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If my eyes could speak, they’d probably be screaming at me already. It’s two in the morning but I’m still staring at the computer monitor searching for fancams to watch and fan accounts to read about the night my dream turned into reality (but sadly, without me in it): the Super Junior Super Show in Araneta Coliseum.
This is one of the reasons why I cry for the fact that Philippines is an archipelago. It didn’t help much either that I’m relatively dirt-poor living on a place two hours plane-ride away from the Metro. I tear up reading those accounts of fans crying upon seeing the boys, a mark of triumph and extreme happiness over hours of youtube-marathon watching on their variety shows, the time spent on reading about their interviews, researching about them, and the four long years of knowing them when they’re basically unknowns in the world of Philippine media. I wasn’t there when the miracle happened but I can feel it in the words of my co-ELFs; I can hear it in their screams; that even if we’re separated by the thousand electric fibers making up the computer monitor, I feel my bones trembling on the thought of what was once a mere dream that had finally happened before their eyes.
To some, our fanaticism bordering on quasi-obsession is something laughable and terribly “jologs”; but for the record, I pour in this letter to the world what most people fail to see. I write for the fact that fangirls aren’t merely composed of high school kids who feign adoration for the shallow level of physicality as manifested on the pretty boy appearance of the group. I write for the students who worked hard for that high grade so that mom and dad would let them watch the concert. I write for the young professionals who saved every penny’s worth just to see the boys. I write for the girl watching concert clips in an internet café and promising to herself that someday she’ll be there to witness it all. I write for future CPAs/nurses/psychologists/lawyers/engineers, fans – young and old alike – who at some point in their lives, tuned down intellectual arrogance to accommodate something that they’ve found happiness from. I write for us, fangirls and fanboys, and to everyone so that they would know that our worlds do not revolve on Kpop alone.
See, we are actually aware of what is happening with the world. In our online niches, we talk about what the world has become to, apart from those involving our idols. We mourn for the Polish people for the tragedy that took the lives of their country’s brightest; and along with it, we fear for the probable negative repercussions of the political vacuum that is currently happening there. We sympathize with our friends from Thailand; on how they can cope up with the current hostility happening in their country as it teeters on the verge of political anarchy. Though we may not look like it, most of us are registered voters and we sometimes discuss how the LAKAS-KAMPI party is slowly going down the drain with all the camp-switching that has been happening. We’ve been affected by the global financial crisis and on how its ripple-effect includes the no-internet-after-11pm ban by our parents so as to save electricity. We pour in our fan fictions the ugly faces of reality – the lashes and wounds left by Ondoy and the grief caused by the earthquake in Haiti.
Yes, we care. And it doesn't automatically mean that because we like kpop, we blindly accept all things related with it. Though some fans can be a bit loud with their obsession, they do not automatically represent the entire populace. I find a need to reaffirm the fact that just because we happen to like something that is not of our country, we are hence assumed as anti-nationalistic people. We may put on fail attempts in learning their language or liking pickled vegetables as a step on liking things Korean, but that doesn't make it a tad different on how we used to devour anime flicks and sushi rolls back when Japanese media was on its peak. No matter how submerged we may look like within this culture, that doesn't change the fact that we are still Filipinos. We may twist our tongues singing along in Korean but we will always look highly of how Charice Pempengco paved her way to where she is right now. Some of us may try as they may to slather whitening lotions in an attempt to be fairer, but there are still some of us who refuse to do so in respect for the brown, sun-kissed skin that has always been a trademark of a Filipina. Kpop fandom is different from all other fandoms which is why the impact of the culture shock is quite remarkable. However, it doesn't mean that being in it is a straight-up statement of surrendering the Pinoy in you.
Looking at it beyond the surface, our inclination towards Kpop is pretty much similar to anyone else’s inclination or liking something else. You can see it the way Republicans pledge loyalty to their party or how activist groups bank on their beliefs as a guiding principle of their organization. Nevertheless, our inclination, pretty much like everyone else’s, is not mutually exclusive on the idea of liking other things that may seem “of greater value than kpop” like history, geography, astronomy, quantum physics, nanotechnology, nationalism and other what-nots. In fact, there are instances when we touch on these fields in relation to our established premise of Kpop fanaticism.
For one, I’ve learned to digest html codes, java scripts, and other technogeek entrees in search for the perfect blog layout or the ultimate answer into downloading heavily-encrypted videos in the internet. I’ve scanned through the pages of the Vienna Convention noting that certain segment reserved for copyrights infringement. I’ve more than pushed myself in befriending Hanja and Hangeul characters just that I can find my way across the dizzying worlds of Daum, Naver, and Baidu. But not that I believe that all my sacrifices would amount to nothing. These skills come up useful in other things aside from what it was solely intended.
Mostly, what I treasure most in this sociological circle that I belong to is the idea that we break barriers – cultural or racial, per se. We’ve established friendships – from the squealing fangirl of a rival university to the fans on the other parts of the globe. We’ve necessarily, if not ultimately, tore down walls of established social stigma and stereotypes. Here in our world where we share one common bond, we’ve learned to see things in a different light. In a way our world exists only within the parameters of our computer monitors and the signal bars on our internet connections, but what’s important is that, our world exists. A break from the harsh realities of life. A break, but not necessarily an entirely separate dimension. Some may still scoff at the idea of what we’ve been pouring ourselves into, but it’s just about the simple rule of finding your happiness.
Someday, my hair will turn gray and my teeth will fall out; but I will never be ashamed of the fact that sometime in my life, I was a Super Junior fan. I learned a lot of things and I’ve got more than what I’ve bargained for.
I long for the day that I would be a part of that spectacular sea of Sapphire Blue. My world. Our world.
As for now, I’ll start saving up for their return.
This is one of the reasons why I cry for the fact that Philippines is an archipelago. It didn’t help much either that I’m relatively dirt-poor living on a place two hours plane-ride away from the Metro. I tear up reading those accounts of fans crying upon seeing the boys, a mark of triumph and extreme happiness over hours of youtube-marathon watching on their variety shows, the time spent on reading about their interviews, researching about them, and the four long years of knowing them when they’re basically unknowns in the world of Philippine media. I wasn’t there when the miracle happened but I can feel it in the words of my co-ELFs; I can hear it in their screams; that even if we’re separated by the thousand electric fibers making up the computer monitor, I feel my bones trembling on the thought of what was once a mere dream that had finally happened before their eyes.
To some, our fanaticism bordering on quasi-obsession is something laughable and terribly “jologs”; but for the record, I pour in this letter to the world what most people fail to see. I write for the fact that fangirls aren’t merely composed of high school kids who feign adoration for the shallow level of physicality as manifested on the pretty boy appearance of the group. I write for the students who worked hard for that high grade so that mom and dad would let them watch the concert. I write for the young professionals who saved every penny’s worth just to see the boys. I write for the girl watching concert clips in an internet café and promising to herself that someday she’ll be there to witness it all. I write for future CPAs/nurses/psychologists/lawyers/engineers, fans – young and old alike – who at some point in their lives, tuned down intellectual arrogance to accommodate something that they’ve found happiness from. I write for us, fangirls and fanboys, and to everyone so that they would know that our worlds do not revolve on Kpop alone.
See, we are actually aware of what is happening with the world. In our online niches, we talk about what the world has become to, apart from those involving our idols. We mourn for the Polish people for the tragedy that took the lives of their country’s brightest; and along with it, we fear for the probable negative repercussions of the political vacuum that is currently happening there. We sympathize with our friends from Thailand; on how they can cope up with the current hostility happening in their country as it teeters on the verge of political anarchy. Though we may not look like it, most of us are registered voters and we sometimes discuss how the LAKAS-KAMPI party is slowly going down the drain with all the camp-switching that has been happening. We’ve been affected by the global financial crisis and on how its ripple-effect includes the no-internet-after-11pm ban by our parents so as to save electricity. We pour in our fan fictions the ugly faces of reality – the lashes and wounds left by Ondoy and the grief caused by the earthquake in Haiti.
Yes, we care. And it doesn't automatically mean that because we like kpop, we blindly accept all things related with it. Though some fans can be a bit loud with their obsession, they do not automatically represent the entire populace. I find a need to reaffirm the fact that just because we happen to like something that is not of our country, we are hence assumed as anti-nationalistic people. We may put on fail attempts in learning their language or liking pickled vegetables as a step on liking things Korean, but that doesn't make it a tad different on how we used to devour anime flicks and sushi rolls back when Japanese media was on its peak. No matter how submerged we may look like within this culture, that doesn't change the fact that we are still Filipinos. We may twist our tongues singing along in Korean but we will always look highly of how Charice Pempengco paved her way to where she is right now. Some of us may try as they may to slather whitening lotions in an attempt to be fairer, but there are still some of us who refuse to do so in respect for the brown, sun-kissed skin that has always been a trademark of a Filipina. Kpop fandom is different from all other fandoms which is why the impact of the culture shock is quite remarkable. However, it doesn't mean that being in it is a straight-up statement of surrendering the Pinoy in you.
Looking at it beyond the surface, our inclination towards Kpop is pretty much similar to anyone else’s inclination or liking something else. You can see it the way Republicans pledge loyalty to their party or how activist groups bank on their beliefs as a guiding principle of their organization. Nevertheless, our inclination, pretty much like everyone else’s, is not mutually exclusive on the idea of liking other things that may seem “of greater value than kpop” like history, geography, astronomy, quantum physics, nanotechnology, nationalism and other what-nots. In fact, there are instances when we touch on these fields in relation to our established premise of Kpop fanaticism.
For one, I’ve learned to digest html codes, java scripts, and other technogeek entrees in search for the perfect blog layout or the ultimate answer into downloading heavily-encrypted videos in the internet. I’ve scanned through the pages of the Vienna Convention noting that certain segment reserved for copyrights infringement. I’ve more than pushed myself in befriending Hanja and Hangeul characters just that I can find my way across the dizzying worlds of Daum, Naver, and Baidu. But not that I believe that all my sacrifices would amount to nothing. These skills come up useful in other things aside from what it was solely intended.
Mostly, what I treasure most in this sociological circle that I belong to is the idea that we break barriers – cultural or racial, per se. We’ve established friendships – from the squealing fangirl of a rival university to the fans on the other parts of the globe. We’ve necessarily, if not ultimately, tore down walls of established social stigma and stereotypes. Here in our world where we share one common bond, we’ve learned to see things in a different light. In a way our world exists only within the parameters of our computer monitors and the signal bars on our internet connections, but what’s important is that, our world exists. A break from the harsh realities of life. A break, but not necessarily an entirely separate dimension. Some may still scoff at the idea of what we’ve been pouring ourselves into, but it’s just about the simple rule of finding your happiness.
Someday, my hair will turn gray and my teeth will fall out; but I will never be ashamed of the fact that sometime in my life, I was a Super Junior fan. I learned a lot of things and I’ve got more than what I’ve bargained for.
I long for the day that I would be a part of that spectacular sea of Sapphire Blue. My world. Our world.
As for now, I’ll start saving up for their return.
