'We Will Not Stop!': Resisting anti-feminist backlash in Korea

Goldie (Myoung Ryoon) Kim, co-coordinator of the Korean MenEngage Network (K‑MEN), delivered this presentation at the international conference, ​“Resisting the Backlash: Defending Intersectional, Decolonial and Postcolonial Feminisms,” hosted by Technische Universität Dresden (TU Dresden) in Germany, October 2025.

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The Flow of Gender Equality Backlash Disguised as Anti-Feminism in South Korea, and why we Still Move Forward Toward Gender Justice 

More than thirty years ago, in 1991, the American journalist Susan Faludi defined ​“backlash” as ​“the social reaction to the growing voice of women, portrayed as a threat and often spread through the mouths of experts across fields, slandering women’s independence.” But in truth, backlash has accompanied us for much longer. Whenever women demanded the right to vote, to education, to equal opportunities at work, or the end of male violence against women, backlash was there. I want to share with you how backlash has unfolded in South Korea in recent years, and why, despite this resistance, we continue to move forward toward gender justice.

The ​“Feminism Reboot” and the Frame of ​“Gender Conflict” 

Perhaps many of you know the global hit K‑Pop ​“Gangnam Style.” The ​“Gangnam” in the title refers to one of the wealthiest districts in Seoul, a place famous for soaring real estate prices, luxury shopping, and intense consumer culture. Near Exit 10 of Gangnam Station, a shocking murder took place in 2016. The perpetrator of the Gangnam Station murder case waited for more than 90 minutes in a public restroom. Six different men entered during that time. When a woman finally entered, he attacked and killed her.

During his arrest and trial, he repeated: ​“I killed her because women ignored me.” Yet mainstream media dismissed this as ​“the words of a mentally ill man.” Police suggested investigating all people with schizophrenia. In contrast, young women declared: ​“She was killed because she was a woman.” Mourning ceremonies spread across the country, and this became the spark of a broader feminist awakening. Feminist books suddenly dominated bestseller lists. Reading groups formed. Feminism became a subject of public discussion in schools, workplaces, and social networks. This was the moment many called the ​“feminism reboot” in South Korea.

Feminism became a subject of public discussion in schools, workplaces, and social networks. This was the moment many called the ​“feminism reboot” in South Korea.

At the same time, a notorious website called ​“Soranet” operated for 16 years with nearly one million male members. It shared illegal pornography and even simulations of rape. Despite countless reports, police claimed, ​“Faceless photos cannot be defined as crime.” Every day, new images & videos suggesting rape were uploaded without consequence. Only through the persistence of young women activists — who monitored the site, supported victims, and reported tirelessly — was Soranet finally shut down after 17 years. Thus, between 2015 to 16, two dynamics emerged: feminist awareness spreading widely, and misogynistic online communities being exposed. These collided, creating both progress and resistance. But as feminism gained visibility, backlash intensified. 

But as feminism gained visibility, backlash intensified. 

The South Korean Government had introduced mandatory ​“gender violence prevention training” for public officials and educators in 2013. After several years, some participants expressed fatigue. Resistance grew, especially when combined with debates over whether the Gangnam Station murder case was caused by misogyny or mental illness.

In classrooms and workshops, trainers and facilitators faced mocking questions, sarcasm, and even open hostility. Online communities amplified these attitudes. Feminists who hoped that studying feminism would help end femicide now found themselves accused of creating ​“gender conflict.” But in reality, the real problem was the ongoing structures of gender inequality, not some actual conflict where women in Korea were fighting men on equal terms.

This framing entered politics directly. In the 2022 presidential election, the conservative candidate promised to abolish the Ministry of Gender Equality. He gained strong support from young men in their twenties and thirties, alongside older conservative voters. He won. Soon after his election, President Yoon declared, ​“There is no more structural gender discrimination in South Korea.” It sounded as though centuries of patriarchy and decades of feminist struggle had suddenly vanished. But the Global Gender Gap Index told a different story: in 2022 South Korea ranked 105^th out of 146 countries. Gender inequality remained deeply entrenched.

The years that followed were marked by regression. The ministry was left without a minister, effectively paralyzed. Plans to introduce a consent-based rape law were abandoned. The government failed to replace the abortion ban struck down by the Constitutional Court, leaving women without safe access to abortion services. Budgets for sexuality and human rights education for all students and disabled youth were eliminated.

In just three years, advances made since the 1980s were rolled back. Many activists and experts in this field lost their jobs. Research and programs collapsed. For feminists like myself, this was the face of hegemonic masculinity under anti-feminism in South Korea.

Martial law as a symbol of Rampant masculinity, and the restoration of democracy. 

This toxic masculinity reached its peak on December 3, 2024. At 10:27 p.m., in the middle of an ordinary evening, President Yoon suddenly declared martial law. There was no war. No riot. No attack from North Korea. South and North Korea remain in an armistice, but no new threats existed. Within hours, thousands of citizens rushed to the National Assembly. Opposition lawmakers climbed fences, entered the chamber, and passed a resolution to revoke martial law. Some military commanders and soldiers delayed carrying out the president’s orders. Within six hours, the declaration was void.

These events can be seen as an example of two contrasting forms of masculinity: one that is hegemonic, patriarchal, militaristic, hierarchical, and undemocratic, and another embodied by the soldiers who slowed down, hesitated, and thereby prevented the coup from succeeding — a masculinity that was more just, gentle, peaceful, egalitarian, and democratic.

Although martial law ended in six hours, the president still faces trial on charges of insurrection. For six months afterward, citizens filled public squares every weekend demanding impeachment. It was a freezing winter, with temperatures dropping to minus 20 degrees. Yet the warmth of solidarity in the squares made it one of the warmest winters in memory. Week after week, citizens chanted: ​“Impeach the ringleader of treason.”

The protests also changed the culture of social movements in South Korea. Young women — nicknamed the ​“the protesters with light sticks” — became the majority of participants. Carrying K‑pop’s light sticks, they sang K‑pop songs instead of traditional protest anthems. When they first appeared at the rallies — spaces that had long been dominated by middle-aged men — their presence felt unfamiliar, and there was a real sense of distance between the groups. But as weeks passed, solidarity grew. They came to embrace each other as comrades and fellow citizens.

These young women challenged the misogynistic language, the exclusion of minorities, and the authoritarian culture that had long dominated protest spaces. They brought new energy and new values. Their presence made visible a long-standing feminist truth: ​“No democracy without gender equality.” By contrast, some young men showed a different attitude, gathering in male-dominated online communities, openly embracing far-right views and even resorting to violence. They attacked the courts that were deciding whether the impeached president should be taken into custody, vandalized buildings, and even assaulted journalists during impeachment hearings. This showed the coexistence of two realities: the struggle for democracy and gender justice, and the persistence of violent masculinities resisting change.

These young women challenged the misogynistic language, the exclusion of minorities, and the authoritarian culture that had long dominated protest spaces. They brought new energy and new values. 

Nevertheless, we will not stop. 

The feminist struggle in South Korea has deep roots. Since the 1980s, women’s organizations have worked to reform laws and institutions, and to reshape public awareness. The Gangnam Station murder case inspired more young women to study feminism. Online networks made activism more spontaneous and decentralized. This new wave linked with older organizations, creating continuity and innovation.

The protests against illegal spy-cam filming, young women who were connected online, without forming organizations or even having offices, managed to organize a protest called ​‘Uncomfortable Courage’ in 2018. Over the course of six demonstrations, an incredible 450,000(four hundred fifty thousand) women took to the streets. It was a scale of participation that no women’s organization in Korea had ever achieved before. They forced the issue of illegal filming and the judiciary’s lack of gender sensitivity into national debate.

There was also another effect of the protest called ​“Uncomfortable Courage.” During the peak of this movement, some young scientists made and shared a special film. What I’m showing you now is a small, simple, and cheap red film. When we use it with the flashlight on mobile, it is very useful for finding hidden cameras indoors. Many young women in Korea carry this film in their bags, and when they use public restrooms or stay in guesthouses/​​hotels, they shine it on suspicious spots to check for spy cameras. Many feminists including me see a clear connection: from Gangnam Station to spy-cam protests to impeachment squares, young women carried the struggle forward.

At the same time, some young men began to recognize that feminism benefits them too. Male feminist organizations were formed, explaining why gender equality is good for men. In schools, male students created feminist clubs, reading and discussing books together.

In July this year, the Korean MenEngage Network, K‑MEN, was launched — a coalition of twelve organizations inviting boys and men to become agents of gender justice. Together, we work for transformative masculinities and collective responses to backlash. As Jens van Tricht said, ​‘Men need feminism to live better lives, and feminism needs men to create a better world.’ I truly believe that real solutions can only come through working together.

Backlash is regression. It pulls backward, resists forward movement. But backlash is also evidence of progress. If there’s no forward movement, how can anything be dragged backward? So let’s not shrink in the face of backlash. Let’s trust that we are moving forward, stay connected, respond together, and keep reaching out to build solidarity with more people. Backlash? It shows that our research, our teaching, our campaigns, our activism, and our movements for gender justice are shaking the patriarchal system and creating cracks within it.

That is why I, and we Korean feminists, will not stop.