Jevaria Onymous

K-pop has increasingly been becoming popular and I too, by my friends’ recommendations, have started following along. I started with ATEEZ, a group consisting of 8 male performers.

I have to be honest. I did not like their music. I love rap, trap, and R&B, so the pop-“ness” and chaotic nature of their music didn’t really suit my palette. But I stayed and actually kept up with them. I’ve genuinely found them fascinating both as individuals and as a group.

It seems as though they have performance masks while also coming across as authentic and sincere in interviews or day-to-day videos. But that in itself is marketing and strategy. People create archetypes, ships, and project their own boxes onto these people based on the content released about them.

I wanted to explore some of the things I’ve found most interesting about the media curation surrounding this group, only because they’re the group I’ve mainly followed. I don’t know much about marketing, so these are simply observations I’ve pieced together from years of being online, YouTube videos, Instagram, fan edits (lol), and comment sections. Think of me as a blend of information that I wouldn’t be able to individually source but have slowly accumulated over time. I’m not trying to make claims about ATEEZ or K-pop as a whole. These are simply patterns I’ve noticed and why I think they might emerge sociologically.

The biggest thing I’ve noticed is that the marketing isn’t just through the music or talent. It also seems to market relationships.

One thing I’ve noticed is that having a group creates a situation where people almost have to bond under pressure. You have this group of people living and working together while all pursuing the same passion of performing. They are all talented, but they also depend on one another. A member who’s a stronger dancer can help someone else practice. Someone who struggles a bit more with higher notes can lean on another member. Add on top of that the years of training, the pressure of the company, the pressure they put on themselves, and, from what I’ve read, even financial pressure from training costs, and it seems like there is simply more to gain from cooperation than hostility. If you’re constantly fighting with your coworkers, everyone loses.

Whether those relationships naturally develop because of these conditions or are simply highlighted more through the media that’s released, I don’t know. But either way, what fans end up seeing are friendships, personalities, inside jokes, dynamics, and “candid” moments, while staff is still present, of course. To me, that’s where the parasocial effect begins. Fans aren’t only connecting to individual members. They’re connecting to the relationships between members.

It’s actually why I think podcasts have become so popular too. Two people having a relaxed conversation feels like something you’re invited into rather than something you’re simply watching. As the third-party observer, you begin feeling included in a conversation that wasn’t originally yours. I wonder if K-pop content creates something similar.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that because these are all male groups, the friendships themselves seem to become part of the appeal.

When members interact during games, behind-the-scenes content, or Instagram lives, fans get to watch men being playful, affectionate, emotionally expressive, and genuinely excited to be around one another. Because there are still societal expectations that men should be more stoic or emotionally reserved, I wonder if these kinds of interactions become especially compelling. This may be part of why some women find these men particularly desirable, not only because they’re physically attractive, but because they model a kind of male intimacy that isn’t always as publicly visible elsewhere.

If that’s true, it also makes sense to me why so much content revolves around situations that naturally produce these interactions. Games, dance practices, meals, drinking together, behind-the-scenes clips, and casual livestreams. The performances almost become secondary to watching people relate to one another.

What’s also interesting is that the parasocial relationship doesn’t seem to stop between members. It also seems to extend toward the audience.

Things like heart gestures, performative cuteness (aegyo), direct eye contact with the camera, or talking to fans during livestreams don’t just showcase relationships between members. They seem to create the feeling of a relationship between a member and the audience as well.

I’ve also noticed what looks like a feedback loop.

For example, during collaborations where idols dance to another group’s song for TikToks or Reels, I’ve seen comments praising male idols for dancing more “girly” or female idols for dancing more “masculine.” As far as I’ve personally observed, ATEEZ seems to have done more of these “sexy” or more feminine-coded dances recently. I’m not claiming this is a broader industry trend or even that this is why they’re doing it. It’s simply something I’ve noticed and found interesting because it makes me wonder how much companies, and maybe even the members themselves, pay attention to the kinds of interactions fans respond to.

In general, I’ve just noticed that these men are being marketed not only through their music but also through their attractiveness, charisma, personalities, friendships, and accessibility. And honestly… it’s really effective.

Ironically, I still don’t listen to much of their music.

But I do enjoy watching them perform because they seem genuinely passionate about what they do. And while I know every piece of behind-the-scenes content has been selected, filmed, and edited to present a particular image, I also don’t think marketing and sincerity have to be mutually exclusive. There seems to be enough genuine enjoyment between the members that, even through all of the curation, I still find myself believing parts of it.

Maybe that’s the part I find most fascinating.