Netflix’s ‘Physical: 100’ Made Me Rethink My Own South Korean Identity

Touted as the ‘real life Squid Game’ — minus, you know, all the death — Physical: 100 is one of the most popular shows on Netflix right now. Watching it has made writer Lia Kim question her own cultural biases around her Korean heritage.

The ongoing power of hallyu, the Korean cultural wave, confounds me on a daily basis. These days, being Korean in Australia feels wholly different from how it did when I was growing up. Gone are the puzzled looks when I explained where my parents were from; now K-Pop groups are selling out Australian stadiums with tickets to the tune of $1390; Korean cinema is winning the most prestigious awards in Hollywood; and Korean shows are breaking streaming records the world over. The novelty of it all continues to blow my mind, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Currently sitting at #2 in Netflix’s trending list, Physical: 100 is the latest Korean TV show to capture the zeitgeist. It’s been touted as the ‘real-life Squid Game’ and sure, there are similarities — it’s a physical challenge-based game show. Unlike Squid Game, though, the price for failure is not death, but elimination, and none of the players are in their eighties — they’re young, and absolute units. 

I spent the first half of Episode 1 in awe of the sheer brute strength and athleticism of this lot. It felt like I was experiencing some kind of reverse culture shock at these impressively fit South Koreans on this Netflix survival reality show. But where’d these feelings come from? 

Why ‘Physical: 100’ Made Me Question Myself

It’s jarring to think that most of my exposure to Korean culture has still been filtered through a Western lens. Growing up in Australia, I’ve navigated various levels of pride in my heritage depending on how we were rendered in the (white) Australian imagination. Experiencing the glory that is watching Physical: 100 (seriously, it’s so much fun) was a wake-up call to spot and unpack my own long-held biases about Korean culture and what it means to be Korean. 

Here’s an example: as a Korean woman, the expectation to be tiny and delicate is pretty intense. Just a glance at K-Pop girl groups, romantic leads in Korean dramas, and even the most popular contestants on another (incredible) Korean Netflix show Single’s Inferno will tell you a lot about its prevailing beauty standards. It’s hard not to be affected by these ideals, even from Australia. Physical: 100 — featuring baller women in all their strength, physical power and ability — says fuck you to those expectations. It’s glorious.

Of course, I’m glad that K-Pop, K-Dramas, and K-Beauty have gone global. I’m glad people can share my love for K-BBQ and kimchi. I’m also really glad I no longer have to indulge people’s questions about whether I’m Japanese or Chinese. 

Now let’s take it one step further: if you’re a fan of Korean TV thanks to Netflix hits like Squid Game and Single’s Inferno, do me (and yourself) a solid and check out Physical: 100. The contestants are entertaining as hell; the challenges have a perfect mix of athleticism and absurdity that level out the playing field in creative ways; and the women are badass. Just try not to stan female wrestler Jang Eun-Sil, I dare you.