In the world of K-pop, nothing else is more attention-grabbing than the leaked internal document from HYBE, one of the four largest and most famous entertainment companies in South Korea. With lines such as “there is a clear tendency to focus on their looks or sex appeal,” “surprisingly, none of them are pretty,” and “shockingly ugly,” the report has ignited discussions on the toxic and even cruel beauty standards for idols and trainees in the industry.
While it is well-known that South Korea has long had a stricter and more toxic beauty standard than other countries—specifically, the pursuit of extremely pale skin, double eyelids, an extremely skinny and petite body shape, and more—the rise of K-pop and its global influence has carried South Korea’s beauty standards worldwide. In a study on the impact of Korean content on body image in India, psychologists Malvika Sah and Supriya Sioni point out that “those who were viewing Korean content showed significantly less body area satisfaction, high overweight preoccupation, and self-classified weight”—in other words, consuming K-pop content makes you feel fat.
This should not come as a surprise. When fans are obsessed with idols in an industry where the ideal body weight is considered to be 90 lbs, it is difficult not to internalize such beauty standards while consuming K-pop content. The participatory nature of the global K-pop ecosystem also contributes to body dysmorphia. The dance cover culture, where fans attempt to recreate idols’ stage performances by putting on similar makeup and costumes while performing the choreography, brings fans closer to the idols. While the dance cover culture fosters a transnational community of K-pop fans brought together not only by shared interests but also by a shared corporeal practice, the fact that dance covers are modeled after—and thereby should be compared to—the idols’ stage performances means that body shape also inevitably factors into the comparison. Both the consumers and producers of K-pop dance covers are led to participate in an implicit worship of an extreme body culture, as fans watching the dance covers comment on the dancers’ body shapes compared to the idols, while fans doing the cover-dancing project the idols’ body shapes onto themselves. In this case, neither the fans consuming nor the fans producing K-pop dance covers are left satisfied with their bodies.
Luckily, changes are happening. Korean entertainment firms are starting to include members of diverse skin tones and backgrounds in groups. One of the groups gaining popularity lately is KATSEYE, released by HYBE in June. While individuals of African and Southeast Asian descent have historically been looked down upon in Korea, the group includes one Filipino member, one Black member, one Indian member, and one Latin American member. While the members included still more or less fit current beauty standards in Korea, increasing ethnic diversity in the K-pop industry is a good starting point for reflections and discussions on K-pop’s body culture, especially withthe rise of the global feminist movement and local feminist initiatives in South Korea. As K-pop gains market shares across the globe, K-pop industry leaders should commit to global responsibility and respond with attentiveness to the possible impacts of fans in other countries. With global power comes global responsibility.
