Superfans haven’t traditionally had the best PR. Between unflattering representations in songs like Eminem’s Millennium superhit, “Stan” (which birthed the term “stan/stanning”), Donald Glover’s chilling indictment of Beyoncé’s overzealous fandom in the 2023 thriller series Swarm, and countless examples of stalkers targeting the objects of their obsessions, celebrity fanaticism isn’t always the best look.
But what about the unique benefits we do bring to society when we don’t take things too far? Isn’t there something to be said about the positive aspects of loving, truly loving, a public figure, hobby or community?
The V&A thinks so. In a bid to strengthen its collections and exhibitions on “specific cultural niches”, it is seeking a Taylor Swift superfan adviser – or “Swiftie” – to provide expertise on the singer, specifically the friendship bracelets fans often exchange at her concerts. The museum is also looking at other communities, such as Croc enthusiasts (yes, really), tufting hobbyists, and people who love the art of Drag.
V&A director Tristram Hunt said: “These new advisory roles will help us celebrate and discover more about the enormous, and often surprising, creative diversity on offer at the V&A, as well as helping us to learn more about the design stories that are relevant to our audiences today.”
Well, well, well. It appears we have a lot more to offer than fear and ridicule, as those who look down on people who admire, or even idolise public figures, often suggest. I say “we”, because I have been, particularly in my twenties, a card-carrying superfan of many things – Beyoncé in particular, though I’ve calmed down somewhat as I’ve aged. At the height of my stanning, I’ve somewhat embarrassingly got into heated debates online with people who question her talent, queued for 10 hours for a chance to stand in the front row at her concerts and purchased over-priced merch just for a semblance of belonging to something bigger than myself.
I don’t do any of that anymore. But I do think there’s something rather beautiful about the sense of community that belonging to groups like these often brings.
I’m far from a Swiftie – in fact, something about Swift and her particular brand of bubblegum, precious, All-American, feminist-lite pop makes me feel quite uncomfortable – but the joy I’ve seen on her fans’ faces when they congregate is genuinely lovely at times. As vapid as it appears to me, her messaging, music and happy-go-lucky live shows give people a sense of empowerment, joy and community. And the innovation and camaraderie that goes into and surrounds some of those aforementioned bracelets is impressive.
I’ve seen the same with the Beyhive (the nickname for Beyoncé fans). When I’ve spoken to some in the past, I’ve found it uplifting to listen to the sense of inspiration she brings to people who enjoy her work.
“She makes me want to work harder. My screensaver on my Mac is an amazing picture of Beyoncé, because I know, that as soon as I lift it up, I’ll be like, OK, I’m ready,” Channel 4 news reporter Ria Chaterjee once said to me.
There’s an ugly side to all of this, of course. Nicki Minaj stans – the Barbz – for example, are notorious for engaging in malicious and unrelenting attacks (sometimes resulting in doxxing, or, recently, targeting the grave of rival rapper Megan Thee Stallion’s late mother) on anyone who dares speak ill of the superstar.
But for the most part, it’s time more institutions like the V&A afforded fans a bit more credit. Some are: there are academic courses dedicated to fandoms and cult media (including at Harvard, which has launched a course on Swift fan culture); lectures on why fandom matters; journals on fan and audience studies.
It’s indisputable at this point: there’s more to many of us than uncritical, unhealthy fanaticism. We’re sleuths, event-planners, social media experts, activists, friends and budding historians. And it’s time to put some respect on our names.
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