It’s 3am and I’m huddled in a collapsible camping chair outside Kia Forum in Los Angeles, wrapped in four layers of clothing and blankets. I’ve travelled halfway across the world to see Suga/Agust D perform in his first solo tour. Suga and Agust D are the same person, both being stage names adopted by Min Yoongi of the Korean boyband BTS. While Suga, one of the group’s rappers and producers, has performed in sold-out stadiums and arenas all around the world with his bandmates, this is the first time a member of the group has toured alone. He also happens to be one of my favourite members of BTS – so over six weeks, I will travel to three countries in two continents to see him perform a total of seven times.
To describe BTS simply as a K-pop boyband would be to miss the enormous cultural, artistic and social impact that the seven-member group continues to have. Not only have the members topped music charts around the world, their influence extends far beyond the sphere of pop music. From speaking engagements at the UN and the White House, being granted diplomatic passports from the South Korean government, to their fundraising and philanthropic efforts for a variety of causes, the “BTS effect” continues to change the world. Even though BTS is on hiatus from group activities until 2025 as the band members undertake their mandatory military service in South Korea, this month the city of Seoul will be transformed for celebrations to mark the band’s 10-year anniversary.
When I started listening to BTS in 2019 I couldn’t have imagined that four years later their music would take me across the world, to multiple concerts, fan-organised events and academic conferences where I have presented papers and learned from peers around the world. I continue to write about BTS, curate exhibitions inspired by their music, and undertake a range of creative pursuits due to them – the latest of these being “deco”, a craft akin to scrapbooking that involves using stickers and photos of the band to create cute memorabilia. Being a member of Army, the name collectively given to fans of BTS which stands for “Adorable Representative MC for Youth”, has been a life-changing and, at times, all-consuming passion. I have had many hobbies in my adult life, but none have transformed my daily life or made such an indelible impact the way that loving BTS has on me – personally, creatively and professionally.
Being a fangirl (or as I ironically call myself, just a “casual” fan) of BTS in my 30s has also seen me experience first-hand how sexism, racism and ageism can shape culture. Enjoying BTS content is no different to the solidarity and joy expressed by fans of sporting teams – and yet being a fan of a boyband is more easily derided as frivolous. Add to this mix that BTS is a Korean pop group, making big waves in a world that still privileges Eurocentric values and whiteness as standard, and I start to wonder how much of the critique levelled against them comes from xenophobia.
I’ve seen BTS described as a Gesamtkunstwerk, the German word for a “complete work of art”, where multiple art forms or expressions come together to create cohesive meaning. While this artistic bleed happens through the wide scope of BTS’s activities, I believe being a fan of them also opens up possibilities. It has pushed me not only to do things outside my comfort zone but also taught me what it means to love something deeply and openly. It has taught me what can happen when I choose to pursue things that make me happy, and be loud about it. Rather than policing other people’s joy, being a BTS fan has shown me that happiness is not a destination or goal but a process of self-acceptance, one that takes courage. In a world of constructed pop, I appreciate BTS’s sincerity and the space they have made for members of Army to be vulnerable and open.
That first night I saw Suga perform in LA, I was so overcome with emotion by his closing performance of The Last, a song about his mental health struggles and social anxiety, that I cried during the song. This was not a song I ever expected to hear live, let alone in an area in front of 15,000 other people. It is a powerful and emotive performance that shows a vulnerable side of the rapper, someone who isn’t yet entirely rid of his inner demons but recognises that healing comes with self-acceptance. I am lucky, I thought to myself, to be living at the same time as this man whose music and words touch my heart so deeply. I know that if I was given the choice again, I would always choose this.
