SEOUL — When Baek Gaeul talks about the four principles that guide her life, she raises her hand in a fist. One by one, with a solemn expression, she unfurls her fingers: “No sex with men. No public or private relationships with men. No giving birth to children. No marriage.” She’s firm in her conviction that anyone living by these rules is on the right track. South Korea, she believes, will become a far better place if more people follow this lifestyle.
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If you didn’t know better, you might mistake Baek for an ultra-conservative nun shunning earthly pleasures. But one look at her would dispel that notion. In her short hair, lack of makeup, and loose-fitting overalls, she looks anything but traditional. And her reasoning for these principles is far from religious: “We want to dismantle the patriarchy,” she declares without hesitation.
Baek belongs to the so-called 4B movement, which has long since spread around the world: 4B posts have been viewed millions of times on social media, and newspapers have reported on them. 4B stands for the four commandments, with the prefix “bi” meaning “no” in Korean: bisekseu (no sex), biyeonae (no relationships), bichulsan (no birth), bihon (no marriage).
In the U.S., where former President Donald Trump is known for his misogynistic comments about women (“grab ’em by the pussy” being a prime example) and where many women continue to accuse him of sexual misconduct, some see the 4B philosophy as a radical but hopeful response. Could a freeze on sex and love force society to rethink and change its behavior?
More dignity, less bullshit
Late in the evening, Baek hurried from her office to a small café in the eastern center of Seoul. Fast jazz is playing, and the customers are all young women. On the wall above the counter, where the feminist owner is putting cakes in the display case, there is a sign with neon letters: “More dignity. Less bullshit.”
Baek, well-known among the café’s patrons, reaches for a wall of books and pulls out a stack of red notebooks. “This is my magazine,” she announces proudly. Radish is its name. With a print run of about 1,000 copies, it’s become the flagship publication of South Korea’s radical feminist movement, dominated by 4B principles. Each issue, priced at 16,000 won (around €11), comes out twice a year and features essays, reports, graphics and cartoons.
“Our aim is to amplify our movement,” Baek explains. “We have plenty of female authors, some even from abroad.” Female authors only. So, would she allow a man with feminist views to contribute? Baek’s gaze briefly sweeps across the warm, welcoming coffee.
“Absolutely not,” she replies. “If men want to express themselves, they’re welcome to start their own magazine.” She doubts many would bother, though. “We’re constantly under attack by men. And, trust me, I’ve clapped back at them more than a few times myself.”
Tense gender relations
Baek grins mischievously as she pinches her thumb and index finger together, leaving barely any space between them. “Men often threaten feminists online, saying they’ll kill us with their penises,” she recounts. Then, with a chuckle, she adds, “but statistically, Korean men have the shortest penises in the world! Just 6.9 centimeters. Ridiculous!”
A few years ago, when Baek and other feminists shared an image of a hand mimicking a small penis online, those threats suddenly stopped. Point scored for 4B?
In hardly any other country are gender relations as tense as in South Korea. The media have been writing about a “gender war” for years. Feminist women criticize discrimination, for example: women are more likely than men to have precarious part-time jobs, even though they are hardly ever less educated.
Society’s misogyny makes having children an impossible choice.
In the Gender Gap Ranking of the World Economic Forum, which compares countries in terms of equality in the areas of labor market, education, health and politics , South Korea ranks 94th out of 146 countries.
Men, however, claim that they, too, face inequities. They point to mandatory military service for men and the expectation to fight in the event of a conflict with North Korea. Additionally, in a tight job market, men argue they need stable jobs to fulfill their traditional role as breadwinners for their families. Women counter by emphasizing their desire for financial independence and careers of their own.
This economic imbalance extends into private life. Women, often forced to choose between a career and a relationship, are increasingly opting out of marriage altogether. A staggering four out of five South Korean women aged 30 to 34 remain unmarried, and the country’s fertility rate — an abysmally low 0.72 children per woman — is the world’s lowest.
“Many women want children,” Baek admits. “But society’s misogyny makes it an impossible choice. For now, it’s better to live without them entirely.”
Political correctness is a luxury
The seeds of 4B were planted in 2016 when a young woman was brutally murdered by a stranger in Seoul’s Gangnam district. The attacker’s motive? He claimed women had “ignored him.”
The incident sparked outrage across the nation. Subsequent femicides and other gender-based crimes taking place in the country — from covertly filmed videos sold online to deepfake pornography — only added fuel to the fire.
Women began sharing their stories in online forums, where Baek, then a student, first joined the conversation. She vividly recalls one post that struck a chord: “A user wrote, ‘Men don’t argue. They kill.’” Even now, Baek says she rarely feels safe voicing her opinions publicly. To avoid becoming a target for deepfake porn, she only poses for photos while wearing a face mask.
It’s unfortunate that 4B limits itself to cisgender women.
4B’s principles, forged through grassroots online exchanges, face criticism not just from men’s rights activists who brand them as man-haters but also from within feminist circles. Kim Sono, a queer poet, laments, “It’s unfortunate that 4B limits itself to cisgender women.”
When asked about collaborating with trans individuals to fight discrimination, Baek gets aggressive. “Trans people reinforce gender stereotypes,” she says. “If a man wants to wear a skirt, fine, but that doesn’t mean he’s a woman. A skirt isn’t a woman’s identity.”
Kim Sono, who identifies as non-binary, feels excluded. “4B is the loudest voice because it’s so active on social media. But there are other shades of feminism too.”
Ha Mina, a Korean poet living in Berlin, calls for greater inclusivity. “In Germany, feminism embraces all minorities who challenge the patriarchy,” she says. Yet, she says she understands why 4B’s focus is narrower. “Many members come from economically disadvantaged backgrounds. “Political correctness is a luxury they can’t afford.”
No room for reconciliation
This applies to Baek, the mouthpiece of the radical movement. She grew up in simple circumstances, she says, but comes from a home where politics was always a topic of discussion.
“It was about the democracy movement of the 1980s and the transition to democracy in the 1990s.” But the role of women? That was often forgotten in the parents’ home. The 4B camp is a gathering of those who are not thinking about reconciliation, but rather asserting women’s rights unapologetically.
Still, Ha Mina emphasizes solidarity. “We feminists support one another, even if we live differently.” For her, the 4B commandments seem extreme. But in the café where the walls urge dignity over nonsense, Baek shrugs. “When your safety’s at stake, sex isn’t the priority.”
The political climate has completely killed my interest in men.
Does she practice abstinence herself? “I think I’m bisexual,” Baek admits, although she hasn’t been with a man in years. “The political climate has completely killed my interest in them.” Especially under South Korea’s right-wing president, Yoon Suk Yeol, her disdain has only grown.
Yoon, who recently failed to impose martial law in a bid to consolidate power, has been dubbed “South Korea’s Trump.” And there’s a resemblance: He blamed feminism for the country’s low birth rate and also said that there was no discrimination against women. He wanted to abolish the Ministry for Gender Equality altogether, but the opposition in parliament prevented this.
Unsurprisingly, his voter base largely consists of conservative men — many of whom believe they are at war with feminists who despise them. Small penises, Baek would say, smirking.
