Being a Fan in Japan = Changed Perspectives

I recently moved to Japan six months ago. For the past half year, my adventure in Japan has been a roller coaster of emotions; from the highs of fandom to the lows of real life. Though, let’s not drag this post down with personal nonsense and talk more about the one thing this blog is about: Fandom.

Fortunately for me, I was able to enjoy my bias’ 8th anniversary celebrations. The moment the plane landed in Japan, I was bombarded with the faces of Kanjani8. I remember stumbling into a combini and spending nearly 1500円 on magazines and 1000円 on shop photos without even realizing that I had shipped my suitcases to my apartment well in advance. I remember running to the post office once I got my cell phone and applying for the fanclub, soon after rushing to theaters to catch the latest Eight Rangers movie, and finalizing my jet-lagged week with 8sai.

Being a fan of one of the most accessible idol units in the country is a recipe for financial disaster. When its an anniversary, it’s even worst — concerts, magazines, photobooks, albums, CDs, etc. Money seems to magically disappear into a vacuum of rabid, obsessive consumerism without even realizing it. Then you’re left with just fleeting memories and anticipations that maybe that experience will be released on a DVD.

But what makes this experience even more unique is that you’re not the average fan. When you’re in this country, the first thing they expect to fall from your lips is anime, manga, and video games. Not once do they expect you to stan a Johnny, let alone know who and what they are. Going to concerts and fan events makes this more obvious; you stand out like a sore thumb and get attention that you may or may not want.

Also, realizing that no matter how long you may have been a fan, coming to this country means you have to start all over again. There’s certain things that Japanese fans do that are different than Western fans. Even during concerts, there’s calls and responses that are otherwise unknown that leave you feeling a bit singled out. You’re basically stepping into a new fandom and have to relearn everything. Five years, six years, seven, eight, nine… a decade. It doesn’t matter once you come to Japan.

It’s not the end of the world. Being apart of the fandom experience in Japan brings things to a full circle. You’re now a voice that counts and can be heard. You now exist — you’re more than a bunch of kilobytes on the internet. Nothing can be compared to having someone from your bias group acknowledge you in a sea of screaming fans because, in some way, they appreciate the fact that they’ve managed to reach to people beyond the borders of their own country.

And at the end of it all, when your bias tells you all to hold hands and you do that final closing, it doesn’t matter who or what you are. You’re now a fan, like everyone else. That feeling is probably the best feeling in the world. Nothing can ever replace that feeling.