How Being a Fangirl Changed My Life

You can take the girl out of the fandom, but not the fandom out of the girl.

By Nicole Lipner

Photo by Scarlett Capellan

In middle school, overwhelmed by the pandemic and desperate for a creative outlet, I took inspiration from Instagram accounts I lurked on and created my own Grey's Anatomy fan page. Throughout the years, my account blew up; I started getting recognized by actors, official teams sent me merch, and I fell deep into the fandom. More traction gave me more motivation, and more motivation led to more traction. I was obsessed, in the best way, and discovered my passion for media. Running that account truly changed the trajectory of my life.

"Fangirl" is a broad term, from Swifties to Potterheads, and we generally get a pretty bad rep. But is fandom culture really as cringe as the media makes it out to be?

Whether they're into Tumblr manga, Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, or Grey's Anatomy edits, young people often face bullying because of their "nerdy" interests. According to a Pew Research study, about half of U.S. teens face cyberbullying, racism, or homophobia because of their online presence.

I was deeply afraid of this. My highly successful fan page, the same one I had so much loyalty and love for, that taught me everything I know about media, and the one through which I met some of my closest friends at the time, was something I kept a secret for over five years.

I wish I hadn't. I wish I had shared what being a fangirl taught me while I was still deep in it, but instead I will impart my wisdom to you.

Fandom culture taught me social media, graphic design, and video editing skills.

Fandom culture taught me how to interact with strangers as if they were already my friends and how to speak to adults in a professional setting (still, the single greatest moment of my life was being interviewed by InStyle Magazine).

It taught me how to navigate the internet, maintain an online presence, and plan ahead.

It taught me how to write and how to spot a good piece of writing (thank you, AO3).

It taught me that I wanted to pursue communications professionally.

It taught me to invest in my passions, how to set goals, and that nothing was ever that serious.

Besides everything practical, being part of such a vibrant fandom was just fun. The dopamine rush I got whenever new press photos dropped, my favorite actor liked my edit, or the piece of fanfiction I was reading got an update was electrifying. I really just had so much fun at a time when I really needed it.

But the biggest thing I took from my days as a fangirl was my sense of identity. My interests are esoteric; they're intense, and nobody around me seemed to ever care as deeply as I do about celebrities or fictional universes. Fandom culture gave me people who did. Making friends I could gush about my nerdy interests with made me less self-conscious about having them in the first place, and I've carried that with me. I care about what I care about, unapologetically. That community, that sacred space, taught me so much about myself and taught me to be proud. I don't think I would have gained that anywhere else that young, and I'm so glad I did.

I no longer keep up with my Grey's Anatomy fan page. I think I outgrew that particular avenue, and my interests have gone in many new directions. But my fangirl roots show in other ways: whether I'm splurging on concert tickets to get as close to the stage as possible, feeling a flutter in my stomach when a professor mentions an actor I've spent hours reading about, or staying up late to watch the new Grey's Anatomy episode (how is that show still running?), I think I will always be a fangirl deep down, even if it manifests differently now. The lessons I learned have stuck with me, and I would not have done anything differently. Fandoms changed my life, and I'm so proud to have been a part of that community. Eleven-year-old me would not have been caught dead saying that.