K-Dramas Are Redefining the Alpha Male

Having watched Korean dramas for over a decade, I've witnessed the evolution of many tropes, none more iconic than the "alpha male." This type pf characters has long been a staple of the genre; they are often portrayed as charming but arrogant figures whose treatment of women can range from indulgent to downright disrespectful. But here’s the twist: the "alpha male" isn’t dying; he’s just evolving.

At a time when Western media is still churning out these irresistible but condescending alpha men—whose charm often masks misogyny—K-Dramas are taking a sharp turn. The presentation of the new "alpha male" image in Korean dramas is still impressive in all the traditional ways: broad shoulders, impeccable suits, powerful positions in society. But there’s one key difference: these new heroes are more humble, more respectful, and most importantly, they protect and respect women rather than control or dominate them. In short, the new alpha male is more about partnership and mutual respect rather than power plays.

I can say I grew up on K-Dramas, especially the romantic ones, and for a long time, they shaped my own ideas of love—ideas that were completely unrealistic. In my younger years, I was all about the "perfect love" that only existed in dramas. But as I grew older, reality came crashing in, and I began to hate these fantastical portrayals of romance. And I don’t just mean K-Dramas—I’m talking about all the romantic stories that, deliberately or not, push women to diminish themselves for the sake of a man, to become that submissive little rabbit ready for the slaughter. Fifty Shades of Grey, I’m looking at you.

Now, I wouldn’t say I’ve completely given up on these kinds of stories. After all, they’ve shaped much of my understandings of relationship over the years. But I’m more cautious now. I might still indulge in these old narratives for the sake of escapism, but I stay grounded in the real world too. That’s exactly where When the Phone Rings caught my attention.

You can’t ignore this drama. First off, it’s currently one of the most talked-about K-Dramas on social media, with Netflix’s viewership numbers through the roof. It debuted at #4 on Netflix’s global TV rankings, and after the next set of episodes dropped, it skyrocketed to #2. But there's more: the plot and characters mirror the recent political event in South Korea involving President Yoon Seok-youl, and fans have capitalized on this with meme campaigns that are practically free advertising.

Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I watched it. Here’s my take: When the Phone Rings isn’t a revolutionary work. In fact, compared to other hits this year, like Queen of Tears (which tries to flip the script with a male-submissive character) and Lovely Runner (where the female character is clearly in charge of their shared redemption), When the Phone Rings feels rather dated. At its core, it still follows the familiar alpha male x vulnerable female setup. But surprisingly, this familiar formula is given a refreshing twist, and it breathes new life into an otherwise overdone narrative.

The series is based on a web novel from Kakao Page and centers on a political marriage of convenience between Baek Sa-eon, the youngest spokesperson for the South Korean President’s office, and Hong Hee-joo, a sign language interpreter with selective mutism due to a childhood trauma. Their marriage has been cold and emotionless for three years, but a phone call from a kidnapper sets off events that forces the two to confront each other.

If you look at the premise—contract marriage under political backgrounds—it’s easy to assume this is just another typical “alpha male x damsel in distress” narrative. You can already imagine the emotional rollercoaster: how Baek Sa-eon hurts Hong Hee-joo, then gradually falls for her. Meanwhile, Hong Hee-joo suffers in silence, yet can't help but love him despite the mismatch. It’s classic melodramatic, tortured romance. But, hold on.

Baek Sa-eon is powerful, but he’s also human. He’s calm, kind, and approachable, and his respect for others is evident in everything he does. He doesn't shout at subordinates or flex his power. In fact, he’s the opposite of the stereotypical alpha: he’s compassionate, patient, and even apologetic when he makes mistakes. There’s a touching detail in the show that really underscores this change in the narrative—after the kidnapping incident, Baek Sa-eon hires two female bodyguards for Hong Hee-joo. When they send him photos of Hong Hee-joo meeting with an unknown man, Baek Sa-eon reminds them that their job is to protect her, not to monitor her; they shouldn’t be taking photos and infringing upon her privacy.

Wait. Did you hear that right? Female bodyguards, and respecting the woman’s privacy in an era where "alpha males" are often depicted as controlling? This is new. This is refreshing.

And then there’s Hong Hee-joo. She’s no damsel in distress waiting for a knight in shining armor. After the kidnapping, she finds the kidnapper’s phone that's equipped with an untraceable voice-changing feature. Instead of cowering, she decides to turn the tables—threatening Baek Sa-eon over the phone, demanding that he free her from their political marriage and give her the freedom she deserves. This drama is a far cry from the submissive female leads we’ve seen in the past. The balance between power, vulnerability, and respect feels so much more real and, dare I say, healthy.

By the way, K-dramas really know how to create visual magic. The cinematography and soundtrack are spot on—subtle when it needs to be, but unapologetically dramatic when the moment calls for it. Honestly, I wasn’t initially sold on the actor playing Baek Sa-eon. His look is not really my type. But with the help of the direction and script, I’ve completely fallen for him.

When the Phone Rings may not reinvent the wheel, but it certainly brings something new to the tropes.. And while the "alpha male" might still be alive and well in K-Dramas, the new generation of these characters isn’t about domination or control. They’re about mutual respect, growth, and understanding. It’s a step forward in how we portray relationships—and frankly, it’s long overdue.