Not Just a Romance: Women in 'When Life Gives You Tangerines'

The 2025 series When Life Gives You Tangerines (Original title: Poksakk Sogatsuda), directed by Kim Won-seok with IU and Park Bo-gum in lead roles, brings to screen a certain sense of revolution—slow, steady, and deeply resonant, it constructs an empowering vision of women. At first, this Korean Netflix series may appear to be a nostalgic tale of romance, tradition, and familial bonds. But beneath that exteriority, this drama unfolds with a quiet resistance, following the lifelong love story of Ae-sun (IU) and Gwan-sik (Park Bo-gum), beginning on Jeju Island in the 1950s. Their compassionate romance evolves against Korea's ever-shifting cultural and political landscape as seasons and decades pass.

 Strong and Resilient Women

Among the series' many social and cultural reflections, its most stirring contribution is a confident yet grounded representation of women—through Ae-sun herself, her mother, Jeon Gwang-rye, and a group of Jeju's women divers. These characters are independent and strong, doing more than just filling the emotional space in the narrative. They carry the responsibilities of work, tradition, resistance, and change. Jeon Gwang-rye, a haenyeo (diver) who harvests seafood and is the sole provider for her family, stands at the center of this narrative. Despite her health issues, including respiratory complications, she dives deep into the ocean day after day, quietly defying the long-standing notion of women as fragile or physically unfit for such grueling labor. She is one of the many pillars in the story that holds the fort—and the future—together.

 As a child, Ae-sun inherits this resilience. She isn't consoled when she loses the student election and becomes vice president. She is frustrated, not because she dislikes the position, but because she knows she can be president. Her ambition is unapologetic. It's also profoundly touching when Gwan-sik, a young boy who loves her, says he wants to be the "First Lady"—not out of mockery but admiration and support. He knows Ae-sun has the potential to be a good leader. His innocent remark subverts gender expectations with disarming clarity, placing equality not as an argument but as a given. Their relationship quietly dismantles conventional roles, suggesting a newer, kinder model of partnership between men and women—one where support is mutual, and respect is foundational.

As Ae-sun grows older, she continues to embody a vision of strength, empowerment, and a modern redefinition of what it means to be a Korean woman—one that also speaks to global audiences. While her village has never had a woman chief, Ae-sun is encouraged and supported immensely by women folks to contest for it and become one.This way, her journey is marked not by the spectacle but by consistent, grounded, strong, impactful choices. And at crucial moments, women from previous generations rise to meet her with the same power. Her grandmother, for instance, fulfills a promise made to Ae-sun's mother by offering financial support when Ae-sun and Gwan-sik are struggling. They purchase a boat with that money—an economic milestone in Jeju's fishing economy. But when Gwan-sik's mother credits her son for the purchase, Ae-sun calmly asserts that the boat was possible because of her grandmother's gift. She reclaims ownership over a financial decision and the narrative of her capability.

This moment deepens when Ae-sun's uncle expresses anger that his mother's wealth went to a granddaughter rather than a grandson. His logic? That the grandson, not the granddaughter, would perform the grandmother's funeral rites. But the grandmother's reply is a gentle upheaval of tradition: her granddaughter will perform the rituals. Here again, we witness the drama interrogating—and rewriting—the rules that have historically sidelined women, particularly within familial and spiritual traditions. These scenes strike a chord, inviting viewers to question long-held assumptions, and they do so not with confrontation but with clarity and conviction.

Resisting Tradition

Even after the boat is purchased, Ae-sun does not step into it—not because she doesn't want to, but because of a superstitious belief that women shouldn't board boats, lest they bring bad luck and anger the Dragon King. This belief is so internalised that even Ae-sun hesitates. But then comes a turning point: when naming the boat, Gwan-sik asks Ae-sun to write the letters on the boat because her handwriting is better. She's surprised: "Should I get on the boat?" she asks. "The paint will dry fast," he replies casually. She resists: "It's bad luck for women to get on the boat. They say the Dragon King will sink it, and you won't be able to return again." Gwan-sik doesn't care about it. He doesn't argue and tells her that all these don't matter. He encourages her and makes space for her and their daughter to step on board.

What follows is one of the most defining scenes of the series—Once on the boat, Ae-sun raises her voice not just against superstition but against centuries of gendered limitations:

"I never really believed in the Dragon King anyway 'cause I believe in myself!

Why should it be bad luck for me or Geum-Myeong to get on the boat?

What? Haven't you heard what's been going on up here, you stupid old man?

You ever heard about the New Community Movement?

…be nice to me, or else I won't serve you a bowl of dried rice during festivals."

This monologue is powerful—not because of its loudness or the rage it emotes, but because it's firm, confident, and real. Her words filter into the social, political, and spiritual constructs that have shaped the marginalisation of women for generations. It's a moment of reclamation—not only of space (the boat) but of voice, belief, and identity.

When Life Gives You Tangerines has succeeded in showing how these specific moments—quiet yet profound—gather momentum. The drama never forces its feminism, but it voluntarily emerges across scenes. The women in this drama exhibit a certain sense of soft power, making an impact without being sensational. It comes across in their capacity to mold their world via their decisions, care, silent rebellion, and everyday courage—creating a more subtly powerful influence. The drama and its women are about living differently and setting an example. Such soft power is demonstrated by Ae-sun taking charge, her grandmother changing inheritance customs, and her mother defying social norms. The series articulates women's history while simultaneously portraying how men can be allies and participate in that movement by listening and supporting without ego.

What is commendable about the series is that it showcases a layered picture through romance where resistance emerges from a mother's role as a breadwinner, a grandmother's gift, a daughter's speech, or a husband's refusal to believe in outdated superstition. Without being desperate or rough, When Life Gives You Tangerines places women—and their histories, dreams, labors, and loves—at the center of its narrative. Doing so provokes audiences across cultures, generations, and continents to contemplate on women and companionship, tradition and history.

Akishe L. Jakha is a Film and Media scholar from Nagaland, specializing in popular cinema and regional cinematic culture. He researches Nagaland라이브 바카라 film and media history alongside its material practices.