What do you get when you mix scandal, sequins, cultural backlash and global stardom? A BLACKPINK member navigating the treacherous lanes of K-pop idolhood while refusing to colour within the lines.
Once upon a time, and still, to some extent, K-pop idols were expected to be as flawless as their complexion, as docile as their curated interviews and as controversy-free as their airbrushed social media feeds.
But in a world where image is everything and missteps can be career-ending, BLACKPINK's Jennie and Lisa have become fascinating studies in rebellion. They're not just pushing boundaries; they're obliterating them and, in doing so, perhaps rewriting the K-pop manual itself.
The 'Ideal Idol' Manual
The 'ideal idol' is less of a person and more of a prototype. South Korea's entertainment industry has long expected its idols to embody a specific image: wholesome, obedient, modest, humble and scandal-free.
This involves abstaining from dating, partying, smoking or expressing strong opinions. A perfectly ironed shirt, an asexual smile and silence in the face of injustice were considered brand assets.
Agencies tightly control every aspect of an idol's life - from diet and wardrobe to speech and social interactions. Dating is often forbidden, controversial topics are taboo, and a single "wrong" move can invite the wrath of a hyper-engaged public.
The Korean entertainment industry's infamous cancel culture, coupled with the vigilant gaze of conservative netizens, ensures that even perceived transgressions invite boycotts, cyberbullying and PR crises.
The Culture Of Cancellation
Unlike in the West, where fans often separate art from the artist, Korea's celebrity culture is built on inseong, a concept that blends morality, image and public duty. K-pop idols are viewed as national representatives and role models, making personal transgressions feel like public betrayals.
Cancellation in this context is swift and brutal. A whiff of impropriety - be it vaping indoors, dating, wearing the wrong costume, or being too expressive - can erase years of goodwill.
Agencies scramble for damage control, fan forums explode, and media coverage is relentless. Comebacks, if they happen at all, are rare.
But then, enter Jennie Kim and Lalisa Manoban.
Jennie Kim, The Rebel With A Storm
She debuted with a pout, rapped with elegance and danced like seduction incarnate. Jennie was always different. Often dubbed the 'Princess of YG', she has faced as much scrutiny as she has adoration.
Her appearance in HBO's The Idol was a tipping point. Playing Dyanne, a backup dancer entangled in risque choreography, Jennie shared screen space with Lily-Rose Depp in scenes that Korean netizens deemed "provocative" and "inappropriate for an idol."
The choreography involved sensual movements and close physical contact with male dancers, enough to stir cultural anxieties about the 'ideal behaviour' of female idols.
Jennie, however, remained unapologetic. In Dua Lipa's podcast, she opened up about the suffocating control that came with being a K-pop star. "Starting my career in Korea as a K-pop artist has restricted so many sides of me," she said, adding, "I was scared to even express myself." With The Idol, Jennie wasn't just acting; she was reclaiming her narrative.
And this wasn't her first brush with controversy.
From being accused of laziness on stage to the whirlwind dating rumours with EXO's Kai and BTS's V, Jennie has often been subjected to double standards.
Dating, for instance, is an industry taboo, but the attention on Jennie's personal life has been disproportionate, labelled "Seoul Cycle" by rival fandoms and targeted by podcast-driven "slut-shaming" and baseless "yacht girl" allegations.
She's also been caught in cultural appropriation storms, from donning cornrows in The Idol to using sacred Hindu imagery and dance forms in music videos like Kill This Love and Boombayah. Each controversy sparked international criticism.
Yet, amid calls for apologies and accountability, Jennie's response has often been through silence or subtle defiance, like putting up a Mantra-titled billboard in Delhi amid backlash over cultural insensitivity.
Her comeback single, Mantra, drew criticism for its title's spiritual connotations not aligning with the lyrics. But fans, especially Indian, were divided. Was it tone-deaf marketing or was it brilliance? Either way, Jennie was once again walking the razor's edge between fame and fallout.
Lalisa Manoban, The Star With Consequences
Lisa's journey has been equally unorthodox and controversial. As a Thai artist dominating the Korean scene, her mere existence is a disruption of the monolithic K-pop idol ideal. But her recent career moves have added more fuel to the fire.
Performing at Paris's Crazy Horse cabaret ( known for burlesque and topless shows), Lisa invited a storm of judgment.
While fans praised her for owning her sensuality, conservative circles and Chinese netizens were outraged.
Weibo, China's top social media platform, banned her account following the performances. Chinese actress Angelababy, who attended Lisa's show, also faced social backlash.
The burlesque performance stood in stark contrast to K-pop's sanitised image of female idols. Lisa's outfit at the 2025 Met Gala, which appeared to feature Rosa Parks' image on her bodysuit's underwear, further worsened the backlash.
Many found it disrespectful and accused Lisa of trivialising civil rights symbolism. Louis Vuitton, the designer, claimed it was a tribute, but the outrage didn't settle.
Then came the blackfishing accusations. Teasers for her single Rockstar featured Lisa in a visibly darker tone and hip-hop aesthetics, only for her next release Born Again to show a significantly paler look with a pop-centric vibe.
Critics argued the shift was opportunistic, that Lisa was adopting Black aesthetics when it suited her sound and discarding them when it didn't.
As a non-Korean in an industry already hyper-critical of women, Lisa's every move has been magnified. Her past has also seen accusations of cultural appropriation - from box braids in Kill This Love to costumes that offended religious sentiments. But like Jennie, Lisa has neither bowed down nor offered sweeping public apologies.
They, Somehow, Survived The Fire
What sets Jennie and Lisa apart isn't just that they faced backlash; it's that they kept moving forward. In a system where idols vanish after controversies, these women leaned in. They didn't perform contrition as the industry often demands. Instead, they used global platforms - the Met Gala, HBO, Billboard charts - to shift the narrative.
Their agency, YG Entertainment, once known for its laissez-faire attitude toward scandals, no longer shields them the way it used to.
Jennie has now launched her own agency, and Lisa is expanding her global footprint with collaborations and solo ventures, distancing themselves from YG's image-policing machinery.
Yes, they've made mistakes. Yes, they've been tone-deaf. But they are also navigating the impossible intersection of global fame and local scrutiny, all while being young, ambitious women in an industry that doesn't like rule-breakers unless they're men.
The Bottomline
Jennie and Lisa are not perfect. They are complex, sometimes contradictory, and often controversial. But in a world that demands female idols be angels in Chanel heels, their unapologetic selfhood is a quiet revolution.
They are not rewriting the K-pop rulebook; they are burning it and making their own.
And maybe, just maybe, that's what the next generation of idols needs: less perfection, more honesty. Less meekness, more madness. Less idol, more individual.