K-Dramas Become More Korean
What are the most Korean things for the global audience? BTS, “Squid Game,” K-beauty; kimchi still deserves a place, and, of course, the Oscar-winning “KPop Demon Hunters.” In the recent Korean drama (K-drama) “In Your Radiant Season” on Disney+, the perfectionist, LGBTQ+ designer Je Rae-mi says, “The most Korean things are what end up being popular worldwide,” referring not to any K-pop groups, but to the Korean color palette, dancheong (a coloring technique), and the hanbok (Korean clothing) panel. People might have been drawn into this drama by the cute leading stars, as I was, but they would later seek out traditional Korean arts and culture, and even book a trip to Gyeongju to experience hanok villages, as recommended by Travel + Leisure.
Traditional Korean elements once associated with historical TV shows are now highlighted and articulated in urban romance and melodrama. Dancheong, a Korean decorative coloring technique applied to wooden buildings and artifacts, which evolved from the Chinese painting practice danqing, becomes an important source of fashion inspiration when the characters develop an animation project in “In Your Radiant Season.” “Can This Love Be Translated?”, a 2026 Netflix rom-com series, features the main male character Joo Ho-jin living in a house inherited from his grandfather, filled with ancient books, paintings, and china. The recently concluded “Perfect Crown,” set in a fictional contemporary constitutional monarchy, outfits Grand Prince I-an in various hanbok-adapted suits. K-dramas, which have transcended geographical boundaries with their stylish obba, emotional appeal, and prosperous East-West fusion city life, are now reminding the global audience, especially in the West, of their Korean heritage.
Hallyu, or the Korean Wave, first swept East Asia at the turn of the millennium. KBS historical drama “Daejanggeum (Jewel in the Palace)” was the “Squid Game” of 2003, only more phenomenal, which reached 91 countries in an era prior to streaming platforms. A landmark K-drama remembered by Chinese audiences, its lead actress Lee Young-Ae even shook hands with former Chinese President Hu Jintao at a 2008 dinner for Chinese and South Korean leaders. With the popularity of “Daejanggeum,” Korean barbecue restaurants grew in China; clothing and accessory stores played the main soundtrack ‘Onara;’ my aunt went on a trip to Seoul, and she bought hanbok dresses for my cousin and me for Spring Festival — we didn’t even own a qipao at that time.
Hallyu 1.0 knocked on the door of middle-aged Asian women through a long series of historical dramas and family TV shows, thanks to cultural proximity. These shows feature strong family bonds and complex conflicts among relatives, amid Confucian etiquette and social hierarchy, themes common across many Asian regions. Entering the ‘10s, social media united teenage girls and young women from Japan, China, and Southeast Asia through their shared love of Super Junior, EXO, and Professor Do — a renowned male character from the 2013 SBS fantasy-romance miniseries “My Love from the Star.” K-pop and miniseries became the major driving forces of Hallyu 2.0, both depicting highly polished, attractive personas that seem to be close to you but are too good to exist in real life. At that time, online Asian fandom had gone crazy, while Korean pop culture was still considered niche in the U.S. market, especially given its hyperproduction, sexual restraint, and sleekness — qualities that American critics often view as less “authentic.” Comments changed when BTS topped the Billboard 200 in 2018. The new Korean wave has since blown in the U.S. and Europe, followed by an increase in K-pop idol appearances at Coachella post-pandemic.
Highly influenced by Western pop music, especially African-American genres, K-pop is often questioned for not being musically “Korean” enough. The group Katseye’s diverse nationalities and Blackpink’s 2026 comeback with an English mini-album, “Deadline,” further elevate the question of the “K” in K-pop. As an export-oriented product, K-pop’s manifestations of delocalization, or globalization, are not surprising. On the other hand, artists explicitly showcase their Korean pride with their increased international impact. BTS released their new studio album titled “Arirang” in March, named after Korea’s most famous folk song, which is recognized by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage. The HUNTR/X incorporated a kaleidoscopic opening of traditional drumming, vocals, and dance into their 2026 Oscar performance of 'Golden,' a phenomenal soundtrack in “KPop Demon Hunters.”
K-dramas, more local and nuanced than K-pop, often tell powerful emotional stories about modern Korean society, spanning social classes, while also enchanting fans with elements of fantasy and romance. These works consistently depict traditional Korean customs and ancient Asian philosophies such as Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, which are deeply embedded in Korean society. However, they rarely articulated traditional culture as a key selling point, instead using Korea-West fusion items as business cards. The 2014 blockbuster “My Love from the Star” triggered the chimaek phenomenon — a combination of Korean fried chicken and maekju (beer) — because the heroine recommends a snowy day as the perfect time for chimaek. Modern chimaek is believed to have been invented in the late 20th century, rooted in Korean cuisine history and combining imported influences. A few years later, the Netflix series “Crash Landing on You” further highlighted chimaek's popularity in both North and South Korea, pairing it with a scene of the main couple experiencing the first snow in Pyongyang and developing a plotline around a chain chicken restaurant in Seoul.
As they shift from broadcast channels to streaming platforms, K-dramas have increasingly integrated subgenres and social themes popular worldwide. “Itaewon Class,” a 2020 revenge-themed romantic drama on Netflix, showcases marginalized figures in Korean society: a high school dropout as the protagonist, a sociopath, a transgender chef, and a Guinean-Korean part-timer. It was rare to see LGBTQ+ characters in previous K-dramas, let alone openly discuss their dilemma in society. In the 2018 series “What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim,” the protagonist’s mother expresses relief when the heroine confirms her son isn’t gay. Now in “In Your Radiant Season,” Je Rae-mi unapologetically asserts his identity, although the character further reinforces stereotypes about male homosexual groups — mean, effeminate, and exaggerated. As K-drama topics expand, veteran audiences also claim they have become more “Western,” favoring violence and thrillers, embracing political correctness, and diluting the meticulous emotional depictions. Some treat “Squid Game” more as a Hollywood-scale movie than as a K-drama.
The blended content has effectively expanded K-dramas’ reach via streaming platforms. One year after “Squid Game,” the overseas sales of K-dramas increased 29.6%. In March 2023, four of the top 10 non-English Netflix dramas were K-dramas. The rising global impact, in turn, has led K-dramas to more openly showcase their Korean identity. Packaging as many Korean elements as possible, “In Your Radiant Season” is reminiscent of a marketing campaign for traditional Korean arts and culture, launched in melodrama form. Besides dancheong, it highlights the application of Korean silk in modern fashion, featuring the traditional butterfly knot as a symbol of the couple’s relationship. The series also emphasizes, through dialogue from the team at the U.S.-based animation company, how Korean culture fascinates international audiences.
Using dramas to promote the global appeal of traditional culture is part of the Korean government’s soft-power strategy. In 2020, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism (MCST) introduced the term “K-culture” to promote the new Korean Wave, mainly focusing on pop culture. As a key element in boosting Korean tourism, MCST worked to integrate K-culture resources for the “2024 Korea Visit Year” initiative. Meanwhile, the Korea Creative Content Agency (KOCCA) stepped up efforts to expand K-content globally via streaming platforms, aiming to extend the popularity of K-culture to broader Korean culture.
The complicated relationship between South Korea and China, and their intertwined historical and cultural connections, also contributed to K-dramas’ identity claim, or maybe more precisely, ownership claim. Debates on “who owns what” have heated up since the Gangneung Danoje Festival was inscribed on UNESCO’s representative list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2005. Chinese people blamed Korea for “stealing” their Duan Wu Jie — the Dragon Boat Festival, celebrated on the same date, May 5th, in the lunisolar calendar, which is over 1,500 years old. While Duan Wu Jie was later listed by UNESCO in 2009, the feud has continued and expanded to include more traditions: Chinese paocai vs. Korean kimchi (both are fermented pickles), Chinese knots vs. Korean Knots, hanfu vs. hanbok, etc. The Chinese insist that Korea should appropriately attribute the origins of its traditions, given the deep influence of ancient Chinese culture on Korea, such as Confucianism, Chinese musical instruments, arts, and literature, while the Koreans blame this “hegemonic” attribution, arguing that these traditions have developed a distinct identity in Korea.
After the 20th-century war, the relationship between the two countries once reached an ice point. The Korean government implemented a series of desinicization measures, including a ban on teaching Chinese characters, which have been used on the Korean peninsula for over a millennium, in primary and secondary education. With confidence in Korean pop content’s global success and mixed feelings about China's rising soft power, recent Korean productions show a shift from avoiding ancient Chinese influence. “Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha,” a slice-of-life Netflix series released in 2021, highlights a family’s pride in their little boy, Jang Yi-jun, for his mastery of Chinese characters and Confucian etiquette. While “Can This Love Be Translated?” depicts the global popularity of K-pop groups and K-films, it also offers a vignette of traditional culture. In the first episode, the professor’s book titled “Get Lost” is written in Chinese as “迷路.” The protagonist, Joo Ho-jin, embodies Confucian virtues such as self-discipline, refinement, and restraint, and the story frequently mentions the leading characters’ family connections to China. It would be a misunderstanding to view these changes as a warming of relations between South Korea and China since the 2016 THAAD dispute. Competition might be stronger than connection.