Part II: on the performance of fandom (belonging)
This is meant to be part 2 of a ‘performance of fandom’ double shot but as I was writing it I realised the ‘performance of belonging’ was a more apt name. The first part was about my most recent concert experiences and the give and take between artist and audience. When you tackle this idea with large global fanbases like Swifties or BTS ARMY, the performance becomes much more than one fleeting moment of connection. Each experience builds upon the next, creating an entire universe of narrative threads and webs of feeling for millions of people around the world.
One of the creators I follow on TikTok fell down a K-pop rabbit hole at the same time I did (she became a Stray Kids mega fan). She went to her first concert a few months ago and came back saying it gave her ‘mega church’ vibes. I really enjoyed this take. I’ve talked before about fandoms as ‘communities of belonging’. I’ve talked about social identity theory and the human need to see yourself reflected back at you by the social structures you participate in. In contemporary society, there are few stronger examples of this than fandoms. The sense of community that could once be found in religious institutions and local sports clubs has been eroded by globalisation and isolation. In response, humans have created sprawling digital communities with rules, codes and norms of their own.
Taylor Swift + Eras Tour
When I went to the Eras in Feb 2024, the show had already been running for almost a year across North and Latin America. By that point, the culture of Eras was bigger than Taylor Swift herself. It was no longer just a live performance by an artist, but an elaborate give and take between Taylor and her fans.
Probably the most widely known fan-driven activity around Eras was friendship bracelets. The practice of bracelet making was not a big part of the Swiftie fan community before Eras. It was inspired by a lyric in Taylor’s song You’re On Your Own Kid —“so make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you’ve got no reason to be afraid.” That song was on her Grammy winning Midnights album, the work that the Eras Tour was ostensibly created to support.
It was a sweet thing to be part of. In the hotel we stayed at in central Melbourne, Swifties left bags of friendships bracelets hanging on their door handles for fellow fans to exchange. My friends and I bought a bead kit and spent a day bracelet making before our show. Now, my 4 year old daughter carts around “Mummy’s Taylor bracelets” in a little rainbow sequinned purse.
Fan projects, chants and activations happened within the Swiftie community long before Eras, but this tour was when they peaked.
One of the most well-known fan-created Taylor chants is 123LGB. It started, as many things do these days, with a random viral TikTok. A girl at the back of the Rose Bowl in LA randomly screamed 123LGB between the intro and first verse of Taylor’s song Delicate. It took off. Now the chant is so integral to any live performance that Taylor herself counts it down every time. There are plenty of other fan moments that pre-dated Eras, like the Fearless heart hands and the You Belong With Me double clap. But there were even more that were born during the tour.
As a fan attending Eras, preparing for the fan chants almost felt like homework. I knew I had to chant Kendrick’s line during Bad Blood, “you forgive, you forget but you never let it GO.” I knew I had to scream, “take us to church!” Before her adlibs in Don’t Blame Me. I knew that following Champagne Problems I needed to clap and scream for a really really really long time (because people on grainy livestreams around the world were literally timing us), and that in Marjorie I needed to turn on my torch to honour Taylor’s Grandmother. All that work made it fun. It made the sense of belonging even more potent.
When followings are this big and this organized, the performance of fandom is a powerful thing to participate in. I felt so connected to the world after this concert. It was like having a massive night out with 90,000 new friends. It was like attaining the Buddhist concept of nirvana. It can’t be real, but it felt real.
I recently watched the 6 part docu-series on Eras and I cried the whole way through. I mean, I cry all the time these days, but I was particularly struck by the episode about the final concerts in Vancouver. There were a few fan clips used in the series that said, “don’t let anyone make you feel stupid for feeling sad that this experience is over.” For more than 2 years, it was a weekly ritual for millions of people around the world. One fan even built an app to gamify Taylor’s outfit choices each night. Livestreamers raised thousands of dollars for all kinds of causes. It really was a beautiful thing in an ugly world. The fans genuinely grieved its ending.
BTS ARMY
It should come as no surprise that the K-pop industry realised the value of fan participation early on and had it systemised by the time 2nd generation groups were hitting the stage. Back then before a K-pop ‘comeback’ (their word for new release), agencies published official fan chants for new songs so that when the first performance occurred, fans would be ready. This is the world BTS was born into, and this intense fan engagement and heightened sense of belonging is one of the things that helped them go global.
The core fan chant for BTS is each of the members names chanted in a specific order. It’s a chant that’s practically built into the intro for each of their songs.
Here’s the order:
KIM NAMJOON! (RM, the leader)
Now descending from oldest to youngest
KIM SEOKJIN! (Jin, the eldest hyung)
MIN YOONGI! (Suga)
JUNG HOSOEK! (J-hope)
PARK JIMIN! (Jimin)
KIM TAEHYUNG! (V)
JEON JUNGKOOK! (Jung Kook)
BTS!
Once you know this, you can hear it in almost every live BTS performance. When they debuted on US TV at the AMAs with DNA in 2019, the audience was blown away by ARMY’s performance of fandom. In many ways, it was ARMY that made BTS globally famous, not the other way around. They were consistently introduced as the ‘biggest boy band in the world with the craziest and most amazing fans.’
I’ve been practicing the BTS chant under my breath as I walk the dog each day. Muttering these seven Korean names to myself while wandering the streets of West Auckland. I’ve also started learning the Korean language. I’m so aware that from any ‘normal’ perspective this is extreme behaviour, but within the bounds of ARMY it’s completely natural and understandable. That got me thinking about the psychographic profile of ARMY members, which I think is much more interesting than any demographic could be. You might think it’s safe to assume that a fandom for a boy band would consist of mainly women, but that’s not the case with BTS — the community is wildly diverse, united by feeling. I asked chatgpt to sum up the profile of ARMY in a couple of paragraphs and this is what it came up with.
BTS ARMY is best understood as a values-driven identity community rather than a conventional fanbase. At its core, ARMY is motivated by emotional connection, authenticity, and personal growth. Fans are deeply drawn to BTS’s themes of self-acceptance, mental health, perseverance, and becoming your best self, often feeling the music expresses emotions they struggle to articulate themselves. This creates a powerful sense of being seen and understood. Belonging is central: being ARMY means being part of a global collective with shared language, rituals, humour, and history—a “safe place” for many who have felt isolated or overlooked elsewhere.
ARMY also tends to be purpose-oriented, participatory, and highly loyal. Fans admire BTS’s underdog-to-global-icon journey and internalise its message that effort and sincerity matter. This shows up in organised collective action—streaming, translating, fundraising, advocacy, and defending BTS when they feel the group is treated unfairly. There is a strong sense of reciprocity: BTS gives vulnerability and honesty; ARMY gives time, energy, and protection. Psychographically, these are people who prioritise meaning over trendiness, emotional resonance over status, and community over individualism—making ARMY not just an audience, but a movement built around shared feeling and shared growth.
Honestly, being part of ARMY offers me a low stakes sense of belonging that brings joy to my life. If all I need to do to keep that up is practice a fan chant, spend a bunch of money, and learn a new language, that seems a fair exchange.
It’s totally fine to not get this. It’s totally fine to look at it all and say it feels contrived. Being open to this kind of collective experience requires a suspension of disbelief, a shrugging off of shame, a leap of faith. It’s really not all that different from believing in magic or god.
Take me to bangtan megachurch, I’m ready.