Loving Out Loud:
Dave Kim on Queer Identity and the Power of Family Recognition

Oscar-winning actress Youn Yeo-jeong, celebrated both in Korea and internationally, recently spoke publicly for the first time about her son’s same-sex marriage. Her brief but heartfelt words resonated deeply in a society where such expressions of support, especially from the older generation, remain rare. Though simple, her statement carried weight far beyond her personal story. It felt like a scene from a film – quiet, powerful, and symbolic of a shifting cultural landscape in Korea.

Dave Kim (김승환) is a programmer at the Seoul International PRIDE Film Festival, the country’s largest queer film event, and is also active with the NGO “Sinnaneun Center” (신나는센터, or “Center of Joy”). We spoke with him about the evolving state of queer culture in Korea, the importance of visibility, and the quiet revolutions happening in everyday life.

You and your husband, film director Kim-Jho Gwangsoo (김조광수), are known as Korea’s first same-sex couple to marry publicly. How did you meet, and what led to the wedding?

The group Chingusai (친구사이, “Between Friends”), the first organization in Korea to advocate for the rights of sexual minorities, had a profound influence on me. When I first became involved, it was still a relatively small group. Many of the older members passed on their knowledge and experiences to us younger ones in a very direct and personal way.

One program that left a lasting impression on me was called “Charming School.” It offered incredibly practical guidance–how to navigate daily life as a queer person, how to develop one’s own stance and identity, insights into queer history, sex education, and even the situation in other countries. I learned so much during that time, and I still look back on it with deep gratitude.

In 2008, I had the opportunity to study abroad in Chicago as part of my electronics degree. At the time, Barack Obama was still a senator for Illinois, and in Chicago and other cities across the state, students and grassroots organizations were actively advocating for LGBTQ rights. At a local LGBT center, I found a vibrant space for exchange and support. Later, I visited similar centers in other U.S. cities and eventually in Europe, gradually gaining a deeper understanding of what it means to live openly as a queer person.

I had always been passionate about film, so after returning to Korea, I was eager to break into the industry. My now-husband, Kim-Jho Gwangsoo, already had his own production company, Generation Blue Films (청년필름), and I joined the team handling everything from planning and production to marketing and distribution. That’s how we met. I was eager to get closer to him, so I handed out flyers with extra enthusiasm and did everything I could to be helpful at the company. Naturally, we grew closer, and over time, I also became more deeply involved in the fight for LGBTQ rights.

The film press already knew about our relationship, so we saw no reason to hide it. There was nothing to conceal. Initially, I hadn’t planned on having a public wedding. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that our marriage could carry meaning not just for us, but for many others as well. I thought that by holding a public ceremony, we might spark a broader conversation in Korean society about recognizing same-sex marriages and partnerships. So, I found the courage, and in the end, we celebrated our wedding with many people who genuinely shared in our joy. Looking back, it was one of the best decisions we ever made. What changed most in your life after your public wedding?

When we decided to hold a public wedding, the topic of same-sex marriage was barely present in Korean society. Public figures like Hong Seok-Cheon had certainly helped increase visibility for sexual minorities through their coming out, but there was still little serious public discourse about how queer people could live as equal members of society. Even within the LGBT community, many believed it was too soon to push for marriage equality. There wasn’t even a clear distinction between the fight for equal rights and the fight for basic freedoms.

Against this backdrop, our decision to marry publicly sparked a wave of change. Inspired by our wedding, like-minded individuals came together to form the “Network for the Right to Form a Family” (가족구성권 보장을 위한 네트워크), which eventually evolved into Gagoonet: The Korean Network for LGBT Rights to Partnership and Marriage (혼인평등연대). Since then, the movement for marriage equality has continued to grow. One symbolic milestone was the Supreme Court’s decision to grant the couple Osori-Soju (So Seong-wook and Kim Yong-min) access to family health insurance. Today, same-sex marriage is even discussed publicly during presidential debates. I believe our wedding played a small but meaningful role in opening the door to this broader societal conversation.

But the changes that meant the most to me happened within our families. Not only did my husband’s mother become more open, but so did my own parents, my sister, and other relatives. Coming out was difficult at first and filled with fear, but over time, they came to understand me, and our relationships grew stronger as a result. That’s why I always encourage people around me to come out when they feel ready. I truly believe that life is much happier when you're surrounded by people who accept you for who you are, rather than keeping everyone at a distance.

What is your outlook on institutional change, such as the legalization of same-sex marriage?

As I mentioned earlier, the Korean Supreme Court’s decision to grant family health insurance to the same-sex couple Osori-Soju was a moment of great symbolic significance. It wasn’t just about recognizing the rights of one couple–it signaled the first visible cracks in Korea’s rigidly heteronormative system.

Signs of change are appearing in many places. Under President Moon Jae-in’s administration, for example, spousal visas were issued to same-sex partners of diplomats and U.S. military personnel. We’re also seeing gradual shifts in areas like airline mileage sharing and insurance benefits. While the system itself hasn’t fundamentally changed, the rigid framework it rests on is beginning to loosen.

Even in the U.S. and Europe, marriage equality didn’t happen overnight. It was a gradual process that passed through various partnership models–like France’s PACS system–before reaching a broader societal consensus. The cracks widened, more institutions adapted, and eventually, public support followed.

That’s why I believe the legalization of same-sex marriage in Korea is only a matter of time. Of course, there are moments when I feel frustrated–it’s taking longer than I had hoped. But I firmly believe that this change must be accompanied by genuine understanding and acceptance within society. It’s not enough to simply change the law. It has to take root in people’s everyday lives–it has to work, and it has to be lived.

Take South Africa, for instance. Same-sex marriage is legal there, but in reality, many queer people still don’t feel safe enough to come out. If society doesn’t evolve alongside the law, then the law becomes little more than a piece of paper with beautiful words. That’s why I believe it’s more important to develop systems that are supported and sustained by society–even if that takes more time. In the long run, that’s the healthier path forward.

After your wedding, you founded the “Sinnaneun Center,” the first registered organization in Korea dedicated to the rights of sexual minorities. Could you tell us more about it?

Even before the Sinnaneun Center was established, various NGOs had already been working to support sexual minorities in Korea. But very few of them were in a position to collaborate directly with the government. To work with government bodies, corporations, and other institutions, you need to be a legal entity–which also ensures financial transparency. In other words, registering as an official association meant that the state formally recognized our organization’s existence. We wanted to demonstrate that an organization representing sexual minorities could exist legally in Korea, and that’s why we pursued official registration.

From the beginning, we didn’t want to simply replicate what other groups were already doing. Instead, we deliberately sought out areas that had received little attention in Korean society. One of those areas was art and culture. Today, our most important events are the Seoul International PRIDE Film Festival and the Pride Expo, which was inspired by the LGBT Expo in New York and is held annually at the Dongdaemun Design Plaza. We also organize cultural events like the Pride Gala, which takes place every May in observance of the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia, and Transphobia.

With the high-quality content created by queer individuals themselves, we pursue two main goals: First, to strengthen self-confidence within the community. And second, to make it easier for people outside the queer scene to engage with the topic openly and without discomfort. Our center places particular emphasis on the power of culture and media, because through the enjoyment of meaningful, well-crafted content, prejudices and discriminatory attitudes can be dismantled in a natural and lasting way. The Seoul International PRIDE Film Festival is a major event recognized across East Asia. What is your role as a programmer, and how do you select the films?

The Seoul International PRIDE Film Festival was founded in 2011. In the beginning, it was a modest event that simply screened films. But starting in 2015, it began to grow, and by 2019, it was officially recognized as an international film festival by the Korean Film Council–a milestone that significantly elevated its scale and importance.

Interestingly, during that same period, queer film festivals in other parts of Asia faced serious challenges. At the Tokyo International Lesbian & Gay Film Festival (Rainbow Reel Tokyo), key figures left the city due to economic hardship and the aftermath of the Fukushima nuclear disaster, forcing the festival to scale down. In Hong Kong, the cultural sector collapsed following the Umbrella Revolution. Taiwan faces ongoing geopolitical tensions, and Southeast Asian countries have yet to match Korea in terms of film production quality. Given this regional context, our festival naturally assumed a more prominent role in East Asia. We’re deeply grateful for the many positive responses we’ve received, even as we recognize there’s still much to learn.

When it comes to selecting films, our top priorities are artistic merit and the quality of execution. No matter how important a story may be, if it isn’t told compellingly, it loses its impact. Whether a film features well-known actors or acclaimed directors is not a decisive factor for us.

Even for films that have garnered international attention–at major festivals like the Berlinale, for instance–we apply our own rigorous standards. What matters most is that the films move people, challenge them, and spark meaningful reflection, regardless of how famous they are. Well-crafted films that win awards at festivals naturally attract attention. And when those films are queer or tell queer stories, they can introduce broader audiences–who may not have previously engaged with these topics–to the lives and rights of sexual minorities in a natural and accessible way. That’s why artistic quality is our most important criterion.

Each year, the Seoul International PRIDE Film Festival showcases over 100 queer films from around the world. This gives audiences a window into the lived experiences of queer people from a wide range of countries and cultures. By witnessing these diverse stories–whether directly or indirectly–viewers are invited into a space of empathy and understanding. In that sense, the festival also plays a clear educational role: it fosters connection, breaks down prejudice, and encourages dialogue across different walks of life.

In a previous interview, you mentioned that the themes and characters in Korean queer films were quite limited. Has that changed in recent years?

Until just a few years ago, Korean queer films mostly focused on coming-of-age stories, which I always found rather limiting. Thankfully, since 2022, there’s been a noticeable shift: the range of themes and characters is expanding.

In the past, queer characters were often portrayed as dark or tragic figures. Today, we’re seeing more vibrant, flamboyant personalities on screen. Even the role of the villain is now sometimes played by a queer character. Trans characters, too, are being depicted with greater diversity–where they were once almost exclusively tall and slim, they now appear in a variety of body types, offering a more realistic reflection of the community.

Queer protagonists are no longer confined to school settings either. They’re now appearing in stories about sports and other areas of life. This evolution is breaking down old stereotypes, and I find that incredibly encouraging.

What’s more, Korea’s second-largest international film festival, the Jeonju International Film Festival, has been consistently showcasing queer films since 2020. In 2024, two queer films were featured in the Korean competition section. The fact that a major film festival –one that isn’t explicitly queer-focused –is showing genuine interest in queer cinema and giving it space is, in my view, a very positive development for both the Korean film industry and society at large.

In your view, what role should a queer film festival play beyond simply being a film festival?

Women’s film festivals don’t just showcase films by or about women–they also spark social discourse and serve an educational purpose. I believe queer film festivals should do the same: while maintaining their identity as festivals, they should also take on a consistent sense of responsibility and play an active role in society.

Ideally, we would see more queer film festivals with greater diversity. But in reality, becoming officially recognized as a film festival requires meeting strict regulations and navigating complex requirements. That’s why I believe a more practical and effective approach is to make greater use of alternative formats–such as curated screenings or thematic film series. Earlier, you mentioned the educational role of queer cinema. Are there any films you would recommend to queer youth, especially those navigating a lonely path in conservative Korea?

When I was young, there wasn't even a clear understanding of the term “sexual minority”. Back in school, it was seen more as a subculture that existed in all-boys’ schools. Today’s youth have a much clearer sense of their identities–but that clarity often comes with increased bullying and discrimination, which is deeply unfortunate. That’s why I don’t want to simply offer them a cheerful message like, “We’re happy and living our best lives.”

Instead, I would recommend two films in particular. The first is Love, Simon (directed by Greg Berlanti, rated 12+ in Korea, 2018), which follows a high school student as he comes to terms with his sexual identity. The second is Heartstone (directed by Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson, rated 12+ in Korea, 2019), a story about first love between two boys in a small Icelandic fishing village.

Love, Simon is lighthearted and uplifting, while Heartstone offers a raw and honest portrayal of anxiety and emotional struggle. I hope these films can bring comfort to queer youth and remind them that they are not alone–that there are many others like them around the world. For their non-queer peers, these films can serve as an invitation to expand their understanding and empathy for others.

The Goethe-Institut Korea regularly participates in the Pride Gala, held each year on the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia, and Transphobia. Could you tell us more about this event?

Our events–the Pride Film Festival, the Pride Expo, and the Pride Gala–are successful formats we’ve adapted from abroad. The Pride Gala, for instance, is inspired by the Met Gala, the iconic fashion benefit in New York. In Korea, there are many people within organizations and institutions who are open to LGBTQ issues at the working level, but their proposals for LGBTQ-related events are often rejected by decision-makers. That’s why we created a special event where those decision-makers could participate directly.

However, in Korea’s still-conservative society, the topic of sexual minorities remains highly controversial. The protests from homophobic groups are not to be underestimated, and as a result, many decision-makers hesitate to attend LGBTQ events if they are public. That’s why the Pride Gala is intentionally held as a private event. We want these individuals to feel comfortable attending, and through the experience, develop greater understanding and empathy for the rights of sexual minorities.

Each year, we also present an award to a person or organization that has made significant contributions to LGBTQ rights. The evening includes classical music performances as well. Research suggests that many classical composers–like Schubert and Handel–were queer. Through these performances, we aim to subtly raise awareness that many of the world’s most celebrated cultural and artistic works were created by queer individuals.

We also invite speakers from the fields of politics and diplomacy, religion, and media to deliver keynote addresses. These are often surprising figures–people whose presence at such an event might raise eyebrows. But that’s precisely the point: we want to gradually shift the perspectives of those in positions of influence. Thankfully, many are already supportive. We want our distinguished guests to feel safe and truly enjoy their time at the Pride Gala. We put a great deal of care into the planning so that the experience leaves a lasting, positive impression. One last question–what’s next for you?

My husband, Kim-Jho Gwangsoo, who is also the CEO of the Sinnaneun Center, is turning 60 this year. That milestone prompted us to reflect–and we realized that many queer activists in Korea are also aging and beginning to confront the realities of growing older.

In the U.S. and Europe, there are already LGBT senior centers, and queer people there often have better social safety nets. We now want to take concrete steps toward developing and offering a retirement system tailored to our community. Aging is a pressing issue for society as a whole–and in a changing world, the voices of sexual minorities must also be heard and considered. That’s why we’re planning a range of initiatives focused specifically on this topic.

Another key focus of our work is expanding HIV prevention efforts. Homophobic attitudes still perpetuate the outdated and harmful stereotype that “homosexuality equals AIDS, and AIDS equals death.” I want to help dismantle the foundation of that kind of hate.

Just as there’s a vaccine for COVID-19, HIV infection can now be effectively prevented through what’s known as HIV PrEP. We launched a pilot project for this at the end of last year, and starting this year, we’re rolling out the program more broadly with government support. Our goal is clear: zero new infections and a meaningful reduction in the stigma that continues to link queer people with illness and blame.

Finally, I want to express how deeply we value our collaboration with the Goethe-Institut Korea, as well as with other embassies and cultural institutions. We are sincerely grateful for their support.