“Too Old” for Fandom? What I’ve Learned Being a Fan in My 40s

Rediscovering joy, identity, and a life-long love of fan culture

I was six years old when I fell for Davy Jones on reruns of The Monkees. He was funny and kind of goofy, and I remember thinking, Yes. That one. From there, it never really stopped.

Take That in the early ’90s meant recording music videos off MTV onto worn-out VHS tapes. Buying Smash Hits and Bravo magazines from international newsstands. Hunting down merch in the one store in Copenhagen that actually sold it.

Then came Backstreet Boys and *Nsync. Buffy. Geocities websites and fanfic. Lord of the Rings. Pirates of the Caribbean. Supernatural. The MCU. Fandom wasn't a phase—it was the thread that wove through all of it. Through all of me.

For a while, I thought I’d outgrown the boybands. I spent 15 years listening mostly to rap, hip hop, and rock. Fandom still hummed in the background, but it wasn’t front and center anymore.

Then the world shut down.

🎵 When BTS Found Me

In the stillness of 2020, I stumbled across BTS.
(I wrote more about that in my first post, but the short version? It started as curiosity and became a full emotional ambush.)

The colors. The choreography. The vulnerability. I wasn’t just enjoying their music—I was reconnecting with a part of myself I hadn’t realized I’d left behind. Not the part that screams at concerts (though, sure, that too), but the part that feels things fully. That lets joy take up space.

That Invisible Feeling: “Should I Be Doing This?”

A digital illustration of a woman sitting at her desk at night, resting her chin on her hand as she watches a K-pop performance on her laptop. The room is dimly lit with a purple and blue glow. On the wall behind her is a vibrant BIGBANG-inspired poster labeled "BOOMSHAKALAKA," featuring five stylized male figures in bold outfits. A pair of headphones and a cup sit on the desk. The woman looks contemplative, as if caught between joy and self-doubt.

I’ve had that thought—Should I be doing this at my age?—more times than I can count. Especially when I was younger, when the world seemed to whisper that there’s an expiration date on joy. On loving things deeply. On feeling things loudly.

It didn’t always come from direct judgment. More often, it was the tone people use when talking about “fangirls”—like we’re silly. Unreal. Embarrassing. I’ve had family members make snide remarks about BTS or K-pop. You can hear the condescension even when they’re trying to be subtle.

And let’s be honest: a lot of it is rooted in misogyny. In the idea that anything loved by girls or women—boybands, pop, fandom itself—can’t possibly be serious or worthy of respect.

But discovering BTS changed that for me.

I stopped caring about the rules. About who thinks what.
It hurts no one. It brings me joy. That’s enough.

Now, when I hear someone mocking fangirls or making lazy jokes about K-pop, I don’t get embarrassed—I feel a little sorry for them. Because if you’re willing to miss out on something this joyful just to stay aligned with what the world taught you to mock… that’s on you.

What They Don’t Tell You: The Joy of Fangirling in Your 40s

A cheerful digital illustration of a woman in her 40s dancing joyfully in a cozy, warmly lit living room. She wears a BTS T-shirt and holds a glowing BTS lightstick (ARMY Bomb). Behind her are posters of BTS and BIGBANG on the wall, and a shelf filled with K-pop albums labeled BTS, EXO, BTOB, and GOT7. She smiles with her eyes closed, arms in the air, radiating pure fangirl joy.

Here’s the secret: fangirling in your 40s is powerful.

You stop apologizing. You stop shrinking. You stop asking for permission to love the things you love.

In my 20s and 30s, I still downplayed it—at least a little. But now? I’m proudly out. I wear the shirts. I talk about it on Twitch. I write about it here. I don’t wait for an excuse to love something out loud.

That change didn’t just come from aging. It came from BTS—through their music, their honesty, their message.
Love Yourself. Speak Yourself. It’s more than a slogan. It’s a lifestyle.

Which is why it stung when James Corden joked that BTS fans were just “15-year-old girls.”
Until then, many of us saw him as an ally. But that one joke made it clear: he was never really in it for us. Just the clout.

That moment wasn’t just a betrayal—it was a reminder. The entertainment industry still refuses to take BTS—and by extension, their fans—seriously. Why? Misogyny. Prejudice. Sometimes racism.

But joy doesn’t need permission. And fangirling at 40? That’s not just valid. It’s revolutionary.

🕊️ What Fandom Preserved

A warm-toned digital illustration of a woman in her 40s with glasses and a cozy orange sweater, drawing in a sketchbook labeled “Dystopian Fiction” at a sunlit desk. A laptop beside her displays a document titled “BIGBANG fanfic.” Behind her is a BIGBANG poster on the wall, a leafy plant on the windowsill, and a sticky note on the desk reading “Create with joy.” The scene captures quiet creativity and the enduring inspiration fandom brings.

More than anything, fandom has protected and preserved the child in me.

Not the childish part—but the childlike part. The one who loves to discover. To create. To feel joy in full color.

It’s helped me find my way back to writing—after years of silence.
It’s inspired me to draw again. Paint again. Make something again.

It reminds me that joy is allowed. That creativity doesn’t need an audience. That loving something deeply is reason enough.

If that makes me a fangirl in her 40s, good.
Because joy isn’t a phase. And there’s no age limit on loving what lights you up.

✍️ Still proudly fangirling in your 30s, 40s, or beyond?
I’d love to know—what has fandom preserved in you?
Your creativity? Your joy? Your spark?

💌 Share your story in the comments, or stick around for more posts about music, memory, and the quiet magic of loving things deeply.
There’s no age limit on joy—and you’re more than welcome here.

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