baek se hee death

singluar Friday, October 17, 2025

A Gentle Voice Lost Too Soon: Remembering Baek Se‑hee

On October 16, 2025, the literary and mental health communities were struck by heartbreaking news: Baek Se‑hee, the South Korean author whose introspective memoir I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki had touched countless readers, died at the age of 35. What makes the moment even more poignant is that she chose, in her final act, to donate her organs — giving new life to others even as she left this world.

This is not merely a news item to chronicle—it is an opportunity to reflect on legacy, mental health, writing, and compassion.

Who Was Baek Se‑hee?

Baek was born around 1990 in Goyang, Gyeonggi Province, in South Korea.

She was the second of three daughters. From early on, she had a deep affinity for reading and writing. She eventually studied creative writing at university and went on to work in publishing for about five years.

But what drew her wider recognition was not her work as an editor or publishing professional—it was her courage to share vulnerability and internal struggle with a massive public audience.

I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki — More than a Memoir

In 2018, Baek self-published I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki (original Korean title: 죽고 싶지만 떡볶이는 먹고 싶어). The book conveys a 12-week transcript-like conversation with her psychiatrist, interspersed with essays about daily life, longing, and the oscillations of hope and despair. Its unguarded transparency about mental health resonated widely.

The memoir was later translated to English (by Anton Hur) and published in 2022 by Bloomsbury. It has been translated into more than 25 languages and sold over a million copies worldwide.

A sequel, I Want to Die but I Still Want to Eat Tteokbokki, expanded further on her therapy journey and inner life, and it was published in English in 2024.

Baek’s writing often turned on small, everyday motifs—like tteokbokki, a spicy Korean rice cake dish she loved—as symbols of comfort, desire, or simple normalcy in moments of emotional turbulence. Her willingness to frame emotional pain in the language of everyday life made her work accessible and deeply relatable.

The Circumstances of Her Death & Donation

As of now, the exact cause of Baek’s death remains undisclosed.

Most reports say she was declared brain-dead before her organs were harvested.In one account, she did not regain consciousness after brain death. Her organs — heart, lungs, liver, and both kidneys — were donated, ultimately saving five lives. The donation occurred at the National Health Insurance Service Ilsan Hospital, which is the same hospital where she was born.

The Korea Organ and Tissue Donation Agency issued a statement acknowledging her generous act, referring to her as a “star in the sky.” Her sister also released a tribute, reflecting on how Baek “shared hearts with people through writing” and expressing hope that she now rests peacefully. The family has, to date, declined to release more medical details.

The Weight of Silence: Speculation, Grief, and Public Response

Given Baek’s writing focus on mental health, it is perhaps natural that many have wondered whether her death is linked to depression or self-harm. Yet, no credible official source has confirmed any such connection. As of now, we must be cautious in connecting dots that haven’t been verified.

Outpourings of grief have flooded social media, book communities, and mental health circles. Fans shared how Baek’s words made them feel seen, less alone, more courageous. For many, her death is a stark reminder of how fragile life and the mind can be. On Reddit, one reader wrote:

“When I first read I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki, it felt like she was putting words to emotions I didn’t know how to express… Now that she’s gone, that line feels even heavier.”

Another comment:

“She donated her organs… through her books she continues to save even more.”

These responses show how Baek’s presence and her work transcended the page; they were felt in the bones, in private struggles, in shared silences.

Legacy: More than a Voice on Pain

Baek Se‑hee’s legacy is manifold. Here are a few things she leaves us:

1. Destigmatizing Mental Illness

Baek opened up about her long-term struggle with dysthymia (persistent depressive disorder) — a condition marked by chronic low mood, fatigue, and emotional flatness. Her unflinching honesty helped normalize conversations around therapy, inner longing, and emotional suffering, especially in a cultural context where mental health issues can still carry stigma.

2. Vulnerability as Strength

Her writing was an invitation to unmask, to speak softly about one’s darkest corridors. She showed that vulnerability is not weakness but an act of courage. Through her raw, shifting reflections, readers found resonance: that emotional pain is often not linear, that healing is messy, and that being human is full of paradox.

3. The Power of Small Moments

By grounding existential and emotional weight in simple daily things — cravings for food, longing for connection, the tension of wanting to live while feeling crushed — Baek reminded us that life’s meaning is often found in the small, fragile moments of longing, desire, and small comforts.

4. A Final Gift of Life

Her decision to donate organs adds a deeply symbolic note to her legacy. Even in death, she chose to give — to affirm life for others. That selfless act echoes the themes she often explored in her writing: empathy, connection, and the interdependence of human hearts.

Reflections & Questions to Carry Forward

How do we listen more gently to others’ pain? Baek’s work challenges us not to shy from emotional pain but to extend our presence, our ears, our compassion.
How can art and testimony shape mental health discourse? Her example suggests writing and sharing can break silences and foster communal care.
What is the value of small joys? The metaphor of tteokbokki underscores that sometimes our anchor is ordinary comfort — a bowl of food, a quiet laugh, a simple rhythm.
How do we hold grief? In public mourning, we must balance respect for privacy (of her family, her inner life) with honest conversation about the wounds that underlie loss.

In Memory, With Respect

Baek Se‑hee has left us far too soon. But her voice endures — in pages read in shared midnight sorrow, in lines bookmarked and underlined, in quiet solitudes echoed by her words. She was a mirror for those who often felt unseeable. She gave words to the tremors of the heart.

As she rests, may her words continue to reach those who feel invisible. May her life remind us that kindness, even in small acts, matters. And may we, in our own small ways, hold more gently the silent weight others carry.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please seek help from mental health professionals or local helplines. You do not have to face the darkness alone.