Bangtan Herman Notes: Growing Up with Bangtan Sonyeondan

 

Media Literacy in Fandom: Always Check the Source

Bangtan Hermana Notes: Plurality in Fandom

 RM once said during Map of the Soul ON:E:

“Our first march started with a very small dream of seven little boys… Along the way, we met many people who were like us. Anyone can join us. BTS is not just a story of seven people.”

I find myself going back to this quote of Namjoon a year after I wrote about ARMY multistans and multistaning. It comes at the wake of Jin losing the Daesang at the MAMA 2025. Threads is ripe with discussions on fandom identity, solidarity, belonging and evolution besides.

I face this conflict once again: the tension between plurality and loyalty.

RM’s words are true. The march did grow. ARMY is no longer the single, roaring purple wave we once were. We have become an ocean with many currents: multistans, old fans, casual listeners, new joiners, soft stans, tired stans, nostalgic stans, hopeful stans. Different hearts. Different histories. Different ways of loving.

This plurality is not failure. It is the natural evolution of a fandom that has lived, changed, and endured for twelve years. It is the proof that BTS’ love has made room for many forms of belonging.

But if I am honest, plurality also carries consequences, especially in spaces that demand focus, unity, and numbers: streaming, voting, charting, award shows.

It was painful to see votes split. To see playlists divided.

To watch Jin lose a Daesang not because he lacked impact, but because ARMY today walks many roads at once. And for a moment, I felt torn:

How do I embrace plurality without abandoning my own sense of devotion?

How do I honor different journeys while grieving the effects of divided participation?

The answer that found me was simple, gentle, and grounding: Plurality explains how fandoms evolve. Loyalty explains how I choose to love.

I can now acknowledge the multiplicity of ARMY with kindness without erasing the clarity of my own devotion.

I can now understand why multistans exist, why priorities shift, why the ocean no longer moves as one and still firmly choose my lane: My votes are for BTS. My streams are for BTS. My energy, intention, and love remain with BTS alone.

Not out of hostility toward other groups. Not out of disdain for multistans. Simply because this is where my heart has chosen to stay.

This is the distinction I needed: a boundary that is honest, not bitter; clear, not harsh; kind, not compromising.

RM said “anyone can join us,” and I believe that. Everyone’s way of loving BTS is valid.

But my own way is focused shaped by twelve years of sincerity, memory, and a bond that has never asked me to look elsewhere. Plurality and loyalty are not enemies. They simply live in different chambers of the same heart.

So as Jin’s birthday approaches, and my favorite album by RM celebrates its 3rd year, I return to what has always been true for me: We show up because the heart remembers.

I stream and vote for BTS because their story is the one I walk.

I honor plurality with kindness, but I stand with BTS with clarity.

And in this, I find peace. Not the peace of uniformity, or belonging to a clique or an exclusive group, but the peace of knowing who I am as a fan, and with joy of who I am marching beside.

Apobangpo! Purple and true!

Bangtan Hermana Notes: From Me to We: On Personal Joy and the Collective and Communal Nature of Fandom

RC Muñoz’s autograph post. Ticketing battles won or lost. Barricade flexes and seated preferences. Again and again, fandom conversations circle back to this: personal joy versus collective care.

On the surface, fandom looks like a string of individual stories: I got lucky, I persevered with my iPhone 16, I saved for years. Social media magnifies this focus on the self, rewarding posts that showcase proximity or possessions. Hyperindividualism at its finest at a time of war, division and uncertainty. It is no surprise that the prevailing mindset becomes: “I’ll celebrate my way, and that’s enough.” It does not help that in a capitalist consumer culture, fandom is too easily reduced to what we buy, what we hold, what we can show.

The artists we stan becomes COMMODITY.

But fandom is not only personal. It is also communal. Lighting the MOA Globe purple, singing in unison at concerts, streaming in circles, organizing cupsleeves events and watch parties. These are not solitary acts; they are rituals of community and belonging. And as Clifford Geertz (1973) reminds us, rituals are texts we interpret. To do a “thick description” of fandom* is to see beyond the surface gesture and into the layered meanings: a light on a globe is not just electricity, it is longing, belonging, a collective claim to space. A cupsleeve is not just paper, it is memory shared over coffee, proof that ARMY is plural.

So why does individualism still prevail? Because it is the language capitalism teaches us. Because “celebrate your way” is easier than asking “who gets left out?” Because envy is deflected by shrinking fandom into personal coping, rather than expanding it into communal and relational accountability.

The challenge is not to erase personal joy, RC’s happiness is hers, barricade victories are theirs. The challenge is to keep joy mindful. Joy is sacred. And in fandom where fangirls are prejudiced, A WOMAN’S JOY IS SACRED. To celebrate with gentleness, knowing others were scammed, excluded, unlucky. To remember that purple is not just a personal color, but a shared one. These all point to connection and community despite individual differences.

Maybe ARMY’s work is to resist fandom being flattened into “me” and recover the “we.” To thicken our descriptions of what it means to be fans not just as consumers, but as companions, co-creators, caretakers. BTS has always reminded us that we never walk alone. That they are more than idols, artists and products of an industry. They are people. And in their art and music, we find humanity. BTS never sang alone, and neither should we.

Apobangpo. Purple and true.

* Geertz defines thick description as a method of interpreting culture by attending not only to observed behavior but also to the context and meaning behind it, like “sorting out the structures of signification” through which people make their actions meaningful (The Interpretation of Cultures, 1973, p. 6).

#BangtanHermanaNotes #ARMYAfterThoughts

Bangtan Hermana Notes: The Many Ways to "Purple You"

 

When Lea Salonga Said “I am a BTS Fangirl”: On Loving BTS, Fandom Identity, and the Weight of Belonging

I felt something in me stir. Joy, at first. Pride. The validation that comes when someone of her stature recognizes what many of us have long known: BTS is not “just another boy band.” They transcend genre, language, and category. They are movement, message, and meaning. But then I noticed something missing.

She didn’t say, “I am ARMY.”

And for those of us who live and breathe this identity, that difference matters. I did not feel offended. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was more like, alertness. A flicker of awareness that words hold weight, especially when spoken by public figures. Especially in fandom culture, where naming yourself is not just self-expression, but also a declaration of participation.

And Ms. Lea, gracefully and respectfully, chose not to declare. A very wise decision and gesture.

“BTS Fangirl” is Personal. “ARMY” is Communal. There is a quiet but powerful distinction between saying, “I’m a fan of BTS.” And “I am ARMY.”

The first is individual, even intimate. The second is a call to belonging. It ties you into a global network of memory, labor, joy, defense, and shared meaning-making. And perhaps Ms. Lea, in all her wisdom, knew that.

To be ARMY is not casual. It is not a trend. It is:

• Streaming with purpose.

• Voting with coordination.

• Staying through hiatuses, military enlistments, and misunderstood eras.

• Creating, curating, and caring not just for BTS, but for each other.

And maybe that’s why Ms. Lea didn’t claim it. Not because she isn’t sincere in her admiration, but because she understands that ARMY isn’t just a word. It’s devotion and a commitment.

I appreciate that she showed restraint. That refusal to casually claim what she hasn’t fully lived is a form of respect. Life is life-ing as it goes. And perhaps all she can do for now is truly appreciate, adore and go gaga over RPWP and the rest of the solo albums of BTS she mentioned in the interview. She is a BTS fan, and I love her for it.

In fandom, ethics exist and love can hold without appropriation. In a fandom ecosystem where parasocial intimacy is often mistaken for personal possession, and stan culture can pressure public figures into performative allegiance, Lea’s choice feels intentional and purposeful.

She loves BTS. That’s clear. She supports their work. That’s beautiful. But she didn’t insert herself into ARMY spaces with the entitlement of someone who has “earned” that title. This is admirable. In doing so, she models how to honor a group’s impact without overstepping the boundary of lived experiences of ARMY, collective or individual.

However, there are comments that missed this point. Someone responded on socmed to Lea’s quote by saying:

“She obviously hasn’t met this and that Kpop group yet.”

And that’s when my ache surfaced. Because the comment didn’t just suggest she was missing out. It subtly implied that her love for BTS was less valid, incomplete, even, simply because the comment hadn’t spread that love wider.

To those commenting with a multistan agenda, my question is this: what if depth matters more than width?

What if staying loyal to one group, through all their seasons is not about being closed off, but about being rooted? Not exclusion but grounding.

For some of us, BTS holds a sacred space in our lives. You may think of this as cultish but, no. What I mean is philosophical aesthetics. More on this in future posts.

BTS didn’t just catch our attention. They caught us in our grief, our becoming, our quiet hours of self-doubt. For fans like me, BTS is not just a band to admire. They are:

• The ones who held us.

• The voices that named what we couldn’t say.

• The bridge that connected us to generations past and present, thus, creating an intergenerational understanding.

• The reason we created, healed, and chose to stay.

To be ARMY is not simply to love BTS. It is to let that love shape your life. The thing is, there are many ways to be a fan.

I wrote and developed this essay not to draw borders or demarcation lines. Not exclusion. Not hate. Not elitism.

It’s about respecting thresholds. Recognizing differences and respecting it with transparency and “relational accountability”. You can be a casual listener, a dedicated fangirl, a multistan, a curious observer and all of those identities are valid.

But if you see someone not claiming ARMY, even when they clearly love BTS, maybe pause before assuming they’re lacking or anything else. Maybe, like Ms. Lea, they’re showing us what fandom ethics can look like: Loving fully, while knowing when not to claim what isn’t yours.

In the end, I don’t need Lea Salonga to say she’s ARMY. Her admiration is enough and it’s hers. And as for me? I’ll say it again and again:

I am ARMY. Not because I stan. But because I stayed. Because BTS met me first and those seven amazing artists never let me go. In the rhythm of that love, I reclaimed who I am at the autumn of my life. That despite this season of fall, Spring Day has stayed. It will never leave me, nor I.

I close this essay by saying that I have fully understood that one person who abandoned me and became a multistan. I can now look at a cohort of fans of BTS and smile at the way they fangirl. Because, that is who they are. As for me, with my ARMY Glow Up projects in full swing this year, and my AGU certificate of commitment offered at the old Big Hit Building, as witnessed by my ARMY Daughter and Tita ARMY friends last June 10, 2025, I have fully healed. In the end, Ms. Lea’s restraint helped me name my own belonging. I am not just a BTS fangirl. I am ARMY by experience, by acts of creation, by choice.

Thank you Ms. Lea Salonga, for your class and grace; your candor and love for music and BTS. Your interview and what you particularly said about fangirling was illuminating.

Thank you, BTS! Thank you, ARMY!

Apobangpo! Purple and true!

#ARMYGlowUp2025 #Festa2025 #ManyWaystoBeaFan #ARMYLife

When Presence Feels Like a Gift: Navigating Ethics in Fandom Sharing

When BTS members Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi recently attended the wedding of their longtime stylist, the moment resonated with ARMY. It was our first time to see our Rap Line Kings in one frame. Besides, it was not staged or publicized, but precisely because it was real. A quiet gesture of loyalty, friendship and affection. Namjoon gave a heartfelt speech recorded on video by a fan-guest probably. He even shared photos on his IG story. Then the deluge of photos and video clips from guests and fans.

As these images circulated, a thoughtful question arose: How is this different from the airport or vacation photos that fans often condemn as stalkerish or invasive?

Both involve public sharing. Both involve BTS. But the intention, context, and ethics behind them are worlds apart.

Let’s unpack this moment through a fan’s lens, with care.

Consent Is the Cornerstone

Namjoon posted about the wedding. Namjoon gave us a clue and chose to let us in, if only briefly and on a private yet meaningful occasion. In doing so, he gave what we might call tacit consent. The images ARMYs reposted were celebratory and respectful, not sneaky or exploitative.

Contrast this with the photos taken at airports or on personal vacations: BTS isn’t posting. They’re not performing. They’re just being there, often exhausted, vulnerable, or on personal time. Such moments, when snapped and spread without consent, cross the line from admiration into surveillance.

Presence is not permission. Just because someone is visible does not mean they are public property.

The Spirit of the Share: Celebration vs. Consumption

There’s a difference between:

• Participating in a shared, affirming moment (like reposting wedding photos taken with affection), and

• Consuming content for clout or curiosity, without regard for the subject’s agency or humanity.

Wedding content felt like the former. It was relational. Rooted in care. Namjoon’s words at the wedding weren’t meant to go viral, but in the short clip shared by someone present, there was love, responsibility, and tenderness. It wasn’t stolen; it was witnessed.

On the other hand, vacation and airport paparazzi photos often strip away the idol’s voice. They commodify presence, feeding a content-hungry machine. Even if shared by fellow fans, the tone shifts from celebratory to possessive. From “with” to “at”.

Cultural and Fandom Contexts Matter

In Korean culture, weddings are sacred community events. This wasn’t just an errand or a pit stop. It was the wedding of a long-trusted stylist, someone who’s been with BTS through transformations and triumphs. Their presence spoke volumes: about loyalty, about found family, about being rooted in gratitude.

ARMY picked up on that. The mood online wasn’t “Look, I caught them!” It was “How beautiful it is that they showed up like this.”

When fans treat BTS sightings especially uninvited ones as trophies or conquests, we ignore that idols have the right to disappear, to breathe without cameras. That’s where fan culture needs to evolve, I think.

A Gentle Guide for Thoughtful Sharing

Whether you’re a seasoned ARMY or new to the fandom, here are five reflection questions to guide us all when sharing choices:

1. Did BTS (or their staff) share or signal willingness to share this moment? If yes, repost with care. If not, think twice.

2. Does this uplift the member or intrude on their privacy?

3. Would I feel proud showing this post to them face-to-face?

4. Am I sharing out of love, or just to be first?

5. Does this add warmth to the community, or stir controversy, gossip, or discomfort?

Because We’re Building Something Bigger

BTS didn’t just give us music. They gave us a model for intentional living. They remind us, again and again, that love is not passive. It is mindful. And fandom at its best, is a space of relational ethics, not just emotional attachment.

So when we ask, “What makes this different?” the answer is not about the photo itself. It’s about how we hold space for others, even when they’re global stars. The wedding was a glimpse of something sacred and our Leader Nim invited us to see it. That’s a gift.

May we remain fans who know the difference.

#AoBFanSafetyCampaign #FandomCare

#ARMYofBangtan

#ARMYGlowUp2025 #AGUCommunication

Kuwentong Bangtan: Honoring Fan Loyalty While Holding Space for Respectful Co-existence

ARMY has always had a complex, evolving relationship with multistans (I say this from personal experience as well as initial studies into fandom culture). And I still hold this truth: there’s no single, correct way to love BTS or your Kpop idols. Or both. And all of the above. Fangirling doesn’t have to follow a template. However, fandom culture can serve as a compass: a guide for how we care for and interact with one another, not a set of rules to police, control, use one’s fan group authority over members who express a different opinion, even dissent. We can co-exist by honoring each other’s space and recognizing the moments we come together in joy, memory, and meaning.

I deeply appreciate perspectives that highlight inclusivity and musical exploration. To say, “We’re ARMY, and we’re here to appreciate BTS’ music and others’, too,” is a valid and thoughtful stance. After all, art invites openness, and BTS themselves have never asked us to close our ears or hearts.

But here is where the complexity lies: being ARMY isn’t just about enjoying music. It’s an identity shaped by shared history, grief, joy, activism, and meaning-making. For many of us, choosing to stay rooted in BTS, especially in moments when it would have been easier to drift and stan other groups, wasn’t just preference. It was intention. It was love made active. And that choice, while never demanded, does hold value. It forms the core of a community that didn’t just survive BTS’ absence during enlistment, it grew, reflected, and remained.

That said, now that BTS has returned and the next era is beginning, with PTD On Stage Live as a marker of that transition, fan loyalty holds a renewed kind of weight. It’s not about exclusion or elitism. It’s about continuity. BTS’ legacy was built through years of shared dedication and ARMY’s loyalty has been key in preserving their story, especially during the enlistment period when silence could have meant abandonment and erasure.

So when some ARMYs express what seems like protectiveness, or even gatekeeping, it often comes from a place of history and love. From the effort it took to keep streaming alive, to organizing community projects, to simply showing up even when it was hard. That labor mirrors the love and sacrifice BTS has poured into us over time.

Yes, there’s space to love others. But there’s also something beautiful and worth naming about fans like us, ARMY who held the line, and are now ready to march again as this new chapter opens. In this moment of return, may we honor both the openness BTS inspires and the loyalty that kept the light on while they were away.

Apobangpo! Purple and true!