From Seoul to global charts, the repackaging of culture as aesthetic is currency — and some people are getting robbed while others are getting rich.
Historical Background
If you asked me, “What is K-pop?” I’d say: Korean music with Western pop influences, fused with unexpected tempo changes, theatrical comeback concepts, and daring fashion — especially during the 2007–2017 golden era. However, if you were to ask me on a deeper level, I would explain the unsettling experience of hearing hip-hop and R&B while essentially watching a minstrel show.
As a K-pop fan since 2014, I’ve seen nearly everything under the sun — from cornrows and box braids, to idols embarrassingly quoting slang towards their Black fans.
While I would love to give detailed receipts, my bank account reminded me that I barely have enough for a latte. However, if you’re curious, there are plenty of kpop cultural appropriation compilations on TikTok, YouTube, and K-pop Reddit forums.
How Did Black Music Get to Korea?
Since the Korean War in the 1950s, American military presence in South Korea has been a detremental part to the creation and influence of kpop. Among the soldiers were Black Americans soldiers who brought food, style, culture… and most importantly, music.
From doo-wop to hip-hop, music inherently known as “Black music” found its way into Korean lounges, bars, clubs, and later, the mainstream market. By the 1990s, Korean acts were sampling — and allegedly copying — popular instrumentals and styles from Black artists. Korean hip-hop and pop artists were deemed to be innovate but were simply Christopher Columbusing or repackaging their concepts to the Korean public.
Appropriation, Not Appreciation
Not only were the instrumentals familiar, but so were the melodic rap flows, the narratives about struggling in life (struggles from… the hood of Busan?), the baggy clothes, the blackface background dancers, and even the use of the N-word. In the earlier years of Kpop, Black K-pop fans were nearly nonexistent, and cultural appropriation was not as prevalent — which made it more challenging to call out the controversial or offensive acts of K-idols.
The Hood Cosplay & Selective Identity
There’s a popular excuse made by Kpop fans: “Korean media is just imitating what the American media presents.” This usually translates to: “Black people shouldn’t complain because they are the ones who are enforcing the stereotypes.” But here’s the thing — there are many positive aspects to Black culture that are often displayed but are blatantly ignored.
Identity and Authenticity
From Nas’ “I Know I Can” to India. Arie's affirmations, to the spiritual depth of Erykah Badu — there’s a wide spectrum of artistry that are representatives of the Black community. Somehow, K-pop often skips these concepts and goes straight to the most stereotypical, cartoonish caricature of rap, hip-hop, and RnB.
More times than none we were left with poorly executed African American Vernacular English (AAVE), awkward hand “gang” signs, and depressing tough-guy personas.
And when it’s time for the wholesome variety show or national interview? Suddenly, the braids, grills, and the baggy pants disappear. The tough guy swagger vanishes and the “clean,” innocent idol image. This also happens when a Korean hip-hop artists begins to expand their brand, pursuing broader opportunities or settling down to appear more “respectable.”
So What Now?
Global music has always been rooted in cultural exchange. But, exchange is not the same as erasure. Providing context, credit, and respect to a culture that has generated billions for artists across the world is the bare minimum.
As a Kpop consumer of over a decade, I sometimes feel like Kpop is like a thrift store where clothes that are worn by Black artists are heavily worn and used, then repackaged and sold as a new outfit. An outfit that profits from a caricature of Black culture, then discards it when it’s no longer convenient.
This trend has increased tremendously within the past decade to attract Western audiences, but often leaves some of their fans confused and rightfully offended. The writing has peeled, the outfits are beyond torn, the colors are beyond faded, and the tag of the original creator is scratched off; however, the reselling price tripled the original.
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