(Spoilers Ahead)

By Rebecca Horch, BACYC, CPC
Reading Time: 5 minutes 30 seconds

Confession time: the soundtrack to my fall might just be… K-pop Demon Hunters. I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was a responsible 39-year-old adult, the next I was jamming out any chance I could get to “Golden.” 

I have to admit. When the cultural revolution that is K-Pop Demon Hunters was making its way across our screens this past summer, I rolled my eyes a little. How could an animated movie called K-Pop Demon Hunters be anything but so, so, so dumb? And the truth is, some old stuff still gets stirred up for me. I grew up in a conservative religious home where anything that even hinted at magic, ghosts, or demons was off-limits. We’re talking Casper the Friendly Ghost off-limits (which was devastating, because Devon Sawa was the literal love of my middle-school life. Thank goodness I had just enough teenage rebellion in me to sneak watch all the off-limit shows at sleepovers instead). Still, when I first heard “Demon Hunters,” I felt that old part of me tense up. It was like a muscle memory of shame and fear I no longer subscribe to, but that still lingers in the background.

But I decided to press play anyway. And I’m so glad I did. From the very first scene, I was hooked. The music is fire, the animation is fun and bright, and the chemistry between Mira, Zoey, and Rumi is off the charts. The story itself is simple, but it’s deeply relatable. Their bond is so supportive and playful that you just want to crawl onto the couch with them and join in on songwriting sessions, late-night snacks, and girlfriends just goofing around. It’s fun and catchy, and then, almost before you realize it, the messaging sneaks up on you. 

The story on the surface is similar to many childhood Good vs. Evil tropes. The supernatural demons lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce while the heroes of the story use their voice to create a barrier of safety and love, keeping the world safe. But when you go to that next layer, a little deeper in the meaning, you soon realize that this movie is less about supernatural forces at work and more about inner ones. The shame, pressure, perfectionism, and self-doubt that eat away at who we truly are. The parts of us that feel too ugly, too much, too broken to show the world. The demons in this movie are not grotesque monsters with dripping fangs. Instead, they look like the shadows of shame and fear that we all carry, and the biggest demon is the monster of self-doubt, stripping away our worth when you believe you are not enough, and you let that belief drive your story. 

Each of the main characters embodies a different struggle. Rumi carries the shame of her secret and the fear that she will be rejected if she is truly known. Mira is moody and torn between two worlds, reflecting the uncertainty we feel when we are not sure where we belong or which side of ourselves to trust. Zoey is playful and lighthearted, showing the part of us that would rather keep things easy than face what feels too heavy. And Jinu, with all his complication, reflects the pull toward power, pressure, and compromise. He is the voice that whispers we can secure love or safety if only we trade away pieces of who we are. 

Together, these characters mirror our inner world: the hidden shame, the restless searching, the avoidance, and the temptation to give ourselves away when belonging feels too costly. 

This complexity is what makes the movie so powerful across ages. A child can watch it as a simple story of heroes defeating villains. A teenager can begin to recognize the themes of secrecy, shame, and belonging. Adults see even more nuance: not just Rumi’s fear of rejection, Mira’s inner conflict, or Zoey’s tendency to avoid heaviness, but also Jinu’s willingness to compromise for approval. Each layer shines a light on something human we recognize in ourselves. This story grows with us, meeting us wherever we are developmentally, offering a new depth each time. 

The movie ultimately represents a battle to stay true to yourself in a world that demands you be something else. A battle to stop hiding. A battle to let your people see the parts of you that terrify you the most. 

What I loved most is how Mira, Zoey, and Rumi model what it looks like to belong to each other. When Rumi wrestles with her powers and her shame, and when it is finally revealed that she is part demon herself, her friends do not ultimately reject or abandon her. Their first reaction is messy. They are hurt and confused, not simply because of what she is, but because she kept it from them. They feel the weight of the betrayal more than the truth of her identity. But what makes their friendship powerful is that they move through that hurt toward deeper trust. They do not say, “We will only love the shiny parts of you.” They lean in and say, “We want all of you.” And isn’t that what we are all hungry for? To know we will not be left when our shame shows up. To know our imperfections will not make us unlovable. And in fact, it is our imperfection that makes us fully human. 

This is the layer that feels so culturally important right now. We live in a world that thrives on othering. Our social media feeds are built to divide us into camps of who is in and who is out, who is good and who is bad. It is exhausting and it is isolating. Algorithms are designed to pull us deeper into our own perspectives, reinforcing our certainty that our view is the only one that makes sense. And the truth is, none of us are immune to that pull. Every time we click on something that proves us right, we are training ourselves to look away from people who see the world differently. 

Now, let me be clear. I am not saying we should ignore real harm or excuse the evils of the world. There are injustices that need to be confronted, and not everything can or should be reduced to “We are all the same deep down.” But if we stop seeing the humanity in each other altogether, if we refuse to wrestle with the discomfort of listening to someone whose story or worldview does not match our own, we are only feeding the very demons that keep us from the one thing we all long for: to belong. 

Healing does not happen in echo chambers. It does not happen in “good vibes only” circles where we pretend nothing is wrong. Healing happens in community. It happens when we stop hiding the parts of ourselves we are ashamed of and risk being seen, and when someone else looks us in the eye and says, “You still belong.” 

K-Pop Demon Hunters reminded me of this truth. The revolution is not about destroying our demons once and for all. It is about facing what they represent, and watching their power shrink when they are met with love. Maybe the challenge for us, right here in the real world, is to practice that too: to look at our own shadows with compassion, and to see the people across from us who are different, complicated, and imperfect just like we are, and choose to say, “You still belong.”

Until next time,

Rebecca

Rebecca Horch( BACYC, CPC )

Rebecca strives to support others in building resilience, self-compassion, connected relationships and self-awareness. She loves to work with people who are ready for the hard work of inner growth and is passionate about helping others tap into their intuitive gifts and use them in this world.

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