THE BEAUTY OF K-POP

How K-Pop Changed the Meaning of Masculinity in South Korea

Tradition once dominated the ideals and expectations for men in South Korean culture. Then boy bands came along.
illustration by Korean artist Jiyeun Kang depicts the faces of four Kpop stars with different hair colors  and colorful...
Jiyeun Kang

When 22-year-old K-pop star Yang Joon-il performs onstage, he slays. Sporting an oversize, printed jacket over a sleeveless black jumpsuit, he jumps in the air, dances on a chair, flips a fedora onto his head with a slight turn of hand, and seamlessly grabs a microphone.

"My love, Rebecca," he croons, sweat dripping from his asymmetrical hair to his chin, making its way to his bony clavicle. With his milky complexion and glowing skin, he looks beautiful – the epitome of a K-pop star.

But this is 1991, and South Korea has yet to evolve. This display of flamboyance, of outward beauty, is so offensive, audiences hiss and boo. Some even throw food at him. "He was hated by many for his unusual looks and songs," says an article by The Korea Times. His aesthetics and feminine mannerisms were so controversial, he claims, the government refused to renew his visa. Eventually, his career faded away.

Fast-forward almost three decades later, and it's almost unthinkable that Korean men like Yang would be treated with such vitriol. South Korea has since become the epicenter of beauty, and K-pop men are now synonymous with cosmetics. According to a 2017 finding, South Korea consumes $13 billion in cosmetics annually, Mintel reports. Under that figure, South Korean men are the number one male consumers of beauty per capita. Additionally, a 2018 Global Data report found that three-quarters of Korean men receive beauty treatments at least once per week.

Today's Korean man looks completely different than he did three decades ago. But how did South Korea progress so quickly? And how did Korean culture at large, once performatively hypermasculine, evolve into an arbiter of cosmetics equality?

It all has to do with South Korea’s obsession with competition. According to Edward Kang, who was a music producer in Korea and is now a Ph.D. student researching the intersection of pop culture and normativity at the Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism at the University of Southern California, pressure to succeed also expands to one’s aesthetics. And it starts at a very young age.

"Similar to the way parents invest heavily in their children's educations, common high school or middle school graduation gifts from parents to their children are double eyelid surgeries," Kang says as an example. "Furthermore, as is now common knowledge, job recruitment sites in South Korea frequently require headshots on potential candidates' resumes."

According to Professor Chuyun Oh, a dance theorist at San Diego State University, who cowrote the research paper "Unmasking Queerness: Blurring and Solidifying Queer Lines Through K-pop Cross-Dressing," Korean pop stars endure the same pressures, but these pressures are amplified because they are now international celebrities.

"[This includes the] ever-changing music industry, where physical attractiveness would certainly be an asset and can even guarantee a higher commercial value," she tells Allure.

When K-pop's first-ever band group, Seo Taiji and Boys, debuted, in 1992, they consciously differentiated themselves by adopting hip-hop music and a Western style of dress. It was controversial and got them banned from telecasts, but their uniqueness catapulted them to stardom. The same thing happened with the introduction of first-generation idol group, H.O.T., which debuted in 1996, with multicolored paint strips under their eyes.

Members of BTS, a popular K-Pop group, in 2019

Jon Kopaloff/Getty Images

"The '90s K-pop image was the start of K-pop beauty, where teen boy groups wore makeup but not as defined as today's style," says Young-hu Kim, a former music producer for SM Entertainment, one of the top K-pop agencies in the world. Kim wrote some of the biggest hits in the '90s and '00s for the likes of f(x), TVXQ, SHINee, and Shinhwa. Now a cofounder of the crowdsourced opinion search engine, Qoop, Kim says he's been intrigued by how every decade has produced more beautified K-pop men. "It was unheard of for regular men to wear makeup," he says. "Today, beauty is a requirement."

Yang Huiyeon, makeup artist to K-pop idol groups like Pentagon, agrees: Thanks to the dawn of the internet and more access to videos, K-pop stars had to put more effort into their aesthetics. But it became a decade of rapid change, she says. "Men realized that if they started putting on cosmetics, they'd look cool and more confident."

Kevin Woo, a former member of the popular second-generation idol group U-KISS, says that understanding Korean masculinity was a culture shock. By the time the San Francisco native arrived in Seoul to join the group, in 2008, men were already wearing BB cream. "I was very confused when I saw how Koreans defined masculinity," he says. "I remember growing up in America, and most male celebrities on TV were very manly, muscular, and had facial hair. In contrast, Korean male celebrities were almost the opposite. The ideal Korean man was more on the feminine side, had a slim figure, and put makeup on."

U-KISS performing in 2014

Getty Images

Woo describes the makeup he and U-KISS wore as heavy with eyeliner and thick with foundation and contouring. "When we first debuted, our outfits were very flashy. We wore lots of accessories and sometimes looked like we were straight out of an anime," he says. "The trend now is to look like an ideal boyfriend that fans want to date." Meaning, the look is bright, subtle, and youthful – emphasis on the last, with the trend being all about bouncy, dewy "teen" skin.

And that now includes guys who can fantasize about other K-pop male idols, thanks to K-pop’s first openly gay idol, Holland. The 24-year-old singer made international headlines when he came out, in 2018. For the solo singer, makeup allowed him to find the courage to become more of himself.

"I think true beauty is when my confidence in self-expression is able to show through visually," Holland tells Allure. "Total beauty is achieved by having both inner and outer beauty. Through makeup, I am able to clearly emphasize myself."

He goes on to clarify that in Korea, makeup has no gender or sexuality. "Makeup is not just for women or necessarily feminine," he explains. "It's for everyone."

That notion is now omnipresent, with the biggest heartthrobs in the world readily painting their faces. The members of BTS are a great example of being unabashed in wearing bright eye shadows, pastel-colored hairstyles, and taking care of their complexions. They prove that makeup only enhances one's confidence, which seems to be what masculinity is all about.

The same rings true for Woo. "Makeup is not just for women now, and men can feel more masculine in their own way by wearing it," he says. "With K-pop currently being in the global spotlight, it really is changing the way the world views men's makeup, and I’m very proud to be a part of it."


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