In South Korea, where pop idols are meticulously crafted and public personas tightly controlled, authenticity can feel like the biggest risk of all. That’s why April 22 wasn’t just another concert night for K-pop boy band Just B—it was a landmark moment. During the group’s show in Los Angeles, Bain stepped forward not just as a performer, but as himself, proudly coming out as gay and making history as the first openly gay male K-pop idol.
Bain—real name Lim Jimin, a 23-year-old singer who first gained attention on the idol survival show Produce X 101—stood under the lights of a Los Angeles stage and came out as gay in front of a cheering crowd, calling himself a “proud” member of the LGBTQ community.
And that wasn’t just mic drop-worthy—it was revolutionary.
A couple days later, Bain took to Instagram to echo what many queer people have felt when facing the uncertainty of living openly in a world that doesn’t always return the favor.
That “lighthouse” is none other than Hong Seok-cheon, a veteran actor and entrepreneur who made history in 2000 as the first Korean celebrity to publicly come out as gay. At the time, Hong—then a rising TV personality—risked and lost nearly everything by choosing honesty in a society still deeply resistant to queer identities.
“It was because you decided to walk the lonely and difficult path 25 years ago that I could gather the small courage to do the same from where I stand,” Bain continued in his message to Hong.
This is the kind of emotional baton-passing that queer history is made of—when one person dares to live in their truth, and that act reverberates, sometimes decades later, giving someone else the strength to do the same.
And Hong’s response? Classic in its restraint, and resonant in its power: “Congratulations. I support you.”
But let’s not sugarcoat it. Korea in 2025 is not exactly a paradise for queer folks. When Bain made his announcement, local forums flared up with predictable disdain.
Because pride is an antidote to shame. Because visibility is resistance. Because sometimes a boy in a boy band needs to look out into a sea of fans and know that they are cheering not just for his choreography, but for his courage.
Bain’s story may be headline-worthy, but for many LGBTQ Koreans, it’s also deeply personal. It’s a reminder that even in a world where politicians use queer identities as punching bags to score points with conservative voters, authenticity is still a form of protest—and a very catchy one at that.
And maybe that’s the new chorus we need: less fear, more freedom. Fewer secrets, more songs. One note at a time, Bain is adding to a harmony that’s been far too long in the making.
So here’s to the lighthouse keepers and the brave voices following their beam. The stage is finally a little brighter.
Source: Korea JoongAng Daily