It’s a peculiar sensation – being both the critic and the criticized, the advocate and the admirer.
I sit down to write this after several nights of internal conflict. I find myself at the crossroads of my identity – a 30-year-old gender and social cause activist who, against all expectations, has fallen irrevocably in love with South Korean actor, Lee Dong Wook. It’s a dilemma that’s been quietly gnawing at the edges of my conscience, questioning the very foundations of my ethics and learnings as I share dozens of Wook’s videos on my Twitter timeline.
My journey with Lee Dong Wook began innocently enough. 9 months ago when I started watching Korean Dramas, most of my friends recommended Goblin to me. I procrastinated watching the show as I learnt that it is an intense series. Before I started watching Goblin, I was not for the longest time able to concentrate, be it with a book or a film, and the commitment of watching 16 episodes of a series was a big deal for me. One cold day of January, I randomly played the show, and from the moment I pressed play, I was captivated. As soon as Goblin ended, I found myself going back to Wook, show after the show. It wasn’t just his undeniable acting prowess or the charming characters that he had portrayed, but something deeper – the authenticity that shone through in his interviews and public appearances. And, his laughter.
As a social worker, I’ve spent years advocating for gender equity and social causes, standing on the front lines of change, but here I am, wrestling with the paradox of falling for a celebrity amidst my commitment to causes that demand my unwavering attention to the principles I adhere to. Lee Dong Wook’s star-studdedness has, unexpectedly, become a mirror reflecting back at me, raising questions about my own authenticity and the intricacies of balancing personal desires with professional commitments.
The internal conflict intensifies when I consider the dichotomy of wearing my heart on my sleeve versus maintaining the composed facade of a social worker. On one hand, I want to shout from the rooftops about this unexpected love story that has unfolded on my screen. On the other, I feel a sense of reluctance and shyness, a fear of being judged or, worse, having my credibility questioned, and by whom? The hundreds of students I have taught, who follow me on social media.
I find myself entangled in a conflict that extends beyond my professional identity – the gaze theory, a concept I’ve studied and advocated for in the realm of gender activism, now confronts me as a spectator who has completely surrendered to a foreign actor. I’m well aware of the theory that critiques the objectification and scrutiny individuals, particularly women, endure under the male gaze. Yet, here I am, participating in the very act I’ve condemned – my cheeks turning red every time I see Lee Dong Wook smile, laugh, or play a prank on a co-star.
The internal battle is amplified by the age-shaming I inflict upon myself for participating in what some might dismiss as adolescents activities. At 30, I question if I should be investing so much time and emotion in a celebrity crush. The societal narrative often dictates that such infatuations are reserved for a younger demographic, and the clash between societal expectations and personal inclinations adds another layer to my dilemma.
There’s an undeniable irony in being an advocate for breaking societal norms while hesitating to break my own. As someone who has stood before a thousand students, teaching and mentoring, the pressure to uphold an image becomes almost suffocating. How do I reconcile the persona of a fierce social justice warrior with the vulnerability of a person deeply infatuated with a celebrity?
In grappling with these conflicting emotions, I’ve come to realize that authenticity doesn’t mean perfection. It’s about embracing the complexities of our identities, acknowledging the human behind the activist’s mask. Loving Lee Dong Wook doesn’t diminish my commitment to the causes I hold dear; if anything, it adds a layer of humanity to my narrative.
As I prevail to sail through this unexpected chapter in my life, I am learning to be kind to myself, recognizing that personal joys and passions are not antithetical to the work I do as an activist. Perhaps there’s room for love, even the fangirl kind, within the realm of social justice. But learning does not come easily. The guilt of succumbing to another episode, watching 5 minutes of fan videos turning into half an hour sometimes gets heavy. I don’t remember the last time I did not sleep at night whilst watching his press conference videos!
So here I am, sharing my dilemma. In this space where activism and infatuation intersect, I indeed am finding the courage to embrace the fullness of my identity, flaws and all, but with a lot of internal hesitation and made up reluctance.
Love, after all, knows no boundaries, not even those set by the expectations of a thousand watchful eyes.
World of Shubhika 
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