Korean pop star BoA recently tried to make waves in America with her English single "Eat You Up". It was not a success.

There is a well-oiled pop machine in South Korea. It seeks out obscure Asian teenagers from across the globe, signs them into draconian 8 year contracts, and cultivates them in rigorous training camps. After years of intense dance and vocal lessons, language education, and exacting physical exercise, these “trainees”, the future Rains and BoAs, are unleashed upon Asian markets as superbly packaged solo or group pop products. Their “debut” is a momentous occasion; it signifies the moment they begin to recoup the record label’s lengthy investment. The journey takes years, is extremely stressful (12 hour work days, 7 days a week), and is more akin to joining the South Korean army than polishing artistic skill sets. The process favors uniformity, not individuality. It’s regimented, orderly, and predictable—traits which are extremely important in Asian cultures.

Who are the Willy Wonkas of this musical bubblegum factory? Record labels JYP Entertainment, SM Entertainment, and YG Entertainment are the largest and most influential. They’ve been responsible for the majority of Korean pop megastars in the last decade: Se7en, Girls Generation, Rain, H.O.T., and TVXQ to name a few. The equation is nothing new. Pre-packaged pop makes money. Lou Pearlman, creator of uber successes like the Backstreet Boys and ‘N Sync, practically wrote the book on factory-fitted boy bands in America (that is, before he was convicted of conspiracy and money laundering in 2008).

But the question of K-pop, and to a certain extent C-pop and J-pop, takes on a very distinct form as it evolves to fit a global market of hormone-heavy teens. More and more, the musical products of these countries have to consider their role as GLOBAL megastars, specifically in Asia and North America. The average K-pop star usually speaks three or four different languages and is often culled from a milieu of various different countries (and continents for that matter).

"Thai Prince" Nichkhun Horvejkul, a Thai-Chinese-American who just happens to sing in one of the most famous Korean boy bands at the moment, 2PM.

Take Exhibit A: 2PM. The six-member boy band based out of Seoul found half of their members outside of Korea. Taecyeon, the twenty-year-old rapper of the group, was born in Seoul but immigrated to Bedford, Massachusetts at the age of seven. Park Jaebeom, the front man and leader, is a Korean-American born and raised in Seattle. Nichkhun Buck Horvejkul, the “Thai Prince”, isn’t even Korean at all! The half-Thai-half-Chinese pretty boy hails from Rancho Cucamonga, California and was scouted by a JYP talent agent at a Korean festival in the southland. How was he expected to sing in a Korean boy band if he doesn’t even speak the language? More likely than not, he was chosen as a way to tap the large and lucrative emerging Thai market. The fact that he’s American probably doesn’t hurt either.

Jessica, one of the nine members in Girls Generation, was born and raised in San Francisco.

This trend shows no sign of stopping. SM Entertainment recently announced the debut of their hot new five-member girl group F(x) (function of x? really?! Actually, it’s pronounced “effects”). A follow-up group to their wildly successful nine member band Girls Generation which debuted in 2007. F(x) consists of three Koreans, one Chinese model, and a Chinese-American rapper. Between the fourteen girls in Girls Generation and F(x), four are Americans.

Yes, Americans. Sure, they are ethnically Asian, but they were born and/or raised in America. And that makes them at times more culturally American than Asian. Though this cultural rift can cause problems, the general strategy has paid off in spades. What we have here is a human farm that seeks Asian-American talent, sends them off to Korea for training, and debuts them to the Asian markets as Asian pop products. The equation seems to work. Asian-Americans seem to be wildly popular—but only in Asia.

If we take a look at the American pop music landscape we find that Asian and Asian-American artists are few and far between. There are a variety of explanations why. The New York Times proffers a compelling argument by Oliver Wang, a professor at California State University Long Beach:

Making up only 4 percent of the country’s population, they are too small a market, and too fragmented in language and nationalities, to offer a solid springboard for its aspiring stars the way other ethnic groups have done.

Quest Crew, America’s Best Dance Crew. Wait… they’re all Asian!

This indeed may be the case. So why then haven’t American talent agencies, which are becoming increasingly global, taken advantage of the international marketability of Asian-American pop kids? Instead of CAA jumping on JYP’s talent after the fact, why not lock in these Asian-American singers and dancers themselves when they’re young and cheap? Why doesn’t someone create a boutique agency that specifically hustles Asian-American talent to Asian record labels? Then, if SM, JYP, YG or anyone else wants to exploit Asian-America’s God-given sexy dance moves, you’ve got to go through them.

As it stands, lack of attention from American media machines force many talented Asian-Americans to relegate themselves to independent venues: YouTube, high schools, and Yogurtlands all over the southland. They can do better. And for anyone that can think of a way to exploit them, they could be rich beyond Asia’s wildest dreams. So let’s all put our minds together and think of a way for Asian-Americans not to be exploited Asians, but by Asian-Americans.