For decades, the cultural current has flowed one way.
South Korea exports. The Philippines consumes.
K-pop fills our playlists. K-dramas dominate primetime. Korean idols sell out arenas, endorsement deals and fan meets on Philippine soil. Rarely does the reverse happen — and rarer still is a Filipino artist who doesn’t just visit South Korea but breaks through it.
That’s why Gwyn Dorado’s story matters.
We first met Gwyn when she was just nine years old and was a contestant in “Asia’s Got Talent.” We witnessed her shine on stage in Singapore at that time.
Fast forward almost 10 years later, and here she is again — no longer just a promising Filipina singer, but Gwyn Dorado, now known simply as “Dorado” in South Korea. Not because she changed who she is, but because, as her Korean supporters joke, “Gwyn is too complicated to remember.”
And yet, ironically, she’s become unforgettable.
In an industry where Korean artists traditionally dominate the Filipino market — from K-pop idols to K-drama actors — Gwyn is quietly, steadily turning the tide. She is one of the rare Filipinos who didn’t just get noticed in South Korea but made it locally, on Korean television, in Korean, and on one of the country’s most competitive singing programs.
That alone is no small feat.
We visited Gwyn in South Korea to check in on her life after placing second runner-up in “Sing Again 4,” one of Korea’s top-rated and most sought-after music competition shows. What stood out immediately was how much — and how fast — everything had changed for her.
“A lot has changed in the past 10 years,” she told me. “And even in just six months sa ‘Sing Again,’ ang daming nangyari. Yung Korean ko talagang nag-improve.”
That improvement wasn’t accidental. Gwyn has been living in South Korea for almost two years now, but she admitted her Korean language skills truly skyrocketed only when she joined “Sing Again.”
“My Korean really improved when I joined ‘Sing Again’ kasi yung environment ko lahat Korean. Even the whole broadcast was in Korean. I had no choice but to speak their language,” said she.
Her experience had no shortcuts. No translators. No safety net. But really, how did it all begin?
Like many modern success stories, Gwyn’s Korean journey started not on a big stage, but on TikTok — during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. She released a song called Why Do We Love, pouring isolation, uncertainty, and emotion into music.
After it went viral, an entertainment agency in South Korea called A.O. Entertainment reached out to her directly.
“They DM’d me and said, ‘We want to get you as an artist.’”
Just like that, a door opened… but walking through it was another story entirely.
Long before she packed her bags, Gwyn was already a fan. Like many of us during lockdown, she found comfort in Korean dramas. But instead of just watching, she studied.
“Two years ago, during COVID-19, super naging famous ang K-drama. I became a fan, and I started studying OST songs. Doon ko naisip na gusto kong mag-train sa Korea.”
Soundtracks became her gateway. The emotional storytelling, the restraint, the way Korean OSTs allow a voice to ache without over singing it all resonated with her.
As for one of her dreams, it’s to sing for a K-drama series.
During our interview, she gave a sample of the very first K-drama song she learned: You’re My Garden from “Strong Woman Do Bong Soon,” her favorite series. Hearing her sing it so clearly, emotional and respectful of the original really made it easy to imagine her voice playing during a pivotal drama scene.
And that dream? It no longer feels far-fetched.
It took Gwyn about six months to finally decide to move out of the country.
And it wasn’t easy.
“Baby ka ng mommy and daddy mo, ‘di ba?” I asked her, half-joking.
She laughed. “Backstage, andoon si mom and dad. So to go on my own in Korea was really a big decision.”
At first, everything felt like a honeymoon phase because new places, new food, new excitement. But reality eventually hit.
“After six months, doon ko na-realize na parang gusto ko na umuwi.”
Homesickness crept in. Culture shock followed. And then came winter and it was something her body wasn’t prepared for.
Adding to that was the pressure of training, especially for “Sing Again,” where there was no room for error.
“Na-frustrate ako kasi parang hindi ko makuha. ‘Sing Again’ really forced my strengths. Once you step on that stage, it’s a whole new thing. Hindi puwedeng magkamali,” she said.
Her days were relentless: waking up at 7 a.m., practicing until late at night, repeating lines, lyrics, pronunciation over and over again. No wonder she speaks so flawlessly now.
“I really had to force myself. New language, eh. Kailangan repetition.”
There were moments when she almost quit. But she didn’t. That commitment paid off.
After our interview, something quietly powerful happened: Korean fans waited just to take photos with her because they recognized and loved her performance.
She has since donated three million won — over P120,000 — to a local charity for the elderly in South Korea. No press release. No grand announcement. Just gratitude, given back.
These are the moments that confirm it: Gwyn isn’t just passing through Korea. She belongs. Gwyn represents something different.
She is among the first Filipinos to gain local recognition in South Korea, not as a novelty, but as a competitor. As a vocalist. As an artist who stood her ground on Korean television, singing in Korean, judged by Koreans, and embraced by Korean audiences.
And that matters.
To those who want to take the same leap she did, Gwyn keeps it honest.
“Even if you get depressed doing it, you’ll still choose to do so. If you really love it, you’ll still choose it.”
And to her Filipino fans, her voice softens.
“Thank you so much sa suporta. Hindi ko makakaya ito without you — the views, everything. I wouldn’t be here without you guys.”
Support, she reminded us, doesn’t stop at borders.
As if “Sing Again 4” wasn’t enough, there’s more on the horizon. This summer, Gwyn is set to appear in a Netflix show, which is another major milestone. It’s another signal that her journey in Korea is only beginning.
The girl who once amazed Asia is now building a career that bridges cultures, languages and industries.
And this time, she’s not just amazing people. She’s changing the narrative.
