NOW STREAMING: POP STAR ACADEMY

And the idea that KPOP Training Programs would work in the U.S.

I look back on the bootcamp that Destiny’s Child went through like a sick nightmare. Back in the day, this kind of A&R was expected to help girls reach super stardom and Beyonce had been in such a bootcamp since she was a little girl. We don’t think about what would’ve been lost had these girls not made it because why would you ever think of a success story as anything but aspirational?

But, I think we should. It humanizes the arts and the business of entertainment so much more if we do that. The mystery surrounding it is why we believe hardship creates talent despite the fact opportunity does not go to the most talented.

Nothing embodies this better than the set up for Pop Star Academy on Netflix.

I did not realize I knew what this show was about when I decided to stream the first six episodes last Friday. I just saw that this was a global girl group formation a la the methodology that went into creating superstar girl groups like the SPICE girls. This was not similar to how girl groups are formed now — on survival shows like X-Factor where combined fanbases are mobilized by producers and execs (some conspirators believe intentionally, as if the show is in cahoots with agencies to springboard followings and careers). I recognized they were going to follow the KPOP Training model, too: a technique that would shock most Americans if you deep dived into random entertainment topics as much as I do.

In South Korea, the KPOP factory is designed to be as efficient as possible in making money. So much so that trainees are sometimes in the lab for half their lives before they ever get a chance to debut. That’s years of obsessively controlled schedules, diets and public presences. During this time, they are doing body destroying training in dance, face equipping and singing. At that, these debuts do not always guarantee lucrative careers for the performers. In America, unless you’re a superfan of the KPOP genre, you only hear about the cream of the crop, such as Black Pink and BTS. Their success do not just emulate popular American groups like N*Sync, the Backstreet Boys, TLC or Destiny’s Child, but in some respects lapping them. At that, the record deals these entertainers typically sign for this slim chance of superstardom have been subject of scandal for well over a decade — with many being seen as predatory and salacious.

So, I couldn’t help but tap into Pop Star Academy to discover how exactly this could happen in the U.S. model, where most entertainment laws have guidelines older than my Mother and even our most predatory deals — such as the infamous 360 deal (which many pros debate on if 360 deals are uniformly insidious considering the label takes most of the losses if an artist is of low performance and touring skillset but strong potential following; for strong musicians, a traditional record deal might be more dangerous seeing as your music sales might be higher than your merch and imaging). Considering a lot of this line-up were young women: the youngest being 17 and the oldest being roughly 19. I’d hoped I’d see an adapted version of this and potentially a feel good docuseries about the perseverance of artists cultivating skills for their dreams. I love documentaries and docuseries and any media about artists and hobbyist pursuing a fixation out of their love for that thing. My favorite documentary on Netflix is Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold. One of my favorite shows is Queen’s Gambit. This was not so much a feel good watch as much as a slow descent into the willingness of mentors to betray a lot of girls trust and to hold girls to the warped sense of professionalism no adult should box young adults into.

The show followed initially 14 girls from across the world as they find out they’ve been accepted into a training program to mentor young girls in dance, singing and star performance in order to eventually debut only six as a global girl group (which is a brand-friendly way to say a non-Korean KPOP group). The first episode is filled with a montage of many girls — only one of whom was Black, which we’ll get back to later — as they react to their acceptance.

The label is HYBE, infamous for their super KPOP group BTS. They’ll be bankrolling this entire outfit, but with the assistance of a team, they’ll be making a lot of final decisions. That team of advisors includes top-notch choreographers, creative directors, vocal coaches. The adult girls move into one apartment in Burbank, CA. The girls under 18 are put into apartments with a guardian to protect the general well-being of those girls. Some girls dropped out of high school to move to Los Angeles to pursue this dream.

To make this process work, it was given a light elimination process. There would be check-ins where the girls would exhibit their talent and development. They’d receive notes and if the girls are not performing well, they would be eliminated and asked to head home. Point blank, many of the girls asked and were told this was NOT a survival show. Most of these girls were seasoned professionals and were KPOP fans: they knew about the popularity of survival shows in the genre as a marketing ploy and cultural zeitgeist in South Korea.

To showcase this, at the end of the first month where the rankings were first showcase — in which the girls were assessed on Dance Ability, Vocal Ability and Star Power — none of the girls were eliminated. It was determined that the girls would need more time to properly develop before anyone could be cut. However, the first round of notes were incredibly harsh. One girl, named Naisha from Brazil, was pointedly told she was flat during her entire performance. She was. And she took her notes with incredible professionalism. That is to say: her level of professional etiquette was unexpected as other girls did not fair as well. Almost all of these girls had professional development in one skill or another.

Naisha herself was a professional dancer in London. Daniela debuted on America’s Got Talent as a toddler. Meagan was a Disney Channel guest star. Emily is a competitive dancer (one I’ve realized I’ve seen before in many choreography videos from LA). And more.

The girls were exposed to new styles of everything. Not just KPOP dance techniques. Most of the girls, still very young and new to their femininity, were tasked with dancing in heels. Mind you, hell choreography would always be asked of them or their brand identity (something that wasn’t developed yet and would become a detail later on). But, this was a request to increase confidence in dancing and to tutor the girls on a level of womanhood in their performance most of them hadn’t yet tapped into.

Most girls failed at it. It was used to highlight the different skill levels in dance and to expose girl to a competitive philosophy because — according to the head mentor Molly: “Some of these girls are approaching this like Summer Camp.”

… I wonder why, Molly. It can’t be because half of these girls just left high school and the other half are old enough to be College Freshmen — an infamously mature and competitive demographic.

All the same, their flaws were highlighted and not many of them were seen to have the capabilities to make the next phase interesting. One 17 year old girl was cut from the program for lacking a strong skill set. She was from Kansas where she did not have access to a lot of arts development to refine her vocal abilities and dance abilities or star presence. She trained herself on social media. On top of that, she was very young and so positioning her for a lot of the brand deals and merchandising they were seeking at HYBE would not be opportune. I truly think HYBE accepted her into the program because her story sounded good because they repeated this mistake with another young girl later on into the show.

This was maybe the most overt moment where systematic issues were made evident. The show attempted to cast these issues aside with the fundamental rule that the best wasn’t necessarily who’d make it to the final selection. The top of every category were actually less likely to make it into team than someone of lower skill set.

This subject was always used to highlight Naisha, too. Pointedly. She ranked lower the most consecutively but was marked for her diligence and ever-increasing potential. However, she was mostly penalized for her hip hop roots and background: almost moreso than Daniela, the competitive ballroom dancer of AGT fame, was.

All the same, Naisha took this process seriously. She went to the studio to rehearse her vocals. She went to the lab she work on her mannerisms and femineity while conducting choreography. And she worked on her Face Equipment. She took her notes in stride. All the girls did. But it never seemed good enough. Month after month no eliminations until finally… the mentors seemed fed up with a lack of competitiveness and went out to search for the outsiders to bring into the house.

See, what hadn’t been revealed to any of the girls is this: this process did include a survival show. After a year’s worth of training and relationship cultivation, these girls would be pitted against each other. Worse, six girls were being scouted from outside this training program to participate and eventually join the other girls at the end of the program to fill in gaps the mentors felt the girls had: directly targeting the girls insecurities. WORSE, the survival show aspect would be voting-based and require the girls to garner attention using social media following .

Those same girls were dressed up in Battle Royale-esque school girl uniforms with the women they trained next to, received big sisterly mentorship from, cultivated spats minor and major with, shared secrets with, were punished beside, advocated for and would be told overnight that this person they now trusted with their entire lives was an enemy. And it wasn’t even going to be about one another’s talent: it was going to come down to who could build the most dedicated following until the final mission.

In one single announcement, HYBE slaughtered a sisterhood and awakened a hell for the mental health of a roomful of girls who trusted them.

Prior, I found even myself thinking that even if some of these girls were eliminated, there is still the training. All of these girls would leave this house will vigorous skillsets under their belt to gurantee their star power. The training was intense and injury inducing, but it was something they could bring with them. Now, I saw the brutality on full display. Egg on my face.

And this reveal made every elimination prior to the debut even more vicious and nefarious.

Because the only girl to be kicked out of the house not for a skill set issue was — you guessed it — Naisha.

On to the Black of it all. Naisha made me uncomfortable since the first moment I saw her, because what the team in-charge of her was doing was very notable. Since the moment she appeared on screen and these marketers called her “masculine” and used words to imply intimidation, I saw every red flag for Black girls in a group dynamic. Worse, that she was the only Black girl brought onto this team at first. At that, she was still light-skinned and fulfilled an exoticism quota.

I personally believe they were biding their time with Naisha. She left soon after a new girl — Manon— joined the house. Manon was privately tutored and trained in preparation for this program and house since she had a lower skill set. Manon was scouted much in the same way as Naisha: they both had considerable screen time discussing their face, aura, performance and how markets would take them. Both of them are lightskinned and from “Exotic” diasporas of Blackness. Naisha, a cultivated hip hop fan with rap skill and street dance emphasis and a tom boy flare, is the polar opposite to the influencer it-girl Manon. After all of the criticism spotlighted on Naisha every episode — all of which she took in stride and with an upward chin — the moment Manon was recruited, I saw what was happening.

Naisha was the only Black girl. She was not able to be molded into the image they were developing this group to embody. They were always going to have at least one Black girl in this group. But anymore and it’d become one of those situations.

(The same situation that kept early America’s Next Top Model from having consecutive Black winners).

The only time Naisha’s Blackness is brought up ever is when she is kicked out of the house and she comments on how she hopes they bring in so many of them that someone statistically has to make it onto the team. I don’t believe in colorblind casting and neither does Entertainment: her Blackness and how she performed it was always on the table and it’s strange to see a directorial implication that only Naisha commented on it. Especially when the series seemed to make every effort that none of the girls involved in this program were dark skinned (save Lara, who is Indian).

Naisha Dos Santos (IG: @NaishaWaters)

Naisha was the only victim of what I’d say was an EXPECTED turn of events. One that led me to question how and WHY one of the girls ever brought it up to Molly. See, the girls were not allowed to have Instagram accounts. So they made private Instagram accounts with only the girls in the house, because that is EXACTLY what Gen Z girls between 16 and 19 would do. And that’s exactly what any girl even in professional entertainment would do.

However, they accused Naisha of having followers on that account from outside the program on hers. They also accused Naisha of posting her covers of the original songs from the program. And she was cut, despite arguing evidence to the contrary.

She was the only one cut and her diligent storyline was ended there. It was a strict conclusion that felt more about Molly’s POV than anything top-level. The KPOP trainee world is strict, but it’s one element that I feel does not translate well to American audiences (a reoccurring trend here).

Manon — who’d had less skill and less work ethic at the time — was left the only Black girl in the house. HYBE would bring in a new Black Brazilian girl, a book worm and a devout Christian, Samara. Also light skinned.

Manon Bannerman from Debut Dream Academy

Things got stickier from there.

Manon was isolated from the other girls after joining the house. Molly could not wait to talk about Manon’s personality, ethic, attitude and more. In under 30 seconds, the woman might as well called this girl out her name. She also made it clear if it was up to her, Manon would not be allowed into the group; which reveals that some girls in this program were darlings protected by higher ups to be ushered into the survival show.

Still, this did little to abet the mentors from showcasing their favortism and animosity. In the same way arts teachers weaponize the classroom against their least favorites, the girls were given a front seat to everything Manon did wrong with seemingly very little effort to curb this animosity. (I’d suggest because this animosity made for good TV and competition, which HYBE revealed was intentional and seen as a necessity to get people to tune in).

Albeit, I’ll admit to being exhausted with Manon when she revealed she would not be attending practice that day in-order to rest. Especially when they cut to the training to show ho wmuch missing Manon threw everything off. They do KPOP choreography, which is an extremely group and connect oriented choreo. They had to block around her without her body. Their lines and group patterns were thrown off. Everyone was being graded on how they all looked, and Manon didn’t just let herself down here: she let others down.

However, I quickly adjusted when I realized Manon’s perspective. She had little vocal and dance training. The only other Black girl who spoke german — a tongue she deeply cares for — was cut. She was surrounded by younger girls and was expected to diminish her own adulthood under these house rules. And she came from Sweden, where self-care and personal health days are expected if you feel ill or hurt, which she did: Manon was doing choreo and vocal exercises she never did before and that’d impact her body. She also arrived almost 7 months after everyone else did and was already sequestered to a house alone again.

She had every reason to do what she did and no adults were seemingly stepping in to squash this very easily nipped beef.

Instead, it festered into a competitive instinct about her. Especially when it was revealed Manon’s secret talent that these girls all forgot: she topped the charts when it came to star power. Her face, her beauty, her poise and confidence that got her recruited off a selfie outshined all of them.

And when the competition formally kicked off: her following came through. Manon was spared from elimination at the Top 6 despite trailing the entire training program at the lowest ranking in everything: 20.

Not only that: Manon’s immense social following paid off to keep her comfortable even if her home country could not. She also received a lot of help from being one of the only Black girls on the team — though HYBE said this was to the contrary as ethnic and national demographics were quite diverse (but I can’t imagine how they’d receive racial data outside of America).

The girls were sick about it. So were the mentors. Worse, many of the most talented girls were facing harsh criticism online for one reason or another and were suffering the mental health damage for it. They had group therapy about it and everyone was upset and took to complain there. And they voices fair criticism in a space that was designed for it, namely at Manon’s lack of work ethic and how unfair it was that she would be protected based on how she looks when she doesn’t put in the work: not even as a weaker skill set, but overall dedication.

All fair critiques and in a space designed for it. The problem? MANON WASN’T THERE.

Manon was out sick with COVID and the girls were implying she was lazy for not showing up with COVID. This is a situation I have come across often where fair criticism is lobbied at the wrong time or thing. But no one stopped the girls from continuing down this line of conversation. It just spiraled into even more animosity and issues. This conversation created the most palpable adversity in the house, with one girl, Sophia, mean mugging Manon as she walks into the house.

Chile. If they thought they wanted cattiness, they got it. The cost was the reputation of their own girl group as fans had to force themselves to forgive these girls for behavior that — in KPOP — would be seen as mean girl bullying. A label that has ruined enough groups to fill a football team, the bench and an arena basketball team to spare.

Manon later apologizes, takes accountability and her performances measure up, but that doesn’t change a lot of the struggle the girls had to accept her. Imagine their surprise when she won, because again: they cannot have this team without a Black girl. And evidently Samara had ruined her good standing among fans when her public likes revealed some unscrupulous POVs and affiliation with evangelist, hyper-christian organizations (I’m not gonna comment on that; she was born into it and she’s around that age and time when young people have wake up calls about the things their parents got them into and make their choices; I hope hers reflects the kind of goodness she clearly hopes to see in the world).

The cut throat culture of this show and program culminated in one of the most brutal eliminations I’d ever seen. Four girls were cut from the Second Mission. Prior to the cut, they showed a video that was honestly distasteful: production asked each of the girls who they’d want to be in their final group; they told the girls it wouldn’t be shared, but it’s a baseline for some other unknown metric; they then ranked the amount of times each girl was chosen. Manon ranked second-to-last: one girl was not chosen at all essentially.

She was bitter about it. When she was cut, she made her disgust with all of her sisters known.

The elimination was brutal. The girls who were chosen were not the only names called. They called every single girls name and told them if they’d been chosen or not. The first name spoken was an open statement of elimination. One by one the girls broke down into tears and hyperventilation as they were publicly traumatized by production. The accomplishment overshadowed by horror. One girl Lexie — who’d stated earlier that she suffered from depression in high school — clearly went into shock and held a thousand yard stare. Lexie would stop showing up to practice and rehearsals (allegedly after immediately quitting but being told to stay when she experienced this aspect of the show during this elimination, but perchance a feeling she held since the deep betrayal of revealing this program was actually a survival show all along). They “fired” her from the house after she missed 10 days. But it’s quite clear that Lexie quit: the show has betrayed her and did not align with her morals.

She was not the only person to question if HYBE and the thing they offered aligned with their morals. All of the girls asked this question in the end.

My first instinct upon getting to this point is to call Molly — the den mother of this outfit — a villain. However, I think that’s always the easy thing to do when you think you understand something by what a company has packaged and presented to you.

Instead, I’ll say the villain is any organization that’d exploit the feelings, dreams and trust of a bunch of young women, and say it’s what the audience wants.

If this is what anyone wants, I’d bargain that those people ought to be denied.

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