The final demolition of Miari Texas, Seoul’s long-standing red-light enclave, brings a major shift in the urban culture and social policy of South Korea’s Capital. In the heart of north-Seoul’s Hawolgok-dong (하월곡동) neighbourhood, what was once the bustling through-way of Miari Texas is now quieting under bulldozers, marking the end of an era for the city’s last visible “window-shop” red-light district. As the final brothels are cleared to make way for high-rise apartments, the story of Miari Texas—its boom, its controversies, and its human cost—comes into focus.
Miari Texas first emerged in the 1950s and 1960s, when brothels clustered around the narrow alleyways of the Sinwolgok Zone 1 redevelopment area in the Seongbuk District near Gireum (길음) Station. The nickname “Texas” is believed to have originated in the post-war era, evoking a Wild West image of frontier town disorder applied to this lively entertainment district. By the 1980s the area was home to hundreds of brothels, each with glass-fronted doors that echoed Amsterdam’s Red Light District style: women in white dresses sat in display windows; ajumma (아줌마), brokers, called out to clients from doorways.
The growth of Miari Texas was shaped by multiple historical forces: post-war reconstruction, the US military presence, rapid urbanisation and the expansion of Seoul’s nightlife. Official prohibition of prostitution in 1961 did little to halt demand; instead, the industry became more entrenched and concentrated in so-called “red-light zones” or 집창촌. For decades this area operated semi-openly even as successive governments tightened enforcement and called for redevelopment.
By the early 2000s, major legal changes arrived. The 2004 Special Act on Prevention of Prostitution classified prostitution as a form of trafficking and enhanced penalties for intermediaries and clients. That move triggered a long decline of brothels in Miari. According to government data, by January 2010 only about 136 recorded establishments remained in the zone. With redevelopment pressure mounting, many sex workers protested eviction or called for job-training and housing support rather than forced relocation.
Now, in late 2025, the demolition of Miari Texas has begun in earnest. According to neighbourhood officials, of some 115 red-light businesses in the area, 111 have agreed to relocate and three more are scheduled to move by year-end, leaving only one business still operating. The redevelopment scheme will create 11 new apartment towers, 2 201 housing units and additional officetels for a post-red-light future of Seongbuk District.
This transition carries broader cultural and policy significance. On one level, the erasure of a large, highly-visible red-light district reflects shifting social attitudes in South Korea toward visibility of the sex trade, women’s rights and urban regulation. Locals long complained about deteriorating buildings, safety hazards and the nearby presence of nightlife-related crime. On another, it raises questions about the fate of those working in the trade: women who entered sex work often because of structural inequalities—limited job mobility, wage gaps, and scant support for working-mothers—are now facing displacement, with little certainty of alternative livelihoods.
Culturally the story of Miari Texas invites reflection on the many means by which modern cities regulate morality, labour and space. The alleyways of Miari—once lined with neon-lit flats, karaoke rooms, and the steady hum of business—tell a hidden social history of Seoul’s under-belly: migration from rural areas, war-era poverty, women’s informal entrepreneurship, and municipal tolerance that shifted only gradually when international pressure mounted. As the physical traces fade, the question remains how the city will remember this chapter: merely as a past-era vice district, or as a site of larger struggles over gender, urban reform and social justice.
For readers tracking the evolution of East-Asian cities, Miari Texas offers a case study in how once-tolerated vice zones can be targeted by redevelopment, but often leaving unresolved human costs in their wake. The demolition may clear the buildings, but it cannot erase the lives woven into them. As the bulldozers roll in, the alleys fall silent—and with them, one of Seoul’s most visible reminders of the sex-industry era passes into memory.
Spicy Auntie has zero tears for the demolition of Miari Texas or any other red-light district in Asia—or the world. Bring on the bulldozers, swing the wrecking ball, erase those neon alleys that pretended to be “entertainment zones” while feeding an entire economy of exploitation. But—and you know Auntie always has a big BUT—if this is nothing more than a shiny urban facelift, then Seoul, Singapore, Bangkok, Manila, Jakarta and every other city planning to “clean up” should hold their fancy horses. You don’t fight misogyny with real-estate brochures. You fight it by confronting the roots of why these districts existed in the first place.
Let’s say it loud for the uncles in the back: poverty, inequality, patriarchy, wage gaps, family pressure, and nonexistent social safety nets. These women didn’t end up behind glass or in KTV rooms because it was a glamorous career choice. Many were pushed—by debt, by violence, by limited opportunities, by husbands who vanished, by parents who depended on their remittances. Asia loves to boast about GDP growth and “smart cities,” but when it comes to the women who built those cities from the shadows, governments suddenly turn shy, moralizing, and conveniently forgetful.
So yes, demolish the brothels. Auntie is all for shutting down organized exploitation. But don’t you dare just sweep the women out like old dust. Where is the job training? The housing support? The healthcare? The mental-health counselling? The legal assistance for those trafficked or abused? Where are the real, structural alternatives so these sisters can rebuild their lives with dignity?
And while we’re at it, let’s not pretend that eliminating a red-light district magically eliminates the sex trade. If the demand remains, the market simply goes underground—more dangerous, more abusive, harder to monitor. If you truly want a society free from exploitation, then target the demand too. Educate boys and men. Strengthen labour laws. Make real economic opportunities for women. Break the cycle—not just the buildings.
Spicy Auntie is tired of cosmetics. Tired of mayors bragging about “urban renewal” while ignoring the human beings their policies displace. If you want to clean up your cities, start by cleaning up your conscience. And take care of the women who have long taken care of everyone else, even when society refused to take care of them.
Erase the districts, yes. But honour the women. Support them. Protect them. Don’t bury them under the rubble.