Reality of K-pop today: Idols Sell Not Only Fantasies, But Also Their Real Emotions and Selves

The word “selling” may come across as harsh, but it accurately reflects the current state of K-pop.

After watching the recently released documentary about LE SSERAFIM, the idea that idols may also be selling their emotions occurred to me. On July 29th, HYBE premiered a five-part documentary titled “Make It Look Easy”, which follows LE SSERAFIM’s path from rehearsing for their end-of-year performance in 2022 to getting ready for their third mini-album “EASY”in 2024. The documentary sheds light on the hard work and struggles the members faced behind their polished image.

BTS and BLACKPINK are not the only groups to shed light on the darker aspects of idol life. Prior to LE SSERAFIM’s documentary, other groups have also released documentaries that exposed their struggles. This type of content has become a common feature among idols. Nonetheless, what sets LE SSERAFIM’s documentary apart is its unfiltered and comprehensive portrayal of the members’ hardships.

Despite experiencing hyperventilation during a comeback showcase, member Eunchae perseveres and performs. In anticipation for their debut, another member, Sakura, is depicted practicing anxiously with an oxygen mask. Throughout the documentary, the members are shown facing challenges that may seem excessive, given that they are labeled as “effort”.

In the second episode, Yunjin, a member of the group, became emotional during practice and expressed feeling pressure from the public and industry professionals. And in the third episode, Sakura abruptly burst into tears and walked off stage during a comeback performance screening. The situation became so intense that even the filming crew had to pause. Looking back on that moment, Sakura shared, “I felt guilty towards our fans because what I had practiced didn’t go as planned in reality, and I had to put on a brave face despite struggling.”

In a different episode, the members contemplate on their decision to become idols, questioning if it is worth continuing despite the difficulties. Throughout the majority of the episodes, viewers see the members drained both physically and mentally. Some may question if their struggles were deliberately used for dramatic effect, as the concept of LE SSERAFIM centers around the concept of “moving forward without fear.”However, in the final episodes, this pattern is broken and the members’ genuine happiness shines through.

Despite receiving support from some viewers, LE SSERAFIM also faced criticism regarding the mental health of its members. The documentary was accused of “emotional manipulation”and staged scenes, with edited clips of the members’ struggles being shared on social media and internet communities. This has resulted in a rise in malicious comments directed towards the members.

The true purpose of the documentary remains unclear, but it is evident that there was a certain “selling point”that was involved. In the competitive K-pop market, concepts such as “sales”and “selling points”are commonly utilized. Similar to salespeople, idols must discover their distinctive selling points in order to thrive in the industry. As a result, even their struggles become a tool for them to attract the public’s attention.

As K-pop continues to grow globally and new idol groups constantly debut, this trend fuels an environment where idols are easily interchangeable. While idols are often seen as perfect “stars”, they have also become viewed as replaceable “products”in this industry. Even the behind-the-scenes aspects of their glamorous appearances have become commodified.

A clear demonstration of the commercialization of idols can be seen in the introduction of “paid communication services”. By paying a monthly subscription fee ranging from 3,500 to 4,500 won, fans can engage in communication with their favorite idols. The platform is designed to emulate a personal chat, creating the illusion that fans are exchanging texts with their idols. However, this service operates on a highly capitalistic model, with discounts offered for multiple member subscriptions and restrictions on the number of characters fans can send depending on their subscription period.

In the past, communication with idols was centered around genuine emotions rather than financial transactions. Fans would reach out to idols through fan cafes, leaving messages and comments whenever they had the chance. However, the current trend requires fans to make monetary payments in order to interact with idols. This has resulted in a subtle shift in the dynamic between idols and fans, with idols now being seen as providers of “conversation”and fans as consumers. Unfortunately, this has led to a fandom culture that values “bang for their buck”over genuine affection.

Fans may express dissatisfaction when idols do not frequently log into a communication app or send brief messages, claiming they are not receiving sufficient value for their money. In fact, there was a hashtag campaign launched by fans of one idol, demanding refunds due to the idol’s limited activity on the app.

When celebrities share their challenges or personal experiences on the app, certain fans provide support, while others inquire, “Is there a fee for this information?”Some may even become upset if the celebrities do not respond to their messages. In certain instances, fans have found ways to bypass the app’s restricted vocabulary to send messages that verge on sexual harassment. When disputes arise concerning the use of these apps, certain fans defend the celebrities, stating, “It is ultimately their decision on how frequently they log in”and “Communication cannot be forced.”

Ever since paid communication services became available, the frequency and kindness with which idols send messages and photos has become a new selling point. Fans rush to subscribe to these “communication hotspots”, turning idols into emotional laborers who sell fun to an anonymous audience. The tearful confessions of LE SSERAFIM’s members come to mind, prompting us to consider whether the idols we admire are truly living as individuals or have been reduced to mere dolls in the expanding world of K-pop.