In the heart of Mexico City, where the aroma of tacos mingles with the spicy scent of kimchi, the Colonia Juárez has earned its moniker: Little Seoul. This vibrant area, known as Zona Rosa, is a bustling enclave of Korean restaurants, cafes, beauty salons, and businesses, many operated by Korean immigrants who settled here decades ago. Yet, the clientele is increasingly Mexican. K-pop, the infectious Korean pop music, boasts an estimated 14 million fans nationwide – the fifth largest K-pop fanbase in the world – a number that has surged dramatically in the last five years. This burgeoning curiosity for all things Korean draws fans into the country’s dance, food, and language.
The K-Pop Wave: From Little Seoul to the Streets of Mexico City
The passion for South Korean culture isn’t confined to Juárez. Colorful cafes, adorned with neon lights, adorable plushies, and tapioca drinks, are sprouting up across the city. At the Monumento a la Madre, a group of teenagers dances to a Blackpink song, their moves mirrored on a phone propped on an impromptu tripod. This scene repeats itself in iconic locations like the explanada of Bellas Artes, the Glorieta de Insurgentes, and the Kiosko Morisco. The phenomenon extends even further into dance academies.
Inside a mirrored studio, some 30 students diligently replicate their teacher’s intricate choreography. This is K-pop Dance México, an academy that opened 13 years ago with a mere four students. Today, it boasts over 400 students and proudly claims the title of the largest K-pop school in Latin America. The real boom, however, occurred during the pandemic. The lockdown coincided with the explosion of TikTok and the global rise of groups like BTS and Blackpink, whose 30-second dance challenges captivated millions of young people. The typical demographic is girls aged 11 to 17, though the academy also welcomes transgender youth, a smaller number of boys, and even older enthusiasts. At K-pop Dance México, the age range spans from 5 to 75. The oldest student initially accompanied her granddaughter and eventually decided to join in. “Today, there are even K-pop moms and dads,” shares Cris di Carlo, the academy’s director.
A Safe Haven: K-Pop as a Community and Lifeline
This passion isn’t always met with understanding. “When a teenager starts listening to music in a language their parents don’t understand, like Korean, distrust is often the first reaction,” notes di Carlo. “For many students who come here after experiencing bullying, this space functions as a safe social club. They aren’t judged; they can express themselves and build a community.” K-pop fans often share stories of loneliness, rejection, and mental health struggles that were alleviated when they connected with Korean music. “Before, I was solitary. Joining the fandom is finding a space where everyone shares the same interest; it changes your experience. It’s a safe place,” says 18-year-old Hann del Río Hernández. Danna Paola Bonilla, 14, affirms that “love, unity, self-esteem, and positive messages” are the lessons K-pop has taught her. Brizia García, 17, explains: “I haven’t found another genre that gives me such peace, motivation, and happiness.”
This idea of community is fundamental. The controversy surrounding BTS’s visit to Mexico and the issues with Ticketmaster highlighted the fans’ organizational prowess. “The fandom united to make noise and demand justice,” recalls Alexis Ortega, a K-pop workshop professor at the Faculty of Higher Studies Acatlán. “That demonstrates the global relevance it can have.” In their unity, they pay meticulous attention to every detail, from album releases and TV shows to birthdays and even their idols’ military service. Mexico City offers them elements that other cities lack, such as international concerts, pop-up stores, restaurants, cafes, and language institutes. At the Korean Cultural Center in Mexico, an institution supported by the South Korean embassy, 90% of attendees are K-pop fans. The center offers free language and cooking courses, as well as theater and cinema activities. Attendance has grown in tandem with the increasing number of fans.
The Price of Fandom: Navigating the K-Pop Market in Mexico City
“Being a K-pop fan in Mexico City is expensive,” Ortega asserts. Many imported products are not cheap. For example, a lightstick, a popular illuminated wand that synchronizes at concerts, can cost over 1,000 pesos. Pop-up stores bring specific merchandise from Korea, such as clothing designed by idols, which can exceed 700 pesos, while an official plush toy can cost more than 1,000. “Korean restaurants and cafes are not particularly accessible either. In general, it’s a consumption that involves a significant investment.”
Yet, the market continues to expand. According to Spotify Mexico, K-pop consumption has increased by over 500% in five years. Seven out of ten listeners are under 29, and some 5,000 listen to the genre for up to 11 hours daily. The country has also become a source of tourists: up to 100,000 Mexicans travel to South Korea annually, with almost half motivated by K-pop concerts and iconic sites. Korea ranks 25th among the most visited destinations by Mexicans abroad.
Beyond the Music: Healing and Acceptance
In the waiting room of the dance academy, four mothers converse while their daughters rehearse. For them, K-pop is more than a fleeting trend, unlike the artists they remember from their own adolescence, such as Timbiriche, Mecano, and Menudo. Teresa Barrón, 52, shares that her daughter was diagnosed with depression. “Here, she found her friends. Dancing helps her; it’s literally like therapy.” Beatriz Portillo, 56, experienced something similar after her daughter’s father passed away. “She told me herself: K-pop saved my life.” Amidst laughter, they express their excitement: “We’ve mastered the terminology. We’re ARMY, we love BTS, and we’ve even cried over tickets.”
It wasn’t always this way. Initially, their children faced rejection at school. “Here, they found their tribe,” Barrón assures. When they started, it was frowned upon, especially for boys. “The Korean masculinity model is very different from the Mexican one. Idols often appear very stylized, without facial or body hair, made up, with thinner bodies. In Mexico, on the other hand, the traditional idea is that men should look tough, muscular, strong,” Ortega explains. Bullying against K-pop fans reached its most severe point last year when a young woman was pushed from the third floor of her high school in Iztapalapa after months of being a victim of bullying. But today, K-pop fans in Mexico City are fighting against the stigma by building communities with the people they met through music and dance.
Source: https://elpais.com/mexico/2026-02-15/el-corazon-de-la-musica-coreana-late-en-la-capital-de-mexico-el-k-pop-me-salvo-la-vida.html
