But now that I’m here, it doesn’t feel like that; it feels like just a season. A moment in time. I feel like I’m meant to be here. And despite some darker moments, I feel much better. I’m sleeping better and my mood has been better than it’s been in months. I know now that it’s me shaking off a kind of depression fog I didn’t know I was in. I was clinging so hard but really it was time to shake things up.

And it’s weird because I didn’t expect that. I expected to feel the way I always feared but it’s not like that. I’m able to advocate for my dad’s care, get things organized, and see everything. There are some really hard moments, but I’m happy to be here. I feel like from a distance I can pull myself out of the hole I was in.

I mention this because we are entering the enlistment season. I know a lot of folks are dreading this moment because it feels like the end of the world. It’s a scenario you don’t want. It’s a reality you don’t want to face. 

But sometimes we need the seasons we find ourselves in. Sometimes there’s something there we might have been missing.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot as I read the farewell posts about BTS. Folks talk about BTS as if they are a great love and the tragedy of not having them around. I’ve talked a lot about the failings of parasocial love, so maybe it’s a season worth seizing. I don’t know. Maybe they will get into Seventeen. Maybe they will find love elsewhere.

I also think about Hobi and the way he seems to embrace this new era. This stretch of time is where things are different. I imagine it’s a time of deep reflection, its own type of rest, and can be humbling in its own way. Remember Jin and Hobi smiling at the Yoongi show?

I will say that ever since I embraced my season of break from BTS I’m finally able to enjoy them again. I want to talk about them again. There’s something about the seasons and embracing the fears and letting go.

I’m not saying anyone has to be happy about enlistment. I’m just saying it’s a season and like all seasons there’s something to be learned.

I’m in rebuilding myself era. BTS is in their enlistment/non-idol era. Everyone is good, right? 

—

I wanted to drop by and give some updates on what’s been going on with me!

I came home for my sister’s wedding! I’m so glad it’s over. Weddings are so stressful, bro.

I’ll be home for the rest of the year doing some caregiving, recovering, and resetting for the new year. 

I’m applying for jobs (not going well) to get some stability under me so that I can relax and take some time to recover. I don’t want to put a ton of pressure on myself around my creativity.

I am writing a kindle Vella which should be out starting on December 1st! It’s Christmas-themed! I’ll talk about it soon. 

I’m running a workshop on my business called Brand New Era! It’s all about figuring out who you wanna be in the new year. You should come! It’s gonna be great! 

I’m committing to one essay a month for besties and doing some end-of-year stuff, but beyond that, I’m keeping things open here. Caregiving requires a lot and I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. Thanks to the folks who keep supporting me. It’s been such a profound help because I haven’t been able to work like I want, so those 7/month helped so much! 

My next essay is about Namjoon and it’s much happier, so look forward to that. 

I’m doing fine and I hope you are too.

I’ve never been a lover girl.

I’m a proud hater girl, forged from the fires of being fat in the early 2000s. 

To succumb to love is to make a fool of yourself, okay? I used to fantasize about taking on a more loveable form, the type who can love without having to worry if it’s a joke. 

Being a hater girl is a lifestyle. 

It’s never sharing your feelings first. 

It’s being the cool girl who doesn’t care that much. 

It’s about never falling too hard. 

It’s always telling your friends they can do better because you are the hater girl. You would never be dumb enough to fall that deep. Maybe you’ve never had the chance.

And you never will…at least not on purpose. 

Not in this economy. 

Let me tell you something. Hater girls are food for K-pop.

I’d know. I got eaten up. 

Chapter 1: The Hater Girl Finds Love

That first year of K-pop fandom was kind of a blur in how that type of love always feels blurry because you don’t recognize yourself in it. It feels like another version. When I fell, I fell hard. I’d always been a teeny bopper type, a fan girl to the end. My childhood bedroom closet still has cutouts of Lil Bow Wow, NSYNC, Nelly, Hayden Christensen, and more.

Honestly, looking back, I was supposed to be a lover girl, but I never got around to it. 

Sure — I loved but it wasn’t the same. It was a playful type of love, the love that’s like playing with dolls and having them kiss in character. Malibu Barbie and Ken. It was love that thrived within a fantasy. There was something so tangible and real about the K-pop idols.

South Korea is great at capturing and selling intimacy. It’s a whole thing. So much of their culture and entertainment is about being in someone’s space knowing them and experiencing them in the most intimate ways. 

This type of intimacy is pretty common among social media celebrities, but it’s not exactly mainstream. There’s not an industry for seeing people and knowing them in the best and most comforting life. We have tea culture which is about knowing more and liking celebrities less. The more you know, the less invested you will be.

The carefully controlled activities of the idols provide this illusion of knowing someone perfect in all the most attractive ways. It’s a dollhouse that you are in without knowing it’s a dollhouse. It’s like being at a strip club, but not knowing it. In real life, men are messy. They say the wrong things. In the K-pop world, they say the wrong thing, but it’s endearing. It’s the type of soft wrongness that shows up in romance books. 

Idols are also beautiful in the most impossible ways. Their skin is perfect and no pores. Sharp eyes. Thin bodies. The type of impossibly inaccessible beauty in real life, but you can hold on to it here. You don’t have to worry that you aren’t hot enough. Of course, you are! The casual intimacy tricks you into feeling like you take up the same space like you can reach out and touch them. The “everywhere” nature feels like they are in your life too.

(Unless you are not, that’s another essay)

And that’s why the love is so easy.

In reality, we don’t know much about these idols beyond vague stories and references. This is on purpose, too. BTS talks about the dumpling incident as if it’s the last fight they’ve had when there must be others. They don’t have partners. They want no one but you.

You get little to work with, but it’s enough. There’s this thing people say on TikTok a lot. A crush is just a lack of information. That applies here. The only difference is you never get more information. It’s just a never-ending crush. 

And because of that, these idols present a kind of stability that you’ll rarely get in real life. We can say Yoongi or Namjoon would never treat us like that situationship, but we don’t know, do we? 

It’s perfect for scared bitches like me!

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I’ve never been a huge fan of the phrase “comfort idol” for lots of reasons. First there are the questionable origins of the word “comfort” in relation to the Korean culture and also I just don’t like the idea.  I don’t like the idea of an idol being “your happiness” either.

I much prefer the idea of a “nice break” idol. Someone who feels like time away from the world temporarily before you go back in and deal with everything of life. It’s not as serious or essential. It’s a pause. A break. You aren’t escaping from anything. You’re just taking some time away. 

I feel like there’s so much weight to this idea of an idol being your savior and the one who keeps you going or acts as your only happiness. 

This type of relationship with a k-pop idol is kind of easy to create. It’s actually the point. I’ve written and talked extensively about intimacy without commitment and the point is to feel, to yearn, to obsess. Those uncontrollable feelings are the point. It’s the goal.  

But at least for me, liking Jin doesn’t feel like that. Jin’s signature is that knowing wink. Yes, it’s hot, but it’s also a kind of signal. You know this is silly, right? This is just a break. 

You know this is a game?

You know this is all fun. 

BTS is supposed to be fun.

 He regularly calls BTS “work” and refuses to feed into the boyfriend agenda. Yes, he’s worldwide handsome but he’s not worldwide handsome just for you. It’s for everyone. Be for real. 

He doesn’t want us to be delusional. Not really. He knows how powerful the army is and talks about it as good and even as a playful threat. “Army will get you.” He knows, and he wants you to know. 

And that’s empowering. We aren’t mindless idiots. We deserve to know what’s going on. During his lives it always feels like he’s busting at the seams with how ready he is to share, to give us the information.

Jin is silly and game — always trying to make the most of every moment with a joke. The first one to wear the silly hat and to be the visual gag. He doesn’t just hit the punching bag once on In The Soop. He punches it repeatedly. Anything for the joke. 

For Jin’s personal photobook, he dressed as a ship captain and then a pirate. It feels again like a wink — like come on, this is all just fun. We aren’t saving lives here. We are a band!

I’ve written about how Jin’s presence feels like an invitation to love yourself more than you love him. He sells plushies and pajamas. Self-love in material form.

This only kind of works. Jin’s stans are deeply protective because there is this level of respect between him and the people who love him and you want to safeguard that type of thing, you know?

He’s refreshingly honest in this unassuming way that’s blink and you’ll miss it. During his lives, he is matter-of-fact about some of the darker details of his life. He talks about loneliness, his struggles with his members with his army decision, or even how he doesn’t have friends. He talks about playing video games all day and not showering. 

What I love about this is that his energy when he talks us these things isn’t about reaching for any type of sympathy or for us to save him. It’s just life. We are all just living life alongside each other. He cut off his hair and posted it with the message that he still looks good. In response to his upcoming enlistment, he made a show with his friends, designed a new character, and went to a variety shows just for fun. And this is what I love most about Jin. He is just living his life, and this enlistment is just another part of it. No need to be dramatic about it. And maybe that’s a front but it’s an encouraging one.

Like many people, I’ve had a terrible year. I keep trying to understand why things happen. Why do bad things happen? Why do things end? What is the point of loving things that might go away? Why fall deep into the BTS rabbit hole when they will eventually end? Why is there so much stuff we must figure out how to handle?

Jin’s attitude about his enlistment seems (in my head cannon) to be that of deep acceptance. Because ultimately, he can handle it. He posted his photo and was frank about his enlistment because he knows we can handle it too.

BTS has brought many people a lot of joy and there’s this emotional connection that is deeply real. We want them to be in this little box, frozen in time forever. We want to protect them. BTS CAN’T change! They need to be there as a forever break, the constant happiness. It’s easy to feel you can’t handle a reality that’s not like it was. They’ve been such a constant for such a long time. But everything changes. Everything ends. From endings come new things, like chapter 2. Eventually, we have to deal with the things that brought us to BTS. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cry or be sad. Feel the feelings. This is a LOT of change.

But here’s the thing:

Jin will be fine. He can handle it, and he knows you can handle it too. Jin can still be your brief escape, your break from the world, but it’s just a break. I imagine he wants you to keep living your life like we all must do.

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Quietly, I’ve been going through an existential crisis because of a piece of tea I received. I will talk about this later, but in the meantime, it’s important to know that this radicalized me and has made me — at least temporarily —anti-idol experience. 

This question I’ve been toying with in my mind is this: how can I enjoy idols without the idol experience? I want idols to be like celebrities. I don’t want them to be a constant escape, a fantasy, or some go-to intimacy. I don’t want to feel, I just want to watch. I want to pull them out of their approachable candy wrappers and see them as they really are — rich, hot people I don’t know and don’t know me. 

No, I’m not gonna tell you about the tea. 

Anyway, I saw this TikTok featuring Jackson Wang. Watch it and get back to me. 

Back in the early 2000’s R&B musicians like Usher or B2K would pull audience members on the stage and do what was essentially a magic mike Chippendales performance. The experience of watching one is a mixture of awe, horniness, embarrassment and oh my god. 

It’s pure sexual performance, the impersonal lustful experience that feels empowering to witness in a way. Look at that. He’s entertaining ME. HE’S HUMPING THE STAGE FOR ALL OF US. It’s a journey into high fantasy that FEELS fake but in a good way. It’s not supposed to feel real. It’s a show.

Jackson’s expression of freedom — the sweaty, humping spectacle in front of Thailand feels old school in the same way. And it’s refreshing to watch. It’s part sweaty 90’s and early 2000’s sex show with a mixture of Prince and a little Michael Jackson. Superstar shit.

You never actually thought you could have Usher or Ginuwine. I mean, look at them. It’s too much. Everyone knows it. You can’t be in that orgy, you can only watch. 

I keep thinking about the one clip of everyone reaching for Jackson’s chest, while he relishes in it. He’s sacrificing himself wholly and completely to the lust of the crowd. It’s a lot to unpack — especially considering just standing next to some idols is enough to get you doxxed, let alone touch one. But here he is, chest out and for the taking. Don’t worry, there’s plenty for everyone. 

But this is how Jackson has ALWAYS been. While idols reach for approachability and a intimacy, Jackson doesn’t seem to have a ton of energy for that. He’s a business. A revolution. He’s always trying to be and do bigger. He talks with a lot of humbleness but also…he’s Jackson Wang.

Jackson is always trying to entertain you. He’s a businessman. He knows his target market. In that way, it feels like less responsibility to watch him and less work. You aren’t analyzing, unpacking, or caring so deeply it hurts. He doesn’t want you to do that. 

He just wants you to have a good time. It’s the brand. Jackson Wang is the perpetual party host. He hosts the orgies. He takes the first shot. He starts the dance floor. If you aren’t having a good time, what is the point? 

In interviews, he’s almost self-sacrificial in his devotion to the bit and his commitment to creating wonderful moments. He’ll do whatever he’s asked and without self-consciousness. He’s always in service of what’s going to entertain everyone. As a member of GOT7, he blends in perfectly, always meeting the energy of whatever member he’s with. 

Even in the way he shares his struggles, it’s matter-of-fact. On Eric Nam’s podcast, he talked candidly about his struggles with mental health. It was so frank and honest that you don’t feel burdened by it. There’s something about the honesty and openness- kind of like the way we read profiles of celebrities. You don’t feel responsible for him.  It’s something he’s going through.

Maybe it’s him not hiding the strings. #teamwang is how he presents himself. It’s clear that he’s him, but it’s not just him. Team Wang wants you to dance and to enjoy. 

I always describe the immersive and all-consuming experience of k-pop, like being at the strip club all day. Dry mouthed and overstimulated. You lose track of your time. Pleasure blurs into pain, blurs into numbness and sadness and yearning and then pleasure again.

Jackson Wang is like going to the club getting the best lap dance of your life and then going home and falling asleep with your dog. You had a good time, but you’re happy to be home. Jackson Wang is a break but not a disruptive one and maybe that’s how it should be.

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My family loves reality shows. TV shows like 90 day fiance and those morning divorce shows. I never got it. As someone really resentful of my personal mess, diving deep into the mess of others doesn’t really do much for me. I get too stressed. I imagine it feels good to get this peek in on people’s lives and judge their decisions and what they do from the safety of your own house. It’s addictive to watch people make mistakes. There is something rewarding about rooting for people from the sidelines. Mess without the mess.

While reality tv represents a cynical view of society — petty and sad but entertaining in its terribleness, k-pop reaches for a type of self affirming utopia. It’s built to be a tiny world of perfection.

K-pop is a community project, a culmination of tweets and stories the community tells. Simple gestures are signs. Tiny movements are deeply meaningful. We are the producers; the ones pulling the strings. K-pop allows for this level of engagement and creation because there is just so much content. A lot of fandoms have an finite amount of material but with k-pop there’s always new material.

The narrative building is so prevalent you can go to YouTube right now and watch a fan fic with new subtitles to tell a desired story. Usually about y/n. Sometimes we even steal the words from their mouths.

I’ll use BTS as an example because I’m an ARMY. People write about BTS with a level of reverence I’ve never seen with any artist, and I’m in the Beyhive. They give every interaction or moment or situation the most charitable and positive reading. Every moment unpacked as proof of their goodness, their fuckability, their amazingness. BTS is deeply good, right, and perfect. As a member of the community, it almost feels religious. 

BTS is less about BTS and more about the stories we tell about them and how they make us feel. It’s more about participating in the feel-good reality show, a break from the ads. BTS is good because something has to be, ya know?

I will note, of course, that this is mostly a boy group phenomenon — women don’t get this type of treatment. Girl groups ARE reality TV. Everyone is judging and waiting for a mistake. The performances picked apart, everything from the vocal performances to the presence. The delight people take in the destruction of beautiful women is a tale as old as time.

But anyway! 

It makes sense that folks would be protective of their army experience and their favorite “show.” BTS is this little pocket of happiness, a nirvana among the shit that is their world. You can’t go against the story. And obviously, that’s worth fighting for, right? I mean, I guess. Is there actually any harm in all this? Is it wrong? Nah.

HYBE must love it. In a lot of ways, we do a lot of the hard work, so much so that BTS just has to show up and then we build the surrounding show. We act as the ultimate marketers and advocates. It’s a lot of labor to keep the show going. We can keep the train going even when they stop.

For the members, I imagine it’s deeply weird but a part of the job. It can stifle creativity to be fighting against the tide of people’s expectations — especially ones they’ve created on their own. You want to share yourself, but everyone sees what you do through their own lens. 

And for us —- 

I mean, it CAN be fun. The army enlistment content is a great example. Content produced here has changed my life. I write fan fic for fun. The machine has me as a part of it. I am one producer of the BTS show. Much of my first year of BTS fandom was spent watching “Jin being savage” or “Jimin loving his members” edits. I loved it.

The BTS show also creates this weird totalitarian style of community that punishes people for going against script. It can be equally oppressive and fun. 

It depends on whose show you are watching. 

On my mind this week:

1. This photo of Minho — I want to cry HE IS SO FINE I CAN’T TAKE IT!!!!!!!!!

   

2. Jin’s marketing genius!!!! I can’t wait to devote a whole podcast to him!!!!!!!

   

3. The new 1975 album is the romantic comedy music of my dreams. I really like it.

For paid subscribers this week: 

• We are talking about the Jin interview in threads — the new chat feature they’ve added to the substack app! Experimenting with watch club content!

• A thread of some of the “army as producer” tweets I’ve seen in the wild. I don’t want to expose anyone so I’m not putting it in the free version but the paid version will have a bunch of them.

• GAF besties only podcast this week is about Namjoon’s thirst trapping, his b-day tag, and this album announcement!!!!!!!

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This isn’t the Jungkook essay I planned to write but it was the one I ended up writing! It’s more experimental, hope you enjoy! For free subscribers, this is just a little preview!

Jungkook has been on my mind lately. Not in the yearning way. I don’t want him. The pandemic seems to have aged him backwards, and I find him more accessibly endearing than sexy. I think about him and Tae on the stage in Vegas, competing in a whore competition, and I think it’s sweet. Anyway, I kept thinking about Jungkook and wondering where he was and if he was okay. I’d become one of those “Jungkook come home” people.  

Jungkook disappeared from the internet, something he used to do frequently but is less rare. He just kept showing up in my thoughts. I know this sounds so woo, but his “energy felt heavy.” I know, I know… that’s woo, but it’s how I felt. Looking back, this was likely a projection. 

I don’t know why Jungkook disappears from the internet but in my head cannon it’s the exhaustion with being up for public consumption. This is likely projection too.

Imagine if someone wrote scenarios about how you’d act in response to them getting their period? I’m not judging this instinct as I’m a believer of head cannons, I’m just saying — imagine! 

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This is an essay that originally appeared on my instagram, @grownassfandom! I’ve added a little to it too!

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Why does everyone want to marry Yoongi? “Yoongi, marry me” is a joke, but it’s interesting that it’s not really a joke the other members get very often. I have a theory about why.

There’s this thing people say — lesbians love Suga, but it’s not just lesbians. It’s everyone. There’s this thing about none of Suga biases being straight, but it’s more of how exists for people who aren’t straight - non-violent and non-toxic masculinity that maintains the good parts of masculinity while also feeling safe. This isn’t just for queer people, but that presence can be especially healing for queer folks who often feel victimized by mainstream masculinity. He’s what you want a man to be if we did not socialize men with all the things that make them so dangerous. He’s confident in a way that you don’t traditionally see in the alpha masculine, while appearing to have emotional intelligence and being a great communicator. This is something that mainstream media doesn’t really allow men to have. 

For straight women (and honestly everyone) it’s about the swagger and the confidence. It’s also that Yoongi presents as someone who makes space for people to be themselves. He’s got a strong switch energy which is especially seductive to the girl bosses who have learned that men who are confident will automatically resent them for being themselves. We call upon the energy when we are chasing the bag and chasing our dreams because we know he wants us to! He would be proud of us for doing it and not offended or threatened by our success or our strength. He has this enticing duality — the turnoff and the turn on — that feels more seductive than explosive or dangerous. 

While Jungkook presents the escape and the fantasy, Yoongi represents a comforting fantasy. Suga helps you work shit out. He’s an engine for self-discovery and introspection because, through his music and the way he communicates, he exposes his own inner demons. Yoongi shares no more than the average idol, but he says a lot through his music. When you combine this level of vulnerability with the Kpop machine, this supernatural bond gets created. People who love him love him deeply in a way that feels almost painful because he feels real and your life with him feels so real. It’s torture, but that’s an essay for another time. Yoongi feels like a man who could be in your life in the most idealized version of your life and he’s fine too. 

Besides all of that, Yoongi is very domestic. He cooks, he cleans, and takes care of his members. I had a revelation a few months ago about how Suga is really the one for people who have issues with their fathers and not Namjoon. While Namjoon’s energy has never presented as particularly paternal, Yoongi’s grandpa energy, quiet encouragement, and emotional intelligence give dream dad energy. And you know what they say about people dating their fathers, right?

All I’m saying is that it makes sense.

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TLDR — the answer is yes, but this piece will not go the direction you think it will.

Every few months there’s this thing that happens on TikTok when the preferences of kpop idols get discussed. It’s mostly fun head cannon type stuff, but after a while the conversation often becomes racist and fatphobic. It’s hard to watch mostly women turn what should be a fun exploration into a serious indictment of their attractiveness and worthiness for these idols. I get asked about this stuff a lot. Does Jin like fat chicks? Does Namjoon like black women? My answer is always the same — BTS likes whatever you want them to like. What they actually like shouldn’t matter to you because k-pop is a fantasy and your fantasy is all that matters.

These idols aren’t accessible to you outside of the fantasy so who cares?

Phew, I know that’s a lot but let’s keep going.

K-pop IS a fantasy industry, by the way. Sure, music is a part of it, but no k-pop group is popular simply because the music slaps. K-pop idols present beautiful and accessible. You get a boyfriend and a best friend, without the messiness of actually having one. It’s an IV drip of feelings, an addictive cocktail of lust and manufactured connection to sell albums. This is fine. Feel good capitalism comes in many forms and spending your money on albums and concert tickets is no less valid than my dad buying falcons jerseys and box seats at the big Saints/Falcons game.

But the thing is, most people don’t fully understand that what they are experiencing is, in fact, fantasy and feel good capitalism. It feels so real, right? And a lot of it IS real, but the relationship that exists between you and an idol functions only to make you feel good and real-life relationships don’t work like that. Real relationships are messy!

Everyone wants to know that Jin would date a fat chick because it’s good for self-esteem. We want to know if Namjoon likes black girls because we are black girls!!!!! We want to be loved and cherished for who we are. Men are deeply disappointing and k-pop is where we turn to get the validation that is so short in supply elsewhere. If Jimin can find me attractive, why should I care about everyone else? So everyone looks for evidence and signs and proof, but I’d argue it’s the wrong way to look at it.

Okay, I’m going to tell you a story and you aren’t going to like it. It’s about a strip club.

I’ve only been to the strip club once on a corporate consulting job (long story) and what I saw opened my eyes and forever changed me. I watched on while a stripper flirted with her client, a balding 50-year-old man. “You look nice today, babe,” she said with a smile. His face lit up, and he smiled so big I thought his cheeks were going to fall out. He handed her a twenty-dollar bill, and she smiled too. I’ll never forget it.

Listen, I know you some of you don’t like this story. The idea that our investment in k-pop is like that of a stripper and her favorite client doesn’t sit well but it’s a helpful analogy to showcase what type of power you actually possess in this k-pop relationship and also a helpful dose of reality about what is actually happening. You don’t need to look or be a specific way to be loved in this scenario. You get to come as you are. That’s the whole point.

The problem is that women aren’t used to being served. K-pop thrives because it’s the one of the only games in town. It’s the only industry that exists in the west that caters directly to the feminine gaze and sensibilities. Outside of romance books (which is the BIGGEST industry in books, by the way), there aren’t any existing structures beyond the occasional shirtless TikTok creator that focuses primarily on what turns you on. As a result, the amount of fan service feels overwhelming and addictive. It feels real. You never enter the strip club and sit down. You’re just there all day, slowly going mad. Reality gets blurred and you forget what’s real and what’s not.

In the same way that it’s not a patron’s job to be a stripper’s type, it’s not your job to be an idol’s type. It’s their job to be YOUR type. Women have recreated preference culture and “please pick me” energy in k-pop when really we should act more like men. A man never asks their favorite onlyfans creator if he’s her type. Within that space he’s 100% her type. He turns the fantasy on and then turns it off and returns to his life. He’s not trying to get her to date him. They won’t live happily ever after. It’s an escape. There’s a clear line there. That’s the whole point.

But I get it — Jungkook isn’t a stripper to you. He’s your boyfriend and your best friend who does everything to turn you on. You want him to like you. So much of the feminine erotic is about connection and playing house. A man wants to see boobs and you want to see an idol holding a baby. Totally fair. It’s hard to make distinctions when the worlds look so similar. Suga is so seductive because HE FEELS like he could be your life partner. He’d slot right in. I get that approaching k-pop in this way isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Some folks like the strip club. The buffet is great and the cocktails are cheap. Totally understand that too! I guess I’m just wondering why we’ve rebuilt the patriarchy inside of our dreams?

And again — there’s nothing wrong with discussing what the members like, but only if the answer is only ever something that feels good and empowering to you. If it doesn’t, we shouldn’t be talking about it.

This attitude has a kind of snowball impact on the fandom. You’re essentially a customer, but you don’t act like one, putting the idol’s feelings, desires, and emotions before your own. It’s why I saw tweets about not saying anything about Permission To Dance because it might hurt the boy’s feelings. It’s the reason many folks get run off platforms for having opinions. The fandom is powerful, but that power is often only used in ways that don’t empower ourselves but the idols, the object of our devotion and the ones we want to please.

It’s a capitalist’s dream, a group of people who not only feel obligated to buy your products but adopt a type of strong arm justice to protect the right for you to sell them. I get a lot of messages about loyalty and feeling bad for having opinions. Meanwhile, we are the same people buying the tickets and investing in the 300 dollar albums. We should all feel any way we want.

It makes little sense, but it doesn’t. These are all habits picked up by relating and loving in the patriarchy. The patriarchy is hard to outrun, even with imperfect men in the middle, so it’s no wonder it’s even harder when Kim Taehyung is involved.

The blurred lines between fantasy and reality also create a fertile ground for fetishizing. Without deep knowledge that these men are interacting with you in a capacity of service and not reality, the path to fetishizing is very short. People truly expect every Korean man to give them the same feeling Suga does, and that’s sad, to be honest. It’s like seeing Micheal B. Jordan in a movie, falling in love with him and then approaching every black man you see. You’d never do that because you know Micheal in a movie isn’t the real him, but it’s hard to grasp that same concept in k-pop for some people. Again — most feminine presenting people are not used to being serviced like this.

Another side effect of this baseline insecurity is a toxic sexist subculture within the fandom. Many k-pop fans hate women but would never fully own it. Girl groups represent the type they imagine their idols will love. They challenge the fantasy and act as a reminder of what one lacks. Because the k-pop community exists as a patriarchal system, it’s no wonder the women in this industry struggle under the weight of misogynist mindsets with the added spice of jealousy and resentment. I’m often shocked by the things I hear people casually say about women, the type of stuff no one would dare to utter about say Park Jimin without being labeled a toxic anti. With women, it’s “just an opinion.” Imagine that.

That same attitude extends to the way fans often talk and treat each other. It’s bad. The way self-proclaimed feminists will gleefully through other women under the bus at the tiniest slight goes a little deeper than just “being passionate.” Patriarchy thrives off of women, putting undue focus on their appearance and competition. Our insecurity and internalized sexism keep the system going. This isn’t the only reason k-pop is sexist, of course. South Korea itself has deeply sexist and misogynist mindsets that contribute, but the culture of comparison and preferences doesn’t help but that’s an essay for another day.

I believe that k-pop is a great playground for practicing agency and challenging some anti-women attitudes. You get to decide what and who you like. You get to figure out what turns you on and what doesn’t. It’s a great way to explore your sexuality and feel what it’s like to be in a system built for you and your pleasure. K-pop is unique in that the “love” is unconditional. Your idol will always love you no matter what because, uh…. you pay them to love you (sorry) so the idea that your genuine feelings and thoughts can prevent your favorite idol from loving you is bullshit. They are more worried about you moving on and no longer loving them, so you don’t have to worry about the former.

The most radical and self-affirming thing to do for yourself is to do the choosing. You don’t HAVE to do anything. You aren’t responsible for anything. Their problems and troubles aren’t yours to fix. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself and they will like it. Their ambitions aren’t yours to make happen for them. You don’t need to be the perfect fan. Be open about what you like and what you don’t like. Demand the content and experience you want. Your desires matter. It’s also a great place to practice being loving, affirming, and supportive of other women. Whenever you feel a nudge towards jealousy or resentment, challenge it. It’s so empowering to fully support women. You can still do whatever you were doing before but let’s make sure we are doing what makes US happy and not making a toxic environment for everyone else along the way.

Again, I’m not saying you can’t imagine what type of man or woman or non-binary person your favorite BTS member likes. It’s a part of the fantasy! Have fun! In my head all the members would GLADLY destroy me — even when I’m in my bonnet and a Hey Arnold! tee-shirt. My point is to make the fantasy an empowering one. A lot of folks don’t like feeling like they are inside of a fantasy and thrive off it feeling real. Like I said, it’s dangerous to hang out at the strip club all day and every day. The best way to approach the k-pop fantasy is to sit down, let Jimin give you a lap dance and then, when he’s done, return to your life feeling much better about yourself and everything else afterwards.

More is just a song but it feels more like a declaration of independence.

I always say that what makes k-pop so compelling is how democratic it feels. The goal of the idol is to be a persona. This likable and easily identifiable character is easy for anyone to use as a template for personal fantasy. K-pop is, above all else, a fantasy industry. How an idol is perceived is more or less broad strokes chosen by themselves or the company and a bunch of stuff everyone else decides to see in the idol because they want to. In many ways, we are turning on ourselves with a bit of help.

What made BTS so successful is that they blended the art and the fantasy well — prioritizing their chemistry and connection to each other with message music that felt like it had a direction and a focus, more so than the run-of-the-mill fantasy factory. BTS are artists, not to say other people aren't. It's just to say there has always been this desire to say something. But the more popular they got, the harder it was to avoid the industry's downfalls. Their success creates opportunities only within the carefully formulated lines of the system that made them. A lot of army don't like for BTS to be called k-pop, but it's the remixed k-pop strategies that make BTS popular.

During the now-infamous Festa video, Hobi sat and listened, providing thoughts here and there but mostly holding space and supporting. Hobi supports. He's a team player who does what the group requires, often blending in and smoothing his edges. He did start to break when Namjoon talked about the strain, the pressure, and the exhaustion. His eyes were glassy when they spoke about losing their way. Jimin mentioned in passing how hard it was for Hobi, and you could see it on Hobi's face, it was more complex than any of us could even know.

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BTS has always been about sex, but they've always been very Victorian. BTS follows a formula we romantic comedy writers know well — seduction starts with the mind. A body is just a body until you give it context — until you give it meaning. The turn-on is most effective when you're primed for it. You are seduced by everything else first, and the body Is a secret. It's extra. And that is why Jin's bare back is so effective — it's not about the back but the story that came before it. So someone like me who likes my men big and counts Hopper in Stranger Things season 2 as my ideal body type — I found myself crying real horny tears over the slim stature of Jin. I was obsessing over the random dips and curves, my eyes wet, overwhelmed by the details. It's shocking, but it's not. The kpop system works a little too well. And again, it's not really about the back by itself — it's everything before it. Non-army doesn't get it. Fellow army nod in solemn solidarity. It's not an easy life.

I've talked about how each BTS member plays with their sexual power, and Jin doesn't. Everyone in BTS takes turns pulling back the sheet and pointing to their crotch, and Jin always avoids it. He prefers the smile or the wink — bright eyes cuteness to sexuality. This is a part of it too. Those of us who are Jin people make a little game of catching him outside of character — when he's talking about his pajamas or telling the members what to do — brat tamer Jin is built on top of dozens of little secret moments we aren't supposed to see. Jin has always been highly committed to work-life balance, which is sexy.

But this is a thirst trap — pure and simple. He wants us to ogle. He wants us to see him, to be seen. Thirst traps are often power plays. It's about claiming someone's attention-demanding it. He wants us to look at his back. The timing is likely not a coincidence. When you put his bare back in the context of everything else — there is something deeply poetic about it. Sometimes, I take my shirt off when I'm too hot or overwhelmed. It's a way to cool off, to release that energy. I doubt Jin is thinking about this that hard, but that's here too. Maybe he can finally breathe. Jin's chest always gets censored -- just the suggestion of chest will bring the editors out -- but everything is on display here. On his terms. Or is it? I have so much to say about how this is all going. Is this freedom, or is this another part of the game? Is this meant to be a distraction, or is this what freedom looks like? Time will only tell.

Jin talks a lot about his beauty, but one of the things that have always been apparent in how he talks about it is that his relationship with his looks was never about us. I always talk about how democratic BTS can feel, but Jin's beauty has never been considered a group project - it's him, and we can all watch. It's not an invitation to participate but more of an invitation to watch from the audience. Not too close. Thirst traps are all about intimacy, so he wants something else.

The photos after that cast Jin as the boyfriend — carefully framed boyfriend point of view shots that feel more like an invitation into his beauty — to fantasize. Jin always seemed a little uncomfortable with how we all wanted him, and his persona often felt like a dramatic friend-zoning, but these photos don't feel like that. Namjoon is a master at the boyfriend aesthetic, but Jin gives Namjoon a run for his money here. There's something even warmer about the editing and how he dresses. He looks like your almost 30 boyfriend — down to the oversized swim trunks and the single flying piece of hair. Jin doesn't reach for any specific aesthetic. There's no "mood" he's intentionally trying to cultivate. It's effortlessly inviting. You can imagine the conversation between the two of you. You can picture him asking if that photo looked good and wondering if you should take another one for Instagram. You can see yourself smiling at the phone, thinking about how hot he is, how much fun you're having, and how much you love your life together.

It's not about the photo. It's the world you build around the image.

Chapter 2 is scary -- but I'm here for it.

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