Dreams of K-Pop Stardom Turn to Nightmares for Aspiring Idols

Sat Feb 07 2026 04:31:16 GMT+0200 (Eastern European Standard Time)

Young hopefuls attracted by the K-Pop phenomenon face harsh realities and allegations of exploitation as they pursue their dreams in South Korea's entertainment industry.

As the K-pop industry entices young talent from around the globe, many trainees, like 19-year-old Miyu, face disillusionment, exploitation, and allegations of harassment amidst unregulated training environments. They recount dreams transformed into nightmares as they navigate a challenging landscape in pursuit of fame.

As K-pop's popularity soars, South Korea has transformed into a hub for young dreamers striving to break into the bustling industry. Each year, numerous aspiring artists enroll in programs that promise a pathway to success.

Miyu, a young hopeful, traveled to South Korea in 2024, drawn by the allure of K-pop. Under a new name to protect her identity, she revealed that she invested nearly $20,000 into a six-month training program with expectations of professional guidance in dance and vocals, and opportunities to audition for major agencies.

“There were supposed to be weekly auditions, but that never happened,” Miyu lamented in Seoul’s Hongdae area, known for its vibrant music scene. She described a program plagued with infrequent lessons, and alarming allegations of sexual harassment from a senior staff member—claims the academy has denied.

Miyu's experience, mirrored by others at the academy, highlights concerning patterns within a largely unregulated industry, where promises of stardom often come at a high personal cost.

Two fellow trainees corroborated Miyu's claims, with one also alleging harassment and the other witnessing inappropriate conduct. All mentioned the false promises related to the much-touted audition opportunities. In response, the academy denied the claims and asserted their commitment to providing audition access.

The training institutes fall under two classifications: as regulated Hagwon—private educational academies, or as entertainment agencies, which are governed by the Ministry of Culture. The latter, as clarified by local officials, operate with far fewer regulatory obligations, leaving their programs unchecked.

An education ministry representative stated that agencies are not limited by regulations for foreign students in language and dance, complicating oversight. “I dreamed of becoming an idol - but what I went through felt more like a scam,” Miyu shared, revealing the trauma intertwined with her ambitions.

Alongside her, two other trainees who fled unsafe environments echoed similar sentiments, describing a chilling lack of accountability and support within the system. One trainee, named Elin for anonymity, alleged a senior staff member forced her into compromising situations, even entering dorms uninvited under dubious pretenses.

Despite airing grievances, many fear retaliation against their aspiring careers and carry the burden of financial and familial pressure. Elin eventually filed police reports, yet faced frustrations with legal proceedings that could not substantiate her claims, as her case was dismissed.

Although the K-pop industry continues to thrive globally, its growth raises urgent questions about the safety and rights of those chasing stardom. Miyu, still holding onto her dreams, voiced her determination against the odds, hoping for a better future in a complex industry.

Elin's parting words carry weight: “K-pop has gained worldwide fame — and with that comes responsibility. At the very least, I hope the children who chase this dream can do so in a safer environment.”