I first fell into K-Pop entirely by accident. I was scrolling through random music videos when BTS’s debut popped up. Something clicked, the energy, the choreography, the lyrics (yes! I translated them). Before I knew it, I was deep down the rabbit hole: learning fan chants, obsessing over releases, and passionately debating online with fellow stans. A couple of years ago, my algorithm decided to prank me. Suddenly, F1 highlights, overtakes, pit stops, slow-motion crashes appeared on my feed, thanks to some of my friends who are into the sport.
Curiosity became an obsession. Weekdays were for grooving to K-Pop videos; weekends were reserved for F1 watch parties, fingers crossed for Carlos Sainz to finally make it to the podium. And then it hit me: the fan rituals, the adrenaline, the sleepless nights fueled by devotion—they were identical. And this isn’t just about F1 or K-Pop.
Look at men with their favourite football clubs proudly plastered in their bios, live-tweeting every match, dissecting every goal, and arguing endlessly about transfers. Football, cricket, basketball, they all follow the same rules of engagement. Music or motors, pitch or podium, the mechanics of fandom are the same.
Fandoms in Action: The Internet is the Stadium
Step into any fandom online, K-Pop or sports—and patterns emerge like clockwork. Fans live-tweet victories, mourn defeats, create memes, fanedits, and debate endlessly over every perceived slight. Fantasy leagues in sports are basically streaming wars in disguise. Polls, awards, rankings, they’re contested with identical passion. Fan accounts dissect every performance, every race, every decision.
Both communities create languages, codes, inside jokes, and rituals. Discord servers, X threads, fan theories—they all exist across the board. The behaviour isn’t just similar; it’s mirror-image identical. And yet, only one fandom is socially celebrated. The other? Cringe. And yes, the cringe almost always comes with a side of misogyny. For K-Pop fans, the worst “violence” is a flood of angry comments online. For football fanboys, it can involve flares, fists, and broken stadium seats. But more on that later.
Anti-Boy Band Clan: When Fandom Faces Gender Bias
Remember the 2010s, when One Direction dominated charts? Despite undeniable talent, their music, and that of Justin Bieber, Big Time Rush, and now BTS, was constantly ridiculed. Why? Their fans are teenage girls and women. Somehow, male fragility interprets fangirling as a threat. These artists are dismissed as “inferior,” their appearances mocked for not fitting a stereotypical alpha-male mould.
BTS, Grammy-nominated and holding multiple Billboard records, still faces this: fans are labeled “unemployed teenage girls.” Meanwhile, men can spend hours obsessively dissecting football stats or F1 telemetry and are celebrated as “passionate” or “dedicated.” The same energy, entirely different reception.
Female sports fans experience this bias too. Mention that you love F1, and suddenly people assume you’re there for the eye candy rather than the adrenaline. You will be on an episode of ‘Grill The Grid’ show against your will. Did you see Max lift the winning trophy at Baku? Pure joy—but female fans aren’t allowed to just love the sport. Men assume we’re there to swoon over drivers. Wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and being asked to name three songs on the spot? That’s what it feels like to be a woman in male-dominated fandom spaces.
It’s exhausting, honestly. Women are expected to prove their legitimacy constantly, as if passion alone isn’t enough. And yet, the second men cheer for a team, break things in a stadium, or yell at a referee online, they’re called “passionate.”
Toxic Fans: Keyboard Warriors vs. Stadium Hooligans
Let’s be real: toxicity exists on both sides. Football fanboys can be terrifying. Real-life fights break out, stadiums erupt into chaos, flares are thrown, rival chants escalate into violence. Remember the Champions League brawls where fans stormed each other over a bad call? That’s not a display of passion, make it simple and call it aggression, sometimes illegal, sometimes life-threatening. Ask any sports journalist, and they’ll tell you: football hooliganism is a global phenomenon.
K-Pop fans have their toxic moments too, fandom wars, obsessive streaming campaigns, and relentless shipping debates—but the worst-case scenario is online trolling or meme warfare. No arrests, no hospital visits, just threads filled with caps-lock rage. Keyboard clashes versus real fists; you see the difference. Yet society treats the former with an indulgent “oh, boys will be boys” shrug and the latter with mockery: “Girls taking their fandom too seriously!”
Football fanboys often wear this toxic masculinity like a badge of honour. They fight over teams, hurl abuse at referees, and sometimes even threaten journalists. Meanwhile, women fighting for an idol’s relevance on Instagram get called irrational, obsessive, or worse—“unemployed.” One side literally throws punches, the other side throws hashtags. And men wonder why women hesitate before showing their excitement in public.
The Idol Double Standard
Here’s the kicker: the emotional highs and lows are identical across fandoms. Men losing their minds over a football match is no different from K-Pop fans despairing when their favourite idol loses an award. Whether it’s a stadium or a concert hall, it’s the same human experience.
And yet, society applauds only one side. Male sports fans? “Passionate.” Female music fans? “Obsessed.” Female sports fans? “Distracted by eye candy.” It’s the same behaviour, but gender dictates social value. The double standard extends beyond fans to the subjects themselves. Sports stars are praised for aggression, risk-taking, and swagger. K-Pop idols displaying vulnerability, kindness, or softness? Mocked or scrutinised. Fans defending their idols are labelled obsessive; sports fans defending their teams are lauded.
The Verdict: Twins in Disguise
After sort of living in both worlds, it’s crystal clear: K-Pop and sports fandoms are cut from the same cloth. The rituals, devotion, and emotional investment are identical. Passion doesn’t discriminate between microphones and steering wheels, concert halls and stadiums. Society’s perception, however, does. One fandom is celebrated; the other trivialised. Female fans, whether cheering for BTS or Charles Leclerc—navigate ridicule, policing, and assumptions that their enthusiasm is “less than.” Male fans can scream, fight, and throw flares, and society calls it “dedication.”
Fandom culture is human, communal, emotional, obsessive, and joyous. It doesn’t care about gender. But men? They still play fun police, policing girlhood online and offline, like sir get a life.
Also read:
From BTS To Barbie, Here's Why Men Love Hating On The Things Women Enjoy
From F1 To Cricket, Why Do Most Men Look Down On Female Sports Fans?
Forget The Lonely Men Epidemic—The Performative Male Era Is Here, And We Need To Talk (And Run)