Throughout my adolescence, I prided myself on never giving into whatever current phenomenon was taking over the lives of tweens and teenage girls. When the Jonas Brothers pandemonium swept the halls of my middle school with torn-out pages of Tiger Beat covering the insides of girls’ lockers, I rolled my eyes. When Justin Bieber came onto the scene, I laughed at Beliebers, even mocked them. It was inconceivable to me that a new album or simply scoring concert tickets could elicit such raw, genuine emotion from someone to the point that they were in tears. Being the pretentious, judgmental youth that I was I thought I was above all of that, until one fateful day that I now realize, without exaggerating in the least, changed my life.
In the fall of 2011, my senior year of high school, I happened to click on a recommended video on YouTube called “One Direction – What Makes You Beautiful.” With a furrowed brow, I watched, unsure how to feel. Before me were five ridiculously attractive boys running around in coordinating outfits with perfect hair singing on a beach and the song was actually really catchy. It was absolutely amazing. When the video ended, I found myself letting out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding in, and tentatively clicking the replay button again and again. I watched other videos of them goofing off in interviews and displaying genuine friendship, and even to someone like me who thought I was immune to any fads of the teen pop world, I found them irresistible. I was Alice, unwittingly falling into the rabbit hole with no chance of escaping her Wonderland of delicious accents and stupid charm.
Here I was, embarrassed for liking a boy band at the ripe old age of 17. I couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask my parents for concert tickets, and I felt discouraged when my friends wrote them off. Why would they judge One Direction without even hearing their music? Why were they so opposed to something just because the target audience was young, teenage girls? And it dawned on me: That was me, just a few, short months ago.
Teenage fangirls rule pop culture. David Bowie famously referred to them as “the salt of the earth.” They are smart, capable, passionate and certainly able to love something for more than its superficial value. I came to realize that especially in the music world, the pop heartthrobs they admire are written off as “gay” (derogatorily), “untalented” or seen as having no substance. That was, unless a male admitted that maybe they don’t completely suck, and maybe one of their songs is “actually pretty good.” I was a part of the problem and felt gross for perpetuating it as long as I had.
Now 21 and in my senior year of college, I tell everyone without shame that I’m a fan of One Direction. Yes, they are gorgeous, but I love their genuinely good music that only gets better through the years. I admire their friendship, their charitable endeavors and the respect they have for their fans. I’ve had some of the happiest moments of my life dancing at their concerts with my friends or screaming at the top of my lungs to their music in the car with the windows down. If something makes you happy, don’t let anyone embarrass you or make you feel like it should be a secret “guilty pleasure.” Own it, embrace it, and tell them to get lost.
