Why I am Dope Old ARMY

Fri(end)s by V has been playing on loop since 5:30 am on a Friday in my home. My usually patient husband is on the verge of losing it when he gives in and starts humming along.

“Take a video of me vibing to this song.” I say.

I am dancing and making pasta while imagining him taking a video of my ample rear moving to the rather hypnotic beat of this just released single by V of BTS. I turn around to see him head bent, working on his scrum email.

Disappointed, I take a selfie video to upload on tiktok later.

A few days earlier, I purchased three tickets to Suga: Road to DDay movie at an IMAX a little over 20 miles from home. I then promptly reached out to my sole Korean friend to find out if she would be at the specific show I had tickets to. To put this in context, I am not a movie goer. The last movie I saw in the theaters was over a year ago.

I am 48 with greying hair and I am obese. I am not the image that comes to mind when you imagine a kpop stan. I have three daughters. Two teens and one tween and, I am the only one obsessed with K-Pop in the house, which is incongruous given the make-up and background of our family. I was born and raised in Tamil Nadu. In my teens, I woke up to Suprabatham a devotional morning prayer to the Hindu God Vishnu playing the background.

When I got my first Walkman in 1998, I listened to Backstreet Boys, Michael Learns to Rock and, Savage Garden. For twenty years pop music disappeared from my life only to make an appearance in the last one year in the form of kpop.

This started mid 2023 when my foray into Korean dramas eventually led me to K-pop and BTS in specific. I started from learning the names of the boys in the band and went deep down the rabbit hole that is archival content on the BangtanTV YouTube channel. In a space of over a year, cursory interest has now become a fixation. I start and end my days with BTS music. My social media feeds are filled with memes and reels that feature BTS and other Korean boy bands. I find joy in liking, sharing and, commenting on these reels and stories. I also share them over direct messages with like minded friends.

In particularly self-aware moments, I lament the fact that we, middle aged women are thirsting over boys old enough to be our children. These thoughts, though are fleeting, replaced with cheeky repartees that make me smile until my cheeks hurt.

A year ago, I turned to Korean dramas as an escape from the world around me. Since 2016, I have been consumed by politics here in America, my adopted home land. With every school shooting, I wrote impassioned pleas on my social media and blog. With every book ban and ludicrous antics at our local school board, I reached out to the local community and wrote postcards reminding people to vote. With every mid-term and local election, I put myself out there on WhatsApp groups and social media timelines exhorting people around me to look up and be aware of what is happening around them. It fell on mostly deaf years.

The overturning of Roe V Wade filled me with existential dread. My body hurt from holding in all the anxiety I had accumulated over the years like rings on an old tree. I despaired for me and my children. The writing was on the wall. It was abortion first, next contraceptives and, then would come LGBTQIA+ rights.

I snapped. I disengaged. I disconnected. I disappeared.

I found solace in an alien language and an alien culture. I found escapism on my tiny laptop screen. All the energies I had devoted to the world around me now funneled itself into mimicking the Korean spoken on screen.

“Wae, Mwo, Ottuke, Eodiya…”

I replaced English words with Korean words when speaking to my family.

“Saranghae” I called out when my children left for school each morning. I wore tee shirts that read “Kpop all day, Kdrama all night” or “The only drama I need in my life is Korean.” I flaunted my new found love everywhere much to the amusement of a few and disgust of a whole lot more. I found my little community online. We shared recommendations on shows to watch. We traded spreadsheets filled with dramas and review notes. We made plans to fly to South Korea when our beloved Bangtan boys would be back from the military. We gifted each other skin care, mugs and, blankets with our idols on them. We lived in an alternate world where candy fluff clouds of happiness abounds.

BTS saved me, I tell people who care to ask. They found me when I was near depression, offering me a hand out of the darkness. They offered their goofy, vulnerable selves – coming online, folding laundry, cooking, singing, falling asleep (looking at you, Jungkook) and, offering advice like a friend. “ARMY, we love you,” they proclaimed and I believed it. I woke up each morning hoping for a Weverse live notification. I mourned with the rest of the ARMY worldwide when our beloved Bangtan boys enlisted in the military. I pray for them when I do remember to pray. They are part of my family the way my children and husband are. I stream their music non stop but especially on days when something new is released, like today.

Love yourself they said and I did, unquestioningly. I embraced myself warts and all. I sing and dance each day. In the process of being a dope old ARMY, I have found the parts of myself I had lost in my twenties. I found love, the sweet, undemanding kind. I found happiness that was not dependent on people and things around me. I found understanding in foreign lyrics I did not quite comprehend. I found community in a group of women scattered worldwide, who like me, found their home in BTS. I found a way to shake off the cynicism that had taken hold of me and look at the world around me with new eyes.

I may not be able to bring about safe gun ownership or protect bodily autonomy but, I can find joy wherever I am. When I am healed inside and ready to take on the world again, I will write more postcards, show up at school board meetings, exhort people to vote and, run for office someday.

Now though, all I need is my phone and my Airpods and I am transported to a world where all is well.

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