Confessions of a Lifelong Fangirl

CONFESSIONS OF A

THE JOYS AND PAINS OF BEING IN A FANDOM

By Meghan Savaglia, Contributing Writer Photographed by Anna Janke, Contributing Photographer Modeled by Audrey O’Neill and Celia O’Neil

LIFELONG FANGIRL

When I was 13, I joined Twitter under the username “Phenomeniall_1D.” I had never been exposed to social networks — my parents, who are now more Twitter savvy than me, only held barren Facebook accounts. I had been entranced, like so many other girls all around the world, by One Direction. This was the first time I joined an online fan community, and I soon became equally entranced by the community itself. The way I see fandoms completely changed from that day forward, because there is no such thing as casual fans in online discourse. There is no such thing as passive enjoyment when you involve yourself in fandom. And therein lies the difference — a difference quite hard to explain, admittedly — between some users of social media, and most other users. Most folks on socials have a passive, fairly localized involvement, that primarily involves their school, friends, and city. But my experience, and the experience of many, exists entirely outside of this local usage of social media. Online fandom is truly and deliberately separate from these “normal” spheres of your life, and for a reason. Being a fangirl, especially at the most formative years of your life, can feel embarrassing, and isolating. But why is this true, when there is immense joy in simply discussing things you love with people who understand, even if they might be across the globe? Let’s paint a picture: You are in 7th grade. You feel generally uncomfortable with your life, your parents, your social life and school. There is a miserableness to your existence that you may not realize until many years from now. Somehow, you persist through this miserable cloud of teenage angst and choose to carry on. To do this, you discover something very far away, that you can grasp onto, that makes you smile. It might be a band, a book, or a TV show. It’s easy to latch onto it — there is no shame in enjoying something you can’t even directly interact with, so you consume as much information as you can about this one thing. But it is difficult to explain. Nobody really understands just how much this means to you; that it occupies your mind day in and day out. There seems to be a difficult to pass wall that comes down hard as soon as you cement yourself into a position as a “fangirl.” You cross a distinct line that separates you from a casual fan, to much more than that. Suddenly, it’s embarrassing. You’re labeled as obsessed and you realize nobody you know really cares about this as much as you do. But the impersonal yet personal connections you’ve reaped from the internet somehow balance this in-real-life disconnect. And therein lies why fandom on the internet almost exists in a separate sphere than what might be the “normal” use. But what really is fandom? On a macro-level, it’s pretty understandable. It’s what creates conventions like Comic Con, keeps artists and actors with money in their pockets, and represents a large group of people interested in the same thing. But on a micro-level, what fandom does may be harder to fathom. And it comes down, essentially, to the platform. Social media platforms for the purpose of fan discourse have come in and out of popularity. “Stan Twitter” as we know it now has actually existed since around 2012 (“Beliebers” and “Directioners” ruled the roost), but the arrival of K-Pop fans onto the platform has completely changed Twitter’s fan communities. Tumblr was the original home for fandom (see: Superwholock), and Instagram has taken a distant third. But the content that is produced on these platforms is what keeps fans engaged. Whether it be fanart, photo or video editing, fanfiction, or even cosplay, the active engagement with what you love is what keeps other fans around. This is where passive enjoyment ends and fandom begins. There is joy in seeing new perspectives on things, in seeing unrealistic scenarios, i.e. “head canons,” played out in fan art and fiction, in sharing a constant inside joke with other fans. You live for updates on the littlest things, for interviews, for content new and old, for all of this. I’ve been involved with fandoms across every reach of social media ever since that first Twitter account in 7th grade. One Direction, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Taylor Swift, 5 Seconds of Summer — and that’s just naming the big ones. Fandom has changed my life and the way I interact with others. It’s been a coping mechanism, a source of joy, and what has made me the person I am today. For a long time, I was indeed embarrassed. I have vivid memories of using Etsy gift cards to buy a galaxy print hoodie with the 5SOS logo, and only wearing it once after some giggles from my tablemate in English class. The pride I have in my experiences with fandom now is sometimes surprising even to me.

I relish in being a part of something bigger than me, But I thrive in the fan community, maybe even more than I did in middle and embrace school. During the second semester of my freshman year at Madison, I the feelings started a One Direction club. I printed of euphoria, flyers, promoted on UW Facebook pages, and even collected RSVPs. I love, and thrill was more nervous about the fact that I derive from I didn’t feel any shame about publicly expressing my interests than I was being simply involved with about the club itself. Unfortunately, I planned the meeting on the day the university was sent home for COVID my fandoms. and spring break, so my turnout wasn’t nearly what I’d hoped. But I believe if it weren’t for the, ahem, extenuating circumstances, my turnout would have been pretty damn good. What was once a source of both shame and joy has become solely the latter. I relish in being a part of something bigger than me, and embrace the feelings of euphoria, love, and thrill I derive from being simply involved with my fandoms. The lifestyle of fandom for me and so many across the world might be something of perplexity to many, but to us, it is simply something that makes us happy. ■