K-pop’s queer evolution

Since its inception, the K-pop industry has thrived off of the performance of queerness as an aesthetic, but in recent years, that performance has begun to evolve into something more authentic. From JUST B’s Bain becoming the first active boy group member to come out as gay, to the debut of XLOV, the first K-pop group with a genderless concept, the industry has begun to progress past its intolerance towards the LGBTQ+ community.

However, South Korea has yet to fully embrace the community—demonstrated by the country’s lack of supportive legislation and enduring negative public attitudes towards queerness—and the use of such aesthetics in K-pop often raises questions about where the line between performance and true progress is drawn. 

The relationship among South Korean society, the queer community, and the K-pop industry is certainly not black and white. More specifically, the line between authenticity and performance regarding the use of queer aesthetics in K-pop is particularly fragile. Subsequently, it is paramount to better understand the history of South Korea’s queer community and its continued fight for equal rights and acceptance.

South Korea’s glass closet dilemma

South Korea’s queer community is still at odds with the country’s legislation, and while progress has been made over the years, there’s still a long way to go. According to the 2024 Franklin & Marshall College Center for Opinion Research’s Global Barometer of Gay Rights (a comprehensive measurement system that analyzes societal rights for sexual minorities), South Korea was one of two Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development nations that received an F. The score indicates that the country actively persecutes members of its queer community.

Furthermore, the country’s anti-discrimination laws do not protect LGTBQ+ individuals, and according to a 2025 survey conducted by Pew Research, 56 percent of South Koreans view homosexuality as morally unacceptable. These attitudes have led to both the discrimination and lack of acknowledgement of the country’s LGBTQ+ community, with the latter being the more ubiquitous response.

K-pop historian and queer content creator Nathan Ramos-Park shares that many queer Koreans live within a “glass closet,” a state in which someone’s sexuality is known but never publicly acknowledged. “You can be LGBTQ in Korea as long as you don’t name it, because once you name it, then, culturally, people have to then deal with it,” he says. This don’t-ask-don’t-tell culture often leaves K-pop fans to dissect moments of physical affection and sentimental words exchanged between group members in search of queer flagging.

“It’s almost like Schordinger’s queerness. Some idols want to be perceived as queer…but they’ll never be out. They will try to show that it’s a glass closet, but at the same time, coming out can also be a danger.”

Through a Western lens, these interactions may be an immediate sign that someone may identify as queer. Through a South Korean lens, they often appear to be less significant, largely because physical displays of affection between people of the same gender are considerably more acceptable within society. Additionally, the Korean language lacks gendered pronouns, meaning many things can get lost in translation. Add in the use of queerness as a tool of engagement within the K-pop mainstream, and it can be nearly impossible to determine what’s authentic and what isn’t. “It’s almost like Schordinger’s queerness,” Ramos-Park says. “Some idols want to be perceived as queer…but they’ll never be out. They will try to show that it’s a glass closet, but at the same time, coming out can also be a danger.” It raises an important question, he notes: “What is the line of performing queerness and actually being queer?”

He explains it’s important to consider that “K-pop is not immune to the repercussions of (South Korea’s) history and legislation.” Consequently, understanding how queerness presents in the industry requires a middleground—it cannot be viewed solely through a Western or South Korean perspective. “It’s difficult, because it’s taking Black music through a white lens, through a Korean lens, through a Pan-Asian lens—it’s like a facsimile.”

Queering the dance floor

Despite the country’s lack of support for its LGBTQ+ community, the K-pop industry has continued to interact with queer culture in an increasingly open manner. Visual artist and longtime K-pop fan Dew Kim recalls how different the social landscape was in the late 1990s, when he first became a fan of the genre. “I didn’t know much about queer or gay (culture) at the time,” he tells JoySauce, listing transgender singer Harisu and actor Hong Seok-cheon as the only two queer celebrities he saw in the mainstream at the time. 

Having grown up in a Christian family in a small South Korean town, Kim found it difficult to understand his own queerness as a child. “I knew I liked boys when I was an elementary student, but I couldn’t really find things (about it). I didn’t even know the word ‘gay,’” he says. Even so, he’s always found K-pop to be somewhat of an escape and feels that the industry has come a long way in its support for the LGBTQ+ community. “I always felt the industry supports the LGBTQ (community) secretly,” Kim says, explaining that, in recent years, he feels that newer K-pop groups have more openly rallied behind the LGBTQ+ community.

As an artist himself, Kim, who is now based in Seoul, notes that creative outlets prove to be a useful medium for expressing his sexuality in a society that isn’t accepting. “I can’t really say I’m gay in society, so I try to speak out in different ways, especially (with) artwork,” he says. Kim notes that even though not every instance of queer imagery within the K-pop mainstream is authentic, the visibility can still help familiarize the public with queerness as a lifestyle. “These days, there’s more crossover, also more experiments with the music, style, and gender. I think people will become more comfortable if people push the boundaries…so I think this moment is very important for LGBTQ culture and rights.”

The genre has come a long way since its early days: Harisu was among the first generation of K-pop stars and the second person in South Korean history to legally change their gender. Later years have seen the inclusion of queer storylines within music videos—most notably K.Will’s “Please Don’t”—collaborations with drag queens like NANA Youngrong Kim and Pabllo Vittar by LE SSERAFIM and NMIXX, respectively, the use of same-sex pronouns in songs like “Oh My God” by i-dle, and eventually the debut of XLOV, a group aiming to break boundaries with their genderless concept.