She might seem innocent, childish even, on the outside, but in her heart there's a goddess waiting to be unleashed.  She was criticized as a nerd in her American school, but it's true: she's smart, and she knows a lot.  It's expected of young Koreans.  Still, peer pressure made her lose sight of her goals and her worth in life during high school, and, more than once, she came very close to suicide.  She became a singer as her own form of release from her parents' constant pressuring, from their constant push up and out, their impatience for their daughter's success.  Last among ten sisters and brothers, she's not really quite, just downtrodden.  She looks up to her group's leader, CL, as perhaps more than just a platonic friend and role model.

She's as terrible at cooking as she enjoys it.  She likes kittens, rain clouds, earth tones and jazzy music.  She likes snow days, scratchy sweaters and hot chocolate.  And does she ever sing.  She could practically stand in front of the mirror all day, going with that voice of hers till her vocal chords are out.  Sure, as her manager delights in reminding her, she's not always the most polished, the most on tune.  But she's got heart and feeling, more than the others, more even than CL with her mellifluous, polished style, she's got power, and that's why she's considered the main vocalist.

Having spent time in America, she is accustomed, not only to their language, but to their culture, too.  She knows, not only the rigid pride of her parents'  generation, but the feverish, reckless drive for innovation in the greatest country on earth, the fever that's starting to take young Koreans, too.  It's this fire, this beautiful wildness, that she seeks to bring out on stage, through her voice, even as, offstage, she strives to be the perfect Korean daughter, meek, mild, unassuming.  It's the mixture between her Korean roots and her American upbringing that gives her that strange, beautiful, sometimes heartbreaking dichotomy, that double personality that's tormented her for so long: on one side Korean Yin, on the other American Yang.  The sun and the moon.  The tiger and the rabbit, the princess and the warrior.  Together they fight, waiting to be reconciled and combined into something greater than either, on its own, could ever be.  And maybe the one she loves is just the person to bring that about.