Frailty, Thy Name Is Fangirl: Misogyny and Fandom Culture
written by Kat A.
We are familiar with the common stereotypes surrounding fangirls: young girls who go on aggressive hysterics upon seeing the idols they are obsessed with. The term rabid fangirls exists because of this reason.
Interestingly, rabid fanboys are rarely mentioned, despite the fact that men who engage with fandom culture are also capable of “rabid” behavior. Fanatic football fans, also known as ultras, have rioted when their favorite team loses and attacked fans of their rival team. (K-pop fans, at least, aren’t known to have destroyed large swaths of cities.) Clearly, ultras do not represent football fandoms as a whole. In spite of their existence, most people do not have prejudice against sports fans (Dixon, 2013). As a badge of masculinity, being a sports fan is even encouraged to some extent. Ask men who are not into sports if they’ve ever been given strange looks for that — they likely have.
So why is the negative generalisation of fangirls more common? What is the reason the grace and tolerance for sports fans do not extend to K-pop fandoms, if both are popular fandoms with similar problems of fanatic fans?
The answer is obvious, considering that K-pop fandoms are dominated by young women: misogyny.
Words such as “rabid”, “weak”, and “irrational” have been associated with women for a long time. In Shakespeare’s famous tragedy Hamlet, the titular character laments his mother’s lack of dignity: “Frailty, thy name is woman.” His lover Ophelia, heartbroken after his rejection, drowns herself. It is hinted in the play that Hamlet isn’t very sane himself, and his lust for revenge resulted in his death. Yet, it was Ophelia’s suicide that attracted much discussion about hysterics in the nineteenth century, such that madness and irrationality became particularly associated with women (Busfield, 1994). The word hysteria itself was derived from the Greek word for uterus.
In a patriarchal society — one which privileges and centers men — women, as well as nonbinary people and queer men who defy prescribed standards of masculinity, are pushed to the periphery. Masculinity is associated with logic, intellect, and strength, while femininity with feelings, irrationality, and weakness. Both men and women are capable of experiencing strong emotions. Yet, while Hamlet’s mad desire for vengeance is considered assertiveness, Ophelia’s suicide is seen as helpless hysterics.
Reduced to only footnotes in history, rejected in mainstream, male-dominated spaces, women tend to gravitate to — if not forced into — predominantly female domains in the margins. For some, it means being at home doing domestic duties. For others, it’s K-pop fandoms, where they can be safe to express themselves. Nevertheless, female spaces continue to be looked down upon, even when women mind their own business.
Part of this condescension comes from the different ways that gender-segregated fandoms are sold to the public. While talent is important, the entertainment industry also focuses heavily on attractiveness and sex appeal. Many artists are also marketed in a way that encourages fans to build a parasocial relationship with them — applications like Bubble and Weverse exist for this purpose. Fans are thus inclined to want to know everything about the artists. There is much emotional, even sexual, investment in stanning, and many people consider “true fans” to be those who know idols thoroughly, not just casual listeners. This emotional and sexual element also manifests in shipping (Anderson, 2012).
On the other hand, those considered “true fans” in sports fandoms are those who know a lot about game mechanisms and team history. There is a contrast between “logic” — statistics and tactics — and “feelings” — attraction to artists. This isn’t to say that football fandoms are devoid of feelings; loyalty is the key driving factor of all fandoms. Sexualisation also happens in sports, though rarely directed to the athletes themselves, but rather cheerleaders and the like. Yet, such expression of sexuality is considered acceptable, because of the perception that open sexual expression is normal for men but not for women (Anderson, 2012).
Moreover, the sense of loyalty is expressed very differently in traditionally masculine and feminine fandoms — and also judged very differently. Football fan chants are seen as an acceptable expression of masculinity. They are fueled by the maneuvers of the gameplay, and their loudness is a challenge against the rival group, or protest when they’re on the losing side. They imply strength and domination. In contrast, K-pop fan chants are driven by the fans’ attraction and attachment to the artists. It isn’t wrong to find comfort with certain groups, per se. However, such emotional value is easily dismissed as vapid and silly, even hysterical (Dixon, 2013), especially in a society that privileges men and logic.
K-pop in particular is not only unfairly criticised because it is mostly marketed to young women. Boy group members rocking make-up and bubblegum hair while dancing to love songs are not the face of traditional standards of masculinity. Athletes are, with their rugged appearance. Never mind that K-pop idols go through demanding physical training as well.
Not only that, but it is generally accepted that most pop groups do not last very long. Let’s be honest: attractiveness has a shelf life. Furthermore, South Korea’s mandatory military service also disrupts group activities. In contrast, many football teams have decades of history, although athletes also have to retire after a certain age. This long legacy boosts the legitimacy and exclusivity of football fandoms. The short-lived, fast-changing nature of K-pop groups is another factor that contributes to the perception of silliness and frivolity.
Unsurprisingly, shame is a major part of fandom experience for many K-pop fans.
How many of us have a separate Twitter account to talk about K-pop but wouldn’t even mention it in real life, because we fear social rejection?
Partially driven by sexism, the unfavorable stereotypes of a fangirl have led to the negative generalisation of K-pop in general. This is why niche, curated online outlets such as Twitter and Archive of Our Own exist for fans to interact and share their interests while staying anonymous.
In leading double lives as undercover K-pop fans, many of us have also internalised shame and misogyny. Most fans have used some form of self-deprecating humor mocking our own liking for K-pop, mimicking the way people generally look down on our fandoms. This is a common coping mechanism — but not necessarily a healthy one. We can’t stop society from being sexist, but we can certainly unlearn the misogyny we have internalised.
References
Anderson, T. (2012). Still kissing their posters goodnight: Female fandom and the politics of popular music. Journal of Audience & Reception Studies, 9(2), 239–264. Retrieved from www.participations.org/Volume%209/Issue%202/15%20Tonya%20Anderson.pdf
Busfield, J. (1994). THE FEMALE MALADY? MEN, WOMEN AND MADNESS IN NINETEENTH CENTURY BRITAIN. Sociology, 28(1), 259–277. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/42855327
Dixon, K. (2013). The football fan and the pub: An enduring relationship. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 49(382). DOI: 10.1177/1012690213501500
