[Column] Love in the Big City at 30,000 Feet — A Reflection on Diversity

by Wonsuh Song

I was flying from Hong Kong back to Tokyo on a Cathay Pacific flight, mindlessly scrolling through the in-flight entertainment options. That was when I stumbled upon a Korean film called Love in the Big City. I knew nothing about it—only that it was released last year, that it was adapted from a novel, and that roughly 800,000 people had seen it. My decision to watch it was purely spontaneous: I wanted to see a Korean movie, and this happened to be one I hadn’t watched yet.

The story turned out to be far more poignant than I expected. In a nutshell, it portrays the friendship between a male protagonist—who is gay, and still finds it tough to be accepted in society—and a female character who is somewhat marginalized in the very same society. The film starkly revealed just how difficult it can be to live openly as a gay man in today’s world. I also realized, almost embarrassingly, that my assumptions about “what gay looks like” had been very narrow. We often think of an effeminate man as the typical “gay type,” but of course there are many other men who identify as gay yet present in a far more masculine way. It’s obvious if you stop and think, but I had never truly recognized that fact until this film spelled it out for me.

When we imagine those who identify as sexual minorities, we may focus on those who stand out in appearance and mannerisms—people we think we can “read” easily. But in reality, plenty of individuals quietly hide their identities because our society has yet to offer them a safe space. Watching Love in the Big City, I started wondering: If there are so many people quietly blending in around us, how large is the community of LGBTQ+ individuals that we don’t even notice?

This train of thought led me to recall Hong Seok-cheon, the first Korean celebrity to publicly come out as gay in September 2000. Over two decades have passed since his announcement—25 years, give or take—and yet I doubt we can say that Korean society has fully embraced sexual minorities. The fact that raising your voice on such issues can lead to genuine repercussions and disadvantages shows how deeply rooted certain prejudices still are.

Having lived abroad for a long time myself, I sometimes see Korea as surprisingly uniform—where opinions can coalesce almost overnight into a single mainstream stance. In politics, it has clear divisions, of course, but outside of that, there is often a sense of excessive conformity. That can create an environment where pursuing diversity or identifying as part of a minority group can be difficult. Even so, I was heartened to see Love in the Big City on an international airline’s in-flight entertainment menu—something that would have been unimaginable not so long ago. It suggests, in its own small way, that change is at least inching forward.

Above all, the film reinforced my desire to be kinder, more open-minded, and more supportive of LGBTQ+ individuals who might well be among my friends, coworkers, or neighbors. If we can all acknowledge that people lead different lives and hold different beliefs, our society can only become richer for it. That’s precisely what “diversity” is all about—a willingness to see beyond our own narrow boxes.

Leaving that plane, I felt genuinely grateful for the experience. Sometimes a single movie, stumbled upon by chance, can spark a larger reflection on who we are, how we treat others, and the kind of society we want. If Love in the Big City can prod more people to think about acceptance and empathy, then perhaps we’re already well on our way to a future where being different doesn’t mean being alone.