Author’s Note: Before beginning this article, I want to acknowledge a critical issue: disabled individuals in Australia do not have true marriage equality due to the Partner Income Test.
Partner’s earnings are assessed to determine how much of the payment a disabled person can get. Payments reduce once your partner earns above a set income-free area (threshold), and cut out completely once their income reaches the cut-off limit. If you care about equality, contact your local MP and demand the removal of the Partner Income Test and an increase to the DSP.
Summary:
“Identical twin sisters Yu Mi-Ji and Yu Mi-Rae (both played by Park Bo-Young) couldn’t be more different despite sharing the same face. Mi-Ji, a former track star, now lives a carefree and reckless life, while Mi-Rae, a perfectionist, follows an elite career path at a government-owned company. The sisters audaciously lie about switching lives and eventually decide to swap roles for real.
Meanwhile, Lee Ho-Su (Jin Young), a charming lawyer with a hidden painful past, crosses paths with the twins. Their entangled lives force all three to confront their truths and discover who they really are.” (AsianWiki.com)
Ableism is deeply ingrained in society. We hear it in phrases like “push past your limits,” “you can do it if you try,” and “don’t let your disability stop you.” These messages, while often well-intentioned, can be harmful—especially when disabled individuals internalise them, pushing themselves to exhaustion or harm in the pursuit of being “inspirational.”
The media frequently perpetuates this through inspiration porn—the objectification of disabled people to make non-disabled audiences feel grateful for what they have. Our Unwritten Seoul, a twelve-episode K-drama, explores the devastating consequences of this narrative, showing how individuals internalise these ideals and feel pressured to “overcome” their disabilities.
Internalised Ableism: Ho-su
Ho-su embodies internalised ableism. He refuses to use his hearing aid, pushes his body beyond its limits, and hides his disability from colleagues, fearing the stigma of being different. The only person he confides in is Choong-gu, another disabled man—someone who, unlike Ho-su, cannot mask his disability.
Ho-su’s denial of his disability isn’t about pride—it’s about survival in an ableist world. His relentless self-punishment reflects a desperate need to appear “normal,” even at great personal cost.
Inspiration Porn: Choong-gu
Choong-gu, a mobility aid user, represents the opposite side of ableism: being reduced to an object of “inspiration.” Though never explicitly stated, it’s clear he has spent years being objectified and dehumanised.
When Ho-su tells him he wants to work at the same law firm, Choong-gu snaps:
“You must be into ‘human triumph’ and all that stuff. I am somewhat of an icon for that.”
This line cuts deep—Choong-gu knows exactly how able-bodied people see him, and he resents it.
His introductory scene to Ho-su highlights this fact. Rolling onto a stage, standing with his mobility aid, he boasts about his expensive, custom-made Italian shoes. The comment isn’t vanity—it’s a performance, a way to reclaim control over how others perceive him. The shoes will last a lifetime, he says, but the real statement is about status and self-determination.
As a lawyer, Choong-gu uses his profession as armor, pushing himself ruthlessly to win cases. He wants to be recognised as a lawyer first, disabled second. But this pursuit hardens him—his relentless ambition costs him empathy and compassion.
The Turning Point
Ho-su’s internalised ableism finally shatters when his hearing deteriorates completely. No longer able to hide, he’s forced to accept his deafness—not as something to “overcome,” but as an inseparable part of who he is. Through this acceptance, he learns to live without apology, finally finding authenticity.
Choong-gu’s journey is different but equally profound. He has spent his life defined by his disability before being seen as a person. Constantly suspected of exploiting his condition, he has learned to be defensive, trading empathy for survival. But by the end of the series, he finds a new balance—asserting his humanity without losing compassion.
Conclusion
Our Unwritten Seoul isn’t just a romance or a story of personal growth; it’s a quiet, powerful critique of how ableism shapes disabled lives. Ho-su and Choong-gu’s journeys reveal the emotional cost of living under society’s gaze—and the strength it takes to reclaim one’s identity, not for inspiration, but for self-acceptance.