k-pop is a freaking miracle
BLACKPINK IN EVERY AREA
I first learned of K-pop in college when a friend begged me to learn a K-pop dance with her for a dance performance. “It will be so fun,” she said, “I’ll learn all of the choreo and teach you guys.”
I liked dancing and I loved hanging out with her, so I said yes. Over the course of the semester, we met weekly to learn the dance and rehearse. I was surprised by how quickly she taught the choreography. She had only begun performing in college, yet she managed to come up with more 8-counts every week than my high school dance team coach had.
When I asked my friend how she was coming up with the choreography, she told me that she was learning from YouTube. This confused me, because I knew from experience that trying to learn dances through watching and rewatching music videos was a rapidly joyless task. Because of how U.S. music videos intersperse singing/lip syncing/acting in between the dancing, it’s impossible to learn a whole dance from music videos alone. There will always be gaps in the dance, requiring the dancer to improvise a few moves.
But note the operative adjective there: U.S.
K-pop, in contrast, takes an entirely different approach to music videos. Not only do K-pop groups release music videos with animation, acting, close-ups, etc., that we expect from their U.S. counterparts, but they also release “dance practice” or “dance performance” videos which focus entirely on the choreography.
The group wears athleisure in these dance practice videos, mimicking the cool casual outfits of hip-hop class instructors. In fact, T-ARA’s dance practice video from 2012 is virtually indistinguishable from the recorded dance performances at the end of any drop-in hip-hop class that you or I might attend, had we the courage.
There have been many questions and theories around why K-pop is so popular in America (the incredibly polished performances and production? universal themes about self-love and self-acceptance (a byproduct of government censorship)?), but as I sat in the veritable nosebleed seats of MetLife Stadium for BLACKPINK’s Born Pink Encore tour on August 11—so far away that all production value and polish became mere specks—I realized the true magic of K-pop: the uncanny ability to call outsiders in, to drag reluctant dancers onto the literal and figurative dance floor.
it’s 2023 but we still love to dance like it’s 8000 BCE.
First, put aside all of your protests about how you “don’t dance” or “can’t dance” or whatever. No self-judgments here. If you’re human, you are predisposed to dance. Dance isn’t about being “good” according to any external metric; it’s about responding to the areas of our brain in charge of movement that light up when we hear music or a beat. It happens to all of us, even if you’re sitting still.
The question, though, is how do we funnel that response, those motor areas of our brain lighting up? Humans have a long history of dance, from lion dances in China to ballroom dancing in Europe. But as these traditional modes of dance become less pervasive (except swing, which has an excellent publicist), what are they replaced with?
For those with more traditional parents of sufficient means—ballet, jazz, and tap. For those brave enough to weather the singular social anxiety of dancing without strict instructions—hip-hop, breaking, shuffle, and all the other forms that are seen (rightly so) as “cool.” And for the rest of us? K-pop.
I’ve already talked about how unusual it is for K-pop to upload dance practice or dance performance videos, but the other characteristic that makes K-pop so inviting is the simplicity of its movements. (Which is not to say that K-pop dance is easy—it is still very hard to perform a simple move with style and quality.) While practicing ballet or hip-hop requires a fair amount of physical space so that you don’t accidentally slam your foot into a counter, AKA a studio or parking garage, the more contained moves of K-pop—focusing largely on arm, hand, head, and hip motions—are perfect for executing in the privacy of your own room. And that sets K-pop apart from all prior forms of dance, which require “potential humiliation in front of others” as table stakes.
By posting full dance practice or performance videos on YouTube and prioritizing upper-body movements, K-pop lowered the minimum buy-in to participate in choreographed dance. A bored eight-year-old with an internet connection in Morocco can readily engage in dance—and by extension, a fandom, a community—in a way that wasn’t possible before and still isn’t completely possible for U.S. artists. For example, the Beyhive has to fill in the transitions and formation changes in “Formation” themselves:
K-pop is different because its default mode isn’t exclusionary, as with most forms of dance. You need money for ballet pointe shoes; you need confidence for hip-hop dance battles. Where traditional modes of dance require wealth or swagger (and ideally both), K-pop demands neither. All you need is a little space, an internet connection, and yourself.
all the k-pop brings the boys (and girls and enbies) to the stadium.
After BLACKPINK performs what appears to be the “finale,” no one really moves. That is unsurprising, given that the name of their tour literally has the word encore in it.1
During the pre-encore stage of the show, a “kiss cam” spotlights certain audience members—except instead of kissing, they dance. Dance clips from BLACKPINK’s music videos are shown on the gigantic monitors, and people of all genders, ages, ethnicities, and expressions get their 15 seconds to show off their dance moves. Remember how K-pop moves are relatively contained, emphasizing upper-body movements? That makes this dance cam possible—no high kicks or floorwork needed to show off your skills.
This, then, leads to the fully evolved magic of K-pop. Once you get comfortable with the concept of moving your own body, the next logical step is to move your body in a larger space—maybe even alongside the original dancers. The next step is to go outside. And going outside, and moving your body in sync with others, releases endorphins, as well as fosters feelings of interconnectedness and empathy. These are all good things. These chemicals and feelings and experiences make life worth living, make us happier.
It’s particularly important to K-pop’s magic that this second step (of encouraging you to go outside and experience something with others) happens. Why? Because the first part—lowering the barrier of entry to participate in an activity—isn’t by itself a good thing. A lot of people and organizations want to do that. Tech companies create free, easily installable apps so that you spend more time on their apps while they collect data about you; influencers call you “bestie” and queue up lists of their content and affiliate links so that you contribute to their AdSense/Creator Fund/LTK income;2 even ISIS leverages the frictionless nature of DMs turning into online friendships to recruit new members.
But pairing a successful call to action with a pro-social experience? That’s rare. In our attention economy, people and companies profit from making you anti-social. The more anti-social you are, the more time (and attention) you will have for the apps, articles, affiliate links, ads, messages, clicks, spon con, courses, content, movies, dopamine hits, slot machines, and indoctrination surrounding us at all times, whether we are willing participants or not. The more anti-social you become, the richer they get.3
In such a world, K-pop is a miracle. An industry that wants you to buy their albums and merch and show tickets, certainly, but not to wholly anti-social ends. And as I bopped in the back, surrounded by hundreds—thousands?—of BLACKPINK lightsticks blinking pink against the blackness of the stands, I thought to myself, What an incredible world. ◆
Further consumption:
The Guardian gathered reader responses about why BTS means so much to them. The replies are at times wrenching, at times heartwarming, but always moving and really highlight how the Army (BTS’s fandom) fosters a sense of community.
A K-pop industry leader stated that the industry “is in crisis” after K-pop album exports see a slowdown in growth. Other threats to K-pop’s future are unhealthy management, poor treatment of artists’ rights, and South Korea’s declining population. I’m looking forward to how the industry will adapt to these changes, although I hope the full dance practice videos never go away!!
What happens to the K-pop trainees who don’t make it? K-pop isn’t all positivity and community—the industry is plagued with crushed hopes, suicides, and scandals, too.
If you like BLACKPINK, can I recommend aespa??
So if you’re going to the San Francisco show tonight or Los Angeles show this upcoming weekend, don’t leave early!!
Yes, yes—I know that I use playlists and affiliate links, too. I’m not a wholly altruistic actor (who can afford to be in this day and age?) but I do try to ensure that my relationship with my audience is mutually beneficial rather than primarily extractive. If you ever think that I’ve stepped over the line, let me know.
I'm not a K-pop fan but I really like your insight into how combining low buy-in cost and pro-social experience can lead to contagion and even viral adoption. In fact, I'd even argue that low buy-in cost and pro-social experience can together transform passive consumption into not only active participation but also proselytization (just like how your friend taught you K-pop dance). And these insights certainly have wide-ranging applications beyond K-pop. Thank you for sharing!
Huh nice piece Cece! Not what you usually write about and definitely worth it :) i like how you tied kpop's popularity with its ability to a) be easily done and b) generate a community.
I hadn't thought of it that way