Alex Reid Shares What It’s Like To Be K-Pop’s First Black, Non-Asian Idol

By all accounts, Alex Reid fit the bill to make a name for herself in K-pop by the time of her 2015 debut. She was already a professional singer and had years of dance training under her belt. She even had songwriting and composing experience to speak of—neither of which are prerequisites for aspiring idols. Add to that a positive disposition, a vibrant personality, and a lit-from-within smile, and you could almost say that she was born to become a K-pop star—except for one notable point of difference. Reid isn’t Korean, or even Asian for that matter. She’s Black.

Reid was at a songwriting camp in Los Angeles in 2015 when an A&R rep approached her, asking if she’d ever consider joining a K-pop group. “I tried to play it cool and acted really chill about it,” Reid, who is still actively working as a singer and songwriter, told VICE at an LA coffee shop. After a brief audition with a South Korean music label via video chat, she made the cut and the ball got rolling at warp speed. “A week to 10 days later, I just picked up and moved,” she recalled.

Within another two weeks’ time, Reid became the first non-Asian and first Black idol in K-pop history when she made her debut with RaNia for the girl group’s “Demonstrate” comeback on Nov. 4, 2015.

Every element of her debut was unheard of. A K-pop fan herself, Reid was well aware of this. To start, idols typically train for years before they’re chosen to debut. However, she’d already been signed to Def Jam in the United States, was a songwriter with Sony, and had collaborated with major artists like Jamie Foxx and Chris Brown. Reid said that knowing this, the company decided that she’d already done her necessary training. “But after going through the process, I beg to differ,” she said. In hindsight, Reid believes that a sufficient training period would have set her up better for success, likening her idol journey to a sprint rather than a marathon.

“The most essential things were that I didn’t learn Korean, the idol temperament, and all the little details of how to fit into the group [before debuting],” she said. “By skipping training, it put me in an awkward position to the rest of the group. It made me the exception: the lucky one who didn’t have to do anything to be there.”

“By skipping training, it put me in an awkward position to the rest of the group. It made me the exception: the lucky one who didn’t have to do anything to be there.”

Of course, that was on top of already being a non-Asian Black woman in the public eye in South Korea, where cultural homogeneity is the norm and having porcelain white skin is one of the many ideals of beauty. This facet of her identity set Reid further apart from other members, especially since the marketing around it was so robust.

“It was such a focal point in every press release, and it was something I wasn’t prepared for,” Reid said. Nonetheless, she remembers being warmly received by Korean audiences, adding that fans would cheer her on during her parts and wait to see her when her scheduled events ended.

Still, her “otherness” was front and center more often than not, which compounded how much she stuck out—and not in a good way. To start, she was regularly dressed in clothes of different colors and styles from the rest of her group, even when the outfits were custom-made. When the staff did her makeup, she looked paler than she actually was.

“I didn’t feel like they were staying true to my features, and it was really important to me that I looked like myself, so I opted to do my own makeup,” Reid said. However, she notes she was never pressured into doing skin-lightening treatments, or made to feel like her skin color was a problem.

“I didn’t feel like they were staying true to my features, and it was really important to me that I looked like myself.”

“My CEO wanted me to look like myself, and he was always on my team,” she explained.

But the staff didn’t know how to style her naturally curly hair, so she’d eventually take that upon herself as well.

“The first time they did my hair, it was in a big dreadlock,” she recalled. “Picking around, I knew I was going to lose tons of hair in the process.”

Despite these issues and “feeling like an afterthought a lot of the time,” Reid was content to take her beauty routine upon herself.

“It didn’t really bother me since there hadn’t been that situation before [with my skin tone and hair texture], so I feel like they didn’t know what to prepare for,” she said.

Overall, she believes that the last-minute nature of her debut was why “they didn’t have the time and wherewithal” to get what she needed.

In her quest to simplify things, Reid decided to straighten her hair for the group’s “Start a Fire” comeback. Not only would the staff be better equipped to style it, but she also thought it would help her blend in more and give anti-fans less cause for criticism.

“After being critiqued so harshly on my skin and weight [by anti-fans], I thought if I conformed a bit, it might be easier,” she said. Yet she discovered soon enough that there’s “no pleasing people who don’t want to be pleased.”

“They still had something to say: Now she’s trying to look Asian. Now she’s trying to look white,” Reid said. “The same people who I thought I was going to silence were actually getting louder.” And while some fans continued to rally behind her and wish for her best interests, others lambasted her for “selling out.”

In the midst of the hurdles specific to her visuals, she took on the role as the newly-minted leader of the group, which was rebranded as BP RaNia in 2016, once all of the original members had departed. With this responsibility (and her innately honest disposition), she spoke up against mistreatment—not only on her own behalf, but also that of her fellow members—though her efforts were often literally and figuratively lost in translation.

It was around this time when Reid’s relationship with her company’s staff began to sour.

“I think it was a blend of cultural differences between us that caused a lot of misunderstandings, but also me being outspoken and standing up for things I didn’t find acceptable,” Reid said. For instance, she said she was called out for diva-like behavior for basic requests, such as asking for a group meal after working for 10 hours straight. “I think it’s a manipulative tactic to call a girl a diva for asking for regular things, or putting her needs out in the forefront.” Biting her tongue and sticking to the status quo would have fostered more safety, but Reid couldn’t try to conform any longer. “Idols aren’t supposed to speak up, but I was doing that,” she said.

“Idols aren’t supposed to speak up, but I was doing that.”

An already challenging situation would quickly morph into an impossible one. She was still the odd woman out for choreography, wardrobe, and the like. “At a certain point, to still [be] left out felt intentional,” she said. And so she terminated her contract, formally leaving BP RaNia in August 2017.

Reid said she didn’t suffer from many instances of hate or discrimination for being a Black K-pop idol. “It’s a different kind of perception, but I didn’t experience any more racism than I experience in America.” Within K-pop agencies, though, she hopes that more steps will be taken to be more inclusive of Black idols—for instance, by hiring people who can sufficiently do their makeup and hair. “If you’re going to have a Black idol, you need to take [these things] into account,” Reid said. “If it’s good for marketing, it also has to be accounted for on the other end.”

In spite of it all, Reid wouldn’t trade her experience—or her legacy as the first non-Asian and first Black K-pop idol—for anything. (Reid is careful to note that rapper Yoon Mi-rae, who is half-Black and half-Korean, debuted prior to the idol era.) Instead, she says that being an idol was a wonderful ride.

“The best part is that you know you’re maxing out your life when you do it, giving every ounce of your energy and passion to something,” she said. “That’s not [the kind] of thing you can get out of every career.”

She still encourages others to pursue their dreams of becoming an idol, no matter their shape, size, race, or ethnicity. That is, so long as they have a solid foundation and strong sense of self, both of which equipped her to deal with the blows that came her way.

Over the past few years, K-pop has slowly started to open up to those of non-East Asian descent. For instance, popular Southeast Asian idols include Lisa from BLACKPINK and Minnie from (G)I-DLE (both of whom are Thai), as well as Hanni from NewJeans (who is Vietnamese-Australian). Moreover, at KCON LA 2022—at which Reid MCed the two-night concert and sat on panels for the daytime convention—Korean agency WAKEONE hosted auditions with “no limitations on gender, nationality, or age of applicants.”

Yet the proliferation of diversity in K-pop is perhaps most present in the current iteration of her former group, now known as BLACKSWAN. Its lineup today doesn’t have any Korean members and includes Fatou (the first African K-pop idol, born in Senegal), Leia (Brazilian-Japanese), Gabi (Brazilian-German), and Sriya (the first Indian K-pop idol).

Reid is optimistic for the future of diversity in K-pop. “When it comes to adding someone who’s non-Asian, the talent will speak for itself,” she said, also believing that the Korean audience “likes seeing diversity and talent in whatever package it’s in.” However, she also recognizes that capitalism is inevitably at play. “The changing demographic of K-pop fans has to do with there being a market for a diverse K-pop group. There’s a financial interest because it’s so worldwide and people want to see themselves represented. It’s a quick way to get a whole fanbase on your side,” she added.

Reid also noted that getting past “othered” labels in a homogenous society like South Korea’s will inevitably take a lot of time. “They’re not seeing that diversity on the street on a daily basis, so it’s always something to point out. They’re not used to it,” she said. “That’s something I don’t take negatively. You don’t know what you don’t know.”

But she also believes that more could be done to properly credit and respect Black culture in the industry, which has long served as inspiration for musical and visual concepts in K-pop. “I think that when Black culture (or any other culture) is going to be influential on the art that you’re putting out, you take on the responsibility of making yourself aware because you’re utilizing it for your own gain,” she said. Her wish is for K-pop companies to hire “cultural liaisons,” or staffers from diverse backgrounds, who could provide a temperature check on potential instances of cultural appropriation, as well as promote inclusion in more mindful ways.

“I think that when Black culture (or any other culture) is going to be influential on the art that you’re putting out, you take on the responsibility of making yourself aware because you’re utilizing it for your own gain.”

When asked for the best piece of advice she can give to aspiring idols who aren’t of East Asian descent, Reid advises staying true to yourself above all. “There will be a lot of pressure and a lot of times you feel like your dream is contingent upon conforming, but that’s not the case. You can be yourself and your dreams can come true,” she said.

From there, she advised prioritizing health and happiness at all times. “When something is your dream, it’s easy to keep justifying that [mistreatment is] worth it. But if you’re no longer happy, it’s no longer worth it,” she said. “You’re allowed to make one dream come true and move on to the next, which is what I’m doing.”

Reid is currently working on new music planned for release within the next six months. She’s also been writing a young adult novel and a memoir—both of which offer a behind-the-scenes look at idol life.

“Take what you learned and apply it to the next thing you do. You’ll have a lot more discipline and worldliness, and you’ll have a lot more to give,” she said. “Also, learn Korean.”

Follow Michele Ross on Instagram.