K-Pop Observations Part I: An Introduction

We’re told from a young age that words have the power of life and death, that we should watch what we say and how we treat people—and, if we don’t have anything nice to say, we should just keep our mouths shut. It’s interesting—while we're young, we believe our parents, our teachers, and others who tell us these things; however, the older I get, the more I realize that people only believe in the power of words when words are directed at them. I’ve come to realize that people want to say what they want to and about others, whether positive or negative, and naturally without repercussions; however, they don’t want anything negative, distasteful, or upsetting said to or about them, especially if there are no repercussions. It’s an interesting phenomenon, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently.

It seems that people, particularly, the loudest people, are getting more toxic and dysfunctional as time goes on—or maybe, it’s just that there are more outlets and mediums for people to spread their toxicity and dysfunction.

I’ve noticed something in the last several months, and I want to share some observations.

Over the quarantine, I had the opportunity to take things a little slower than what my schedule usually allows. During that time, I started looking into the Korean healthcare system. I was looking at internships, jobs, medical practices, and requirements for healthcare professionals in South Korea. As part of the requirements of an internship I’m interested in, I began to learn Korean. As I began to learn the language, I tried to find different ways to practice and study. A great way, according to articles and other language learners, is music. So, I began to, admittedly reluctantly, explore Korean music. One of the genres I looked into, obviously, was K-pop. I was very hesitant to start listening to K-pop for 2 main reasons: (1) the stereotypes and misconceptions about what Korean music, particularly K-pop, is and (2) the fans of mainstream Korean singers and groups.

I listened to various K-pop singers and groups when I was younger, but I never really got into it. Nevertheless, under the advice of Korean language learners, I began to listen to K-pop. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised. While I prefer other genres in the Korean music industry, K-pop definitely has its own charm. I can understand why people enjoy and adore K-pop, as well as its various groups and singers. I can also understand why people dislike K-pop fans.

I think one of the more interesting things about the Korean music industry is that the fans are often heard and experienced before, or even more than, a specific artist is heard or experienced. I think the idea of the “crazy K-pop stan” is often turned into a joke or a hyperbolic representation or association of people who listen to Korean music. The disturbing truth about these jokes and exaggerations, however, is that they are based in reality. Fans who call and write singers multiple times; fans who expect immediate attention from singers; fans who expect and feel entitled to know every detail of singers’ lives; fans who feel entitled to photos and autographs; and fans who say and do extreme things in the name of their undying devotion to a singer or singers are very much real—and very much active. These over-enthusiastic fans can be very confrontational, cruel, entitled, overwhelming, and invasive (not only to singers, but also to random people on the internet).

What I think is sometimes forgotten is how damaging these fans can be, and are, to these singers’ mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, social, and professional health.

From a health, particularly a mental health, perspective, I have a lot of problems with the Korean music industry. Honestly, in general, I have problems with the Korean entertainment industry—I have superficial, unimportant problems like CDs that cost $20+ (because, for some reason, CDs are only sold with photo books full of pictures I can get on the internet for free); I also have more important, deeper problems like the (intentional or unintentional) unnecessary over sexualization of singers particularly in choreography and wardrobe.

I think we have a tendency to focus on how the industry is problematic—these problems need to be addressed; however, I think it’s easy to forget or misunderstand the impact of overzealous fans on the overall health of singers. Personally, I never really thought about the impact of fans on the overall health of singers until I started reading YouTube comments and news articles and looking at videos/clips of Korean singers on the internet.

Humans are complex creatures—it is impossible to completely separate the mind, body, and spirit. To be completely healthy, there needs to be balance between the mind, the body, the spirit, and the environment a person is living in. Taking into account the holistic nature of health, how many of these young singers are unhealthy, unhappy, and dying (literally and figuratively) from the effects of the industry and from fans’ reckless behaviour?

I believe fans can, and do, subtly and overtly contribute to the poor total and complete health of singers in the Korean music industry. One of the more powerful ways these overly passionate fans negatively impact individuals in the Korean entertainment industry is through (their) written and spoken words.

I’ve been thinking about the power of words and the Korean music industry, including the fans, for a while, and, over the next couple of posts, I want to just share a few thoughts.