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KATSEYE’s day-to-day mirrors the flawless K-pop package, from grueling preparation and glossy visuals to practice videos and live music performances (and their accompanying fancams). The group taps into fan service inspired by South Korean idol culture: Fans pick their favorite member or “bias,” their new music is dubbed a “comeback,” and the members refer to their supporters as “EYEKONS.”
What sets KATSEYE apart from its peers is that it doesn’t adhere to traditional K-pop standards. They’re marketed as a “global group,” and all of their songs are in English. The former sextet doesn’t follow South Korea’s cultural norms either: members are outspoken about their opinions. They open up about their portrayals on Pop Star Academy (the Netflix docuseries that chronicled their lives before and during The Debut: Dream Academy) and address topics that most K-pop stars typically refrain from, including their personal lives and sexualities (Lara and Megan have come out as queer and bisexual, respectively). HYBE and Geffen Records’s experiment not only placed a new girl group on the radar, but it offered a first-ever glimpse at how K-pop methodology might be deployed on the other side of the globe.
The K-pop industry — a multi-billion-dollar money magnet — has had its eyes set on world domination for decades, but South Korea’s musical acts rarely strayed outside of its borders. From the late 1990s up until the 2010s, entertainment companies typically recruited at least one non-Korean member of Asian descent from neighboring countries like China or Japan (artists from Thailand or of mixed descent were still few and far between). But as K-pop deepened its ties with international collaborators, especially Westerners — including songwriters, producers, choreographers, and stylists — it was only a matter of time before record labels raced to engineer the next generation of girl and boy bands that reflected its diverse influences.
But K-pop’s integration in the West has exposed a dark underbelly. Korea's rigid entertainment system is proving to be a culture shock, and the issues arising are impacting — and stunting — artists just as they begin to gain momentum.
There’s no denying the K-pop playbook has panned out well for KATSEYE (granted, resources have well paved the way for their success). In three years, the group has amassed a handful of awards, festival appearances, chart-topping (and at times, polarizing) singles, and endless viral moments. But KATSEYE has also had a dwindling member count: Since February, Manon has been absent from KATSEYE to focus on her “health and wellbeing.” Six months later, Sophia announced a mental health hiatus from the group.
The way Sophia’s hiatus has been handled — with frequent updates from KATSEYE, HYBE X Geffen, and Sophia herself — is in stark contrast to the lack of transparency surrounding Manon's situation. Naturally, that ambiguity has only amplified speculation about Manon's long-term future in the group. As an outside observer, I've always found it disheartening how Manon, the only Black member of the group, has been branded as "lazy" since Dream Academy. This perception feels targeted, especially considering the singer has spoken about not wanting to push through burnout or injury. Allegations of mistreatment and tensions within the group only add fuel to the flame; it's equally heartbreaking to accept that the group’s "sisterhood" may have been a marketing facade from the beginning.
Meanwhile, the direction of HYBE and Geffen’s upcoming project, Saint Satine, already feels questionable. Former Dream Academy castmates Emily, Samara, and Lexie were rounded up alongside Sakura, who was placed into the unit via the Japanese competition series World Scout: The Final Piece. But the lineup suddenly changed after Lexie announced her departure in July, citing creative differences ahead of the group’s official debut. As of now, the group is continuing as a trio. Considering that the reason Lexie dropped out of Dream Academy in the first place was the high-pressure environment and how the process pitted the girls against each other, her departure from Saint Satine suggests that there are overarching issues regarding K-pop’s cultural assimilation.
While Lexie managed to wiggle out of her ironclad contract ahead of Saint Satine’s debut, VCHA wasn’t so fortunate. The girl group was formed in 2023 from South Korea’s JYP Entertainment and U.S. label Republic Records via A2K, a competition series built to create the first American girl group according to the K-pop formula. The series followed a similar outline to Dream Academy: 11 contestants endured a whirlwind of K-pop vocal and dance lessons, character assessments, and “star quality” evaluations. Six girls aged 14 to 18, were plucked to join the final lineup: Lexi, Camila, Kendall, Savanna, KG, and Kaylee.
Right as the group began gaining traction, one of its original members, KG, sued JYP over alleged abuse and exploitative working conditions (Both parties settled in August 2025). Amidst the news, Kaylee left the group. The four remaining members of VCHA were later revived as GIRLSET. While the group’s rebrand — a more mature approach than their previous tween concept — has received positive reception, there’s a pit in my stomach every time I tune in. There’s something unsettling about supporting a label that once sent these young girls on a downward trajectory, nearly derailing their careers before they started and even allegedly leading one to attempt suicide.
Given the overwhelming fan support for GIRLSET, KATSEYE, and Saint Satine, more global groups formed under the hybridized American-Korean training system are bound to emerge, but I question their long-term viability. Structural and cultural differences have already sliced into the groups’ productivity. Nonstop activity and unrelenting public scrutiny are already shaping up to hold artists back from carving out an authentic image in an oversaturated market. Only time will tell if management will listen to feedback and adjust their strategy for the benefit of their artists and their expanding international audience.
If not, we could continue to witness the repercussions of treating performers merely as products. So far, KATSEYE serves as a microcosm of the contemporary pop factory process: Their schedules are designed to maintain momentum and fuel the news cycle. The members’ ethnicities are integral to their personal marketing, and even Lara and Megan’s sexualities have been turned into branding opportunities.
It’s not so different from girl groups we’ve seen in the West before. In the 2010s, the British quartet Little Mix and the American quintet Fifth Harmony, both formed through talent competitions, serve as cautionary tales of what can happen. There are many parallels: poor management, enforced images, lack of autonomy, and the departure of star members contributed to the downfall of both groups. Perhaps all paths lead down the same road, but I can't help but hope that these girls finally break the cycle.
