I’ve been tangentially aware of kpop since I was in high school. Two girls in my french class were huge fans of BTS and, I admit, I didn’t understand the hype.
I desperately wanted to be cool and this was the time of music like Black and Yellow being huge across demographics, and they were talking about these porcelain dolls of men and “army selca days1” Asking them to elaborate on BTS at this point in time would not get me the cool points I wanted.
As much as I did like music like what the cool kids were listening to (Get Low featured heavily during PE, 1989 was (and still is) a top 10 album for me) I was, decidedly, not cool. For starters, my number one most texted contact, was my Aunt Liza.
When I wasn’t texting Liza, it’s because my sister and I were physically with her. Going to double-, maybe even triple-header movie days, taking meandering pointless drives into the hills of Malibu, sitting around in our kitchen bothering our mom, talking about the latest episode of Doctor Who, stealing her crossword book (which benefited both of us because she was really supposed to be writing)2.
Liza filled the role of aunt in the way that families can probably only dream of. Equal parts cool older sister who bought things for us even after our parents said no and second mom who taught us how to be our own person and exist as a functioning member of society.
It took several more years and a decision to go to college clear across the country, but I did, eventually, stop trying to be cool. Partly because I made good friends who also were not classically cool3.
But also, in large part, because what Liza had spent quite lichrally 20 years trying to teach me finally sank in.
Being cool sucks.
You don’t get to be your own person if you’re cool. And no one older than 18 really cares about what’s “cool” anyway. You’ll live a more interesting and fulfilling life if you embrace what you truly enjoy, even if that means you’ll be a “little weirdie”. Her words, not mine.
So, finally unburdened by the haunting specter of “coolness” I started exploring other genres of just about everything.
Then in 2021 I listened to The Feels by Twice, and well, here we are now.
I swear in those first couple of years after discovering the parasocial paradise that is kpop I annoyed everyone I knew trying to sneak it into party playlists and music recs.
I was unsuccessful in my proselytizing until New Jeans appeared. And for that I suppose, I am forever indebted to them and their ensuing mess.
Liza, then a big fan of Instagram Reels, sent us an edit of Pedro Pascal set to OMG. The point of sharing it was obvious, who doesn’t love Pedro? But there, in the parentheticals we both loved, was my opening.
(also, how good is this song?????)
That’s all I needed, I jumped, I made a playlist, my ultimate showing of love and determination and sent it to Liza within 48 business hours.
And Liza took the bait, the fool!
We added kpop to our daily discussions of pop culture and what was going on in our lives and the world. We wore down my sister and introduced her to the ultimate little treat community. We gave a crash course to my parents and argued the merits of boy group fandoms and girl group fandoms.
Our folders of reaction images quickly filled with idols, we planned outings and went to concerts when we could. We dreamed of seeing our favorite groups in Korea on a aunt-niece trip for the ages. Everyone humored me and went to the teeny Billlie concert for Christmas.
It sounds a little trivial when written out like this. But I am learning the hard way that it’s the trivial things that stick with you. The day-to-day routine that abruptly disappears.
Liza passed away May 5th, cancer can well and truly go fuck itself.
I have camped myself firmly in the denial stage of grief. Ateez has a comeback soon, I’m sure that I’ll find myself opening our group chat in anticipation of her thoughts on it. Liza made a wonderful playlist if you want to become an atiny and share your thoughts on Golden Hour: part 5:
It worked on me, the final nail in the coffin of my previous girl group purist life.
There’s no one who can replace Liza, my fellow younger sibling, I think I’ll spend the rest of my life forgetting that I can’t talk to her anymore.
But, in the wise words of Red Velvet “hey now, I’ll be ok”
which, tbh still don’t know what a selca is or how it differs from a selfie, but w’ever.
really cannot emphasize the level of uncool delusional i was
sorry, y’all
in my defense, i chose the cover photo 5 years ago when i made this playlist