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Sunday, September 13, 2020

Kpop & Psych Wards: From CO-FLOP School's Ableist "Bbiribbom Bbaeribom" to Sulli's Enchanting "Goblin"

tw: non-graphic discussion of mental health and suicide

"I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern does move - and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern - it strangles so." - The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 1982.

A single Google search will reveal a mountain of Korean idols who have struggled with mental health, and these being just the ones who were strong and secure enough their to share stories with the public. Currently, South Korea has some of the highest suicide rates in the world ("Mental Health and South Korea"), and a variety of Korean idols have spoke up, despite the stigma, to discuss their depression, anxiety, eating disorders and the treatment they went through for these illnesses. But that does not mean every representation of treatment in Kpop is accurate.

Since ancient times, patriarchal societies have diagnosed troubled women with "wondering womb" and other psudeoscientific diseases. In Western medicine, woman have been disproportionately diagnosed with illnesses due to their gender: "Sigmund Freud postulated that women were more prone to neurosis because they experienced aggression towards the self, which stemmed from developmental issues" ("Mental disorders and gender"). While Freud has been proven a fraud, the idea that women experience hysteria permeates male-dominated societies. Every woman has a right to be critical of mental illness as an institution, including its treatment methods.

Not every Kpop music video is made to tell an idol's story; however, there are many videos in which the audience can piece together an idol's story using contextual clues. How do the following music videos, which all include a portrayal of the treatment of mental illness, illustrate the artist's story and/or use the setting of a psychiatric ward to be critical of institutions? Let's find out...

cw: takes place in a hospital type ward


Let us start with the most offensive video this list, CO-ED School's "Bbiribbom Bbaeribom" (2010). The video takes place in a sterile, hospital-like psychiatric institution, and each member is characterized by a funny personal quirk. This setting allows for the clean, streamlined style that Kpop is branded by; however, it is disturbing is watching these teenagers/adults act like small children. It is meant to be fun, but actually encapsulates a one-dimensional stereotype of mentally ill people that dehumanizes and infantilizes those who have been diagnosed.

Mentally ill individuals that are like children is a harmful stereotype to portray, as it has led to real-life consequences for many people who suffer. The media has recently been covering the example of Britney Spears, who has had the rights to her own estate and children taken away after an infamous public breakdown. Britney Spears has been under her father's conservatorship for over a decade and is currently protesting with a work strike ("Star calls for strike and wealth redistribution"). Representations such as this in the media has led to women and men alike loosing their rights based on a male biased diagnosis.

As for the video, the crux of CO-ED School's very loose plot is one member's fascination with labelmate T-ARA's Eunjung. When his object of fascination appears to break them out of their barred-and-bricked-windowed prison, the audience cannot trust the members' subjectivity. Nonetheless, the experience serves to unite and excite the members. They proceed to dance together in celebration, giving into the passion of the moment and the beat of the song; the titular bbiribboom bbaeribom being an onomatopoeia for an emergency ambulance's siren.


At the end of the video, the audience learns that, despite Eunjun's rescuse, nothing has changed for the group. The punchline is that we cannot trust the members due to their mental health. Similarly, their childlike characterization is not a representation of non-neurotypical habits, but an excuse to use color and cute clothing and sing nonsense.  In defense of Girls' Generations' "Gee," Trevor Link says, "love is just a pretext for foregrounding female subjectivity." But can an mental illness be used the same way without harming those who are effected by it? Should any serious illness or condition be used as a metaphor for trivial infatuation? Are pop music narratives so entrenched in the ideal of heterosexual romance that we must appropriate every theme for a love story?

Check out "6 Times Kpop Did Plagiarism Right," where we also discuss "Bbiribbom Bbaeribom."


2. Tears Pouring Down (Nunmuri Durureuk Durureuk)
cw: some scenes take place in a hospital/ward, some body unreality and non-graphic violence

"I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. I wonder if they all come out of that wall-paper as I did?" - The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 1982.

"Tears Pouring Down" (2012) is a Brave Brothers produced dark-synth fiesta that uses a rain motif to tell the story of a forlorn love. Throughout the video for this masterpiece, the audience is introduced to multiple versions of our lovely dancing queen, Son Dambi. The first one is very human, dark haired and sitting anguished on a bed with prison-like stripes on the sheets. Surrounded by rain, grays and dark blues, she represents sadness and conflict within herself. But what has caused this suffering? Is it Freud's "aggression towards the self, which stemmed from developmental issues"? Let's take a look at the personal story being told in the video.


The next Dambi we meet is polished and glamorous. At first, she appears with a smile, ready to sing into a microphone while a lone light bulb, hypnotically swigging, offers her a dim spotlight. However, her shadows catch up with her, and she begins to notice them in corners. They appear in masks, presumably a reference to internet commentators who often tear idols apart under the safety of anonymity. Ultimately, Dambi's confidence is lost, and she suffers a breakdown in the form of a violent tantrum. Suddenly the once-megastar, clad in black, seems to be attending her own funeral.


Fittingly, this breakdown is what lands her in a psychiatric ward. The newest, unhinged Dambi is a caricature of her former self: her wig is shoddy, with her real brown hair seeping through, her straight jacket is tied together with a nauseous pink and her makeup is a ridiculous bright yellow. Meanwhile, the nurses treat her roughly; her backup dancers, again in prison-like gray stripes, and she are beaten and forced down. This could be a metaphor for the bad treatment many mental facilities offer, or it could be an illustration of a difficult recovery.


Ultimately, the audiences is blessed with a final Dambi: reborn and refreshed, she emerges from the sea like a Goddess being born from sea foam. The dark lighting has disappeared, and we see a beautiful, raw Dambi smiling against a clear blue sky and a bright rising sun. She is visually similar to the original Dambi, but she is a reborn version that has, like a hero, lost, traveled and gained. Now, bathed in light akin to an angel, she appears visually content with herself.


Unlike CO-ED School, Dambi uses the setting of a mental institution to tell her own story with mental health: she herself went through a katabasis and came back after regaining her confidence. Though the words sing of love, the video has its own theme. While the song sets the tone, the video tells a story that is difficult to put into lyrics.

"Tears Pouring Down" seems to tell the story of Dambi's career. After two back-to-back hits, Dambi was at the peak of her fame. Then in 2011, she released "The Queen," which was not well received by online communities, which were growing at an alarming rate. She received online hate, which is disproportionally thrown at female celebrities due to the higher standards they are always held up to  ("SON DAMBI INTERVIEW + DISCUSSES FLOP COMEBACK"). It is unknown to me whether Dambi has ever been admitted to a psychiatric ward, or if she ever officially received treatment or diagnoses on her mental health, but this video heavily implies that she has struggled and internalized the judgment of the audience that critiqued her. In "Tears Pouring Down" Dambi does not use the setting of a hospital for the aesthetic, but rather to illustrate the mental and internal struggle she went through when was exposed to outward forces that belittled and disenfranchised her as an artist.



cw: small amount of non-graphic violence

image credit

Every member of SECRET has spoken about dealing with mental illness to some degree: Sunhwa spoke of wanting to get help in the beginning of her career ("Sunhwa on Strong Heart"), Song Jieun revealed insecurities made her hate her own voice for a time ("Song Ji Eun Talks About Why She Went Through A Slump After Debut"), Hyosung discusses the anxiety that comes with being an idol in her book "My Beginning" (Hyosung updates) and Hana even changed her name in attempt avoid the "negativity" of internet bullies ("Jung Hana shares why she changed her name from Zinger"). This, along with the fact that the ex-members of SECRET are still in years long lawsuits with their former company ("The Saga of TS Entertainment vs Hyosung"), attests to the fact that all these women have struggled with both external and internal factors throughout their relatively short career. But, is this reflected is their work?

The plot related scenes in "I'm in Love" (2014) take place in a doctor's office: the long lounge chair and clipboard are indicative of a mental health facility, presumably a therapist's office. The lyrics describe a girl who is "crazy for love" and sinking into a manic state. Ironically, love is not making the narrator happy, but making her feel vulnerable and upset. This inner conflict is illustrated by the members' two personas: one that dances in flashy skin tight outfits and one that dances in flashy skin tight outfits with eyeliner.

The girls are split between innocent versions of themselves, who wear soft white and laze on soft pillows, and their shadow selves, who, with evil glints in their eyes, act impulsively with violence and sensual with feathers. The innocent versions sit demurely on the chair, occasionally shedding a tear like a fragile Victorian woman, while the therapist looms menacingly in the background, noting their every move. In these scenes, there is a sense of judgement and lack of movement.


As the song goes on, the dark versions of SECRET become increasingly prominent. In a burst of activity, we see Sunhwa stab the pen, a lingering remnant of the above mentioned judgment, into the table. Han Sunhwa has yet to receive her Oscar for her method acting in this moment as, according to fan legend, she was injured on set during this scene. Nonetheless, the cuts become erratic as we enter the final chorus, and the members become violent and dominating toward the doctor. At this point, the audience is questioning the narrator's reliability and SECRET is challenging their authority figure, the respected and supposedly objective therapist. Just as Freud's legacy is to Western medicine, the doctor is a metaphor for the presumption of labeling a woman's feelings as hysteria.


In the final shot, we see Hyosung's two selves sitting together as one. By barring her feelings, she has become, not split, but whole. She has accepted her dark feelings, along with her good ones. Shadow Hyosung closes her notebook and smiles at her innocent version, accepting whole self all at once. SECRET's innocent and sad side is deemed rational because society has assigned woman a passive role.  But when we see that their crazy selves are just an act, we realize their innocent selves are all a show too. They are truthfully not either of these two things, but a median between the two, as all humans are.


The setting of a therapists office causes us to question the objectivity of the narrator, and doubly so as their reality begins to break down. Despite the situation being revealed as undoubtedly a fantasy by the end, the truth is that their feelings were never wrong, only personified. They finally face themselves after treatment, whole. SECRET used a love story as a foreground for their subjectivity and the setting of a therapist's office to illustrate a mental struggle; while SECRET does not seem to be telling a personal story, their story is encouraging to anyone who has judged themselves for struggling with dark thoughts.


cw: massive amount of unreality, small scene in a hospital/ward

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In an episode of her mini-series "I'm Park Jiyeon," Jiyeon undergoes an art therapy session in which she is told she should seek professional help. Of course, this session was edited for television, but there is no doubt that Jiyeon, who debuted with T-ARA at only 16 years old, has been under and effected by public scrutiny since childhood. Groupmate Eunjung spoke candidly of the depression she faced during the group's biggest scandal in 2012 ("EUNJUNG OPENS UP ABOUT THE DEPRESSION SHE EXPERIENCED DURING T-ARA'S SCANDAL"), which no doubt caused inner turmoil for every member of the group, though details are only speculative.

PJY admitted to having little creative control over her solo debut Never Ever (2014); she says, "about 30 percent of my ideas were reflected in the album" ("In solo debut, Park aims for androgyny"). So despite not being a personal story such as "Tears Pouring Down," it is a cautionary tale of a woman who did not receive early treatment for her symptoms of disassociation.

The myth of the wandering womb is not the only to suggest that a women's organs are conspiring from within. "Vagina dentata" describes the patriarchal fear of a toothed vagina that emasculates any man who enters it. In the video for "1MIN 1SEC" (2014), the director combines the horror of the unknown womb with the sexiness of the female genitals; in the point dance. Jiyeon and her dancers gyrate against a wall, pushing their hips out. This gives the video a tone of both seduction and horror, a common combination in misogynistic myths, and is critiqued in popular horror films such as Jennifer's Body (2009) and Ginger Snaps (2000).

A quick Google search will tell us some of the general symptoms of disassociation, many of which are illustrated in "1MIN 1SEC": amnesia, feeling detached, a perception of your environment as distorted, blurred sense of identity ("Dissociative disorders") (this is far from an exhaustive list and please do not diagnose yourself based on it or this article, I am not a doctor). In the video, time passes without Jiyeon noticing: the house begins to accumulate filth, her fish and plants begin to wither and all her windows become broken. As her reality unfolds around her, the camera becomes increasingly shaky. The next time Jiyeon wakes up, the camera is directly facing her and the audience realizes that she is trapped in her routine as if in a horrible nightmare.



During the bridge, Jiyeon's reality unfolds completely. As it begins to snow inside, she realizes that she has been frozen in time, and the titular 1 minute and 1 second has never passed. Like Dambi, she comes face to face with her anxiety and sadness in the form of a masked man. But unlike Son Dambi, Jiyeon did not go through recovery, and she can only beg her shadow to acknowledge her, "Please, this is my last favor / If you ever run into me, / Please smile at me, who can't forget you" (popgasa). As the final shot of Jiyeon framed by the stark white door of her solitary confinement, the audience is left to guess whether her institutionalization is a result of this anonymous man, or if he plays the part of her anxiety personified.

Just like "I'm in Love," "1MIN 1SEC" uses a black and white motif to illustrate inner conflict. The story is told through mirrors and windows and uses some optical illusions to suggest Jiyeon's unreality. Although labelmates, CO-ED School and Jiyeon's aesthetic could not be more opposite: "Bbiribbom Bbaeribom" is slick, colorful and bright, while "1MIN 1SEC" is rustic and harsh. However, they both toy with unreliable narrators and ultimately use mental illness as a shock-value gambit. The audience is left wondering whether Jiyeon's treatment has caused her breakdown or if she is being treated due to the breakdown; the one continuity given is her unfinished red scarf, which exists in both reality and fantasy.


"1MIN 1SEC" is not the first time that Jiyeon has been cast as a mentally ill pixie dream girl with a Romantic, Victorian ideal on suicide. In T-ARA, THE SEE YA, 5DOLLS and SPEED's "Painkiller" (major suicide and gore tw for the video), Jiyeon plays the role of a young girl who struggles with the idea of taking a "painkiller," in the form of poison, for her emotional pain. Why was Jiyeon's team so determined to make broken-down Barbie doll her personal concept? Ironically, her first song after branching out from MBK Entertainment, "Take a Hike," is glamorous and defiant: "I'm starting to get angry / What more do you want to know? [...] Get lost, will ya." Despite the fact that Jiyeon has presumably suffered from mental anxiety of some form, the stormy "1MIN 1SEC" does not seem to be her personal story, but a story crafted by her team based on her as a muse.

“I look pale,” said [Lord] Byron, looking in the mirror, “I should like to die of a consumption.”

“Why,” asked his guest.

“Because the ladies would all say, ‘Look at that poor Byron, how interesting he looks in dying!’” (The White Plague)

4 Reasons why BTS Jimin can go #CryCry and let Jiyeon, The True Prince of Kpop, Play Prince Eric

5. Goblin
cw: discussion of suicide, celebrity death


Sulli's solo album Goblin (2019) was self-composed, and it shows in a great way. The lyrics and concept are inextricable from her identity in the public eye. "Don't be afraid of the cat without fur," she references her real life fur-less cat, Goblin, who, in the same fashion as Sulli herself, was a target of baseless nasty internet hatred ("Sulli's cat gets close and personal"). While we cannot be certain how literal "Goblin" should be taken, it is presented as her personal, if highly metaphorical, story of life in the spotlight.

In the way that "I'm in Love" attempted but failed, "Goblin" is told confessional-style. The camera and quality mimics 20th century psychiatric videos that were used for study, such as the recently viral French language study "18 year old girl with Catatonic Schizophrenia." This narrative style allows the audience to trust her as a narrator, and it gives her agency to tell her story on her own terms. "I'm in Love" focused on the characters' struggle with the therapist as an agent of judgment; but in "Goblin," the doctor, though presumably prompting Sulli with questions, is removed from the narrative. "This is a story about a person with a dissociative disorder," the caption reads. "She is with herself and with three other personalities." However, Sulli is not here to bring awareness to Dissociative Identity Disorder, but rather to tell her personal story using it as a foreground.

In every video discussed above, sans the ableist "Bbiribbom Bbaeribom," characters have had different versions of themselves illustrate alternate states of mind. Sulli expanded on that by giving herself different personalities that are more than one dimensional: Sulli(1) is shy, but also curious; she innocently steals glances at the girls around her, but also hides from them behind a chair.


Sulli(2) is flashy and vain, but active and social. She applies makeup and whispers secrets to the audience. In an allusion to her time with f(x), she lackadaisically follows a choreography routine, but constantly fails to get it quite right.


Finally, Sulli(3) is destructive, but a leader. Dressed in all black and surrounded by metal chains, she pulls out a dagger. Weapons in hand, her and her pose confidently march into the mansion and disturbing a sleeping Sulli(1). Is this a metaphor for the destruction of her previous public image, which was sweet and innocent? It may be, or may be nothing to be afraid of. Maybe she just came to "tell you hi."


The video ends with another confessional style outro, in which Sulli suggests that her separate personalities have integrated, a process that is usually the ultimate goal of DID treatment. Quite heartrendingly, however, the video ends with an achingly ominous statement: "Would it not be better for everyone to disappear?" she asks. Though this translation is shaky, the ending suggests Sulli's treatment is not complete, but a work-in-progress.

It remains unknown if Sulli actually suffered from DID specifically, but it is well-known that her severe depression led to her death. Certainly, she has discussed her struggle with cyber-bulling and mental health ("Sulli Candidly Responds To Malicious Comments"). "Goblin" remains an absolute master-craft of story-telling and personal expression. It is a blessing to be given a peak into the mind of an incredibly progressive, strong woman who was a veteran in the industry by her early twenties. Sulli is and will always be important, cherished and loved.


"Bbiribbom Bbaeribom" and "1MIN 1SEC" capitalize off the taboo of mental health by using it for shock-value. "Tears Pouring Down" and "I'm in Love" tell personal stories, but through the lens of a love song. "Goblin" is a standout in the industry, as both the song and video are personal and multi-multifaceted. All of these a different light on one of the biggest societal issues in both Asia and the West, something for which there is no easy or simple answer.

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