to interact with parts of my culture without feeling external shame and alienation, which gave me the chance to confront my own internalized biases head-on.
The globalization of Korean culture was like a merging of my two identities, since I didn’t need to distance myself from one to feel accepted in the other. “KPop Demon Hunters” strikes the balance between modern aspects of pop culture — evident in its animation style, music and English language — and traditional Korean garments, symbols, history and language.
The movie felt reminiscent of my own experience as an Asian American, and taught me that I could celebrate both identities equally and fiercely. As the Western world immerses itself in Korean culture, I’m optimistic for a future in which Korean Americans can embrace Korea’s traditions and historical hardships, and move towards an understanding of the country that isn’t always glamorized for pop culture.
Contact Serin Lee at [email protected].