I’ve recently fallen down the rabbit hole of the K-pop boy band BTS. And I’ve fallen hard.
I can’t really place how it happened, except that it was like entering the event horizon of a black hole and then getting drawn down into the singularity of the void.
Before this experience, I had no real understanding of the appeal of K-pop, its music, or its strong and loyal fanbase. Now I feel as if I’ve been enlightened.
To explain, we need to talk about BTS and gender. Here’s my hot take – BTS has forged a new kind of soft masculinity in stardom, one that is radical in its emotional and physical intimacy. It is a kind of intimacy between a group of men that I cannot even find a comparison to in Western media. It is an intimacy that feels tangible, deep, and genuine. Their love, their vulnerability, and their humbleness present a form of masculinity divergent from what is usually found in the music industry and beyond. That is, it runs counter to images of hyper-masculine superegos and frat house bros.
And it’s the year of our lord 2k18, we’re fucking tired of bros and “no homo.” We’re fucking tired of toxic and fragile masculinity. The world has been thirsty for a new kind of masculinity in the spotlight, and BTS has delivered. (Yeah, feel free to interpret thirsty as you will.) BTS is redefining what it means to be a man and a celebrity in the 21st century.
Am I taking this too far? Absolutely not. I haven’t even mentioned the fashion yet.
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers”
BTS is made up of seven members – RM, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, V, Jimin, and Jungkook. Each of these members plays a different role in BTS, not only on stage (some are lead rappers, or dancers, or singers), but also behind the stage. This seven-man unit is at the heart of the BTS family, known as the BTS ARMY.
If you want to start down the rabbit hole, don’t start with the music. Start with the videos of BTS off-stage.
You can find videos of BTS on TV shows, tour buses, flights, at photoshoots, in their dance studio, restaurants, random hallways, on couches napping, dancing in corridors, sitting around conference rooms, walking down the street. In short, BTS fans are privy to the backstage of their lives. When you start watching the videos, you learn about the dynamic in BTS, the members’ personalities, and the roles they play within the group.
What shocked me at first when watching these videos was the sheer physical intimacy between all the members. They hug each other, play with each others’ hair, hold hands, give each other massages, fall asleep on each other, sit on each others’ laps, give piggyback rides, feed each other, kiss each other. There is no hesitation in their being close, in entering each others’ personal space. It is not a sexual intimacy either – it’s affectionate (fight me on this if you want). It is a masculinity that is comfortable and secure enough to show affection between men. At the same time the relationships are alternately boyish, playful, sweet, and prickly. Seeing this kind of relationship between a group of men is fascinating. It is something that I have only ever seen or experienced, both in life and the media, between women.
We’ve seen “band of brothers” depictions in the media before, but its masculinity is only ever safe in the context of war. BTS is showing us something new.
It is an intimacy between people that I’ve experienced for perhaps fleeting times in my life, when I was on a sports team or living with many roommates in college. But upon entering adulthood and the cubicle isolationism of a 9-5 job, I feel like this kind of closeness between people tends to dissipate. Once you enter the fandom of BTS, however, you feel as if you can once again participate in this closeness. It’s heady and addicting and comforting. It makes you happy. (Emotional vampires, come one, come all.)
And yes, let’s talk about emotional vulnerability too. There are videos of BTS being complete goofballs, dancing, laughing, and teasing. But there are also videos of them crying, hugging, and soothing each other. Videos of them telling each other they love one other, of affirming their validity, saying they think they are cute or handsome, expressing they are proud of each other, of thanking each other, their family, their friends. They express their love to each other over casual dinners, randomly and often, verbally and physically. They attest this in front of stadiums with tens of thousands. This is a group of men comfortable with crying, with showing the depth of their emotion, and also vocalizing it.
Once you begin to understand the dynamic of the group, you can better appreciate the meaning of their music. And let me be straightforward – K-pop has never automatically grabbed me upon listening. But once I felt I better knew the people making the music and their deep bond, it completely changed the way I felt about the songs.
Let’s take a look at one song, called “Begin,” sung by Jungkook. Jungkook is the maknae of BTS, meaning he is the youngest member. This also means, in the context of Korean culture, that he is expected to show respect and deference to his hyung, or older brothers (i.e. the other members of BTS). This entire song is about thanking the other BTS members for raising him. “Love you my brother, thanks to my brothers I now have emotions, I became me,” he sings. He goes on later, “I feel like I’m going to die when hyung is sad / When hyung is in pain, it hurts more than when I’m in pain.” HI WHO’S EMO.
This is a song about emotional softness and connectivity between men, about a group of men raising their junior. And they raised him to be emotionally connected and filled with empathy. This is the kind of portrayal of masculinity we need but sorely lack in Western media. The song is about something that is distinctly feminine – childrearing and family – and it does not shy away. It leans in. Where a hyper-masculine pop star might opt for a “mom” tattoo, BTS instead provides a poppy synth crooning of a song dedicated to the closeness of this found-family of brothers. It’s a love song from a man to a group of men. God bless.
The nature of social media makes the BTS phenomenon unique. We have unprecedented access and knowledge of their lives and interactions, in a way we would not have had before the internet. And BTS is willing to share a lot. Sure, we can talk about how these videos are curated and edited, but there is also something effortlessly honest about them that people are reacting to. Their openness and honesty is what draws you in. Their humanity keeps you watching.
(Just wait until you’re watching a “BTS can’t stop laughing compilation #4″ at 3am while stuffing your face with popcorn folks. Should I be concerned? Absolutely. Am I doing anything about it? I guess I’m writing this long-ass essay and low key crying, it’s fine).
Being a fan of BTS, then, transcends being a fan of their music. It is also about an investment in their bond and vulnerability. It is supporting a kind of masculinity that is honest, real, accessible, and unabashedly soft. They present a kind of intimacy that I would argue is endangered in the modern age, scarce in Western media, and that fades with adulthood. People are tired of the same old rag of “boys will be boys” and “man up” and “I like beer.” The world is seeking something new from male celebrity.
Perhaps this, in some part, explains their growing popularity.
BTS is forging a new model of masculinity in the media. And watch out, they are taking over the world.
Ya’ll, this post is getting way too long and out of control but I might start a gendering BTS meta series. There is so much more to talk about. And as I said, I haven’t even gotten to the /fashion/!
(p.s. One thousand apologies if the Korean translation and/or use of words is off, I do not speak Korean and am always accepting of corrections and assistance \\ p.p.s. what do ya’ll think? agree? disagree? have something to add? pls comment!!)
