Cyberbullying by K-pop Fans Must Stop
The fear of being a target makes it hard for people to talk about it
Intimidation, racial slurs, misogynistic comments, and outright death threats. These are some of the things you can expect when you talk about a K-pop act online, and some fans may disagree with you. It’s real, and happening right now. Few people, including journalists, talk openly about the cyberbullying by K-pop fans, for fear of being attacked themselves.
K-pop fandom can be fascinating. In Seoul’s subway, it’s not uncommon to find full advertisements purchased by fandoms celebrating their favourites’ birthdays or debuts, some of them filled with affectionate handwritten messages of support. A recent trip to Thailand left me stunned by the presence of banners sponsored by K-pop fandom groups on buses and even street vendor carts.
K-pop fandom can be a force for good. When I attended my first K-pop concert over 10 years ago, hundreds of kilos of rice were on display outside the concert hall, donated by fans of the associated act that would go to underprivileged communities. Online activism is another big thing, with fans mobilising through social media to support causes, injustice, and drive huge donations calls. K-pop fans gained worldwide attention when a coordinated effort booked up spaces at a Donald Trump rally and then deliberately left them empty.
As a marketing tool, K-pop fandom is gold, as it can make products and advertisements go viral. Even governments have realised the power of engagement from K-pop fans, and have seized the opportunity to capitalise on it. A simple mention or hashtag related to a K-pop group can gain more online popularity than other previous posts combined.
But K-pop fandom also has a very ugly side: cyberbullying. One word deemed at odds with the greater K-pop community, and you’re doomed. Crimes that are punishable by the mob of K-pop cyberbullies include criticising an act, label, saying something that may not portray the act in the best possible light, or even being a fan of another act.
For journalists including myself, asking questions is enough to unleash a torrent of abuse and apologists. The attacks against me are such that, the moment I mention K-pop, I will be bombarded with messages from trolls. A comment or article that doesn’t ask the ‘right’ questions is an online death sentence. The abuse is even worse for women.
Once on their hit list, the attacks and witch-hunts are relentless. The cyberbullies will dig through your every online presence and social media profile to find claims that legitimise your alleged deliberate smear campaign against the said artist. They will bombard you with hateful messages, spam your inbox, accuse you of spreading fake news, and contact your employer demanding them to fire you.
In Seoul, it’s a running joke among the foreign media community not to write about K-pop for fear of offending the K-pop crowd. All my colleagues who have written pieces in major publications or commented on K-pop with the best of intentions have not been immune from relentless cyberbullying.
Take the recent case of Juwon Park, a Seoul-based entertainment reporter. When she questioned why a musician accused of sexual violence against two women (one victim allegedly killed herself as a result of the musician’s abuse) collaborated on the latest BTS album, she faced a barrage of online abuse for weeks, much of which still continues today. An army of troll accounts, including impersonation accounts, also encouraged the mass sending of emails to her employer making outrageous claims in a bid to taint her reputation and have her removed.
It doesn’t just happen to journalists, but really anyone who dares to say something that may trigger the fandom of a given K-pop act. You will also be torn apart if you discuss K-pop cyberbullying, and be blamed for what they are: bullies that cannot accept valid criticism. With trolls, there is no possible engagement. You’ll be branded an ‘anti’. Whataboutism is also among one of their favourite weapons to justify your horrible existence.
Some media, which thrive off K-pop engagement, will keep quiet about it. Several journalists, who double as devoted fans, will even gaslight you by claiming that the problem barely exists and is confined to a fringe minority.
But anyone who has been the victim of K-pop cyberbullying will disagree: on social media, an explosion of hateful comments, insults, and death threats. The trolling can last for weeks, and tries to achieve one thing: silencing critics and perceived enemies. There’s even an online guide to ‘surviving’ targeted hate campaigns by K-pop fandoms.
K-pop fandom is no different to other fandoms, be it within sports or even politics. There’s being a fan, and then there’s fanaticism. Online hooliganism, though not physical, is still violence. Some of the worst vitriol is reserved for those who write under their real names, unlike the trolls who hide behind anonymity and change or create new accounts whenever they are attacked themselves or suspended from online platforms for hate speech.
K-pop cyberbullies seem to be out of step with the messages of love, kindness, and respect expressed by their favourite groups, and are tarnishing the positive aspects of these groups and the many members of these fan groups have demonstrated.
Extremism is real within K-pop fan circles, and denying that there is a problem is part of it. Labels will be the first to take action against online users accused of defaming their artists while remaining silent on the toxic behaviour of their fans against people other than their own artists.
Fandom can bring out the best in people, but also the worst. Being a K-pop fan does not exclude one from being a bully. Many will continue to claim the problem does not exist. If you don’t believe me, take a look for yourself, but be careful what you say, for you may very well be their next target.
