Bearded Gentlemen Music has never shied away from talking about fandoms. Some of the most-clicked and commented-upon articles in the site’s history have either taken direct aim at certain fan cultures or discussed how the overall concept fandom has impacted our 21st-century media landscape.
I’m not here to re-litigate those arguments, mostly because I think it’s OK to be a fan and feel passionate about how much you like something. Besides, fandoms have always existed. People chased Franz Liszt across Europe in the 19th century because they loved his music so much.
But, as Aaron Cooper discusses so openly in his 2018 article, it’s the entrance of open toxicity and abject negativity that has given current fandom its bad name. Whether you call it “stan” culture, fanaticism, or simply seeking out and attacking people who don’t adhere to your specific opinions about their treasured media property, it’s obvious the concept of fandom has turned a dark and ugly corner.
This is where Hannah Ewens enters the mix.
In her compassionate and clear-eyed book entitled Fangirls: Scenes from Modern Music Culture (from University of Texas Press), she examines several woman-dominated fandoms with fairness, openness, and profound resonance. Ewens refuses to look for a single voice or concrete answer. By pursuing diversity of thought and expression, she gives the reader an insider’s look into the shared experience of being a fan from a woman’s perspective.
The two epigraphs that open the book lay a strong foundation for this examination. First up is the classic maxim from Jessica Hopper:
“Suggestion: replace the word ‘fan girl’ with ‘expert’ and see what happens.”
Second is this insightful comment from noted fan scholar Camille Bacon-Smith:
“Look what I found! A conceptual space where women can come together and create – to investigate new forms for their art and for their living outside the restrictive boundaries men have placed upon their public behavior! Not a time or a place, but a state of being.”
Both serve as guide markers for the book’s project. By specifically focusing upon the lived fan experiences of women music fans, Ewens gives their voices the power and influence they have long been due.
Each chapter of Fangirls presents the story of a different fandom, complete with thoughtful interviews, sublime questions, and a heartfelt interest in simply letting people be heard as both women and fans. Moreover, the book takes specific pains to not go looking for trouble, even when diving headlong into fandoms with somewhat notorious reputations – Directioners and the BeyHive.
Let’s face it: Women, people of color, queer people, and other marginalized groups have had their voices silenced for millennia. However, when they get the opportunity to defend their favorite artists, they’re seen as difficult. Mainly because they don’t fit any of the old boxes and molds.
The author gives space and time to fans who typically get the short shrift in pop culture and music media.
The first chapter about One Direction kicks off the book with a bang. By actively breaking open the one-sided media narrative about fandom, Ewens gives the reader an introduction into the history of media and the ugly presentation of “fangirl” we’re conditioned to. One of melodrama and over-reaction on behalf of the focus of their affection. To whit: Teenaged women screaming at the arrival of The Beatles were deemed “hysterical,” whereas dudes painting themselves up and getting apoplectic about their favorite sports franchise are just “passionate.”
After a delightful chapter about the culture of queueing in many fandoms, we then read about My Chemical Romance and ‘00s emo. It directly confronts misogynistic male rock fans and overreacting conservative parents by discussing how fans truly connected with the music and each other because of the band’s openness about their own mental health.
I found much to chew on in the chapter about Lady Gaga. Especially the concepts of “artists as objects” and the “lived and experienced body.”
Specifically, fans, artists, and surrounding media circus of high-profile stars can easily blur the lines between reality, imagination, and personality. Pete Wentz and Fall Out Boy then serve as a lens for the sexualization of the male body, complete with references to Liszt, Elvis, and the Beatles. The lens is then inverted by talking to Halsey fans about how her own public coming out process has brought people together in solidarity as they come out in their own lives.
The BeyHive chapter is completely fascinating, as it wends its way through topics like information, access, intimacy, representation, marketing, identity, and prestige. Make no mistake; committed fans of Beyonce know exactly what they are doing as they support their Queen, as she communicates on her terms and no one else’s. Beyonce is using her power as a black woman to control her own narrative, and that empowers her fanbase.
These intentional influencers are juxtaposed with the reverent style of Japanese fandom. It’s fascinating to learn how teenaged women in that culture have typically approached fandom as collecting, somehow both shared and private. The author then shows how the approach gets turned on its head when those women become fans of Western artists like Harry Styles.
Public perception returns to the fore with an intense discussion about the Manchester bombing at an Ariana Grande concert in 2018. It’s a gripping read speaking volumes to pain, loss, the political power of women music fans, and how music can be a guide to rebirth. The book then delves into grief and loss as experienced by fans by chatting with Amy Winehouse acolytes and how they abhor the ways her problems with substance abuse have been treated by the media.
The book comes to a close with a powerhouse chapter about the maturing fangirl.
Using Courtney Love as her avatar, Ewens speaks directly to ageism and sexism in rock media. The stories of Love’s fans are compared and contrasted with Love’s own mythology. Specific emphasis is given to the idea of “Mom as Fan” women who have carved out their own space for their own fandom, instead of merely liking whatever their boyfriend or husband likes. It’s a rollicking ode to feminism, strength, and never forgetting to use your own voice.
Fangirls is an absolute joy to read. Hannah Ewens takes special pains to reject and counter the established narratives about women fans. She doesn’t set up her interview subjects as the be-all, end-all representations of a given artist’s fans, much less fandom in general. Instead, she allows fans to give answers that contradict each other, offering up complexity and nuance, without whitewashing.