From a Cracked Vessel to a Treasure Trove: My Journey as an ARMY
And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.
When The Beatles put cosmic exchange in a song, Paul McCartney had a bit to say about the transactional nature of the most potent feeling that has birthed civilizations and drowned empires. Love is a two-way street. It is what we create, not something we chance upon.
My first brush with BTS was in 2016, when I stumbled upon the Blood, Sweat & Tears MV, a gem in their oeuvre. But I really found them, or they found me, not when I wanted but when I needed them.
이 모든 건 우연이 아니니까
(Because all this is not a coincidence)
January 2018. A winter like any other. Just another phase in the earth’s revolution. But the coldest one in mine. The only word I could comprehend from the music trickling from a classmate’s headphones was the resounding 보고싶다. Putting my faith in technological advancement, I searched it up on Youtube and Spring Day came as the top result. It was a free fall from there, and not once did I hesitate.
Spring Day allowed me to mourn when I didn’t even realize I had lost something. And I cried like I hadn’t in nearly a year. The tears came first, the understanding later.
BTS, the Bulletproof Boy Scouts, as it turned out, had a lot to teach me about living beyond merely existing. I learned that being ‘bulletproof’ doesn’t mean not ever getting hurt, but rising again despite it. And just like that, stepping over my own foot mimicking choreographies and learning a whole new language, I was reevaluating definitions and having a second go at life.
Jung Kook, the youngest of the group, talked about being a manifestation of the characters of the other members coming together, how the members filled him in one by one. I found the sentiment resonating with me because when I felt emptied out, a vacuum existence that allowed for no growth, it was this group of seven that made me a believer. What my teenage self would have mourned as the end of the world, was a defeatist outlook that had me convinced I was rendered incapable of soaking in any good from the world and left with nothing to give. I was running away, snapping relationships like old elastic bands, stuck in a Beckettian waiting for a miracle, for an external stimulus, for myself.
An immersive fandom experience offers an escape and I found my haven in Bangtan Bombs, BTS Run episodes and funny moments compilations on days my mind was too foggy to heed any sage advice. And the fog lifted, slowly but surely. The ice thawed and the light trickled in. What began as an escape, soon became a vital support system and then a medium.
What is special about fixing pots and pans, asked Tinker Bell. I found the answer years later, in the centuries-old Japanese art honed with time and love, kintsugi, that embraces scars and highlights crevices by using precious metals to repair broken utensils. Mending is a sacred skill, an art that the South Korean septet has mastered through their music and dedication. The goal is not a chimera of elusive perfection, but of wearing the lines that narrate the story of your existence and experience both like armour and a medal.
BTS does not shy away from confronting the shadows. Throughout their meteoric rise to stardom, they’ve maintained intimate contact with their immensely human, inclined to make mistakes and fall but equally persistent to learn from them and continue to grow, selves.
Don’t preach; Do
“If we helped your dream and your life a bit with our existence, our music, our performances, our pictures or videos, even if it’s not big, if we could reduce your pain from 100 to 99, 98 or 97 that makes our existence worthy.”
When the group’s leader, RM, spoke these words, beseeched us to ‘use’ him to love ourselves, there was no overt didacticism but a simple invite to join them on their journey as they strive to find their own happiness. Here were seven young men literally breaking themselves to ensure the audience got their money, time and effort’s worth, seven guys with big dreams and hearts beating fiercely, with arms so big they embraced millions of fans scattered all around the globe.
I had been told to not cry for help unless I was drowning, not taking into account that underwater, there’s trouble breathing, forget speaking out. With Bangtan, I learned that all my problems, my caprices, no matter how trifling in comparison, were valid in their own right.
Under the shared blanket of empathy, I joined hands with millions of ARMY, a big chunk of whom are young women (though the mainstream media still has a penchant to reduce the varied demographic to ‘screaming little girls’) like myself who have found a purpose and energy being part of the fandom. This synergy between the artists and the fans took global effect and somewhere along fighting for BTS’ due representation and recognition, for just systems and a brighter tomorrow, I started fighting for myself. By raising my voice for causes pertaining to nature, governance, equity, education, etc., I learned to speak for myself.
By loving BTS and this amazing fandom that teaches me something new every day (be it making high-quality GIFs or dealing with a panic attack), I began walking down the route of loving myself. Self-love is less a destination and more a process, an ongoing journey. There is no smooth sailing but a steady building of confidence through each crest and trough.
Sometimes, BTS is a quick fix, the plethora of content a superglue to my slackening grip, their discography a handy bandaid on my frustrations at being stuck in a long ride in a bus with too little leg space. Other times, BTS is my rock, the zephyr that reminds me that spring is near.
From “Today, we fight” (Not Today) to “It’s alright to stop… It’s alright to not have a dream” (Paradise), there is a healthy balance in the group’s philosophy, an understanding of chasing your dreams but pacing out strategically, without overexerting yourself. From imploring to outrun the darkness in an incessant chorus of “Run, run, run” (Run) to an affirmation to “believe your galaxy” (Magic Shop), BTS’s artistic concerns have matured with them, and there’s a song for every mood, every situation.
The forgotten art of gestures
It took me a while to understand Jin’s adorkable gestures at the ending ment for every concert, the hearts BTS displayed (literally on their sleeves, among other places) on the culminating performance of their album promotions on music shows, the letters the members interchanged during Bon Voyage, V winning the flamingo for j-hope, leaving space out for ARMY during their hug at the end of BangBangCon. In an isolated existence, it is incredibly easy to take things and people for granted or for messages to get lost in translation. Gestures like the aforementioned, then, symbolic or straightforward, are an invaluable means of communication.
In 2019, when I, at the brink of graduating from college, was consumed by doubt, BTS released Boy with Luv, the Korean title of which translates into ‘a poem for small things.’ This ‘love letter for ARMY’ packed in an upbeat tune and vibrant pink hues was the warm hope I didn’t know I needed.
Magic doesn’t mandate a spell
My anxiety often presents itself in a vigorous shaking of my limbs at the most inconvenient of times, inducing laughter. Sometimes I sob so hard I forget why I began crying in the first place- stupid, I’m told. But then Jimin’s sweet voice lingers, asking me to remember that there’s a person in Seoul who understands.
Am I delusional that I think a celebrity whom I’ve never met, thousands of miles away, cares about me, they ask. What is lost on them is that that’s part of the magic, that the conduit of my motivation and happiness doesn’t depend on physical contact. That this metaphysical exchange is what has sparked this tectonic shift from a dystopian pessimism to an indefatigable spirit.
You give me the best of me,
So you’ll give you the best of you.
The guys aren’t embarrassed about showing vulnerability and letting their emotions flow freely. Both BTS and their label BigHit promote an ethos conducive to mental well-being, smashing stereotypes and the stigma attached to such candid self-expression and acknowledgment.
My passage to self-actualization alongside Bangtan can be outlined as threefold: identifying my strengths while being aware that there are no set markers of self-worth; acceptance of yesterday’s me- far from infallible, but still me; a “reaching in” to the inherent fountain of inspiration rather than the usual reaching out.
You never walk alone
The greatest of human fears, I’ve come to realize, have a lot to do with loneliness and oblivion. They run deeper than the pits of hell and often have us teetering at the edge. Why am I here? Why am I? Why?
When reasons pulverize, there’s love. When there isn’t enough statistical proof, there’s a leap of faith.
The introvert in me had always pulled me back from breaking the ice, while the cynic in me had made me shun social interaction altogether. I often felt like the most disposable person in the room, the chipped vessel that had no use. Casually fangirling over a boyband led to conversations that became my first step- realizing I wasn’t the only one haunted by such thoughts. And that led to more conversations- therapeutic talking.
BTS X ARMY is a revolution of love. A community varied like a patchwork quilt and beautiful because of the differences. ARMYs run campaigns, create awareness, engage in informative discourses and donate liberally. Via this fandom, I’ve procured a chance to be proactive in change-making, to be a participant in a promise for better posterity.
Tinctured with gold, my veins bleed purple. BTS has given me courage, helped me find the fire within myself and appreciate the sunshine others bring into my life.
The most beautiful moment in life doesn’t have to be a solitary, hand-picked pocket of linear time. It can be an infinity (or multiple) you hug to your heart, a legacy of love.
We are not seven with you.
(P.S. The BTS song quotes, in order of their appearance in the article, are from: DNA, Magic Shop, We are Bulletproof: Eternal)
