The Grueling Life of a K-Pop Trainee
I was just a child when I made the big move from my cozy home in the north-east of England to South Korea, embarking on a journey to become a K-pop star. At the time, K-pop was largely unheard of in Britain, but as a half-Korean, half-Chinese girl, I had grown up mesmerized by the vibrant world of South Korean TV dramas and music.
While my classmates were swooning over the likes of Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys, I was captivated by the infectious beats and synchronized dance moves of Wonder Girls and B2ST. My burning ambition was to follow in the footsteps of my K-pop idols, to model, act, sing, and dance my way to fame and fortune.
So, from the age of 10, I began auditioning for various entertainment companies in South Korea, often skipping school to film self-shot videos that would make my mum absolutely livid. Finally, on a family trip to visit my grandma in Seoul, I got the chance to attend a massive audition with over 2,000 other hopefuls.
The Audition Process
The waiting room was like something straight out of Britain’s Got Talent, except there were no chairs – just rows upon rows of us, perched on the floor, our hearts racing as our turn to perform approached. After a grueling six-hour wait, my row was finally called forward, one by one.
When it was my turn, I decided to showcase my acting skills, performing a monologue from a popular Korean TV drama. But the judge quickly stopped me, declaring, “We’re looking for singers.” Scrambling, I launched into a rendition of “A Whole New World” from Disney’s Aladdin, only to be interrupted once more. “Now show us your dancing,” the judge demanded.
Flustered and unprepared, I did my best to freestyle, hoping to impress. Thankfully, the judge seemed satisfied, handing me a yellow slip of paper that signified my advancement to the next stage of the audition process.
Life as a K-Pop Trainee
Within days, I was whisked away to discuss a contract with the entertainment company. Under the terms, I would have to leave my family and move to South Korea, living and training at the company’s facilities. If I chose to leave before the contract was up, I would be responsible for repaying the full cost of my training, which ran into the thousands of dollars. Mum reluctantly signed a two-year contract – the shortest they offered.
Soon after, my contract was transferred to another entertainment firm, a common practice in the industry. My new company was strict, and I was required to live in their building with the other trainees, who ranged in age from 9 to 16. The sexes were strictly separated, and we were only allowed to leave the building for our normal school lessons. Even then, relatives who showed up unannounced were often turned away.
A typical day as a K-pop trainee was grueling, to say the least. We would wake up at 5 am for extra dance practice before heading to school at 8 am. When the school day ended, we would return to the company to train in singing and dancing, often staying up until 11 pm or later in a relentless pursuit to impress our instructors.
The Pressure to Perform
The constant training and competition took a toll, both physically and mentally. Trainees were required to maintain a strict weight limit, with weekly weigh-ins that would shame those who exceeded the designated 47 kg. Some resorted to extreme measures, such as skipping meals or even developing eating disorders, just to stay within the company’s rigid standards.
The pressure only intensified during the monthly showcase events, where each trainee would perform in front of their peers and the instructors. If a trainee didn’t receive a good grade, they would be immediately kicked out and replaced by a new arrival, some of whom had already undergone plastic surgery to look the part of a K-pop star.
The environment was tense and highly competitive, with little room for true friendships. Trainees were constantly pitted against one another, and even small missteps, like having your dance shoes stolen, could derail your dreams.
The Realities of Idol Life
Despite the grueling training and intense pressure, I was determined to make it big. I was delighted when the company told me I had been selected as a lead singer for an upcoming girl group. But then, they dropped a bombshell – they wanted me to be the “visual” of the group, the face that would draw in fans.
This meant undergoing plastic surgery to conform to the company’s ideal of beauty. The prospect didn’t bother me, as I saw it as an investment in my future. But my mum had mixed feelings, worried for my well-being but also excited for the prospect of me becoming a K-pop star.
As the training progressed, however, I began to have doubts. The company wanted me to embody a character – a reserved, sweet, and innocent “Dia” – that just didn’t align with my true personality. I’m opinionated and loud, and I couldn’t fathom the idea of constantly playing a role in public.
The Difficult Decision to Leave
When it came time to renew my contract, I made the difficult decision to walk away. It’s extremely rare for a trainee to quit, as most are so determined to make it that they’ll agree to anything. But I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that this just wasn’t the right path for me.
Thankfully, I was able to leave without any financial burden, as I had fulfilled my part of the contract. Many trainees who debut with a K-pop group end up saddled with debt, having to work tirelessly to pay off the costs of their training and any plastic surgery.
Returning to England, I was reunited with my old friends and able to resume my studies. While I sometimes feel a twinge of regret when I see the group I was supposed to be a part of, I know in my heart that I made the right decision. The life of a K-pop idol is not for the faint of heart, and I’m grateful to have found my own path, one that allows me to be true to myself.
Now, I’m pursuing my passion for entrepreneurship, leveraging the skills I learned during my time as a trainee to create content for my thriving YouTube channel. It’s a liberating feeling, being in control of my own destiny and not having to conform to someone else’s vision of who I should be.
So, if you ever find yourself in Seoul, be sure to take a peek behind the curtain of the glitzy K-pop world. Beneath the dazzling performances and perfectly curated images lies a grueling reality that few are willing to confront. But for those who dare to chase their dreams, the journey can be both exhilarating and humbling, a true testament to the power of passion and perseverance.
And who knows, you might just spot me strolling through the vibrant streets of Seoul, soaking in the energy of the city that once held the promise of K-pop stardom.
