If you’re into K-pop or pop culture in general, the following list of words might look familiar. Army, Swifties, Stays, and EYEKONS. All of these words fall under the category of fandom names within pop music, and despite the artistic differences between Taylor Swift, Katseye, BTS, and Stray Kids, there are two things in common between these fandoms. They make commercially successful music while many female fans face misogynistic backlash and, to the extreme, violent threats, including the reported bomb threats targeting a Taylor Swift concert in Vienna.
When analyzing the treatment of fangirls in popular culture, the stereotypical image of a boy-band-obsessed teenage girl always comes to mind. Depicted as bubbly, boy-obsessed, and ditzy, this stereotype has always felt shallow to me, barely capturing the essence of fandom culture.
My relationship with fandom culture started back in 2016 when K-pop was first gaining attention. Like any other girl, I identified myself as a member of BTS’s fandom, Army, and my love for the group was typical. I had a favorite song, a bias, and relentlessly streamed their music videos. On the surface, I looked like the typical fangirl; however, it was more than that. From analyzing BTS songs and music videos, I was able to catch an eye for storytelling through symbolic imagery and lyrics displaying messages that showed me the power of persistence. From there, my love for imagery grew into curiosity for the world around me and later blossomed into my own self-confidence.
Through this found confidence, I was able to find a group of friends who’ve accepted me for who I am, regardless of fandom. I had friends who loved anime and cosplay, K-pop fans, and Percy Jackson, all just to name a few. And when I shared that I was a K-pop fan, I was met with acceptance and stories about their own niche obsessions. The common fandom practices, personal stories, and the outside criticism were all a collective experience as girls. From there,the conversation sparked about family.
As girls, there’s the social conditioning of leaving behind interests and to “grow up,” but across fandoms, it’s the collective experience that fangirls face. The label of being an embarrassment is used as a way to belittle women for having an interest. There was the collective judgment from my friends and my parents about “being too old to watch anime”, or the judgment of spending money on seeing a favorite singer in concert, and being excited about pulling a K-pop photocard of your bias.
When those experiences were realized by my friends and I, there was a community made up of alliances. We became friends through the collective experience of being a fangirl of something, and that friendship became a community of unconditional support. To me, this was the definition of family. It’s having a community filled with unconditional love that will celebrate your interests and accomplishments no matter what. All of the things that I’ve longed for after spending many years hiding my love for K-Pop. Regardless of having a group of friends from different fandoms, our love for our niche interests managed to bridge us together. Creating a space of expression and support through life.
In short, I don’t think being a fangirl is something to be shamed for. In fact, I believe that we should all be fangirls. Not because my interest brings me happiness, but because being a fangirl has shaped me into who I am and what I want to become. Without fandom culture, I wouldn’t have ever found the courage to write or build up friendships that would define my youth. In this world, you should never walk alone, and once you find friends who will cheer on your passions, life becomes something to live for.