For some, deeply baffling reason, being called a ‘fangirl’ is almost never a compliment. To most people, it bears a connotation of youthful naivety, of immaturity, almost a guilty pleasure of sorts. If you’re a fangirl of something, there’s only two possible options. You guard your passion like a shameful secret, confine your passions to the furthest corners of your heart. You let your love fester in the darkness, wasting away, but at least kept safe from prying eyes. Alternatively, you broadcast it publicly, brazenly make your love known to everyone in the vicinity, turning your sole life purpose into acting as an advocate to convert friends and family into becoming fans. There’s no middle ground.
I am the latter, as many of my friends can, rather wearily, confirm for you. Rarely ever do I have hobbies that I enjoy to a moderate extent, with my fangirl nature being the one time I embody the “Go big or go home” mantra. Recently, I’ve spent all my bus commutes deeply immersed in the Ghibliotheque podcast or the Kiki’s Delivery Service soundtrack. My lockscreen is a collage of screencaps from Howl’s Moving Castle, my app icons have been replaced by the likes of Calcifer, Ponyo, and Chihiro, I’m currently reading the Diana Wynne Jones novel, and Joe Hisaishi is my top most listened to Spotify artist. I am nothing if not the manifestation of all my passion projects and interests, combined into one, far too vocal entity. Some may think the term ‘fangirling’ only applies to music artists, movie franchises or sports teams, but I’ve adopted the term in a much looser sense, liberally using it to describe the way I approach anything and everything that I enjoy. When it comes to the things I love, I’m not one for moderation.
A rather hilarious run-in with an old friend prompted this epiphany. Upon realising that we’d been assigned to sit next to each other for a two-hour ferry ride, it was only natural that we’d make small talk and catch up, after having not spoken in depth for the large part of a year. Two minutes into our conversation, it was discovered that my favourite K-pop group also happened to be the favourite group of my friend’s sister. As he regaled me with tales of how he’d been tasked with finding merchandise, roped into long-winded discussions over the merits of one member’s current hairstyle, and forcibly made to endure hours of bass-heavy, rap-filled noise music, it was almost like a portal opened up from the heavens and casted a golden halo over his head. Suddenly, I lit up. My carefully-maintained facade of nonchalance instantly dissipated into the ether, and all (imagined) tension was forgotten. With no dignity to defend, no qualms about making a fool of myself, I enthusiastically chimed in with my own anecdotes of collecting and trading photocards, DIY-ing concert merchandise and, to his utter surprise, flaunting my lock screen, homescreen and ringtone.
And yet, it was only forty-five minutes into this conversation when he dropped even the slightest hint that he shared my music taste. With the air of a guilty convict, he reluctantly admitted to having enjoyed K-pop music from time to time, especially the more recent releases. It took my relentless questioning, burning curiosity and half a ferry ride before he finally submitted to my Spanish Inquisition, hesitantly sharing the name of his favourite singers. It would cause an uproar, he said with a wry smile, if my family found out about this.
I didn't get it. Wasn’t it just music? That seemed like an awfully depressing way to live your life: with watered-down enthusiasm, disguised with mock-nonchalance. He shook his head. I don’t want to be seen as one of those obsessive fans or something.
But why do fans, specifically fangirls, get such a bad rep? Why are people reluctant to make their ‘fan-girling’ known to others? There are a multitude of potential reasons for this, including internalised misogyny, a desire to separate personal from professional life, or most commonly, the fear of appearing overeager, or the Gen-Z equivalent, “cringey”. Even unpacking the word itself, it’s an intentional choice on my part to use the word “fangirl" as compared to just “fan”. The word ‘girl’ is intrinsically correlated to the female identity, but also denotes youth and by extension, inexperience. You may have noticed the difference in treatment of male sports fans, in comparison to say, female Swifties. Why is buying merch, learning the chants and spending money on events seen as acceptable for one, but embarassing for the other? Alternatively, the significance of 'girl' in fangirl could be to represent the youthful way we approach our passions: blindly, whole-heartedly, with a child-like enthusiasm.
But that isn’t to say that there aren’t limits to keep in mind. First of all, I’d like to make it clear that while it’s alright to show appreciation to the things that bring you happiness, this does not directly translate to spending ridiculous sums on these hobbies, especially if it’s not within your means or resources to sustainably do so. Hobbies and interests are first and foremost, supposed to incite joy. If your expenditure on a hobby is snowballing to a point where it’s causing distress and potentially opening a Pandora’s Box of other problems, it isn’t a healthy hobby. By extension, your time spent on a passion should have a limit, too. While I joke about lacking moderation, I do try to ensure that I balance my time between different interests and passions, in order to diversify the ways I feel fulfilled. Paraphrasing a quote I saw online, a good life is the progressive expansion of things that spark joy, whereas obsession is the progressive narrowing of things that spark joy. And why narrow it down to just one hobby or passion, when the world has so many other interesting things to offer?
A curious thing to note, though? While I often still harbour a fondness for previous hobbies and passion projects, my interest level in my various passions tends to swell and wane, much like the ebb and flow of the tide. With a wry smile, I recognise that this seems reminiscent of all the ill-advised ‘phases’ that adults, for some reason, seem to think all teens go through, and yet I’m not too sure if “phase” in this case is necessarily a bad thing. Is it wrong to seek out sources of happiness, as ephemeral as they may be? Is it imprudent to jump headfirst into exploring a new passion, without knowing if you’ll still be pursuing this hobby in three months, in a year? Being the chronic worrier that I am, it’s hard to deny that yes, sometimes I do fear the idea of wasted time, wasted energy expended on something that didn’t last. But at the same time, only without the shackles of sky-high expectations and stringent goals can we truly allow ourselves to have the room and capacity to explore and grow, to bloom at our own rates.
Before Studio Ghibli movies, it was the novel Red, White & Royal Blue. Before that, it was The Great British Bake-Off, the TV show Itaewon Class, the book Far From The Tree. I still have a random assortment of Good Food Magazines on my kitchen shelf, the carefully curated collection serving as a physical reminder of my love for cooking from a young age. These interests haven’t replaced each other, haven’t been swapped out for shinier, brighter replacements. Rather, they coexist as integral facets of my perspective and personality, serving as tangible reminders of the Nicola I was at different stages of my life. Whether it was when I was a rosy-cheeked primary-schooler, greasy fingers leaving thumbprints over glossy food magazine spreads, or when I’m eighty years old, curled up with my six cats, fascinated by some slice-of-life film, I’ll always be the kind of person who’ll hold on tight to the things that bring me joy.
I have a Pinterest board titled “your future is bright”, which serves as an eclectic scrapbook of encouraging anecdotes, thoughtful advice, and snippets of wisdom. Most of these posts echo similar ideas about the everyday small joys of life. One of my favourite findings says something along the lines of “you still haven’t met everything you’ll love in this lifetime”. For all you know, your next favourite film, favourite album or favourite book has yet to be released. You could walk into a restaurant tomorrow, and discover your new favourite dish. In three months, Spotify could recommend you a new podcast, which you immediately fall in love with. And isn’t that a beautiful thing? That there’s the potential of finding something that you’ll be a dedicated fan of?
Lastly, what I love about being a self-proclaimed fangirl is the unwavering sense of community. Whether it’s when I’m on my writer’s Instagram raving over a book with close friends, or at my local pharmacy, getting roped into a conversation with the cashier after realising that she’s wearing a Stray Kids hoodie (true story!), sharing a mutual interest is one of the fastest ways to bring people together. There are some books in particular that have resonated with me on such a fundamental level that if someone else happens to have enjoyed it, there’s immediately a shared understanding established between the two of us. While saying that we must be aligned on every belief is a bit of a stretch, it’s true that to some extent, there must be a commonality, or some sort of shared value, which leads to our mutual adoration of a work of media. Also, isn’t the enjoyment doubled, when you share the experience with another person? It opens a whole new segway of inside jokes and niche references, with the added benefit of having another person’s perspective to pick at, another mind to bounce ideas off. Next month, I have a buddy-read planned with one of my writer friends, and a virtual Ghibli movie marathon planned with another. I have no doubt that both will be highlights of my month.
Life is too short to pretend to not like the things that you love. If you happen to find an excellent film, a thought-provoking novel or a fresh album to fangirl over, be sure to send it my way, and I’ll join you in your enthusiastic fawning :)
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what i'm currently reading: howl's moving castle by diana wynne jones
song recommendation of the day: by my side by JUNNY
favourite recent discovery: the ghibliotheque podcast
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