Fame and Fandom: Functioning On and Offline [1 ed.] 2022001025, 2022001026, 9781609388553, 9781609388560

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FUNCTIONING ON AND OFFLINE edited by Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui

Fame and Fandom

Fandom & Culture Paul Booth and Katherine Larsen, series editors

F U N C T I ON I N G ON AND O F F L I NE edited by Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui University of Iowa Press, Iowa City

University of Iowa Press, Iowa City 52242 Copyright © 2022 by the University of Iowa Press uipress.uiowa.edu Printed in the United States of America Design by Ashley Muehlbauer No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. All reasonable steps have been taken to contact copyright holders of material used in this book. The publisher would be pleased to make suitable arrangements with any whom it has not been possible to reach. Printed on acid-free paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Lam, Celia, editor. | Raphael, Jackie, editor. | Middlemost, Renee, 1980– editor. | Balanzategui, Jessica, editor. Title: Fame and Fandom: Functioning On and Offline / edited by Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui. Description: Iowa City : University of Iowa Press, [2022] | Series: Fandom & Culture | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022001025 (print) | LCCN 2022001026 (ebook) | ISBN 9781609388553 (paperback) | ISBN 9781609388560 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Subculture. | Fame— Psychological aspects. | Fans (Persons)— Psychology. | Mass media—Social aspects. Classification: LCC HM646 .F335 2022 (print) | LCC HM646 (ebook) | DDC 306/.1—dc23/ eng/20220127 LC record available at https://lccn.loc. gov/2022001025 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc .gov/2022001026

C ON T EN T S

Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii Bertha Chin Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui

P a r t 1 : E x p a n d i n g T h e o r e tic a l B o u n d a r i e s . . . . . . . . . . . . .11 Chapter 1. Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries: An Affective Decolonial Framework. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Divya Garg Chapter 2. Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries. . . . . . . . . 30 Christopher Moore

P a r t 2 : P a r a s o ci a l I n t e r a cti o n s a n d R e l a ti o n s h ips . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Chapter 3. Sign of the Times: Generation Z, Transmedia Activism, and Female Identity Formation through Harry Styles Fandom. . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Janey Umback Chapter 4. #AlwaysKeepFighting: The Legacy of Supernatural . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Joyleen Christensen Chapter 5. YouTube Celebrities: Parasocial Relationships toward a Digital Influencer Career. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 Paula Fernandes

P a r t 3 : F a n I n t e r a cti o n s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 Chapter 6. Too Vulnerable to Fight: Protective and Agentic Digital Housewives and the Dataficated Fame of the Victimized Young-Fresh-Meat Idols. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95 Zhen Troy Chen Chapter 7. Close to You: Film Fans’ Visitation to Film Location Sites . . . . . .111 Xin Cui Chapter 8. The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in Asimov’s Shared Universe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 Vincent Tran

P a r t 4 : T r a n sf o r m i n g C e l e b r it y I d e n tit y . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Chapter 9. Murray Stories and Keanu Memes: The Role of Offline Encounters in Online Celebrity Identity Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Racheal Harris Chapter 10. Celebrity Fans Courtside: Trash Talk, Twitter, and Teaming Up. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 Susan Maloney Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .177 Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 Index. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227

F ORE W ORD Bertha Chin

Like many others in the field of fan studies, my introduction to the scholarly study of fan cultures is through Henry Jenkins’s Textual Poachers. Jenkins’s work, on the participatory nature of fan audiences, was instrumental in conceptualizing fans not merely as cultural dupes but as active audiences. Nearly thirty years from the publication of Textual Poachers, the field of fan studies has grown from merely viewing fans as resistant toward media conglomerates that produce fan-favorite media texts to a more complex engagement with fans in the context of their (often virtual) communities that suggest a replication of social and cultural hierarchies. Fan studies, in the last decade or so, has also taken to exploring the relationship between fans and celebrities, as well as among fans themselves, shifting the attention of the object of fandom from media texts to celebrity personas. Certainly, fans of K-pop bands like BTS were constantly in the media spotlight in 2020, as they used their knowledge of social media platforms’ algorithms to mobilize K-pop’s global fandom to participate in American-based social and political activism, namely Black Lives Matter and trolling American president Donald Trump at his reelection rallies. Western media’s attention on K-pop fandom (and on K-pop itself) suggests the rising interest in and importance of understanding the relationship between celebrities and their fans, and it indicates that perhaps we need to look beyond the parasocial connection between the two. This media attention also points to the global proliferation of Korean popular culture as a reflection of changing media environments that may be affected by streaming platforms and increasing cross-cultural collaboration between various media industries. While K-pop has reached global fever pitch, it is not the only Asian pop culture gaining global (fan) attention. Sections of fan fiction fandom were aware of and participating in campaigns against the banning of Archive of Our Own (AO3), a popular fan fiction archive in China, as a result of fans’ different—and transcultural—readings of and interactions with the actors from the Chinese

idol drama The Untamed, screened internationally on Netflix. This recalls the work on transcultural fandom that Lori Morimoto and I did, where we urged fan studies to consider fans’ affinity toward texts and celebrities in spite of the nationality or the cultural conditions that produce the media text, as well as the celebrity persona, allowing for the field to engage in more diverse practices of fandom that move beyond Anglo-American and Anglo-British fan identities and practices. It is particularly interesting in the current media age, as pop idols’ fame— many from China and South Korea—transcend national boundaries. These idols often appropriate strategies from those of influencer culture, engaging directly with fans on social media platforms like Twitter and WeChat. In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and the rise of anti–Asian racism in places like the US, UK, and Australia, some Asian American celebrities have taken to social media platforms to mobilize their fans to anti-Asian racism activism. Actors such as Daniel Dae Kim (Lost, Hawaii Five-O) and Daniel Wu (Into the Badlands, Tomb Raider) used the exclusive social audio app Clubhouse to raise awareness about attacks on Asian American communities, raise funds, and mobilize action, at times engaging directly with fans on the topic. Wu’s fame in both Asia and the West, with film, television, and advertising projects in Hong Kong, China, and the US, ensures that the issue of anti-Asian racism and media representation are heard and discussed. It is this relationship between fans and their favorite celebrities that led to the conception of this edited collection. Drawing on paper presentations from two conferences—the Fame and Persona Research Consortium conference and the second Fan Studies Network Australasia conference, which took place in Australia, in Perth and Melbourne, respectively, at the end of 2019, and at both of which I had the privilege of keynoting—the chapters in this collection represent a snapshot of the range of works in the field and the diversity of research fan studies can and do invite. The notion of diversity has become an important discussion in fan studies, as well as in other scholarly disciplines that fan studies scholars regularly interact with. As scholars we think and write about fans’ fight for media representation for racial and gender diversity; we study the way celebrities and pop culture icons inspire and mobilize fans to social activism. Yet as a field, we struggle to engage with critiques about race, leading to an absence of racial diversity among our scholars. Absent too are voices from Asia, Australia, and New Zealand—scholars who often endure the “tyranny of distance” from the assumed base of fan studies in the UK and US. viii   Foreword

This collection—with aims to expand theoretical and methodological boundaries by looking at the intersection of fan, celebrity, and persona studies—draws on works and scholars coming from outside the regions of the US, the UK, and the rest of Europe. As such, it adds to an ever-growing body of work that invites interdisciplinary reflection on fan cultures, at the same time adding to the diversity of voices speaking in and for the field.

Foreword  ix

Fame and Fandom

I N T ROD U C T I ON Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui

Fame and fandom seem to be two sides of the celebrity or popular culture coin. Where there is a well-known and highly visible persona, there is a collective of highly visible supporters in a relationship of direct correspondence, or so the equation suggests. However, the intersections—for indeed they are intersecting phenomena rather than one that gives rise to the other—between fame and fandom go deeper than a simple formula of performance and reception. While one could argue that the very notion of a Hiddlestoner would be rendered meaningless if not for the existence of Tom Hiddleston, one could equally attribute the continued endurance of Tom Hiddleston as celebrity to the presence of Hiddlestoners and the affective relationships established between the two. The celebrity persona of Tom Hiddleston is formed as a consequence of multiple industrial processes that commoditize expressions of selfhood through recognizable or marketable attributes. Legacy and digital media platforms are adopted to represent, present, or disperse public personas, generating cultures and practices of fame unique to these platforms. Simultaneously, fandom engenders cultures and practices exclusive to each group or subgroup. Therefore, an exploration of fame and fandom is not limited to investigations of production and consumption presuming a linear process of performance and reception. Rather, studies of fame and fandom in tandem consider the cultural and subcultural production, conceptualization, and utilization of fame with their attendant politics, contexts, and purposes. These studies address the areas of overlap between two adjacent cultures of operation to highlight synergies, intersections, and influences that shape formations of fame, expressions of affect, and cultures of fandom. The aim of this volume is to bring new perspectives to fan studies through an examination of intersections between celebrity and fan studies. The overall objective is to open fan studies to new avenues of exploration by suggesting novel theoretical approaches and outlining how ethnographic approaches typical of fan studies can be productively combined with the cultural analyses, methods, and theoretical frameworks of celebrity and persona studies. In so doing, this

collection breaks new ground by combining approaches from these two closely related fields. It offers new ways of understanding the intersections between fan cultures, communities, and practices, as well as the formation and maintenance of celebrity and public personas. Furthermore, this collection offers a timely intervention that addresses recent debate about the need to decolonize fan studies as a discipline. The importance of a postcolonial perspective has been highlighted in fan studies scholarship through calls to expand the Anglo-American theoretical lens and the widespread tendency to characterize fans as white by default. In practice, this was reflected in public statements by the Fan Studies Network (FSN) in 2019, reflecting on the role of the FSN board in framing representation and its conference keynote lineup. Theoretically, the works of Mel Stanfill (2011, 2018), Bertha Chin and Lori Hitchcock Morimoto (2013), Kristen J. Warner (2017), and Rukmini Pande (2018, 2020) highlight steps toward a broadening of scholarly and cultural perspectives. Diverse perspectives are essential to fan studies as a discipline for their articulation of the complex transcultural, individual, and industrial factors that are implicated in the act of fandom. Through an array of transnational case studies, this volume aims to interrogate how fame and fandom are enacted through interactions and intersections both on and offline. In so doing, the collection illustrates how drawing together fan and celebrity studies perspectives can offer new means of illuminating the varied communities and identities that contribute to fan and celebrity cultures. By addressing both on and offline spaces as part of the analytical focus, this collection considers the multifarious ways that marginalized fans enact their fandoms and relationships with celebrities. The volume ultimately presents a timely, contemporary reflection on theories and practices of fandom and celebrity from a range of international scholars. Set against the backdrop of highly digitized and mediatized contexts, chapters provide unique insights into the importance of fan practices to identity formation and personal expression—for both celebrities and fans themselves—in everyday settings. The increasing prevalence of online activity offers celebrity and fan scholars greater opportunity to examine new fan and celebrity creative practices, identities, and interactions. At the same time, offline spaces remain significant to both celebrities and fans as sites where interactions and public images are reinforced. The theoretical and practical intersections explored in this volume center celebrity and fan studies as disciplines that are vital to the interpretation of contemporary popular culture. 2   Introduction

This volume is located within the tradition of “third-wave” fan studies. In the introduction to their 2007 collection Fandom: Identities and Communities in a Mediated World (2nd ed.), Jonathan Gray, Cornel Sandvoss, and C. Lee Harrington describe the third wave of fan studies as diverse and varied when contrasted against the first (fandom is beautiful) and second (fandom as reflection of social hierarchies) waves. The third wave is also distinguished by its response to changes in communication technologies and the “increasing entrenchment of fan consumption in the structure of our everyday lives” (Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington 2017, 6). Third-wave fan studies do not consider fandom as a subject to study in and of itself. Rather fan practices and relationships (with text, self, and others) become micro and macro ways to study contemporary modes of being. Fandom is now more entrenched in everyday interactions with media texts for a diverse array of consumers. As a result, fan practices have become a “taken-for-granted aspect” (7) of how contemporary communication functions. Thus, third-wave fan studies scholarship seeks to interrogate how individuals navigate a highly networked and mediated media environment in a way that does not enforce sharp distinctions between fan and non-fan identities. Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington view third-wave fan studies as a process of expansion and dissipation, as normative typologies and distinctions of fans are broken down or extended. It is also an exercise in reconceptualization, as the specificities of fan experiences across different cultural and consumption contexts are given more visibility, leading to new theoretical dimensions. Finally, third-wave approaches position fan studies alongside parallel fields of inquiry (such as celebrity, media, and communications studies) that examine media production and consumption in convergent cultures, including digital cultures. Despite these movements toward a more interdisciplinary purview, third-wave fan studies retain discipline-specific epistemologies and ethnographic methodologies. As Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington write, What is important for our purposes here is a recognition that the key challenge remains to preserve the specificity of voices of diverse fan experiences, and where appropriate developing macro theoretical positions from them, while being able to place the specificity of studies of particular fan cultures or groups in a wider contextual understanding of typologies and maps of fandom across different genres, interpersonal and intra-personal dimensions, rather than misreading particular fan groups as singularly representative of all fan practices and motivations. (2017, 10–11) Introduction  3

This volume responds to the call to preserve the specificities of fan studies and experiences while taking into account interdisciplinary perspectives and foci of third-wave fan studies, doing so through a dedicated focus on new theoretical and methodological approaches that consider the interactions and intersections between fandom and fame. The contributions to this volume are informed by two factors: media environments that facilitate communication flows between on and offline spaces and fan practices and motivations centering on celebrity and fan identity formation. The focus on identity is a reflection of the concerns of third-wave fan studies that situates scholarship between the personal and the collective (Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington 2017, 7). In this context, the everydayness of fan consumption manifests at the micro level, in the personal expression of individual fans. Thus, the chapters here focus on celebrity figures as objects of fandom rather than media texts. Theoretically, we do this by drawing on celebrity studies and the nascent persona studies literature—fields that consider mediated consumption environments in ways related to fan studies but do so through a focus on persona cultivation and affective connections.

C e l e b r it y a n d P e r s o n a S tu d i e s Celebrity studies has since its inception focused on the individual. Early celebrity studies scholars such as Richard Dyer (1979, 1986) focused attention on the image of the star as a text and a site where cultural values and questions of identity are articulated. Contemporary celebrity studies scholarship views the celebrity as more than a text. Celebrities become diffuse in contemporary mediated cultures as pathways to fame become more accessible. Chris Rojek’s (2001) taxonomy highlights this shift in the conceptualization of the celebrity figure. He distinguishes between ascribed (based on lineage such as royalty), achieved (based on accomplishments), and attributed (based on attention from media) celebrity. Attributed celebrities emerge from everyday contexts through media (including social media) attention. These celebrities exemplify the notions of extraordinary ordinariness that underlie much of the construction of a celebrity figure’s public image. For achieved celebrities, stories of hardship before they came to fame reinforce the notion of exceptionalism born from the ordinary and secured through hard work. Fan practices and cultural formations are crucial to this particular mode of celebrity, highlighting the value in drawing together the two closely related fields of fan and celebrity studies, as is the aim of this collection. 4   Introduction

Another feature of contemporary celebrity culture is the continued presentation (or performance) of the ordinary by those who have achieved fame. Indeed, Graeme Turner suggests interest in the private to be a defining factor in contemporary notions of celebrity, writing, “We can map the precise moment a public figure becomes a celebrity. It occurs at the point at which media interest in their activities is transferred from reporting on their public role . . . to investigating the details of their private lives” (2004, 8). The ordinary domains of the private and mundane thus become sites of ongoing persona construction, a persona that is often incorporated into a larger celebrity identity that intersects with the realm of their ascribed or achieved celebrity. This type of presentation is made possible by changing communication practices on social media platforms, leading P. David Marshall (2010) to argue that contemporary celebrity culture is presentational, derived from intersections between “the personal, interpersonal and the mediated” (35), rather than representational, derived from the notion that celebrities “represent and embody interests and desires” (38). It is one in which public/private personas are created and performed online (44). Marshall argues, in his more recent scholarship with Moore and Barbour, that this performance is enacted not only by celebrity figures but by all people as we shape different personas that are deployed in different contexts based on our identities (for instance, as educators, as private citizens, and as fans) (Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2020). The nascent field of persona studies focuses on the formation and operation of the “mediatized self” (Marshall 2015, 117), examining the ways in which personas are cultivated and maintained in digital spaces (Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2020). The cultivation of an online persona among ordinary fan/ users adopts many of the techniques used by celebrity figures, thus democratizing the methods of famous personas, including the requirement for online personas to develop and cultivate affective connections with other individuals. The central concern of persona studies is thus the public presentation of the self (Marshall and Barbour 2015), including the way attention is amassed and publics created. To quote Christopher Moore in his contribution to this volume, persona studies “is not an identity theory; rather it draws on various ways to conceptualize the performance of persona to better understand the negotiation and movement between individual and collective in the contemporary media and communication landscape.” Persona studies is predominantly (although not exclusively) located in online spaces through a reflection on how personas are curated, and interaction takes place within the context of online culture(s). It Introduction  5

considers the processes of persona curation, and the formation of micropublics, to be accessible to all online actors, regardless of the number of their followers. In this regard, persona studies shift from a representational structure in which well-known individuals (such as celebrities) are represented in legacy media to one in which individuals (including celebrities) present personas through social media platforms. As Marshall, Moore, and Barbour explain in their book Persona Studies: An Introduction, presentational “media is much more dispersed into intersecting micropublics as opposed to a coherent national public” (2020, 240). The value of adopting a persona studies approach thus lies in the ability to focus on the plethora of communication patterns influencing the formation of economies of attention (or micropublics) in online spaces, taking into consideration the consumption and engagement practices of online activity that are often embedded in the everyday. A fan or follower of an online influencer may, for instance, limit their engagement to livestreaming sessions consumed during their domestic activities (such as over a meal), such that the influencer becomes a part of these daily activities. The social media platform is also conceptualized as a more intimate platform for its ability to bring viewers “into” the lives of the account holders, as well as for its medium of consumption—often a mobile device. This conceptualization of online personas builds upon Terri Senft’s original articulation of microcelebrities as ordinary people gaining fame through social media platforms and “ ‘amping up’ their popularity” online (Senft 2008, 25). Indeed, Marshall (2014a) highlights how micropublics form around online presentations of self, benefiting from the networked nature of social media. Microcelebrities are now conceptualized as a subsection of “professionalized and commercialized . . . production practice . . . [working] within the mainstream” (Usher 2020, 171), yet the notion of ordinary individuals leveraging online platforms to garner attention and fame remains potent, forming one of the key concerns of persona studies research. To borrow from Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington, like fan groups, the cultivation of online personas requires individuals to maintain “interpersonal dimensions” within their own affective networks (2017, 10). These networks often operate in similar ways to fan-celebrity relationships, as opportunities for both unidimensional and reciprocal interactions are created. Additionally, while identity formation may be achieved primarily in online spaces, continued cultivation of persona takes place in offline contexts as well. Fan-celebrity interactions taking place offline are often influenced by a fan’s prior knowledge of celebrity personas gained from online sources. At the same time, such offline interactions contribute to the ongoing mythology of the celebrity 6   Introduction

figure that is told and retold in fan accounts. Thus, a fan’s interactions with celebrity identities (as objects of fandom) occur equally offline as it does online. As the contributors to this collection demonstrate, the examination of fandom cannot, therefore, discount the connections between on and offline contexts; indeed, flows between the two characterize modern life. Finally, affect is a central concept underpinning this volume, although it is addressed more explicitly in Divya Garg’s chapter. Affect, an approach that centers emotion and pleasure, offers a countermeasure to the rationalizing of fandom in an effort to justify its analysis. Fan pleasures are centered, with a deep exploration of the emotional investment of fans in the objects of their affection— either celebrity figure or media text. It de-pathologizes the attachments that fans have to celebrities or media texts by exploring the forms of understanding and knowledge that include both rational and emotional experiences, as well as the agentic potential of these experiences.

Fame and Fandom This volume considers these themes throughout the collection, divided into four discrete sections: new theoretical approaches to fan/celebrity encounters; parasocial interactions and relationships; fan interactions; and transforming celebrity persona. Each case study considers differing cultural (or subcultural) contexts, preserving the “specificity of voices of diverse fan experiences” (Gray, Sandvoss, and Harrington 2017, 10) and providing insight into how fandom functions (or is utilized) by different fan communities in response to specific sociocultural or ideological concerns. The first part represents advances to the fields of fan, celebrity, and persona studies by offering new theoretical frameworks and lenses, and the second de-pathologizes ideologies around parasocial interactions. Part 3 explores the outcomes and significance of fan activity on the identity of both fan and celebrity in different cultural and industrial contexts. The role of fan discourse is the focus of part 4, where celebrity persona (re) formation is centered. Of particular interest is the way in which celebrity personas emerge as a consequence of intersections between cultural players (ranging from fans to celebrity themselves). Examples derived from national contexts such as Brazil, China, and the US reflect how fandom operates both discursively and practically in different, culturally specific, media systems. The transcultural consumption practices analyzed in this volume highlight how various dimenIntroduction  7

sions of identity are cultivated in fans’ everyday practices and contexts, often in cultures distinct from that of the celebrity who is the object of fandom. Finally, the everydayness of celebrity figures is foregrounded as the ordinary is utilized in fan discourse and online discussion to reshape celebrity persona.

Expanding Theoretical Boundaries The volume opens with two chapters that introduce new theoretical perspectives to fan studies. Divya Garg proposes an “affective decolonial framework” to diversify fan study methodologies. Garg applies the framework to emphasize the experience and agency of marginalized fan communities and to identify and challenge the tendency of fan studies to theorize and conceptually position the fan as white. While Garg’s project aims to refocus attention on the diverse experiences and identities of fans, Christopher Moore considers how intersections between creative industries and persona and fan studies can extend scholarship in all fields. With a focus on the creative industries, Moore outlines an analytical framework derived from synergy between creative industries, fan studies, and persona studies to elucidate the “celebrity fan persona” and “fan celebrities.” Highlighting the centrality of identity to the creative industries, Moore argues that celebrity fan personas adopt fan behaviors in order to amass followers, who invest in their identity as fans and associated fan practices. Fan celebrities ensure a form of stability within the online creative industries by appealing to the participatory support of other fans.

Parasocial Interactions and Relationships The chapters in part 2 present analyses of varied case studies that seek to de-pathologize ideological frameworks around parasocial relationships and interactions. Janey Umback explores young female fans of Harry Styles, arguing that Styles’s public image (and the perceived and observed values associated therewith) facilitates the development of cultural agency. This is achieved through the ability to form communities of support, boost self-esteem, and advocate for social change. Activism and social change are also central to Joyleen Christensen’s examination of fans and celebrities associated with the television series Supernatural. Examining the on and offline interaction between actors from the series and their fans, Christensen argues that a celebrity activist legacy emerged in the final years of the show’s run. Rather than being an initiative created by 8   Introduction

celebrities and populated by fans, it developed as a result of interactions between the two. Christensen argues that after the show ends, it will be fan activity that sustains the legacy of the celebrities’ activism. Finally, Paula Fernandes examines Brazilian YouTube celebrities to argue that the blurring of personal and professional spheres online reshapes fan-celebrity relations. Fernandes argues that a consequence of the consumption of the personal/professional life of the web celebrity is the emergence of intimate fan/celebrity relationships and a career predicated on the overexposure of the private.

Fan Interactions The three chapters in this part characterize fans as collectives from two perspectives: interactions and creation. Zhen Troy Chen’s chapter examines the way online interactions between female fans working to protect the image of their idol in China reveals the factors influencing contemporary female gender roles. Chen argues that, when viewed through the lens of gender equality, female fans are doubly exploited: they are characterized as “digital housewives” acting as “perfect consumers” who protect and preserve the commoditized celebrity image. Taking an offline approach to fan interactions, Xin Cui explores film tourism by examining the types of fan-producer and fan-celebrity interactions that occur at the Chinese film studio Hengdian World Studios. Vincent Tran offers insight into the role of fans as creators of shared fictional universes. He examines how the activities of fans of science fiction author Isaac Asimov intersect with both Asimov as author and his texts and also how these activities affect the creation, reception, and orientation of the fictional universe spawned from Asimov’s fiction.

Transforming Celebrity Identity The two chapters in this final section focus on the celebrity persona, considering how factors such as online fan practices (Harris) and celebrities themselves (Maloney) shape the identities of the famous. Racheal Harris offers insight into the role of fans as creators of celebrity persona. She explores how fan discourse and online interactions contribute to the generation of “celebrity myths”: characterizations of celebrity persona that inform more widely understood versions of their public persona. She uses the case studies of Keanu Reeves and Bill Murray to show how these myths are created. Susan Maloney’s exploration of the sporting arena highlights the characterization of celebrities as both ceIntroduction  9

lebrity and fan (albeit fans with a high degree of privileged access). Maloney addresses the intersection between celebrities and fans in public arenas through her investigation of the on and offline interactions between fans and celebrity fans (of sports stars). From its initial focus on fans of media texts to the focus on participatory and agentic creative practice; from the parasocial to the affective; from the first to the second and now the third wave, fan studies have been constantly evolving. As a field, it is adept at responding to shifting sociocultural concerns, tackling key social issues through fan and academic works that constantly question the status quo, and amplifying the reflectivity that characterizes fans and acafans alike. It is hoped that the ideas explored in this volume will, in some small way, contribute to the ongoing evolution of the field.

10   Introduction

EX P AND I N G T HEORE T I C A L B O U NDAR I E S

1. D I V ER S I F Y I N G F AN ME T HODO L O G I E S AND I N Q U I R I E S An Affective Decolonial Framework Divya Garg

When I first started doing fan studies, I found myself explaining my PhD topic on Marvel fan fiction with a sense of embarrassed justification to some in and outside of academia. While I overcame this early in my doctoral studies, this affective sense of embarrassed justification returned even more heightened during my recent foray into Asian RPF (real person fiction) fandom, which was about stories envisaging the romantic lives not only of celebrities but also of (Asian) idols. In both fan and celebrity studies, there is perhaps a greater onus on the research scholar to justify their object of research through rational critical distance because of the affective relationships between scholars and their research objects emblematic of the acafan, or academic fan, positionality. The awareness of such value judgment in academic spaces and interactions reveals an investment in maintaining these hierarchies. For instance, film studies, which forged the way for the academic study of stars, has a longer history (Redmond and Holmes 2007) and has sought to separate its theory of stardom from the discourse of celebrity precisely because of value-laden judgments around the difference between celebrity and star (Holmes and Redmond 2010). There are several intersections between fan studies and celebrity studies, both of which are as much about the cultural texts and subjects that audiences engage with as the audiences themselves. One of their commonalities lies in the affects their scholarship relies upon and generates, often apparent in the figure of the acafan. Combining the role of the scholar with the fan, Jenkins defines the term as a “hybrid identity that straddled two very different ways of relating to media cultures” (2006a, 4). Such a position presumes and necessitates particular methodological concerns. As Evans and Stasi argue, “the subject position of the academic fan (or ‘aca-fan’) presuppose[s] some form of methodological

turn” (2014, 5). Here I outline one new affective methodological approach to fan and celebrity studies. In the editorial of the first issue of the journal Celebrity Studies, Holmes and Redmond discuss how the announcement of the journal was met with negative media and academic reception. They locate this disparaging discourse in the perception that academia is becoming “frivolous and populist” (2010, 2) because of the apparently “low-brow” subject of its scholarship. This disparagement, they argue, relates to the perception that celebrity scholarship is immersed within celebrity culture. Quoting Mark Rowlands (2008), Holmes and Redmond discuss how “academic and cultural obsession with celebrity” was seen as “akin to mental illness” (2010, 2). This feeds into a discourse of pathologization in relation to affect, often evident through terms such as “obsessive” or “hysterical,” used to describe “emotional” fans, women in particular (Hampton 2016). While this has been critiqued, noting the feminization of abnormal affect (see the following section), a certain sense of defensiveness often persists for the celebrity and fan scholar. The importance of affect that undergirds such a defense is thus central to the consideration of fan and celebrity studies. Noting the greater convergence of and permeability between fan studies and celebrity studies affords productive routes in terms of their methodological tools and academic aims. Fan studies epistemologies increasingly grapple with questions of diversifying the field while giving agency to fans participating in studies. As a relatively nascent academic discipline, fan studies has been criticized for its inattention to questions of race and the whiteness of its genealogies (Wanzo 2015) and theorizations (Pande 2018), especially given its strong critical traditions in media and cultural studies. The Western centricity of celebrity studies has also been recently pointed out. In their call to internationalize celebrity studies, Xu, Donnar, and Kishore (2021) write, “Almost despite itself, Celebrity Studies remains Anglo-centric, largely focused on the global North, and predominated by Euro-American case studies” (175). The US centricity of media fandom and the primacy of whiteness in academic and fan spaces came to the forefront in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020, leading to widespread discussion of racism and structural whiteness. With respect to online media fandom, a major emerging concern was the racism experienced by Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) on the largest fan fiction website, Archive of Our Own (AO3). Many fans and fan scholars of color challenged the lack of racial safeguards in the AO3, questioning if the “our” in AO3 even included BIPOC fans. This event serves as a timely reminder of the precarity of race relations in America and—through its cultural hegemony—in media fandom. 14   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

Theorizations around celebrity and audiences cannot always be simplistically universalized, and there is a greater need to pay attention to the diversity of media spaces and affects. The persisting image of fans as necessarily nonnormative and othered in media representations and scholarship erases the existence of fans who are marginalized both within and outside fandom discourses (Wanzo 2015). I suggest a decolonial affective framework to amplify the agency and experiences of diverse audiences. Thinking about audiences and texts through this lens, I outline a methodological approach whereby fan and celebrity studies may engage with and respond to some of their shared concerns and theoretical goals. While I situate my discussion with respect to media fandom more specifically, these strategies can be extended to the study of celebrity. This chapter first explores why and how affect may be employed as a method, then discusses decolonizing strategies, arguing for a decolonial approach toward employing affective methods. These discussions are illustrated with a brief case study involving racially and culturally diverse Marvel fans’ responses to their practices of engagement in media fandom, utilizing the outlined decolonial affective methodology.

Aff e ct a s M e t h o d Women’s entertainment practices have been persistently devalued through a pathological perception of affect. From early studies of romance novel readers who have been much maligned (Radway 1984) to those exploring soap operas’ “rock‐bottom status on cultural taste hierarchies despite their popularity” (Harrington and Bielby 2018, 77), studies of women-centric genres primarily oriented in an (affective) discourse of pleasure note their deep disparagement in both academic and mainstream discourse. Building on this gendered pathologization, I examine fan communities through the lens of affect to revalue emotional and material forms of knowledge. In this regard, I utilize approaches to affect in qualitative research that signal an “affective turn” (Kim and Bianco 2007), including within media production cultures (Gregg and Seigworth 2010). Fan fiction is often seen as women’s writing (De Kosnik 2016), and slash fandom—the largest subset of online fan writing that focuses on same-sex relationships—has been theorized as “queer female space” (Lothian, Busse, and Reid 2007). Similarly, women have historically been considered the primary audiences for celebrities (Barker, Holmes, and Ralph 2015). Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  15

Fan practices such as fic writing that are predominantly associated with female participants are devalued to a greater extent than male fans and practices (Kohnen 2017). Female fans are often described as “crazy fangirls” (see Jenson 1992; Hampton 2016), with discussions about slash practices being used to evoke feelings of disgust or humor or both.1 Much of this derision comes from what is perceived as excess affect on the part of (female) fans who are very emotionally invested in the objects of their fannish affection—whether it be media texts or the celebrities that star in these texts. Sports fans, on the other hand, hardly find such a pervasive dismissal of their fan object. With respect to the practice of slashing—reinterpreting characters in a homosexual relationship—a perceived discomfort with the idea of queering straight-appearing characters or celebrities, as well as discomfort around the sexual pleasures of women, is notable. As Later (2018) argues, the stigma around transformative fandom, particularly the romance and erotica genres—which feature homosexual desire most heavily—is partly rooted in misogyny. Such othering of women’s fan practices continues the long-standing cultural disparagement of women for being too emotional. Affect theory unsettles the myth of the rational consumer versus the nonrational fan, as well as that of the rational researcher versus the emotional fan scholar, and is a productive way to enter the field of fan research. The notion of affect has been variously interpreted in the field of affect studies, and its differentiation from emotion is often contested. In some accounts, emotion is used to refer to the social and cultural expression of feelings (Probyn 2005) and affect to their biophysiological nature (Clough 2003). However, in others, the two are used synonymously to highlight the fluidity of the concepts (Ahmed 2014). In psychology, affect has been used as a biopsychological notion based on empirical studies (Tomkins and Alexander 1995) and has been influential in queer theory, particularly in relation to shame (Sedgwick and Frank 2003). What is underscored through these readings of affect is its materiality—in terms of the body—which has deep implications for relocating questions of agency and knowledge. Affect is observed through “intensities that pass body to body (human, nonhuman, part-body, and otherwise)” (Gregg and Seigworth 2010, 1), thus enabling insight into that which moves the body, highlighting embodied experiences and individual (and collective) agency. As bodily forms of knowing, affective approaches link subjective experience with issues of identity and sociocultural location that are particularly useful in elucidating the lived experiences of marginalized communities and people. Such a perspective helps highlight certain evasions and erasures in fan practices that are often replicated in fan research, 16   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

such as political mappings of the participatory and the passive fan, the kinds of fan narratives that are relegated to traditional media fandom and to alternative fandoms, discussions of fan activism, and so on. Studying fandom affectively allows a reconfiguration of critical questions around the notion of a fan and their associated transformative work. By raising questions that prioritize issues of agency and ability, we can study how fan cultures may question traditional and limiting norms of representation and participation. Using the Deleuzian understanding of affect as “changes in bodily capacity” (Hickey-Moody 2013, 80), Hickey-Moody offers a framework of affect as method that can be applied within fan and celebrity epistemologies. Illustrating how art has the capacity to inspire and reinvent bodily configurations and popular perceptions of these configurations, she discusses the potential of aesthetic affect to “change bodily responses, and of the capacity of research to map these modulations as indicators of social change” (87). Such an understanding of affect as a mode of change and becoming is a fruitful way to engage with the potential of fandom as well as audience research. In a Deleuzian understanding, becoming is a “conviction that worlds are always in process, changing and transforming” (Coleman and Ringrose 2013, 15). Such terms emphasize the doing nature of conceptual re-visioning, as proposed in this chapter. If fan narratives can tell us about what moves people to become fans and what moves fans to undertake such work, then it is also worthwhile to consider what those movements and becomings entail. The transformative underpinning of Deleuzian affect is useful in expanding the transformative potential of fan practices and the way they have been conceived in fan and celebrity studies. Fan work provides an especially rich and valuable form of art that reveals an affective investment in and engagement with the original work upon which fans draw and expand through interpretation. While each fan work can denote a fan’s affective projection of their identity and experience, other fans’ encounters with that work can be seen as transmissions of those affective energies. Each fan work, and indeed each fan body, thus functions as an “assemblage of forces” in Deleuzian terms (Ahonen 2010, 115). An affective approach can focus on fans’ expressions, embodiments, and experiences, mediated through technology, to help capture that which elides language. This may involve attention to linguistic and nonlinguistic expressions that generate particularly intense responses or affective reactions. Such reactions can occur in the form of, for instance, moments of silence, shock, or the typical fan expression “squee” during an interview, usually disregarded in the process of data analysis. In her critique of coding as traditionally Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  17

practiced in qualitative research, MacLure calls attention to “fragments of ‘data’ that refuse to settle under codes or render up decisive meanings . . . belonging both to language and the body” (2013, 171–172). Affective methods can thus be used to map how these readjustments of imaginations as well as corporeality empower and disempower fans across a spectrum of minority positions. Affect also allows for a bridging of the gap between the private and the public, for instance, through Berlant’s (1997) concept of the “intimate public sphere.” Berlant’s work articulates a relationship of affect in the public sphere that generates an “aesthetics of attachment” (1998, 285). Berlant’s ideas on the operations of intimacy in the contemporary public sphere are useful when considering fandom and celebrities and how they relate to each other. Both online and offline fan spaces are saturated with an esoteric aura of the private and of intimate feelings while remaining in the “public” domain. Celebrities are often viewed as public property, not just by fans who project their desires and wishes upon them but also by governments that seek to deploy their potential—for example, when celebrities are chosen as public ambassadors for political campaigns, tourism, or charitable causes. Berlant’s contention that “contradictory desires mark the intimacy of daily life: people want to be both overwhelmed and omnipotent, caring and aggressive, known and incognito” (285), seems especially pertinent to thinking about fans and their relationships with fan objects, including but not limited to celebrities. Moreover, affect operates as a collective force by which fan communities operate and are sustained, evidenced, for instance, through the practice of cancel culture. As Sara Ahmed discusses in The Cultural Politics of Emotion, “emotions become attributes of collectives, which get constructed as ‘being’ through ‘feeling’ ” (2014, 2). An affective methodology allows us to combine individual acts of fan engagement with theories of collective agency. The affective register can therefore be deployed for several lines of inquiry that fan and celebrity studies seek to investigate, such as an exploration of how diverse fans are “moved” differently within transnational and transcultural fandoms. Studying fandom affectively allows a reconfiguration of critical questions around the notion of a fan and their associated transformative work. By raising questions that prioritize issues of agency and ability, we can study how fan cultures may question traditional and limiting norms of representation and participation. To read agency as embodied also requires a historical and political turn, not just a conceptual one. Scholars of affect have largely focused on Western contexts. However, affective notions vary across cultures, and racialized affect marks both white and non-white bodies and interrelations. Neetu 18   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

Khanna argues that the lens of affect, largely reliant on Western archives, elides “the historical and sociological specificities of the subject under the conditions of colonialism” (2020, 9). In order to ground tools of affect theory in the lived experiences of fans across a diversity of cultural locations, and in cognizance of colonial legacies, I turn to insights from postcolonial and decolonial studies and the political project of decolonization.

D e c o l o n i z a ti o n a s M e t h o d As we know: the first world has knowledge, the third world has culture. —Walter D. Mignolo, “Epistemic Disobedience, Independent Thought and De-Colonial Freedom” A common criticism of many academic projects undertaken in the rubric of the Western academy has been its use of words like colonization and decolonization as “little more than abstract and dehistoricized metaphors” (Grech 2015, 6). Post–Black Lives Matter, there is an even greater need to address how such terms have become mere buzzwords. This trend can be witnessed in fields that institutionally emerge from Global North spaces such as fan studies and celebrity studies, fields that exist within and draw from established humanities and social sciences departments in the US and the UK. I discuss these issues as they pertain to the disciplinary boundaries of fan studies, as well as to the theoretical tools from movements of postcolonialism and decolonialism. Since decolonial approaches argue that the researcher and the academy are implicated in the process of colonialism and decolonization (Mignolo 2009), it is important to clarify my own position as a researcher. I grew up in India, where I studied and lived until going to Australia for my doctoral research. The whiteness of the texts that I studied and enjoyed was not something I questioned until my higher education in New Delhi, when I considered the parameters of the colonization of my mind. As I am a scholar from a postcolonial nation, there is often an academic assumption that the research I conduct will be centered on race and coloniality, in ways that will be representative of my culture. I envisaged my doctoral project on Marvel fandom as different from such a trajectory, in considering cultural terrain that is political in other ways. However, I realized there is no escaping the conditions of colonialism, which is embedded in our Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  19

embodied collective consciousness. Even my interest in a Western media object is a product of my historical circumstances, encompassing both the personal and the political. Approaching the object of this study by way of the affective and the popular has led to a reinscription of a largely white textual frame, even as I learned to question my own interests and assumptions. Arguing that postcolonial frameworks do not account for ongoing colonialism, Driskill defines decolonization as the “ongoing, radical resistance against colonialism that includes struggles for land, redress, self-determination, healing historical trauma, cultural continuance, and reconciliation” (2010, 69). Part of the larger project of decolonization is the process of decolonizing the academy that continues to be implicated in a power-laden relationship of coloniality and knowledge. Scholarship in the fields of both postcolonialism and decolonialism engages with these questions. While postcolonialism and decolonialism differ in their disciplinary origins and geographical locations, both “emerge out of political developments contesting the colonial world order” (Bhambra 2014, 119) and share an articulated resistance to dominant forms of knowledge production. These disciplines and positions offer useful theoretical tools to engage with the structural whiteness of research institutions participating in decolonial agendas. A decolonizing framework can be applied to elaborate these issues in three ways.

Decolonizing Media (and Celebrity) Texts Decolonizing media texts can occur in multiple ways, including the acknowledgment of non-Western histories and media cultures, as well as noting the centrality of operations of whiteness in Western texts. In the editorial for the guest-edited issue “Fans of Color, Fandoms of Color” of Transformative Works and Cultures (March 2019), Abigail De Kosnik and andré carrington write, “That fan studies was founded, and has been dominated up to this point, by white scholars is indisputable” (2019, 1.1). The origin of the field is usually located in the 1990s with the publication of Henry Jenkins’s (1992b) seminal work, Textual Poachers, along with others such as Fiske (1992) and Bacon-Smith (1992). The emergence of media fandom within such scholarship is traced to the science fiction fandom of the Star Trek communities in the late 1960s. These necessarily orient the domain of media fandom in an American context amid specific cultural traditions of the Global North. However, as some scholars of color have asked, what happens when these traditions take into account the work of earlier African American 20   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

scholars working on popular culture (Wanzo 2015), or Japanese fan magazines featuring stars and characters from popular manga (Pande 2018), or perhaps any localized instances of fan cultures across the world that have not been academically recorded? As Morimoto and Chin (2017) argue, there is a need to rethink the imagined communities of fandom by accounting for the huge diversity of fan communities and cultures globally. Affective relationships between texts and people have always existed, and fan cultures are not just endemic to the Global North. Furthermore, global fan cultures of diverse subjects and Western media objects have also existed since at least the advent of globalized networks and technologies. Hence, it becomes imperative to look at diversity even within the fandoms of Western media texts. Media fandom is often studied through the lens of its arguably most popular subsection, slash fandom. Slash, in its Anglo-American orientation, has been seen as a primarily white space (Fazekas 2014). However, slash based on nonwhite queer cultures and practices is predominant in many non-Western and non-English fandoms as well: for instance, BL (boys love), originating from Japanese popular culture (Madill 2017), abounds in many East Asian cultures, including South Korea, Thailand, and China. Although this is a distinct practice that does not equate to slash, it is precisely slash in its Anglo-American orientation that has become such a white genre and practice. Western-centric theorizations can erase the large presence of fan works of non-Western fandoms. This can be enabled through the erasure or separation of transnational and transcultural fandoms marked as “foreign”—such as Japanese anime and manga and Korean pop music (K-pop) fandoms with their international fanbases. It can also involve the erasure or invisibility of the transnational fans of Western canons who write and read these “white” texts and the operations of fandom algorithms (Pande 2018) that determine what is popular on a given digital platform. Structural whiteness is extended to the platform on which these texts are shared. These include primarily American-origin platforms for Western fandoms, such as Archive of Our Own. While the largest fandoms on AO3 in terms of number of fan fics include CW’s Supernatural, BBC’s Sherlock, the Harry Potter series, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), other fan-fic-hosting platforms such as Wattpad have a larger quantity of fan fiction focused on artists from the Korean music industry, such as the K-pop boy band BTS. Thus, what is considered popular in terms of fan engagement is more complex than assumed, depending on digital platforms, audiences, algorithmic bias, mainstream coverage, and other factors. Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  21

The whiteness of the canon, or even fanon—the fan texts that receive a literary and social status equivalent to that of the canon—however, is not the only object of contention from a decolonizing point of view. In Squee from the Margins: Fandom and Race, Rukmini Pande (2018) points out the academic tendency to locate race in terms of texts that are seen to be diverse, whether as part of allocated sections in larger anthologies, journal issues, and conference panels or specifically in the work on non-Western fandoms such as K-pop, Japanese anime, and manga. Pande terms the peripheral projection of race outside the theoretical spaces of “traditional media fandom” as “theoretical whitewashing” (2018, 14). This invisibility of whiteness is pertinent to the celebrity-as-text as well. As Richard Dyer writes, “at the level of racial representation, in other words, whites are not of a certain race, they’re just the human race” (1997, 11). The default to whiteness not only others non-white texts and people but neutralizes the effects of whiteness as well. By acknowledging whiteness itself as a racialized identity, I wish to shift the race code to the center of (Western) texts and fan research epistemologies. If structural whiteness is seen not in terms of individual cultural identity but in the histories of power structures, then it becomes imperative to study the processes through which hegemonies manifest and operate. Moreover, following a decolonization of the fanon, we should pay attention to the psychic trauma and racialized affective relationships that non-white fans may share with predominantly white cultural texts and characters. This leads to the next part of my proposed decolonizing methodology: fans as interlocutors.

Decolonizing the Research Subject The erasure of non-white fans is implicit in the traditional construction of media fan spaces as white, which is often enabled because of non-white fans passing as white. Because fan spaces are largely anonymous, with participants often using online identities defined by their choice of fan object rather than their gendered or racial identity, fans often tend to pass as white (Pande 2018), which frames the white fan as the default. Moreover, the ideological whiteness of media fandom is reliant on the empirical whiteness of fan studies (Woo 2017). People of color and people with disabilities have been significantly underrepresented in fan studies, with most ethnographic work focusing on white fans in Western countries.2 Hence, decolonizing the subject of fan studies begins by questioning this default position and underlining the centrality of race and nationality in theorizations around fans and other audiences. 22   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

The use of auto/biographical approaches is often preferred in decolonial methodologies (Lavia and Sikes 2010). Personal narratives in the form of memories, testimonies, and oral histories are also highlighted as important arenas of research privileged in non-Western cultures (Stevens, Duncan, and Hook 2013). These sites are critical not only to decolonial frameworks but also to feminist projects, which are also important in theorizations of fandom, thus highlighting the intersectionality of decolonial agendas with a number of other critical perspectives. Methods for collection of audience responses can therefore privilege such forms of knowledges by engaging with fans’ personal narratives of accounts of their participation in fandom, whether indirectly through personal blogs and thoughts as a form of digital ethnography or through direct interaction by methods such as surveys and interviews. A research methodology that emerges from the acafan positionality is autoethnography (Evans and Stasi 2014), which has been adopted by many fan scholars (see, e.g., Fathallah 2011). Such approaches can be useful in contextualizing subjective affective experiences, particularly when articulating experiences of racial, cultural, physical, and mental difference (see, e.g., Morimoto 2019), which are not found in dominant strands of fan studies. There is no denying that white texts and celebrities remain popular in subcultural spaces populated by those who may be marginalized in multiple ways. There is also no denying the affective nature of the relationships that bond fans to these white texts, relationships that preclude a complete dismissal of such texts as unworthy of a decolonizing project. Whiteness, in such fan narratives, can be seen to function as a tabula rasa for fans to (affectively) project their stories, their desires, their happily-ever-afters. However, whiteness is not a tabula rasa; it is already coded with historical material power and privileges that then imbue fan works and cultures. Charges of racism in fandoms, in terms of the disproportionate representation and engagement with white versus non-white characters, are often dismissed as replicating mainstream overrepresentation of whiteness or individual preferences. However, despite an increasing proliferation of texts with racial diversity,3 stories involving white men remain far more popular. In the 2020 AO3 ship stats, there were only 52 ships involving characters of color in the overall top 200 ships, with no Black characters in the most-paired top 100 between 2017 and 2019 (centreoftheselights, n.d.). In such a context, it is productive to explore how and why fans—transnational or otherwise—engage with a white text, often over an available non-white text or character, and what their own thoughts are on the critical encounter with such discursive practices. In addition, the manifest anti-Black nature of fan Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  23

consumption and engagement is a particularly important inquiry. This is evident from several instances of harassment of Black fans, including recently, when some Star Wars fans tried to get Stitch—a Black fan who has written extensively about racism in fandom—fired from their job at Teen Vogue.4 A decolonization of methodologies may be enacted through revising research perspectives for the purpose of the communities and the people the researcher seeks to engage with. Smith terms this as “researching back” (2013, 7) to prioritize the interests of the community the research draws upon, in line with the idea of writing back as argued in postcolonial discourse around knowledge production (Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin 2003). This aligns with Moya’s decolonial concept of “shifting the geography of reason” (2011): the idea of producing knowledge from views beyond only certain regions of the world that further Eurocentrism. One way to do so is by reaching out to and/or centering the voices of those beyond the Global North. Furthermore, such a method maintains fan voice and agency in the text by avoiding the privileging of discursive analysis of the text as separate from the experiences of fans.

Decolonizing the Tools of Analysis A decolonization of methodologies does not necessarily imply a rejection of Western methods and frameworks; rather it suggests a transformation of research perspectives and vocabularies. As Linda Tuhiwai Smith writes, “Decolonization, however, does not mean and has not meant a total rejection of all theory or research or Western knowledge. Rather, it is about centering our concerns and world views and then coming to know and understand theory and research from our own perspectives and for our own purposes” (2013, 39). Following Smith’s argument for practicing decolonizing methodologies by transforming research perspectives, here I discuss how the tools of analysis can be used within a decolonizing framework. A decolonization of constructs of engagement and analysis that assume a Western default is one important method. The need to critique and expand Western constructs within fan and celebrity studies is proven by the continued conceptualization of modern, English-language-centered global media fandom as necessarily transcultural due to the participation of diverse fans (Morimoto and Chin 2017). A decolonization of analytical tools can be enabled through a situatedness of the concepts examined in relation to studied subjects. Mignolo (2009) observes this through noting the geographicality of a historicity to critically engage with 24   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

the assumptions and values that inform any analytical model. This is valuable, for instance, in considering the role of fandoms in impacting participants’ mental health, whether positively or negatively. In the case of disability and health perspectives, racial groups are often studied under a white supremacist construct of ability (Ribet 2010, 217). Hence, a deconstruction of concepts of disability and health to see how they are interpreted in non-Western contexts will enrich findings pertaining to intersections between fandom and health. Such perspectives can be used to rupture some of the implicit assumptions and evasions in fan research, complicate the politics of representation in fandom, and highlight the functions and affects of fandom. Decolonization of research bibliographies is another method that has been suggested by decolonial scholars such as Heleta (2016). This method is replicated in the recent impetus in fan studies to decolonize the field, critiquing its structural whiteness in terms of its genealogies and theorizations. The decolonizing fan studies project includes the creation of an evolving, non-exhaustive list of scholarly work that engages with issues of race and coloniality in fandom, not restricted to the works of scholars of color.5 It is important to note here that while respect for non-Western and postcolonial knowledges has also been seen as a part of decolonizing practices (Smith 2013), a romanticization of indigenous and non-Western knowledges should be avoided in seeing non-Western knowledges as necessarily beneficial or radical. By locating value in the self-expression and situated lived experience of the fan as suggested through these strategies, researchers can emphasize the subjective and the affective in a respectful manner.

C a s e S tu d y : R e a d i n g f o r D e c o l o n i a l Aff e ct In this section, I discuss findings pertaining to the construction of whiteness and what its desirability can mean for non-white fans drawing from survey and interview responses with Marvel fans as part of my larger doctoral project. The survey participant demography involved forty-one participants (56.9 percent) who identify as non-white and thirty participants (41.7 percent) who identify as white/Caucasian, all recruited through fan forums such as Facebook groups devoted to AO3 writers and personal social media. Following survey analysis, I approached fans identifying as people of color and/or people with disabilities interested in follow-up discussion for in-depth interviews. The survey and interview focused on fans’ enabling and disabling experiences in global media fandom Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  25

and how these relate to their positions of marginality. In this case study, I focus on insights gained from participants who identify as non-white/people of color. Combining the tools of affect theory with decolonial strategies, I demonstrate how this approach can provide new ways of exploring the value of fandom as a social and cultural resource by privileging the perspectives of BIPOC fans. Reading fan responses for decolonial affect facilitates attentiveness to race and cultural specificity, as well as the materiality of fan experience, while enabling a critical closeness central to fan and celebrity studies. I contextualize fans’ affective choices in terms of their racial and cultural positioning and discuss how fandom reproduces structural whiteness. The survey and interviews showed that most of the ships preferred by participants involve white characters and actors. Some participants suggested that this was because white characters were predominant in their respective fandoms, which included MCU and popular Western shows like Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Sherlock, and others. However, one of my research participants, Kari,6 who identifies as Afro Latina, discussed how this is the case even for texts with prominent actors (and characters) of color: I remember there was a smaller queer convention I went to and a fan said, “I’m annoyed that there aren’t more people following Viola Davis’s Annalise Keating because she’s sexy.”7 I’m like “they’re not following her cause she’s a dark-skinned black woman.” And even in that fandom, more people were interested in pairing her with white characters. And I grew more invested in the show because they had an Afro Latina pairing with her. I was like, “oh, couple that looks like the couple that’s in my house.” My girlfriend is black. I am Afro Latina. We’re not popular. People don’t want to consume us except us. And so that’s part of the problem in fandom. While mainstream Western media continues to feature all-white casts that serve to construct the ideal attractive person as white, fandom reinstates and extends that racial hegemony, even in shows with a diverse cast. This observation was found to be true in many other fandoms. Another participant, Ms. Andry, who identifies as mixed Chinese, observed that in the case of the Teen Wolf fandom, the most popular pairing by far was one involving the two secondary white male characters, over and above any ships involving the mixed-race protagonist played by Tyler Posey, who is of Mexican descent. These instances demonstrate how fans prioritize white characters and texts despite an availability of non-white characters, constructing Western slash as 26   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

predominantly white. Opening up about this “pull toward whiteness,” Ms. Andry suggested that “we have learned and been socialized to consider whiteness normal and desirable. And so, our automatic reaction is, of course, ‘ship it!’ ” The reification of whiteness in fandom replicates normative structural whiteness in contrast to the subversion of normative sexuality that has won media fandom the claim of being transgressive. While media fandom provides representation for sexual minorities, racial minorities find little representation in fan works and are often ignored or actively harassed in fan spaces. Many non-white fans in my survey expressed fear of sharing their views, particularly pertaining to race, due to experienced or expected hostility from others. Reading for decolonial affect in fans’ propensity for whiteness reveals the racial parameters that undergird fans’ affective capacities of shipping, and thus how creating fan work can limit their progressive agenda. The propensity toward whiteness among fans of color becomes more significant when factoring in the consequences of colonization. The survey revealed that more white participants (53.3 percent) than non-white participants (35 percent) have created or consumed fan work or engaged in any kind of fan activity related to their own personal identity. When elaborating on their response to this question, one Indian fan, Sofia, noted that she could relate to fan stories in terms of only her (queer) sexuality, never her racial or cultural identity. She went on to note in the survey that “Hot men=White men.” A followup interview with Sofia elucidated the extent of the impacts of colonization on reading practices of non-white fans in a specific cultural context. While initially embarrassed about her response, Sofia went on to contextualize what she termed “internalized racism” as the result of her cultural upbringing. She explained, “As an Indian we were all brought up on a steady diet of white men. If not white men, then white stories. . . . the kind of media that I consumed was overwhelmingly English language. In fact, it’s a status symbol, like how many Hollywood movies you would watch. . . . And if the only fantasies as a child have been related to white people, it stands to reason that the hot man would be white.” In Sofia’s case, the emphasis on Anglo-American Western media culture was linked to upward social mobility in postcolonial India that engendered a preference for whiteness. The persisting Anglo-American hegemony in popular media culture is at least partly responsible for this. Such affective practices reveal the extent of the colonization of the mind even years after independence in postcolonial nations, and hence the need for decolonization in multiple ways. Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  27

These ideas, in addition to localized elements of class and caste, can be linked to the primacy of fairness in India8 and the persistence of anti-Blackness in nonwhite cultures and people. Sofia elaborated that colorism manifested particularly in the form of anti-Blackness and in the “passing” of Asian men as “cute”: The obsession with skin colour in India, I think it applies to people who are black specifically. [In relation to Asian men] even though I was brought up in a family and in an environment where typically people use very derogatory words for people with Mongoloid features, but like, they were fair, so they were hot. Most of them were cute actually, they’re not typically hot in my head. Like white guys have a chance of being hot, Asian guys not so much. The cultural index of “hotness” expressed here presents a neocolonial order of hierarchization that reveals a racialization of taste, whereby whiteness (and fairness) emerge at the top. Such perspectives also reveal the perpetuation of racism and racialized hierarchies among non-Western people of color and within minority cultures. In studying the features of structural racism in media fandom, it is thus important to pay attention to the nature of globalized anti-Blackness, which has recently received some attention particularly with respect to K-pop fandom.9 There are implicit and explicit hierarchies within the umbrella of POC experiences, and these are relevant to an exploration of the desirability of whiteness and the persistence of racism. Reading fan responses through a decolonial affective lens demonstrates the importance of geo-cultural locatedness in influencing the racialization of taste even (and especially) for transcultural fans and the need for decolonization in all spheres of media and culture. This case study demonstrates fans’ critical awareness regarding the consumption of fan texts and reveals how racial affects operate, demonstrating the importance of engaging with fans using methodological approaches that contextualize their affective experiences through operations of race and colonialism. As De Kosnik and carrington note, “Fans, fan communities and fan studies are all subject to transformative work, just as much as the mass media and social media that attract fandom” (2019, 5.3). Extending such transformative work to the realm of celebrity, I believe that privileging the voices of racially and culturally diverse audiences can help us understand the limits of media text and audience interaction and identify the ways media, fandom, and academia may be made more inclusive and critical. 28   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

C o n clusi o n Affect and decolonization are frequently used words within media and cultural studies that signal powerful tools for audience research. Structural whiteness and racism within fan communities remain constant threats and points of disruption within the affective economy of media and celebrity fandom. This racism may take many forms, may involve varied evaluative hierarchies, and is not limited to white fans. While it may be easily understood that being a fan is an affective identity, the complex operations of racialization that undergird that affectivity need to be explored further. Only by understanding existing racial and cultural hierarchies within production and consumption practices can we begin the process of academic decolonization. Affective approaches to celebrity and fandom thus need to be decolonized, contributing to the larger project of decolonizing fan studies and interrelated disciplines.

Diversifying Fan Methodologies and Inquiries  29

2. F AN C REA T OR P ER S ONA S I N T HE N I C HE C REA T OR I ND U S T R I E S Christopher Moore

Is there a fundamental disconnect between fan studies theory and creative industries policy? While the study of fans and fandoms helps us understand the nuances of what Suzanne Scott (2019) calls the convergence culture industry, the operationalization of the creative industries research appears to favor a top-down approach that largely obfuscates fan contribution. Definitions of the creative economy as “industries and occupations that have a potential for wealth and job creation through the exploitation of intellectual property” reveal a set of values that seeks to replicate the paradigmatic legacy of broadcast-era media (QUT Creative Industries, n.d.). The implicit neoliberal logic of the creative and cultural industries maintains the outdated positioning of fans as consumers in a linear content production and service model, whose creative labor can be freely colonized and incorporated, or punished as a derivative free-rider problem via copyright infringement claims. In this framework, fan-based production is of limited cultural, social, and economic value, with dubious prospects for permanent, secure, and ongoing professional careers. Fans’ and fandom’s contribution to the creative economy is curtailed by reliance on the enclosure of intellectual property, employment, and wealth creation, reducing fandom- and hobbyist-inspired content as an inevitable shadow to more legitimate creative work. Cunningham and Craig’s (2017, 2019) recent work on the industrialization of social media entertainment recognizes the precarious labor conditions of platform-based creators. This chapter takes a different approach, arguing that it is not only the most visible entertainers and those who have transitioned to full-time content creation that need to be protected and represented by policy frameworks. It addresses the way both new and established generations of audiences are gravitating toward experiences that speak to their specific interests, produced by creators whom they can directly support. This interaction between

producer and consumer results in what can be described as the fledgling niche creator industries (NCIs). NCI is a term for the comparatively small but still significant online entertainment enterprises that are not platform dependent and are created by highly informed, innovative, and talented content creators. The approach here is to focus less on the industry component of NCIs, or even the perpetual debate over creativity and the associated discourse of cultural and economic value of original intellectual property generation. Instead, the chapter aims to establish the analytical framework for contending with the niche. By drawing on new theoretical approaches afforded by the emerging field of persona studies, the chapter aims to move away from platform specificity and consider the performance of fan creator personas that involves the generation of transmedia materials as well as asynchronous and real-time community-based interaction and collaboration. The primary focus of persona studies is the public presentation of the self (Marshall and Barbour 2015; Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2015). Persona is not an identity theory; rather, it draws on various ways to conceptualize the performance of persona to better understand the negotiation and movement between individual and collective in the contemporary media and communication landscape (see Moore and Barbour 2016; Moore, Barbour, and Lee 2017; Marshall, Barbour, and Moore 2018; Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2020; Moore 2020). This chapter will draw on the theoretical contributions of persona studies to examine fan creator personas working as microcelebrities within the diverse niche that is best described as the “miniatures hobby.” A microcelebrity (see Senft 2008, 2013; Marwick 2013, 2015a, 2015b) is micro not because of the size of their audience but because they trade the macro infrastructure and representational logic of broadcast media (Marshall 2010) for the increased agency of the presentational paradigm. The shift from the representational to the presentational paradigm is a major transition away from the way a small number of elite social, political, and cultural leaders would represent our interests publicly via the legacy media industries: “Presentational media is much more dispersed into intersecting micropublics as opposed to a coherent national public” (Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2020, 240). The argument for recognizing the importance and value of NCIs also embraces the micropublics of fan-based social media influencers (Abidin 2015, 2017). Microcelebrities and their micropublics involve a network of relations, not simply between creator and audience but between multiple human and nonhuman arrangements. Fan communities contribute to the creative labor of NCIs Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  31

through multiple micropublics; some of these publics are unique to a particular social media platform, while others are networks of other collaborators in the niche. Many fan creator personas exist in a micropublic of other microcelebrities, supporting each other through project collaboration and reciprocal appearances. Most important to the future of NCIs is the way micropublics operate through new forms of patronage, including donation, subscription, sponsorship, advertising, and merchandising, via membership platforms like Patreon and Indiegogo, as well as crowdfunding sites like Kickstarter that include options for the patrons to operate as collaborators and coproducers. Fan creator personas confront challenges in the legitimization of hobbies and leisure and the industrialization of fan interests. The aim here is to address underlying issues experienced by prominent actors within a specific industrialized niche. The idea of the niche is useful for bringing together ecological and economic thought, important here because “the theory of the niche is an abstraction that can bridge the nonhuman and the human social worlds. The theory of the niche is abstract and general; its substance is a set of concepts and propositions concerning competition and coexistence. As such, it is not exclusively a biological theory, but a theory formulated to describe and explain competition and coexistence among populations” (Dimmick 2003, 24). The niche, like the creative industries, is not an “empty signifier,” but, as Lovink and Rossiter (2007, 11) suggest, these terms operate with distinct memetic functions. The term “niche” has similarly gained meme status because of its usefulness in associating the material with the social. In Dimmick’s (2003) assessment, there are generalist niches and specialized niches, each with both macro and micro dimensions that include alliances and conflicts between humans and nonhumans. Where previously it was the “corporate majors” who were the primary beneficiaries of the “profitable co-option of amateur strategies” (Ross 2007, 21), especially through the official replication of popular fan activities, it is now the owners of the nonhuman systems on which the NCIs depend who are in the best position to extract the most economic value from fan labor (Cunningham and Craig 2019). The niche is not an idyllic conceptual space. The niche is a lived material reality where fan creator personas must negotiate the precarity of fan-based content creation. This precarity is enforced on the dominant social media platforms by a technological firmament organized around automated intellectual property rights management and algorithmic surveillance. It is undeniable that NCIs are a result of the affordability and accessibility of the digital tools and networks 32   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

on these platforms: they facilitate the transition from an audience persona to a fan creator. However, as this chapter demonstrates, in contributing to NCIs, creator personas are empowered by their micropublics to challenge a range of assumptions: from the importance of legacy media notions of production quality and rarefied aesthetic values to reinvigorating ideas and expectations about the notion of creativity tied to intellectual property. Perhaps most importantly, NCI personas are situated at a grounded level to confront systemic issues of racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination and oppression that exist in their niche and beyond.

C r e a tiv e I n d ust r i e s a n d F a n S tu d i e s The creative industries emerged out of the cultural industries in the 1990s as part of a systematic reformulation of creativity within an economic policy framework (Hesmondhalgh and Baker 2011, 4). Exported from Britain and embraced around the world, the creative industries aimed to offset diminishing returns in other industrial sectors alongside other initiatives like the knowledge economy and the attention economy (Davenport and Beck 2001). The creative industries are primarily organized around the commercial exploitation of intellectual property. After decades of international harmonization of trade-related intellectual property laws and regulations, creative industries policy helped to affirm copyright’s central role in the industrialization of creativity. Accompanying the political rhetoric that sought to mobilize creativity as an engine for national productivity, the creative industries have been a powerful ally in the corporate enclosure of intellectual property (Rennie 2005, 46). This was largely achieved with the export of US intellectual property doctrine through the extension of copyright duration and the provisions of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act via bilateral trade agreements that encourage strict limitations on appeals to fair use and the criminalization of anticircumvention provisions for digital copyright protection measures (Moore 2005). Other core features of creative industry policy include the associated initiatives recognizing the importance of gentrification and geographic clustering, as well as attending to the role of the emergence of the creative class (Florida 2002, 12–13). The coupling of creativity to public and professionalized identity was problematized by John Hartley, who examined the connection between human imagination, innovation, experience, and industrialization (Hartley Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  33

2005, 106–107). In Colette Henry’s analysis of creative entrepreneurship, she focuses on the role of cultural identity and its importance within the creative economy (2007, 58). Angela McRobbie has documented the niche features of flânerie and its accompanying politics in her observations on the “hipster economy” (2016). However, in these approaches, the creators’ celebrity identity is still considered in terms of star power and their contribution to economies of attention, while fans are routinely relegated to the endpoint in the traditional linear consumer model. Hartley (2005) recognized the potential of citizen-consumers to the creative industries, but it was Henry Jenkins (2006a) who popularized the concept of participatory media and convergence culture, in which ideas about the economic potential of user-generated content and fan productivity begin to register more broadly. Rather than directly empowering fans financially, the result of fan produsage (Bruns 2008) was a collective agency framed as a co-creative activity that was initially resisted, as corporate intellectual property owners shut down fan activity, and later incorporated as free labor (Terranova 2000). Despite the obvious cultural and economic potential of fan creators, critics have argued that the significance of fan labor was overstated in comparison to the everyday scale of traditional global media production and consumption (Turner 2010). It is not a simple matter to determine the economic contribution of NCIs. Fan creator activity is an inconsistent form of free marketing and advertising for their interests. Fan creator personas produce and maintain audience attention in their niche and generate revenue for both intellectual property owners and the social media platforms across which their content is distributed and consumed. To better recognize the contributions of niche fan creators, it is important to move away from terms like “amateur” and “professional,” which imply broadcast media logic. Niche creator personas transform the vestigial broadcast media production tropes through experimental methods on platforms capable of directly incorporating audience feedback. The platform itself is not as important as the real-time chat, asynchronous comments, and other interactive functions that are fundamental to the development of NCI personas. Perhaps most significantly, NCI fan creators are more than likely to be employed elsewhere, underemployed by the gig economy, or supported by spouses and families. There are instances of successful NCI personas moving to full-time content creators and becoming part of the social media entertainment industry. However, much greater research, including in-depth ethnographic studies, needs to 34   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

be conducted with these creative practitioners to get a sense of the experience, viability, and long-term sustainability of their pioneering success. An approach that investigates and protects the economic and cultural potential of creator personas will help reverse the marginalization of fan-producers and contribute to the crucial reorientation of the social contract of intellectual property and platform governance. Henry Jenkins (1992b) began mapping the cultural firmament of participation from which fannish identity originates in the 1990s. Early fan studies contributors—like Brower (1992, 163), who drew on Hebdige (1979), and Jenkins (1992a)—understood that fan contribution to the cultural industries, via the appropriation of media texts and star performances, was part of identity construction. Fans have long made use of paratextual accoutrements, like uniforms and costumes, merchandise, and other material collectables, to perform their fan identities. A once-private activity is now conducted as a public identity, as it moved from private spaces to specialized conventions and then online to websites and blogs and eventually social media profiles. Recently, Jenkins, Ito, and boyd (2016) have recognized that fan persona is no longer a “subordinate identity within the cultural hierarchy” (Jenkins 1992b, 23) but now a legitimized form of social, cultural, and economic capital with extensive participatory power (Jenkins, Ito, and boyd 2016, 19), resulting in what Lamerichs (2018) describes as productive fandom. Fan creator personas are still associated with fan obsession and toxic behaviors, and despite being incorporated in the cycles of marketing and advertising, they are routinely mocked by more legitimated creatives (Bennett, Chin, and Jones 2016). Fan productions are antithetical to traditional creative industry models because of ideological deviancies ranging from conservative and alt-right extremism to progressive and woke social justice advocacy. Both extremes are curtailed by the policing of intellectual property infringement, an understandable reaction necessary to maintain the neoliberalism of the legacy media industries. There are clear cases where fan productions overstep the mark, as was the case with the Star Trek fan-funded feature film Battle at Axanar (Dy, Iyer, and Mehta 2020). The film was considered to have threatened the exclusivity of the intellectual property rights of Paramount and CBS more than other fan productions because the fan creators raised more than $1.1 million via Kickstarter and Indiegogo. The fan group, Axanar Productions, had become microcelebrities, and the scale of their production had transitioned from amateur to professional by hiring actors that had appeared in previous official Star Trek series. Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  35

Mi n i a tu r e H o bb y ists : A Nic h e C r e a tiv e I n d ust r y It is important to ground the theoretical triangulation of fan studies, creative industries, and persona studies in a concrete example of an NCI. The following is designed to introduce recent developments in the miniatures hobby, an NCI in which fan creators are primary contributors to both the culture of the hobby and its economic growth, and thus act not simply as participatory prosumers/ producers but also as drivers of market activity. The argument here is for platform agnosticism, as the creative labor of key personas is organized intercommunicatively (see Marshall, Moore, and Barbour 2020). Intercommunication refers to the movement and flexibility of presentational media across multiple platforms, each with different micropublics that engage in different forms of patronage and collaboration. Persona studies has to date focused on five aspects of persona that are highly prominent dimensions in the presentation of the public self: publicness, collectivity, mediation, performativity, and value (Moore, Barbour, and Lee 2017). Each of these concepts represents a common pattern that is useful for close examination of fan creator personas and the constellations of micropublics operating in the NCI. Not all NCIs exist in a complex relationship with an intellectual property owner. General crafts, hobbies, and special interests such as crocheting or medieval instrument playing, for example, mostly exist outside of the proprietary tangles that the Lego or book club niches must navigate. The UK-based Games Workshop (GW) is the largest company whose core operation is situated entirely within the NCI that can be very loosely categorized as the miniatures hobby. Multiple global corporations, such as Hasbro, Asmodee, and Bandai, as well as hundreds of much smaller companies, also operate in this niche. Outside of Asia, GW is the most recognized producer of high-quality plastic miniature kits and tabletop wargame experiences with an extensive international community brand (Cova, Pace, and Park 2007). Best known for the miniatures war game Warhammer 40,000 (40K), GW was established in 1976 selling versions of classic board games (chess, go, backgammon, and others). The business began importing the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons (which had itself emerged from the tabletop miniatures game Chainmail) and publishing the magazine White Dwarf in 1977, which included content for a range of role-playing games including Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, Call of Cthulhu, and RuneQuest. The company opened a retail store and began producing miniatures, rules, and other products for its flagship in36   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

tellectual property, Warhammer Fantasy Battle in 1983 and Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader in 1987. Games Workshop currently manages several subbrands including Citadel, Black Library, and Forge World, selling model kits, acrylic paints, tabletop game systems, creative fiction books, magazines, audiobooks, audio dramas, and other media products. The company has a global distribution chain and its own specialized brick-and-mortar Warhammer retail stores designed to service the hobby exclusively with its products. GW has thus created an enclosed ecosystem that enforces its monopoly at the competitive and casual events run at these locations. As of mid-2020, GW had 531 stores in North America, continental Europe, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand, with only 25 in Asia despite increased manufacturing and attention to sales in China. In recent years, GW concluded its Tolkien-inspired fantasy-themed tabletop game Warhammer Fantasy, creating a new version, Warhammer: Age of Sigmar, to strengthen its intellectual property (IP) claims against the more generic fantasy elements that exist in the public domain and against alternative suppliers taking advantage of the increased affordability of high-quality and low-cost 3D printing. The company has also adopted a highly flexible approach to leasing its IP from its tabletop games to video game development companies, resulting in a range of top-tier video game releases as well as more disposable mobile experiences. Like many companies reliant on the goodwill of consumers and fans, GW has tempered its highly aggressive copyright enforcement policy of the early 2000s (Walliss 2010) and, until recently, been notably less litigious toward fan content production online. The tabletop games market has increased in sales and revenue by 10 percent per year since 2010 and is expected to reach $9.3 billion in annual sales in 2020 and $12 billion in global sales by 2023 (Statista 2019), which is approximately equivalent to one-tenth of the revenue of the global video game sector (Statista 2020). A creative industries perspective alone might frame GW as a central actor, but in the NCI, the relationship between the company and its fan creators is more reciprocal and ontologically flat than the typically assumed hierarchical model of producer/consumer. Without the NCI, the company would simply not be as successful as it currently is, and GW has actively incorporated NCI personas into unofficial marketing operations (Cova and Paranque 2010), most recently through nondisclosure arrangements and the free provision of products ahead of the official product launches, which results in a fan-content hype cycle. Although GW has struggled to embrace the full affordances of the digital era, the company has followed the initiative of its fan creators, replicating their Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  37

approach to content production via blogs, tutorial videos, podcasts, apps, and livestreams. Both its semi-incorporation of NCI content and the traditional creative industry–style transmedia licensing have helped the company to “surge in revenue” from a reported £220 million in 2018 (BBC 2018) to £270 million in 2020 (Games Workshop Group PLC 2020), despite closing the business globally in March for six weeks as a response to COVID-19. Games Workshop is described by the Edison Group (2019) as a “niche market, vertically integrated manufacturer,” which exposes one of the core misconceptions about the growing financial success of GW specifically and the value of the hobby as an NCI more generally; that is, the reduction of the niche to a unified market or “an economic resource primarily comprising consumers” (Anand and Croidieu 2015). GW provides an important locus for understanding the relationship between corporate IP ownership and product release cycles and how both benefit from NCI fan creators fueling the participatory media practices of its consumers. Publicness is a key concept in understanding the fan creator persona in the NCI. While there are many public and private, or semiprivate, WhatsApp and Facebook hobby groups, the industrialized public self is the core means through which fan creator personas operate as microcelebrities in the niche. The publicness of NCI personas is precarious, as they require open management of reputation across multiple micropublics of attention, which exposes these microcelebrities to doxing, cancel culture, and other forms of trolling behavior, and there are very few means of official protection or security (Dalbey 2018). Through the mediatization of persona, fan creators coexist while competing with the official GW presence on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Twitch. The views on the official GW YouTube channel Warhammer typically range between 10,000 and 50,000 views, with 421,000 subscribers. A good number of videos on the channel attract over a hundred thousand views, and two have reached one million views at the time of writing. Fan creator personas attract equivalent attention, such as Oculus Imperia, whose videos feature an “in-universe” character narration, ranging between 20,000 and 50,000 views, with 58,000 subscribers. In many instances, GW’s community team has created branded media personas to compete with the major hobby microcelebrities. The company’s community team on these platforms operates under a corporate persona, which is less agile and unrestricted than those of fan creators. In cases where employees have established independent personas, such as GW artist and modeler Daren Latham, the company has moved to restrict their output and expression, which has caused 38   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

microcelebrities like painting instructor Duncan Rhodes to leave the company to work full-time in the NCI with his own subscription-based Painting Academy. One of the unfortunate consequences of GW’s corporate homogenization is the reinforcing of the hobby stereotype as predominantly being performed by white, heteronormative, middle-class males (see Walliss 2012).

N C I S p e ci a li z a ti o n s The miniatures hobby niche demonstrates how NCIs tend toward endless fractalization, and the same analysis might be applied to the health and beauty niche, van-based travel and camping, sports fandom, or backyard astronomy. The miniatures hobby described by Carter, Gibbs, and Harrop (2014; see also Harrop, Gibbs, and Carter 2014) as an engagement pastime can be viewed as having multiple sectors, each with distinct specializations, including play, world-building (or lore), criticism, and review, as well as painting and collecting. These divisions should not be taken as definite categorizations, and each community or fan collective will have distinct terms. In the GW community, fans will refer to the rules as “crunch,” while the lore is “fluff,” which indicates a historical value system and cultural hierarchy associated with these two elements. The practice of building and painting miniatures is often labeled “craft” or “hobby,” while play is typically divided into competitive versus casual. These are important distinctions for fan creator personas looking to develop a microcelebrity status through the mediatization of fan knowledge and to build a specific micropublic. Each specialization has an established group of microcelebrities, each with their range of micropublics, including a distinct micropublic network of other microcelebrities that feature as guests in the entertainment experience, whether it’s a live interview show or “let’s play”–style game review or hobby tutorial. Performing a specialization has distinct economic and cultural implications for new entrants into the niche, but innovation is key, and many fan creator personas succeed through hybridization. Creative content is produced for podcasts, online videos, blogs, and livestreams, and extensive labor goes into operating and managing community-based Discord servers and organizing crowdfunding and patronage systems, as well as the core work of presenting the creator persona via the full range of social media platforms and services. Specialization and hybridization as an NCI fan creator are advantageous for persona performance, as they assist audiences and collaborators to identify, join, Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  39

and participate in an easily identifiable micropublic. Bentley House Minis is the online persona of Ara Bentley, whose YouTube channel has 57,100 subscribers with 200 videos featuring the building of miniature dollhouses. Views range from the tens to the hundreds of thousands, but it is the fannish elements that attract the most attention, with the re-creation of the Addams Family house in miniature (completed after eleven years) attracting 251,000 views. Bentley’s persona has multiple main facets, including the YouTube channel, Instagram account, Facebook page, Twitter profile, Etsy store, and website. Each facet has a distinct micropublic, but participants may engage in multiple locations. Another star persona in the broader miniatures field is Australian Luke Towan, whose YouTube channel, Boulder Creek Railroad (BCR), connects to the participatory media culture of model railroads. Towan specializes in detailed tutorials for highly elaborate model scenery. Towan’s persona as a mentor has 1.07 million YouTube subscribers, and his tutorial videos attract between 400,000 and 5 million views, meaning that he is on the threshold of transitioning from NCI to a more mainstream social medial entertainer (SME). His persona is similarly faceted across Instagram, Facebook, and his website, which emphasizes the importance of intercommunication and micropublics in the niche creative industries. Some NCI personas will replicate content across social media platforms to reach multiple micropublics while making effective use of content. Other personas will localize the type and style of content to a specific platform, differentiating each facet of the performance to encourage participation in the distinct micropublic at each location. Both approaches are examples of intercommunication achieved with different audiences and values in mind. Unlike Bentley, Towan differentiates followers from the fans who contribute to his Patreon account. Towan’s Patreon describes his patrons as a special category of audience, where the contribution is limited to financially supporting the video production and does not include other forms of collaboration, again reinforcing his more SME than NCI approach. Contemporary patronage is an important feature of NCIs that requires greater attention from researchers in the future. Patronage is distinct from other forms of crowdfunding, via platforms like Kickstarter, which are also part of the hobby niche, because it allows for a range of variations in organizing participant micropublic collectives. While Towan’s Patreon micropublic, like many, is organized around advanced content viewing, other fan creators integrate access to communication platforms like Discord via Patreon subscription to foster a micropublic of collaborators who can suggest content (or directly pay to have 40   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

it produced), vote on content options, assist in the product development for merchandise sites like Etsy, and even act as official executive producers, guests, editors, and other creative roles.

P e r f o r m a n c e s , C h a ll e n g e s , a n d V a lu e s Fans looking to build a full-time NCI career as a microcelebrity will inevitably engage in the process of persona performance through imitation and variation. Platform algorithms reward content creators for operating within established conventions, but audiences reward fans whose personas differ from others. The broadcast trope of the talk show is quite common in NCI content creation, but these shows dispense with concern over production values. The quality of specialist knowledge, experience, and the performance of fandom are prized more than the fetishization of sound and video aesthetics or even camera framing. Some fan creator personas go to extensive lengths to re-create and reimagine broadcast tropes like titles and introductions, but just as many dispense with these affectations. Guests are usually members of the NCI collaborator micropublic and either fan creator personas themselves or high-profile community members. The content frequently embraces poor-quality video, audio, and internet connections and is unconstrained by the restrictions of advertiser-friendly content of legacy media. Rob Symes of The Honest Wargamer streamed via Twitch daily for 500 consecutive days during the COVID-19 global pandemic beginning in March 2020. He has transitioned to full-time NCI content creation via the support of his Twitch subscribers and Patreon supporters, but he has not yet reached the level of higher-profile SMEs on YouTube or Twitch. Symes is an effective microcelebrity specializing in the commentary of high-level competitive play. Symes’s persona is currently produced via Twitch rebroadcast to YouTube, with the audio exported to a podcast via RSS feed. A skilled presenter and manager of the live simultaneous chat from Twitch and YouTube, Symes orients his content intercommunicatively for the podcast audience, YouTube viewers, and Patreon supporters who collaborate via Discord, all within one feed, often employing different memes and intertextual references to speak to each micropublic. During the first UK pandemic lockdown, the Honest Wargamer collective established the tSports Network and built a dedicated studio “arena” to host the team-based Super Series, a ladder-format tournament for teams of four to Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  41

compete. The tSports Network was supported by patrons and Honest Wargamer merchandise sales and performed a high level of professional competitive audio/ video commentary that replicated and innovated on both e-sports-style event coverage and traditional sports broadcasting. The Super Series is a promising example of the innovation NCI creator personas are capable of and the degree to which micropublics can financially support the move to full-time content creation. The endeavor was suspended due to the second pandemic lockdown in the UK and successfully completed its first series as restrictions lifted, which goes to show that NCIs are robust enough to survive in uncertain times. Several prominent NCI microcelebrities identified as moving into full-time content creation in 2020, including Scott Walter via his channel, Miniac, Emil of Squidmar Miniatures, and Guy and Penny of Midwinter Minis. Others challenge the normalization of full-time employment through a range of hobby-related incomes, including Kickstarter-funded products and commission painting. Microcelebrities work to distinguish their persona in multiple ways, such as Dana Howl, whose painting videos are characterized with vaporware color palettes, distinctive underpainting techniques, and synth- and retro-wave affectations in the video tutorials. Many of these personas are following in the steps of Bob Ross’s posthumous success on Twitch.tv; his Joy of Painting series launched the Twitch Creative category in 2015 with 5.6 million unique views in forty-eight hours (Perez 2015). Not all fan creators are successful in achieving a selfsustaining presence, and very few achieve full SME status. NCI audiences can be highly critical of imitation, and personas that appear to lack authenticity and credibility and microcelebrities are targets for online harassment and are easily embroiled in social drama controversies.

W a r h a m m e r I s f o r Ev e r y o n e On June 5, 2020, @WarComTeam, the official Twitter persona for the Warhammer Community Team, shared a black-and-white text image on behalf of GW (see figure 1). Titled “Warhammer is for everyone,” the statement sets out a clear agenda for the future of the miniatures hobby by committing the company to increased diversity of representation in Warhammer-branded products. The statement also sets out a zero-tolerance policy for prejudice, hate, or abuse in the company and in the hobby community that it supports through its physical retail stores and online presence. This was an important public announcement 42   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

1. Games Workshop’s “Warhammer is for everyone” statement tweeted by @WarComTeam on June 5, 2020.

tackling issues that have long held back the GW-focused sector of the miniatures hobby from being accessible to a more diverse consumer and fan base. The Warhammer Community Team, however, was not being proactive; rather, it was reacting to events that followed the death of George Floyd on May 25, 2020, and the #BlackLivesMatter protests that ensued. The GW statement followed the Instagram video by @Omegonedge, in which hobbyist Josh Mallett (2020) describes his experiences of overt and covert racism while participating in the Warhammer community in the UK. In the video, Mallett recounts a particular experience at an official GW event, in which he accuses the project leader of the Forge World subbrand of making racist comments and singling Josh out for ridicule over his minority status in the community. Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  43

The interaction between NCI personas and their micropublics means they are an important cultural locus for confronting issues of structural inequality, discrimination, and exclusion. The GW Twitter post began a culture war in the NCI, and fan creator personas both for and against the statement took to their platforms and channels to speak directly with their micropublics and discuss the company’s position. Key figures took issue with the “you will not be missed” sign-off on the GW statement, while many prominent personas, including Uncle Atom and Goobertown Hobbies, created content in support of GW’s stance. An example of a contentious fan creator is Arch, who was formerly Arch Warhammer before GW pursued an intellectual property infringement via a trademark violation claim in July 2020. His YouTube performance includes an affected British accent and a specialization of fan knowledge regarding 40K lore. The Norwegian YouTuber publicly celebrates the negative reaction to his persona and his infamy. Arch found traction in posting politically and racially offensive materials on his YouTube channel, helping to foster a sympathetic micropublic via Discord. Evidence of his racist and sexist content was documented in detail by Reddit user u/Ralphesurus (2020) on the r/Sigmarxism subreddit—a space where fans enact complex personas that openly criticize GW, its lore, and its commercial strategies, while simultaneously participating in the hobby. The post provides a comprehensive account of the content attacking social justice politics, along with Arch’s support for white nationalism and men’s rights organizations as well as anti-Islamic statements and fascism denialism. Criticism of GW’s statement also came from the collective persona No More Damsels (NMD), which aims to “improve the gender balance of the London RPG and Wargaming scene” (NMD 2020). Founded by activists Sarah Pipkin and Naomi Clarke, NMD conducted events designed to encourage gender diversity in the local tabletop games community. In an open letter to GW, NMD (2020) called on the company to provide details on its plans to address prejudice, hatred, and abuse in the company and offer concrete steps to address racism, sexism, transphobia, and homophobia in the Warhammer community. Historically there is a strong bias against female participants in the hobby, but a growing diversity in the NCI fan creator personas who represent it is actively challenging the status quo. As Scott (2019, 15) notes, the “professionalized fan identity” of “fanboy/fanboi” or “fantrepreneurs” means that women have been ignored, overlooked, and questioned about their legitimacy in the hobby, and yet they have been present ever since its origins. Even the language of prominent NCI personas is masculinized (see Muñoz-Guerado and Triviño-Cabrera 44   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

2018), although groups like NMD have recently noted that there are many duo fan creator personas taking prominence via YouTube, including Snipe and Wib, the 40K Couple, Midwinter Minis, the Dark Artisan, and the Partners at War. The rebalancing is being led by NCI personas who have done much to address the white, male, middle-class heteronormativity that is still dominant in the hobby, which is not helped by recommendation algorithms on platforms like YouTube that reinforce stereotypes through content feed recommendations (Bishop 2018, 69). It is not merely the history of the hobby but the algorithmic determinism of the platforms on which NCIs operate that reinforce the masculine branding of fandom generally, and the miniatures hobby specifically, when that does not represent actual lived diversity (Banet-Weiser 2012; see also Scott 2019, 49). Women are still a minority in the hobby, but the gap is diminishing as more proactive communities emerge on sites like Instagram. One hashtag, #ladyhammer, is led by the persona of Kirsty Jean, @warhammerprincess, who has embraced the platform as a space for women in the hobby, conducting regular interviews via the Instagram Live feature. The #ladyhammer conversation is an example of the NCI collectives of care, a concept that Alacovska and Bissonnette (2019) argue provides a corrective account to studies of creative industries that frame creative work as highly competitive and individualized. The micropublic networks of fan creator personas collaborating with other personas—as well as the micropublics of audiences, patrons, and fan collaborators—recognize the “communitarian, relational, and moral considerations as well as interpersonal connectedness and interdependencies that underpin creative work” (Alacovska and Bissonnette 2019, 135). As Scott (2019, 9) notes, fans are capable of critiquing systems of capital and hegemonic culture while simultaneously operating within the walled gardens of social media platforms and the neoliberalism of the corporations that own the intellectual property to their fan interests. We must remain critical of any claim to the democratization of fandom, but we must also acknowledge fan contributions to NCIs that include compassionate actors, highly affective creative workers, and community-minded laborers.

C o n clusi o n There is much potential in the intersection between fan theory, persona studies approaches, and creative industries policy for further investigation into the cultural and economic potential of fan creators in other niches. There is also a Fan Creator Personas in the Niche Creator Industries  45

need to recognize those content creators with distinct personas and associated micropublics who do not fit within the broader, more populous and profitable social media entertainment categories. Niche fan creator personas face two main obstacles. The first is contending with intellectual property rights holders who freely exploit the labor of fans and hobbyists, or conversely shut them down through copyright claims. The second obstacle involves the constantly shifting platform infrastructure that subjects content creators to uncertainty via algorithmic-based viewer recommendation systems and changes to terms of service conditions that are automatically enforced. These platforms also benefit from the labor of niche fan creators, whose personas attract audiences and attention to the platform. Those contributing to the niche creator industries have clearly demonstrated the ability to engage with issues of social justice, and they require policy at the national and international level as part of the creative industries to ensure their future protection.

46   Expanding Theoretical Boundaries

P ARA S O C I A L I N T ERA C T I ON S AND RE L A T I ON S H I P S

3. S I G N O F T HE T I ME S Generation Z, Transmedia Activism, and Female Identity Formation through Harry Styles Fandom Janey Umback

On October 5, 2019, performer Harry Styles shared a two-letter word with his 33.8 million Twitter followers: “Do” (Styles 2019). Much scholarship has examined social media’s influence on the relationship between celebrities and their audience (Abidin 2018; Redmond 2018; Marshall 2014a, xi–xiv; Bennett 2014; Jenkins 2012). However, it would be an understatement to say that this simple verb—Styles’s only tweet in five months—caused a flood of fan interest. What was it that the star, well known throughout his fan community for a lack of social media engagement, wanted his followers to do? At the time of writing this chapter, Styles’s post had garnered over 222,000 retweets, 690,000 likes, and 81,300 comments on the digital app (Styles 2019). Many commentators speculated that the tweet was linked to Do Something Nice Day, an initiative that encourages people to perform random acts of kindness (National Today, n.d.). For this artist, who promotes work with the trademarked Treat People with Kindness, to advocate for such a cause did not seem out of character. Later that month, while publicizing Styles’s second solo album release, Fine Line, radio host Greg Burns asked Styles to explain the mysterious tweet. “Can I be really honest?” the performer replied. “I was half asleep, and I don’t remember sending it” (Hits Radio 2019). For this minimal output and his subsequent abstruse response to have such a significant impact illustrates the push-pull dynamic between Styles and his fandom, a dynamic explored within this chapter with a specific focus on female fans in the Generation Z (born between 1997 and 2001) age bracket. While all fans have traditionally been seen to operate at the margins of society, the specific representation of female audience members has been built on stereotypes of passivity and mass hysteria (Anderson 2012, 240; Busse 2013,

78; Jenkins 2012, 37). This image of women has permeated popular culture for decades, reinforcing the tenets of dominant patriarchal paradigms. Nevertheless, the following work suggests that young women’s involvement in fandom, mainly when linked to digital communities, enables them to conduct themselves beyond the constraints of gendered stereotypes. At its core, this chapter applies empirical research to provide an exploratory investigation and analysis of female fan/ celebrity identification within the Harry Styles fan community through twelve semistructured interviews. By applying the scholarly concepts of star image, celebrity worship, and fan communities, this analysis will explicate how young, digitally active female fans of Styles obtain higher levels of self-empowerment through a constructed version of the performer. Fraser and Brown (2002) defined identification with a celebrity as traditionally related to an appropriation of perceived values and behavior of media personas. The influence that celebrities hold over their followers has only increased with the emergence of the internet, with Marshall (2014) explicating the concept of persona to describe how digital culture created a landscape wherein people are encouraged to develop a public image. This image, Marshall affirmed, closely resembles “what celebrities have had to construct for their livelihood for at least the last century” (Marshall 2014c). Marshall’s work aligns with Dyer’s theory of “star image,” an intertextual mix of publicity, creative output, and social commentary (Dyer 1998, 3). Building on such scholarship, this work illustrates how female followers of Styles have created their own idealized versions of the star via an amalgamation of the live concert experience and their interfan communication. It will also be shown how digital communities centered around Styles establish a safe space for female fans to test out and negotiate a wide range of social scripts inspired by the artist. Ultimately, it is determined that Styles’s blatant ambiguity coupled with the rise of social media have created a performer who facilitates the open exploration by young women of their own identities and belief systems.

Harry Styles: Research Background Harry Styles, who has been a part of the Westernized cultural vernacular since he was sixteen, first gained prominence as a member of the British/Irish boy band One Direction. Formed in 2010 on the seventh season of the reality television program The X Factor, One Direction became the most profitable boy band in 50   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

history. In addition, the band’s adoption of digital apps as a primary method of communication facilitated the growth of one of the world’s first mobilized, global fan networks (Spurlock 2013). Marshall (2014b) outlines pop music as being “packaged in a discourse of change” (167); this change is critical in constructing power and signifies meaningful societal shifts. As such, an audience will feel attached to pop stars through “a specific array of cultural products” (167). A phenomenon of social media (Gannon 2015; Marshall 2014b, 165), the boy band advertised albums, tours, and a stunning array of merchandise via the then-emerging platforms of Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter. One Direction released five albums, received over 240 awards, and completed four world tours before announcing their “extended hiatus” in 2015 (O’Malley Greenburg 2016). To quote journalist Jamieson Cox (2015), who profiled the boy band for The Verge that year, “Their insane work rate was necessitated by the changing media ecosystem.” Additionally, The X Factor’s public voting system and a series of behind-the-scenes video diaries produced by the television program and starring the band, established a sense of intimacy between fans and band members. When they did give interviews to traditional media outlets, the band was sure to repeatedly thank fans for their unwavering support (Cox 2015; Gannon 2015; Lamont 2014). One Direction member Liam Payne shared with the Sunday Times in 2015, “You can’t complain about it. And yes, it gets crazy, but it’s all we know. Because of social media, we’re probably the first band to go through it like this” (Gannon 2015). Payne concluded, “It’s intense, but you’ve got to be grateful that there are people screaming for you” (Gannon 2015). In 2017, Styles released his eponymous debut solo album and appeared in Christopher Nolan’s World War II drama Dunkirk. His first solo world tour— completed in two legs between September 2017 and July 2018—sold close to one million tickets and donated US$1.2 million to several international charities (Rolli 2018). Styles’s second solo record, Fine Line, was released to positive reviews in December 2019, with Rolling Stone magazine writing of the album, “If there’s a nontoxic masculinity, Harry Styles just might’ve found it” (Catucci 2019). While these details sketch out the performer’s oeuvre, a glance at media headlines offers diverse opinions regarding the private life of Harry Styles. During his years under the public eye’s scrutiny, the star has been labeled both a womanizer—romantically linked to several high-profile female celebrities—and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community (Lamont 2019). Reports of a closeted relationship between Styles and his bandmate Louis Tomlinson followed One Direction from the group’s formation, with many fans Sign of the Times   51

believing that the band’s management forced the romance to remain secret (Gibson 2015). Rumors of the relationship were strengthened when Styles ceased using his social media accounts, effectively ignoring opportunities to address personally any involvement with his bandmate. In 2014, “Larry Stylinson” (a portmanteau of Styles’s and Tomlinson’s names) fan fiction ranked number four in popularity on Archive of Our Own’s annual relationship charts (Centrumlumina 2014). In 2020, “Larry Stylinson” remained in the top ten most accessed fan fiction pairings on the same website (Fanlore 2021). AO3 is one of the internet’s most popular open-sourced repositories for fan fiction contributed to by the public (Archive of Our Own 2020). This collective mythology, married with a reputation for maintaining a level of decided inscrutability through media interviews and wardrobe, reinforces fan fascination with Styles. In his December 2019 interview with the Guardian, the performer rhetorized, “Am I sprinkling in nuggets of sexual ambiguity to try and be more interesting? No” (Lamont 2019). The sentiment echoed a 2014 interview with the Sun on Sunday, where he downplayed rumors regarding his sexual orientation. When the paper raised the subject of dating men, Styles responded, “Don’t knock it ’til you try it” (Jeffries 2014). This reaction was mirrored again during the promotion of his self-titled solo album in May 2017, when the star further subverted the concept of traditional masculinity in mainstream pop culture. Styles claimed that defining his sexuality was not necessary to him, noting that “everyone should just be who they want to be” (Jackman 2017). Like other female- and minority-driven fandoms, followers of One Direction, known colloquially as Directioners, have been represented in media discourse as obsessive and manic. As an example, the 2013 British documentary Crazy about One Direction positioned the boy band’s fans as irrational, willing to indulge in extreme and dangerous behaviors to get close to group members. Reactions to Crazy about One Direction were predominantly negative, with many of the young women involved in filming later claiming that they were misrepresented throughout (Ewens 2019, 14–15). In a review of the documentary, the Guardian published, “One Direction’s obsessed teenage girl fans are like Stan in the Eminem song” (Wollaston 2013). The boy band’s fandom would later appropriate “Stan” to distinguish themselves from more casual consumers. While many have perceived One Direction’s followers as uncontrollable, the following analysis indicates that Styles’s Generation Z–aged female fans do not behave senselessly. Instead, their adoration of the performer is used as an instrument to become dynamically involved in forms of activism. Most com52   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

monly, these young women internationally are associated with both the Black Lives Matter and gun control movements, as well as advocating for LGBTQIA+ rights. While all of these subjects were discussed to varying degrees during the interview process, the following research is focused on the topic of LGBTQIA+ rights and Harry Styles’s role as an ally to the community.

Research Methodology Throughout analysis of both fans and celebrities, female fandom and celebrity identification remains understudied. As such, there is a limited amount of literature to utilize regarding conventional methodological approaches. This research consists of the categorical content analysis of narratives (Lieblich, Tuval-Mashiach, and Zilber 2011, 113–114), collected via twelve interviews with female fans between September and October 2019. Employing narrative analysis enabled the twelve research participants involved in this study to assert ownership over their lived experiences, allowing their fandom to become a discursive space for social change. Interviews were conducted with fans in Australia, the United States, Germany, Guam, Israel, Mexico, and the Netherlands, with all but one (held face-to-face) conducted via the digital platform WhatsApp. Across the semistructured interviews, conversation was guided around Styles, fans’ individual involvement in Styles’s fan communities, and social activism. The twelve research participants were aged between eighteen and twenty-two, and all identified as members of Generation Z. As well, each research participant was assigned a single lettered pseudonym to ensure anonymity within the final documentation.

A d o r e Y o u : G e n e r a ti o n Z , C e l e b r it y W o r s h ip, a n d P a r a s o ci a l R e l a ti o n s h ips Described as “the first generation to be raised in the era of smartphones” (Williams 2015), Generation Z was born after the inception of the World Wide Web. Cultural anthropologists indicate that Generation Z’s formative years revolved around an era of social and cultural uncertainty. This cultural uncertainty includes factors such as the war on terror, mass shootings, financial instability, and an increase Sign of the Times   53

in the number of single-parent families (Turner 2015, 104–106). In addition, as a result of almost constant access to the internet and a twenty-four-hour news cycle, members of Generation Z see no distinction between time spent on and offline. These elements, along with their proximity in age to Harry Styles, explain why members of Generation Z became the subjects for this fan study. Reinforcing the decision to select Generation Z for this analysis, interviewee J shared: “Harry now kind of embodies things that I believe in and agree with, and I really like how confident he ended up being. I just love seeing how confident he’s become with what he wears and says and does because we’re not too far apart in age, so it’s been really cool to see him grow up and me grow up.” The “growing up” J speaks of creates a central narrative, as fans and casual observers alike have watched Styles grow up on screens and stages across the globe. However, this growing up is also figurative. To borrow from journalist Rob Sheffield (2019), who profiled the performer in the September 2019 issue of Rolling Stone magazine, “These days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. ‘Looser’ is how he puts it. ‘More open.’ ” Although unintentional, the concurrent maturing and consequential increase in confidence for Styles and his younger fans became a common thread linking the central analysis of these interviews. As Australian fan A outlined, “I admire him, and I admire what he does and who he is. I mean, I grew up with him; he’s made me smart.” While this transference of knowledge should not be attributed solely to Styles, it is essential to recognize that for the women interviewed, their parasocial relationships with the artist have also enabled them to establish deep-rooted networks with each other. Parasocial relationships with celebrities are built on structures of assumed intimacy between fan object and fan (Rojek 2012, 124). Parasocial, or one-sided, relationships occur when one individual expresses awareness and invests emotion and time into building a relationship. At the same time, the second person remains unaware of the first person’s presence (Horton and Wohl 1956, 215). In their ethnographic study of thirty-five Elvis fans, Fraser and Brown (2002) determined that parasocial relationships and celebrity worship elicit long-term psychological and behavioral changes in followers. Fraser and Brown noted that fans acquire strong levels of identification with their favorite celebrity by consciously role-modeling perceived values, as well as by adapting their own lifestyles to closer reflect the star’s (2002, 183). The researchers advanced two interlocking systems of celebrity identification. In classic identification, a fan 54   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

tries to emulate the observed behaviors of their chosen celebrity. In reciprocal identification, the fan believes that they already share the same behaviors (Fraser and Brown 2002, 188). To illustrate how this occurs within the Styles fan community, P, a university student who works in politics and dreams of running for city council, clearly detailed her reciprocal identification as such: “There have been different stages of Harry as I’ve grown up with him. I mean, it starts with us both being very anxious, cautious about every step taken and every word we say. Then slowly transferring into people that are more comfortable in who we are and what we do. You know, everything that we represent and our personalities developing, starting to care maybe a little less and you know, doing something because it makes you feel good.” While Fraser and Brown’s research considers the modes of celebrity identification fostered through shared behaviors such as P’s, it is equally important to recognize that celebrity worship is a symbolic means of reparation from discontent for some. In this case, Fraser and Brown posit that people choose celebrity role models as a means of increasing their self-esteem through a possible transference of positive character traits (2002, 190). This concept challenges many academic understandings of celebrity idolization, fostering a space in which theories relating to female members of Generation Z and their use of digital media and involvement in social activism can contribute new epistemological perspectives to scholarship.

S t o r y o f M y L if e : T h e P s y c h o l o gic a l a n d S o ci a l D e v e l o p m e n t o f Y o u n g A d ults Each woman interviewed detailed her experience of becoming a fan of Styles as situated within the context of being a preteen during One Direction’s rise to success. In all cases, the fan’s love of One Direction bled into real-life relationships. J, who founded a student organization for sexual assault prevention at her undergraduate university, articulated the way the band became an essential part of her adolescence: “The friendships that I made were surrounding One Direction and all of the fan fiction that we read, and when the music came out, we’d have listening parties. It was really such a big part of my identity.” The internet has strengthened the bonds between fans and celebrities. Digital technology allows fans to use platforms such as Twitter and Instagram to like, comment on, and repost from a celebrity’s social media accounts, increasing Sign of the Times   55

opportunities for fans to be noticed by the object of their attention as well as by each other. This was true for F, whose introduction to the One Direction fandom involved starting her first Twitter account at the age of nine: I created my first “Stan” account nine years ago. I was a Miley [Cyrus] “Stan,” and then I quickly switched to One Direction. He [Styles] was sixteen, and I was nine when he started. It didn’t hit me until I turned sixteen, and I was like, wow, I’m the same age as Harry was; I’ve watched him grow up into the man he is today. We know so much about him yet so little about him at the same time, but it just feels like we’ve been there through it all. Celebrity fandom plays a vital role in young adults’ psychological and social development, leading to increased emotional autonomy (Giles and Maltby 2004, 813–814). Giles and Maltby (2004) established that teenagers learn romantic scripts, formulate belief systems, and develop their gender and sexual identity through celebrity adoration (815). In many situations, attachment levels to celebrities will increase during adolescence as these role models facilitate the movement away from parental and toward peer attachments (813). Through parasocial bonds, strong relationships with celebrities allow adolescents to develop “safe social connections” (Derrick, Gabriel, and Tippen 2008, 262). Attending one of Styles’s concerts on her birthday, F recalled the moment that the star hugged her: “I remember seeing something like a quote about this before I actually hugged him, which was, ‘when they look at you, they just see another fan, but when you look at them, you see your entire world.’ And I think that perfectly describes how I felt in that moment. For him, it was probably just as simple as him hugging me, but for me, that’s something that, it sounds silly to say probably, but it’s changed my life.” For Guam-based O, One Direction’s performance at the 2012 London Olympic Games closing ceremony created a deep emotional tie to the boy band and to Styles: “Anytime I would be sad, I’d just think of Harry and One Direction, and I’d listen to their music.” When asked about the significance of the closing ceremony, O revealed that she had been arguing with her mother: “It was just a lot of hurt. I’m a child of divorce, so it’s just my mum and I. I guess we were fighting, we were arguing, and she turned the television on. It was a source of happiness right when I was in tears. There was something about Harry that drew me to him. He did have a solo at one point, so all eyes were on him.” Giles and Maltby suggested that celebrity connections rise during adolescence due to the amount of time teenagers spend alone, “often in a private bedroom” 56   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

(2004, 814). Within this context, a constructed version of Styles begins to operate as support for these young women. Developing further, Gayle Wald, in her study of the gendered sociality afforded by boy bands, detailed how male “teenybopper” performers become open to a variety of interpretations and appropriations by their fans. Wald (2002) stated that female consumers employ boy bands in “intensely personal, individually empowering, and occasionally unsanctioned ways.” “Commodity culture,” detailed Wald, assumes that fans “merely project their desire on to the figure of the pop star” (Wald 2002). However, these dominant paradigms fail to understand that those same female consumers use pop music to test out, negotiate, and inculcate social scripts. Instead, this work argues that Harry Styles’s ambiguous star image enables female fans to project a range of perceived and observed values onto the performer.

S ig n o f t h e T i m e s : S o ci a l M e d i a a n d Digit a l Activis m While the emergence of social media enabled One Direction to establish a global fanbase (Spurlock 2013) and sell products, digital platforms including Twitter are now regularly utilized as tools for activism within the Styles fandom. In “Social Media and Populism: An Elective Affinity?,” Gerbaudo (2018) theorized that digital media channels had become an effective tool in the fight to “represent the unrepresented” (746). The author outlined how social media creates virtual meeting places where individuals can connect over political and social issues (751). While he speaks of social media predominantly within the context of right-wing populism, this problematic narrative can be reframed and used to understand how antiestablishment movements also employ digital tools. Moreover, Gerbaudo wrote in 2012 that connections fostered through social media create “emotional conduits” (2012, 14), enabling activists to share thoughts and opinions, leading the process of mobilization. Further research reinforces the overwhelming social impact of digital media, suggesting that engagement with social platforms enables Generation Z to strongly differentiate between friendship and interest-driven activities (Kahne and Bowyer 2018, 472). All twelve research participants agreed that their involvement in Styles’s fan groups had resulted in an increased awareness of social and political inequality. When asked about her perception of activism in the fandom, R said, Sign of the Times   57

I think more so with that group [the Harry Styles fandom]; it’s made me more aware of it. It’s something that I think about more so than I would have if I didn’t really follow his career. Even just following different Twitter accounts or Instagram accounts, since I follow people who like his stuff or a lot of the same things, I feel like they mention that stuff or talk about it, and it’s something that they’re passionate about as well. The longer that I’m in this fandom, the more I learn. It’s helping me become more aware of what’s going on around me and what I can do to enforce certain changes and make things happen. In this case, R illustrates how the Styles fan community works to educate each other on topics they believe to be of interest to the performer. Researcher danah boyd developed the term “networked publics” to describe the juncture of people, performance, and technology (2014, 8). According to boyd, we belong to multiple communities that interconnect in myriad ways to share information across digital platforms. For those living in marginalized spaces, including young female fans and members of minority groups, “networked publics” offer countless opportunities to connect and unify (boyd 2014, 33–34). Reinforcing this concept, C, a Mexican fan who first saw Styles perform live in concert in 2017, shared, Many of the people who know me in real life know that I’m an outspoken feminist, and I know that I got to this point because of the fandom and because of the people I’ve met. I think fans got more interested in topics such as feminism thanks to him and thanks to the little things he’s done to bring our awareness to such causes. But I think that I’ve learned more about feminism from the fans than from him. C’s comment indicates that fans understand the importance of their own communities; however, it is P, who is “trying to find ways to interconnect my work personally and my love for Harry Styles,” who first connects the concept of being a member of Generation Z with being more politically active online: I think for me, seeing my generation talk about Black Lives Matter and gun violence, LGBTQIA+ issues. That made me realise that, even though we don’t take conventional approaches to our activism, we’re a very media-driven generation; people need to wake up and realise that just because we’re not suffering the same problems or acting the same way they did, that doesn’t mean that we’re apathetic or inactive. We’re just finding new ways of handling and dealing with it. 58   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

These statements highlight how social media has helped the research participants overcome the stereotypes surrounding their fandom while also allowing them to witness Styles maturing as an artist. Furthermore, by digitally engaging in forms of activism, Harry Styles fans deepen their relationships with each other. As a result, these fan members not only mirror but affirm these practices as well, building a broad network of young women unafraid to use their voices for the advocacy of cultural change.

T r e a t P e o pl e wit h Ki n d n e ss : H a r r y Styles and the LGBTQIA+ Experience In July 2018, Harry Styles helped “Grace,” a self-identifying Stan, come out to her parents during a concert in San Jose (Weintraub 2018). This act was not out of the ordinary for a performer who so closely aligns with the LGBTQIA+ community. However, the moment, captured live on social media, and Styles’s incorporation of both the pride and trans flags during his performances became critical topics of conversation throughout the interview process. L shared, It’s pretty clear, even if he’s not a member of the LGBTQ community, which I can’t assume anything about. He’s most definitely an ally, to say the least. Going to his shows where he’s providing that message. That definitely made me think, oh, he’s obviously being a big help to people who are trying to find their identity or at least express their identity to their loved ones and to the world. A lot of rock stars are very heteronormative, you have to stick to a certain script, but he’s not afraid to deviate from that. German fan L’s relationship with Styles began through reading “Larry Stylinson” fan fiction. In turn, reading this fan fiction allowed L to come to terms with her developing sexuality. While initially finding it difficult to talk about, she eventually disclosed, “The first realisation of mine towards sexuality was something along the lines of, well, if I would have been a boy, which, I definitely am not, I would have been a gay boy. Then it went, like, from bisexual to lesbian to maybe something else, to maybe bisexual again to maybe quite sure.” Henry Jenkins (2006a) noted that the praxis of idolization in the postinternet age should expand to include documentation of the synergy between media Sign of the Times   59

producers and users, as well as users and texts (135). In his book Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers: Exploring Participatory Culture, Jenkins (2006a, 137) describes a “knowledge community” of online fan networks, united through the consumption and reinterpretation of media texts. Jenkins detailed how the internet enables us to explore idealized versions of our idols through digital applications such as AO3. Interaction with fan fiction allows for countless narratives and romantic interpretations, enabling users to engage with stories revolving around situations they imagine a celebrity may encounter. Also identifying as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, interviewee H agreed that her involvement in fandom allowed her to feel more at ease with her sexuality: “Because him being so open about it made me realise that it’s fine. And being up with Twitter and everything, everyone else was so open and welcoming. It made me feel the same way.” Although each story is unique, the female fan’s identification with Styles is sequential and built on the foundations of mediated texts. Along with the guidance and support from online fan communities, these young women have been afforded the space to explore aspects of themselves that they may not have initially felt comfortable expressing in real life. Born in Greece but now living in the Netherlands, Q divulged that Styles had inspired her to be more vocal within her LGBTQIA+ community, “creating a safe space for other people who are not as privileged as I am.” Of her own live concert experience, Q stated, “I was talking with a friend about the queer space, it was even queerer than that year’s Pride. It was just super queer, super safe.” The minimal amount of information that Styles expresses of his personal life—whether through interviews, in song lyrics, or during live performances—all contributes to the fan’s interpretation of his identity. This method reflects Dyer’s description of the “novelistic character” (1998, 97), a two-dimensional figure recognized solely through a mediated series of facts and actions. As P outlined, “There are men who can be feminine and still be heterosexual but based on what he says and what he does, he has, like, queer coded a lot of things—like, referring to partners in gender-neutral ways or saying, ‘female, not that important.’ ” While fans attempt to piece Styles together to gain an adequate understanding of his public and private personas, the star himself remains decidedly abstruse. As Rob Sheffield (2019) wrote in his Rolling Stone magazine profile, “Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: ‘Make America Gay Again.’ ” L confirmed this: “With him being, not labelling his sexuality, it’s like; obviously we shouldn’t assume that he’s part of the community, but it’s already a 60   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

big thing that he’s not just saying that he’s straight.” Unlike Fraser and Brown’s (2002) understanding of celebrity identification as a projection of aspirational traits, the live concert experience fortifies empathetic bonds with the performer over qualities a fan already possesses (Derrick, Gabriel, and Tippin 2008, 262).

C o m f o r t a bl e S il e n c e : P e r f o r m e d I n ti m a c y a n d P a r ticip a t o r y C ultu r e Due to Styles’s lack of interaction online, young female fans have taken a more liberal approach with their digital reappropriation of his personas. Furthermore, Styles’s silence on social media works in contrast to the idea that modern-day celebrities use platforms such as Twitter to create a “performed intimacy” (Marwick and boyd 2011b, 148). According to Marwick and boyd, “performed intimacy” is a technique that involves stars posting personalized content online in order to create the illusion of allowing first-person access into their lives (2011b, 148). Although, as M noted, “I definitely think him staying away and off of it [social media] may actually help him present himself as a better person.” Both Kahne and Bowyer (2018) and Jenkins (2012) suggest that participatory culture breeds increased political engagement by creating and sharing information deemed necessary by group members. Social networks grow larger and form increasingly strong communities as this content is posted, shared, liked, and commented on (Kahne and Bowyer 2018, 472). These online communities bleed into real-life relationships for Styles’s fans, commonly played out immediately before, during, and after concerts. Throughout Styles’s first solo tour, fans camped outside of performance venues or traveled across cities and countries to go to multiple shows. As F explained, “I’ll get hotels, but I will camp outside of venues as well . . . It’s always just a big group of girls, usually from ‘Stan’ Twitter.” Interviewee A concurred: “I camped out for three days with these random girls that I’d never talked to before, and we became the best of friends.” Working akin to Brooker’s “symbolic pilgrimage” (2017, 158), the Styles concert is an entirely immersive experience. Though fans physically travel to theaters, stadiums, and other concert venues, a symbolic transformation occurs through their engagement with the star and, more notably, with each other. During the live performance, fans can test out several personal scripts while engaging both socially and politically. O shared, Sign of the Times   61

When I went to his concert, it was a whole general feeling of acceptance. And his whole speech of, “it doesn’t matter if you are gay if you are straight if you are non-binary. If you are lost in the world or have already found yourself. What matters is that you are here now and that you are all in the same place. Let’s all be friends.” I guess the message was, “let’s make the world a better place during this concert,” but hopefully, people will carry it on. The safe space provided by the Harry Styles concert enables fans to feel as though they are transcending their real lives, instead entering “a different state of being, a form of communion with a text, with a process, and sometimes with other participants” (Brooker 2017, 160). Outside and inside the venues, Styles’s fans transformed his shows into large political stages (Garland 2017; Greenwood 2017). Throughout his first solo tour, fans arrived with LGBTQIA+ pride and trans flags, along with Black Lives Matter flags and posters. Their aim was threefold: to affirm their own identities (Gemmill 2018), bond with each other, and increase their potential of being noticed by the performer. For most stops during his tour, Styles would sing while waving and wearing a pride flag. Noted interviewee L, “It’s great seeing him supportive of something that his fans probably already support. It just gives another point of connection to him.” The star’s somewhat performative political action became so well known throughout the Styles fandom that C expressed a genuine disappointment that the performer did not co-opt a pride flag during her show. “I was expecting him to do so, but he didn’t; when I saw him bringing out a flag at the next concert, it was like, ok, it’s fine.” Citing Jürgen Habermas, Gray (2017) examined how an interest in current affairs and other means of “emotive forms of political conversation refeudalizes the public sphere” (257). Fighting the longheld view that female fandom is hysterical and “bodily,” the twelve research participants’ interest in political and social activism illustrates that this passion is also driven by rationality. By mixing the so-called masculine (rationality) and feminine (emotion), these women are motivated to work toward social change. Styles’s fans use their emotional attachments to explore political and cultural issues and deliberate these within their fan communities. As a result of encouragement and support from their social networks, fans are driven to act on their beliefs. In these instances, credit cannot be given solely to Styles: he has simply become the cipher, a mediated conduit enabling young women to be inspired and grow. 62   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

C o n clusi o n There has been a distinct lack of research regarding the positive impact of fan communities on feelings of self-worth and acceptance. Previous scholarship regarding female fandom has primarily focused on the pathologization of the female experience, with fannish acts considered hysterical, manic, and abnormal. However, the research outlined within this chapter indicates that social media has established a more level playing field for the advocacy of the female experience. In this case, fans interpret Harry Styles through mediated versions of his image and begin to identify with constructed versions of the star. The results highlighted in this work indicate that, for many young women, the support of fan communities enables them to explore aspects of their personalities that they may not feel comfortable expressing in real life. This support is significant for the Styles fan community, where the artist’s ambiguity creates safe spaces for marginalized group members. Styles’s silence on social media and the limited press he gives work in contrast to the idea that modern-day celebrities use digital networks to develop digital intimacy with their fans. The insight into female fan behavior, identity construction, and transmedia activism presented here enables us to shift further away from the pathological framings of women’s interest in music and give precedence to the experiences and voices of young women.

Sign of the Times   63

4. # A L W AY S KEE P F I G H T I N G The Legacy of Supernatural Joyleen Christensen

The end of the final season of the CW television series Supernatural (2005–2020) presents the perfect opportunity to reflect upon the social and cultural impact of the show’s historically long run. Supernatural’s development of its central characters through fifteen years of storylines that skillfully wove together notions of family and fate has provided a fertile foundation for an endless range of investigations into the show’s canon. However, beyond recognizing the broader cultural influence of the show, this chapter provides a better appreciation of the significant role that the stars have played in supporting its fan community, and vice versa. In effect, it captures a timely snapshot of the current placement of Supernatural within popular culture by reflecting how the show’s conclusion may be shaped in terms of an improved understanding of the effective social activation of fan communities. The central aim for this work is to appreciate the quantifiable outcomes of the various celebrity-led charitable campaigns as well as get a sense of how involvement in these activities has been broadly perceived by both fans and those directly involved with the show. Working in partnership with a number of different nonprofit organizations, the show’s stars—Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins—have regularly used their considerable social media presence and frequent appearances at fan conventions over the years to promote charitable activities. The most notable among these interactions are fans’ engagement in the various projects facilitated through Collins’s nonprofit organization, Random Acts, and the immensely successful Always Keep Fighting T-shirt campaigns, typically spearheaded by Padalecki, which are aimed at raising awareness around mental health issues. Fostered through high levels of on and offline celebrity-fan interactions, these initiatives appear unique in terms of the amount of direct fan engagement involved, not just in supporting fundraising for various campaigns but also through having fans assist in the practical implementation of associated activities. This

is particularly evident with the SPNFamily Crisis Support Network—an online community support platform that sprang from the fandom’s reaction to Padalecki’s public struggles with depression and which was further developed so that the show’s fans could support others who were dealing with issues such as depression, self-injury, or addiction, as well as those affected by cyberbullying. Unique among fandoms, the SPNFamily Crisis Support Network was initially funded through Collins and Ackles’s You Are Not Alone T-shirt campaign and offers training for fan volunteers to provide crisis intervention and relevant resources to other members of the Supernatural fan community in need of such support. Ultimately, this analysis demonstrates how such interactions between the stars and fans of Supernatural have helped shape the show’s legacy and ensured a significant social impact that seems likely to outlast its initial broadcast run.

Methods This chapter brings together communications studies scholarship, examining parasocial interactions between media figures and media viewers that may lead to the formation of parasocial relationships, and critical theories from the field of psychiatry about the connection between creativity and notions of symbolic immortality. Each theory has sociological and psychological foundations—helping explain the role and function of social relationships and the way in which an awareness of mortality helps shape a desire to create a legacy—yet, together, they have powerful implications for our understanding of how fans can contribute to the creative legacy of media figures. Linking these theories allows for a more nuanced understanding of how media figures and viewers might work together to shape a creative legacy, in this case, how the stars and fans of Supernatural work in parallel to ensure a lasting legacy for a television show that means so much to both parties. In applying the theories of parasocial interaction and creative symbolic immortality to a case study of Supernatural, I draw upon evidence of various on and offline interactions between the show’s stars and fans, including social media posts, websites detailing charitable projects, recordings from convention appearances, popular media reporting, and reflections about selected scenes from the television show that have special relevance for the fan community.

#AlwaysKeepFighting  65

R e t h i n k i n g P a r a s o ci a l R e l a ti o n s h ips Although the concept of parasocial interaction—the process of media users responding to media figures1 as though they were in a typical social relationship—has its origins in the field of psychology, media researchers have long been drawn to the concept’s potential for helping explain complex media engagement behavioral patterns. Initially, this led to negative assumptions being made about viewer behaviors, as some early media and communication literature on parasocial interactions (McQuail, Blumler, and Brown 1972; Rosengren and Windahl 1972) emphasized the phenomenon as a deficiency in the social life of the user—for example, positing that television viewers might develop an attachment to a fictional character out of loneliness and a need to seek out an alternative form of companionship. As Giles (2002) explains, this “implication that Parasocial Interaction is ‘imaginary,’ or ‘pseudo-social,’ pathologizes viewers who form strong parasocial attachments,” but subsequent studies have failed to support such findings (286). Citing studies that demonstrate significant overlap between parasocial interaction and traditional face-to-face relationships (Rubin and McHugh 1987; Gleich 1996), Giles (2002) maintains that parasocial interactions might actually “be treated as an extension of normal social activity” (286). Noting the need for a reexamination of established definitions of what constitutes a relationship—as well as the relative functions of proximity and reciprocity—Giles (2002) argues for the development of a fully comprehensive theory of parasocial interaction that properly considers the various types of relationship that may exist between media user and media figure, along with the functions of different media figure types (e.g., fictional creations as opposed to representations of real people). For the first of these considerations, Giles (2002) draws upon Cohen’s (1999) four discrete types of user-figure relationship2 but adds a note about the importance of also considering the point where a parasocial interaction becomes a normal social interaction, such as when the user interacts with the media figure in a face-to-face context. This “grey area,” Giles explains, can further complicate the presentation of self by the media figure. Arguably, it is exactly this type of scenario that drove the shift in Supernatural’s celebrity-fan relations after star Jared Padalecki’s public disclosure of his own struggles with depression. In this instance, the media figure’s presentation of self—in online posts and reinforced through convention appearances—simultaneously highlighted strong parallels with Padalecki’s onscreen character, Sam Winchester, while also moving 66   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

the celebrity-fan discourse toward the realm of traditional social interactions, such as when a close friend makes themselves vulnerable by sharing something deeply personal. Moving on to the second of Giles’s considerations—the function of different media figure types—there are three specific characteristics that further shape the nature of parasocial interactions: authenticity/realism, representation across different media outlets, and user contexts. The first two of these factors can be seen as interrelated in the context of Supernatural’s stars and their interactions with fans, since the perceived credibility of the stars as being authentic is supported by a consistent representation across a variety of different media. Frequent assertions that the actors have overlapping qualities with the characters that they portray in the show, interviews, social media postings, and live appearances at conventions all reinforce key characteristics of the stars’ individual celebrity personas (e.g., Misha Collins’s branding as a politicized social activist). The final consideration, user contexts, has even more significant ramifications for how we view Supernatural’s media user behavior. As Giles (2002) notes, “The media user is typically characterized as a television viewer, often a solitary figure, whose Parasocial Interaction gratifies a need for social interaction” (292). But this approach fails to account for co-viewing and other behaviors (such as sustained interactions over longer periods of time) that would certainly help differentiate the Supernatural fan’s experiences from typical television viewers and that would have a strong influence on the development of parasocial interactions into what Rubin and McHugh (1987) call parasocial relationships. Linked to Giles’s (2002) key insights into how we might rethink parasocial interactions between media viewers and media figures is this dual consideration of “how successive exposures to a media figure bind the user into a relationship, and, significantly, the contribution of other users (both co-viewers and discussants) in shaping the course of the relationship” (299). The amount of time spent watching television has been shown to have a direct correlation with parasocial interaction (Gleich 1997; Rubin, Perse, and Powell 1985), and, as Jowett (2020) notes, the loyalty of Supernatural viewers can, at least partly, be linked to the commitment of watching twenty-plus episodes for each of the show’s fifteen seasons (71). The secondary factor of co-viewing habits adds further insight into the ways in which longtime and heavily engaged members of the Supernatural fan community might be shown to have developed a parasocial relationship with the stars and/ or characters of the show. Examining the on and offline interactions between the stars and fans of Super#AlwaysKeepFighting  67

natural allows for greater understanding of contemporary parasocial interactions that have developed into more complex parasocial relationships and, importantly, helps effectively de-pathologize the viewer through proper recognition of the motivation for engagement with the media figure. While Horton and Wohl (1956) originally employed the term “parasocial” with the ancillary definition of the Greek prefix para used as something abnormal or defective—as in a one-sided relationship—it may be more helpful to reconceptualize the term according to its primary meaning of “beside” or “side by side” as, in the context of the Supernatural fandom, we might see how, for example, certain charitable activities have allowed fans and stars to work alongside one another in a parasocial relationship that provides meaning and benefit to both parties.

Unlocking the SPN Fandom Before delving further into some of the ways through which the stars and fans of Supernatural have collaborated on charitable endeavors that have shaped the show’s legacy, it is useful to briefly consider some aspects that help differentiate this particular fandom from others: namely, the development of the fan community’s strong sense of agency and the fluid definition of the label SPNFamily. As Alex Xanthoudakis (2020) notes, when it first aired in 2005, Supernatural didn’t have particularly strong backing from the WB network. And even after it was the only show to successfully carry across to the newly established CW network, the initial lack of network involvement in promoting the show or offering any officially sanctioned structures for fan-based activities led to fans generating their own methods of engaging with the show, its creators, and each other. The result, Xanthoudakis (2020) argues, is a vocal fandom that, despite regular antagonisms on both sides over the years, has been increasingly emboldened by its own sense of shared ownership, along with the show’s producers, of Supernatural. This uneasy negotiation of boundaries—with its implied contestation of traditional power hierarchies between the creators and viewers of a show—has been further complicated by the mutual adoption of the SPNFamily moniker by both parties. While the use of the name SPNFamily is indicative of how keen the viewer community has been to seize upon the on and offscreen performance of family by the show’s stars, the fact that SPNFamily is employed as a term encompassing the Supernatural fandom as well as the cast and crew is an important point of distinction that sets it apart from other fan communities. 68   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

Although celebrity and fan studies scholarship generally acknowledges a unidirectional relationship between media figures and their viewers that is based upon a fan’s unmet desire to engage in a reciprocated relationship (see Ferris and Harris 2011), there is some evidence of a shift in the discourse about the nature of fan-celebrity interactions, such as Nancy Baym’s (2012) study on the social media exchanges between musicians and their fans, which establishes how media figures “do not just affect audiences. Audiences affect them” (312). Beyond the points made, arguably the most effective demonstration of the affective power of Supernatural’s audience is the impact of the fandom in shaping a negotiated legacy for the show through contributions to charitable activities undertaken in honor of the show and its stars.

Hu n ti n g L e g a ci e s On November 19, 2020, after a fifteen-year run that established it as the longest-running genre show in the history of American broadcast television, Supernatural finally came to an end. While the fictional Winchester family having a legacy of “saving people, hunting things” was a theme regularly addressed within the show3—being specifically coded in terms of the ultimate reward for the sacrifices being made by the main characters—of particular interest is the shifting focus in recent years toward discussions of the real-life legacy of the show. Most notable is the massive shift in the frequency with which the term “legacy” was being applied by the media, stars, and fans after March 22, 2019, when Padalecki, Ackles, and Collins uploaded a joint video announcement declaring that season 15 would be the last for Supernatural.4 Although there were the expected references within popular media to the idea, such as articles promising reflections on the show’s “undying legacy” (Highfill 2020b) and a book celebrating the joint legacy of the show and its fans (Zubernis 2020), what is of particular relevance here is the way in which the show’s stars took every opportunity to acknowledge a growing sense of their own awareness about the cultural magnitude of the event. Speaking with USA Today, Jensen Ackles reflected that filming the series finale “was really the first time that [Jared] and I looked at each other and (realized) we should be proud of what we’ve built here” (Truitt 2020). In a second interview with Entertainment Weekly, Ackles expresses a similar sentiment, stating, “I’m anxious to meet those people in 20 years when they’re like, ‘Man, that show was such an epic part of my childhood’ or ‘I grew #AlwaysKeepFighting  69

up with you guys’ or ‘I can’t wait to show my kids that show when they’re of age’ ” (Truitt 2020). Ackles’s words here reinforce the notion of the show as a completed cultural output, yet, despite also declaring the show’s finale “the end of an era” (Highfill 2020a), Padalecki expressed his wish that the show not be remembered in the traditional sense but that it be treated as a living entity, to be “continuously experienced and enjoyed and appreciated by all ages, all demographics . . . I hope it remains present” (Truitt 2020). Though a seemingly minor difference in perspective, this voiced desire does point to a critical insight: a wish for Supernatural to keep “living” beyond its final air date. This framing of a television show as a living entity allows us to draw upon the psychology-based concept of legacy that details the way that individuals— faced with the anxiety of inevitable death—can work toward the attainment of symbolic immortality. As put forth by Robert J. Lifton and Eric Olson in 1974, the construct of symbolic immortality features five modes: biological, theological, creative, symbolic immortality through nature, and experiential transcendence. By transposing Lifton and Olson’s notion of legacy to the context of a television show at the end of a historically long run, we may see the particular relevance of their category “Creative Symbolic Immortality,” which is taken to include both artistic creations and “lasting contributions of any kind on other human beings” (2004, 35). Perach and Wisman’s (2019) review of literature documenting the relationship between creativity and the awareness of mortality (using the paradigm of terror management theory) has established that creative achievement can act as a key avenue in the attainment of symbolic immortality, “particularly among individuals who value creativity” (193). Specifically, Perach and Wisman state that research clearly demonstrates that the very act of making mortality salient serves as a critical motivator for striving to secure a legacy. This pattern, the authors contend, is especially powerful when the creative endeavor is seen to have social value and it plays an important role as an “existential anxiety buffer” (Perach and Wisman 2019, 201). To apply these findings to the context of Supernatural, the announcement of the show’s final season, and the ensuing discussions about its eventual end, may be seen to have prompted thoughts about securing the show’s creative symbolic immortality, as demonstrated through the increased level of discussion about the show’s legacy. It is improbable that Supernatural will have its legacy in the form of spinoffs—two failed attempts effectively established that fan appreciation for the Supernatural universe extends only as far as its lead actors’ involvement—however, given its cult status and longevity, the show is still likely to be a topic of critical 70   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

reflection for many years to come, not in the least because of its playful use of self-referential gestures and its well-received experimentations with genre. The show’s central themes of family and fate and its liberal use of classic monster, mythological, and biblical references will similarly provide endless avenues for critical engagement, as will the interesting approach to performances of masculinity and the show’s oft-cited problematic handling of the representation of women and generally poor record of tackling issues related to racial and sexual diversity (Jowett 2020; Roach 2019; Brennan 2017; Ng 2017; Collier 2015). Added to this is the show’s rare celebration of blue-collar Midwest Americana, as well as its undeniable contribution to the success of the CW Network, with Supernatural being used to help launch other hit series, such as Arrow and The Vampire Diaries (Highfill 2020b). Yet beyond all this lies the show’s significant offscreen culture of family that, Highfill (2020b) reports, is a “behind-the-scenes legacy that’s perhaps just as impressive, if not more so, than the onscreen legacy.” The closeness of the stars and cast of Supernatural is frequently attested to; however, the addition of the show’s fan community to this SPNFamily is what will ultimately help shape Supernatural’s real legacy—the mobilization of a charitable and socially activated fandom.

M o bili z i n g t h e S P N F a m il y Alex Xanthoudakis’s (2020) article, “Mobilizing Minions: Fan Activism Efficacy of Misha Collins Fans in Supernatural Fandom,” illustrates how extraordinarily successful Misha Collins, in particular, has been at operationalizing the potential of fan activism, as well as how his celebrity persona actively works against traditional notions of the celebrity-fan relationship as being one-sided. Specifically, Xanthoudakis contends that Collins has been successful in harnessing all the elements of Jeffrey A. Hall’s (2011) four dimensions of friendship, which, in Collins’s case, broadly reflects a strategy of acknowledging fans in a manner that is empathetic in nature and that projects a sense of the celebrity’s authenticity. Citing Collins’s engagement in activities such as livestreaming selfie-mode videos and sharing insights into his personal life on social media, Xanthoudakis (2020) argues that Collins has cultivated a sense that he has made himself emotionally vulnerable to fans in a manner reflective of genuine friendship. Via each of his on and offline interactions, Collins also routinely presents himself as an ally to fans. For example, Collins actively aligns himself with fans #AlwaysKeepFighting  71

against The Powers That Be at conventions by claiming that he “will get into trouble” for sharing privileged information and by encouraging conversations about the popular “Destiel” ship—a romantic pairing of his character, the angel Castiel, with the older hunter brother, Dean Winchester (portrayed by Jensen Ackles)—which, at one point, was a forbidden topic of discussion at conventions. Xanthoudakis (2020) credits this strategy with promoting fan understanding that Collins’s actions imply “an acceptance, enthusiasm, and participation in fan behaviour” (89). Other gestures, such as purchasing a star in honor of the SPNFamily and accompanying the announcement with a statement that the gift represents a way to combat feelings of loneliness and isolation, are further reminders to the fandom that Collins sees them. Finally, reflecting the reciprocal nature of a successful celebrity-fan relationship, Xanthoudakis (2020) claims that Collins’s various philanthropic activities have worked especially well because his positive interactions with fans have laid a foundation of equalizing the fandom as partners engaged in mutually beneficial collaboration. One of the most remarkable aspects of these initiatives is the high level of direct fan engagement involved, not just in supporting fundraising for various campaigns but also in having fans assist in the practical implementation of associated activities, such as having fans travel to Haiti and Nicaragua to help with Random Acts’ community-based projects.

# Alw a y sK e e p F ig h ti n g Although the stars and crew encouraged fans to support numerous fundraising campaigns over the years, the success of a long series of Supernatural’s T-shirt campaigns has been on another level, with total funds raised now in the realm of hundreds of thousands of dollars.5 Misha Collins was the first of the show’s stars to employ the tactic by selling two fan-designed shirts in late 2014 to raise funds for Random Acts; however, the T-shirt approach really took off the following year with the launch of Padalecki’s Always Keep Fighting campaign. Working with the company Represent, Jared Padalecki launched the first Always Keep Fighting campaign in March 2015 and directed the majority of funds to the nonprofit To Write Love on Her Arms—along with additional donations to Attitudes in Reverse and Wounded Warrior Project—with the actor making it clear that he wanted the campaign to support charities that “dealt with the specific issues of mental illness, depression, addiction, and suicidal thought” 72   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

(To Write Love on Her Arms 2015).6 In interviews about the project, Padalecki explained the personal impetus behind the campaign by sharing that he had lost several people to suicide, including the recent loss of a close friend. At the time, the actor also alluded to his own experiences with severe depression when noting his emotional response to scenes in Supernatural in which his character had tried to end his own life (Prudom 2015). Significantly, the campaign was launched the same week as an episode of Supernatural aired that contained themes of suicide, which helped further contextualize the campaign with ongoing online discussions about the issues represented in the show. While the campaign was obviously directed at the show’s fans in terms of their capacity to raise funds, it is interesting to note that it also offered the first opportunity for Padalecki to make explicit his feeling that the Supernatural fandom represented an important part of his own mental health support base. Thanks to the extraordinary success of the initiative, Padalecki teamed with his costar Jensen Ackles to launch a subsequent iteration of the Always Keep Fighting T-shirt campaign just a month later. He also established the Pack Fund to help distribute the large amount of funds being raised, noting, “With the crazy success of the #SPNFamily, and #AlwaysKeepFighting campaigns, we’ve seen FIRST-HAND the kinds of amazing things that can be accomplished when we all work together to support causes that are important and meaningful to us all” (Padalecki 2015a). However, still dealing with personal grief and ongoing mental health issues while launching a new charity campaign and fulfilling existing filming and convention commitments ultimately proved too great a strain. In May 2015, just a month after the launch of the joint campaign and the evening before the start of the Jus In Bello fan convention in Italy, Padalecki tweeted saying that he needed to return home to the US immediately (Padalecki 2015b). Moments later, Padalecki posted a second message, this time making a direct appeal for fan support and indicating (via the reference to the campaign tagline) that the issue was related to his previously disclosed struggles with depression, stating, “I need all of the love I can get right now. Please, please give me a few seconds of your time and write me. #AlwaysKeepFighting” (Padalecki 2015c). Subsequent communications confirmed that Padalecki’s upcoming appearances at fan conventions in Europe and Australia would have to be canceled due to the actor experiencing exhaustion. Despite the obvious physical and emotional personal toll being taken upon him during this period, Padalecki pushed on with his efforts and, in July 2015, launched the third Always Keep Fighting T-shirt campaign, with a unique design #AlwaysKeepFighting  73

inspired by a pivotal turning point in the actor’s relationship with fans. At the 2015 Comic-Con, Padalecki’s first major public appearance since posting the message that had so alarmed his followers, it was revealed that fans had secretly organized a coordinated light display with over a thousand attendees holding up tealight candles at a designated time in a silent demonstration of mass support for Padalecki’s recovery (Dos Santos, Harnick, and Bucksbaum 2015). A fan-captured video of the moment posted to YouTube (Taylor K 2015) shows Padalecki being noticeably overwhelmed by the gesture. Further acknowledgment of the significance of this display of support was reflected in Padalecki’s emotional Facebook response as well as his design for the third Always Keep Fighting campaign, which featured an image of the actor, with a single tealight candle placed before him, being surrounded by beams of light. Later, in a collection of personal essays written by the cast and fans, Padalecki contributed a piece entitled “What Does the Fandom Mean to Me?” where he shared intimate details of the breakdown, its aftermath, and how the experience led to a deeper appreciation of the role of fans in supporting him via the Always Keep Fighting campaign (Zubernis 2017).

S a vi n g P e o pl e Although there had been a number of notable points of interaction between the stars and fans of Supernatural before 2015, the overwhelmingly positive fan response to the Always Keep Fighting campaigns—and to Padalecki’s own personal struggles with depression—represented a clear intensification of the fan-celebrity relationship, as Jensen Ackles explains: I’m astonished at the support that these fans give Jared and give us on the show, day in and day out. And it just seems to keep growing, on both sides. Jared and I talk about it, Misha [Collins] and I talk about it, we all talk about this relationship that has formed between the fans and us. It’s taken off over the past several years and it truly shows. Something that we have that other shows don’t have is a tangible relationship with our fans. We see them on a regular basis, we do these Supernatural conventions, we hug them, we smile with them, we cry with them. And it’s genuine! We go there with true intent to listen to them and be there with and for them. It’s truly a special thing. (Dos Santos, Harnick, and Bucksbaum 2015)

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Padalecki’s increasingly frank discussions about his own battles with depression clearly helped bridge a gap with the fans and also, undoubtedly, succeeded in achieving the stated goal of raising awareness and beginning to remove social stigma around discussions of mental health issues. At the same time, in a manner vaguely reminiscent of the way that Ellen DeGeneres’s momentous 1997 simultaneous coming out both on and offscreen effectively blurred the boundaries between the entertainer’s private life and that of her onscreen character, Padalecki’s framing of his personal struggles with depression within the context of the fictional character with which he is so closely aligned has also led to fans seeking better understanding of their own struggles within the world of Supernatural. In a blog post for the To Write Love on Her Arms website, fan Courtney Pagleno contributed a piece entitled “Why I Relate to Fictional Characters,” effectively demonstrating the way that fans of Supernatural typically talk about how the show’s story and characters link to their own experiences of depression and self-harm: When Cas[tiel] tells Dean that he’s the one who pulled him out of Hell, Dean is understandably disbelieving. He eventually gives in, and all he wants to know is why. Why him? What makes him so special? Castiel looks at Dean, this man he rescued from Hell and put back together again, and says, “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” The way Cas looks at him when he realizes that’s exactly what Dean thinks and how Dean’s expression shifts to reflect that truth . . . In this moment, I understood exactly why my friends got so upset when I talked down on myself. Because while I was talking to my television, telling Dean that of course he deserved to be saved, I realized people were telling me the same thing. (Pagleno 2015) Describing a similarly impactful scene where she now relates to Padalecki’s character, Sam Winchester, Pagleno adds, Dean finds out if Sam completes the trials, Sam will die. He relays this information to Sam, who replies with—and it still pains me to think about this as I type it—“So?” . . . Like Sam, I didn’t think my death would matter. I focused on all my failures, all the pain I’d caused my family when they found out I was self-harming in high school, and all the ways I wasn’t living up to my own expectations. I didn’t see any reason why it would matter if I died. I was Sam Winchester. I was Sam, and it hurt so much to see a character I loved feel the way I was feeling . . . I realized that if I didn’t

#AlwaysKeepFighting  75

want this outcome for Sam, I shouldn’t want it for myself either. (Pagleno 2015) In her conclusion to the piece, Pagleno (2015) sums up her relationship with the struggles of the central characters, saying, “I can see a piece of me in their darkness, but I can also see a piece of me in their light.” Increasingly, fans began to recognize the SPNFamily as a space for expressing and exploring personal struggles, and they began grappling with the changing nature of their relationship with the show, its characters, and its stars. Of course, the fans were not the only ones to notice how their personal struggles were finding greater expression through the Supernatural community, with Misha Collins observing, “For whatever reason, it seems to be something that is prevalent, or at least bubbles to the surface in our fandom” (Highfill 2016). Going into greater detail, and providing further insight into the particular importance of face-to-face interactions between the show’s stars and its fans, Collins explains, We have this interesting exposure to our fandom in the form of conventions, where we go and we meet fans face-to-face pretty much every other weekend . . . and we have occasion to meet thousands and thousands of Supernatural fans and at every event, every one of us encounters as many as a dozen people who share really heart-rending stories about self-harm or addiction or depression or suicide attempts. We see a lot of people with tattoos of semicolons on themselves—the semicolon is where the author could’ve chosen to end a sentence but instead chose to carry it on so it’s a very potent symbol for somebody who’s struggled with near-death situations and forged on. (Highfill 2016) Stricken by the obvious need to better support a fandom that was so clearly suffering, Misha Collins teamed with Jensen Ackles to launch the You Are Not Alone campaign in February 2016 in order to raise funds to establish the SPNFamily Crisis Support Network. Promoted via a series of humorous mock behind-the-scenes video postings on Collins’s and Ackles’s social media pages, this new project was specifically founded to create an online support network for the show’s fans. Over 1,500 fans volunteered within the first few months to be part of the project, which involved the recruitment and screening of volunteers who would be trained as crisis responders supporting those with suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses (Highfill 2016). The initiative was to be housed within Collins’s Random

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Acts organization but was run in partnership with the nonprofits IMAlive and To Write Love on Her Arms,7 and it drew upon the expertise of psychologists, psychiatrists, and therapists to support the training of responders who would engage in online crisis interventions using instant messaging via IMAlive’s live online network—the world’s first virtual crisis center (IMAlive, n.d.). While there was a clear trajectory from initially raising awareness of mental health issues in the Always Keep Fighting campaign through to the recognized need to establish the support network for fans, this connection was formalized the following month when, in recognition of the Always Keep Fighting campaign’s first anniversary, Padalecki launched another T-shirt campaign to raise money for both the Pack Fund and the newly established SPNFamily Crisis Support Network. In the intervening years, the Always Keep Fighting campaign has continued to adapt to changing circumstances, with several different iterations reflecting the mutability of the campaign’s brand. For example, after the tealight candle experience, Padalecki made a frank admission that taking on the additional burden of the struggles facing fans could be quite overwhelming at times, leading to the actor’s renewed appreciation of the importance of prioritizing one’s own mental health before one can help others and to a new Love Yourself First T-shirt campaign (Padalecki 2016a). After the mass shooting at Orlando’s Pulse, a gay nightclub, in June 2016, Padalecki launched the I Am Enough campaign, which included a special rainbow color scheme, with proceeds going to the OneOrlando Fund charity and the Equality Florida Institute (Padalecki 2016b). Later that year, in celebration of Supernatural’s twelfth anniversary, Padalecki and Ackles teamed again for the joint launch of the Family Always Has Your Back campaign, which explicitly references the notion of the SPNFamily in both the campaign title and the accompanying announcement statement (Ackles 2016). The most recent iteration—the You Define You campaign—had Padalecki contextualizing the inspiration for the initiative against both the COVID-19 global pandemic and the ending of Supernatural, explaining, “I’ve tried to keep my focus on my own mental health and remind myself that it is up to ME how I confront the issues in my world. Saying goodbye to a character and show that means so much to me was (and still is) truly difficult. The desire to figure out who I would be in the world ‘after’ was trying. That’s why I always remind myself that I will define me. Just like YOU DEFINE YOU!” (Padalecki 2020). The enduring impact of the original campaign is even acknowledged within the show itself via a special mention in the final episode, when, in his last conversation with Sam, Dean says, “I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be with you #AlwaysKeepFighting  77

right here, every day, every day you’re living and you’re fighting, because you always keep fighting. I love you so much. My baby brother.” In effect, the Always Keep Fighting campaign has come to represent a touchstone of sorts for both the cast and fans of Supernatural and has become a way of documenting what is happening in their lives, as well as acting as one of the main forums for each group to demonstrate support for the other.

C o n clusi o n A key legacy of Supernatural will be the social activation of its fandom. Due in large part to a particularly high level of on and offline engagement, the stars of Supernatural have effectively mobilized their loyal fanbase and have redirected substantial amounts of fan energy by providing a charitable focus. More specifically, this case study provides a better understanding of how media figures might work effectively alongside a fandom through the identification of issues with a shared level of importance. Understanding the ways through which the stars and fans of Supernatural have worked together to address causes important to both parties goes some way toward de-pathologizing the existing ideological framework around parasocial relationships. However, the final stage of this rethinking of celebrity-fan parasocial interactions is perhaps best reflected in the way the fandom has increasingly taken ownership of their own initiatives. This is most evident in the extraordinary fan-led response to concerns with the show’s final episodes, when fans raised over $52,000 in under a week for the Castiel Project, with funds being directed to the Trevor Project, an organization dedicated to providing support to LGBTQIA+ youth (Jules 2020).8 The movement back from celebrity-led to fan-led charitable initiatives provides a final conclusive example of just how successfully the Supernatural fandom has been operationalized toward civic action, even when not being directed by the stars, while it also serves as a pertinent reminder that Supernatural’s legacy will ultimately be determined by its fans.

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5. YO U T U B E C E L E B R I T I E S Parasocial Relationships toward a Digital Influencer Career Paula Fernandes

In the sphere of entertainment, and more specifically in terms of celebrity, the concept of individual success is based on assumptions and parameters that do not currently meet an accepted standard (Dyer 2005; Van Zoonen 2005). A clear example can be seen in the audiovisual content-sharing platform YouTube. In Brazil over the last decade, young people’s YouTube content has become an internet phenomenon (Vilicic 2019). According to Google statistics on Brazilian users, between 2011 and 2015, YouTube became the main platform for the consumption of online videos. At the same time, the consumption of online video content grew approximately 135 percent. The production of online content has thus become a major source of income, while also becoming increasingly professionalized, in terms of both the users and the platform itself. Although the increase of internet content production is a worldwide phenomenon, its growth in Brazil reveals specific social dynamics and realities. YouTube culture and the fame afforded to a small number of content creators have unfolded in directions particular to Brazilian society. In this context, there has been uneven growth in the way in which certain celebrities and digital influencers have emerged, grown, and become visible. The concepts of celebrity and its origins, performances, and influences present a complex issue. In light of this, I performed an extensive theoretical review that considered classic discussions including those of Lowenthal (1944), Dyer (2003, 2005), Morin (1989), and Mole (2007). I also researched more recent investigations on the rise of digital influencers, such as those by Marwick (2010, 2015b), Abidin (2015, 2018, 2020), and Knoll and Matthes (2017). Herein, celebrities are defined as people for whom there is not a clear distinction between public and private life (Lowenthal 1944; Rojek 2001; Turner 2004; Marshall 2004). Their fame and influence are tied to their profession, public exposure, and indeed to overexposure. In addition, celebrities can be seen as relevant to and recognized by a larger number of people, as compared to

microcelebrities (Senft 2013).1 So defined, many internet content producers have reached celebrity status in Brazil. This, however, does not exclude celebrities from also being digital influencers. Digital influencers are individuals who rise to fame with a persona closer to those of their audience (Abidin and Ots 2016). Influencers present “lifestyles” (Lewis 2010; Abidin 2017), which are commercial and, at the same time, relevant to those who consume a particular type of content (Abidin and Thompson 2012; Abidin and Ots 2016). Their content is recognized by both individuals and the media (Campanella 2019), and they are their own product, in accordance with the logic of “self-branding” (Duffy and Pooley 2019). Although celebrities as defined here can reproduce the practices of influencers, there are clear differences in scope. Influencers can increase their audience reach and therefore increase their influence by understanding changes in public demand. This can be observed in influencers’ reach outside their niche, the types of marketing partnerships they establish (such as advertising campaigns), their performance in digital social networks, the commercialization of a lifestyle (Lewis 2010; Abidin 2017), and the number of their followers or fans. The main objective of these content creators is to exert influence over consumption practices following a market logic. Celebrities have other areas of operation (such as film, arts, sport, etc.), and though they do exert a level of influence over their fans and the general public, this influence can be viewed more as a consequence (or side effect) of their fame and not the main goal. The difference between celebrities and influencers is therefore located in pathways to fame and achievements, allowing for multiple interpretations of the situations that involve both the “celebrity” and the “digital influencer” status. It is important to highlight that a celebrity can act as a digital influencer, but a digital influencer may not become a celebrity despite having access to the mechanisms of public visibility, audience engagement, and the influence made possible by digital media. Here, I suggest that digital influencers construct themselves as an inspiration for their fans. In an aspirational move, they represent the most effective paths and behaviors necessary to becoming an internet phenomenon. The main difference between the two is the everyday and intimate presence, even if distant, established between the celebrity or the digital influencer and their fans, made possible by digital media. This situation of co-presence (Sibilia 2003) associated with the types of intimacy established through interactions mediated by communication technologies presents possibilities for direct commercialization. The way in which the monetization of everyday life takes place, in addition to the origins of this practice, determines a particular public figure’s 80   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

development status. Through having an already consolidated status, the celebrity takes advantage of their social networks to present aspects of their private life and therefore complements the construction of their image as a celebrity. On the other hand, a person who aims at being a digital influencer is already part of an initiative to capitalize on a “lifestyle” that hinges on sharing daily intimate content and establishing close proximity with one’s followers. Taking advantage of the idea of success, as well as fame, income, visibility, exposure, and other developments, I examine how digital influencers have contributed to the rise of the career of creators in Brazil. By observing the strategic uses of intimacy fostered with the public through content associated with a celebrity’s private sphere, I reflect on how these connections blur the boundaries between personal and professional life. These strategic uses of intimacy are decisive in the growth in the demand for influence. They extend a process of redefining parasocial relationships, as they move from being a consequence of public involvement with consumed content to being a solid objective of direct influence, with its own inherent social consequences. Theoretical discussions on parasocial relationships began in the 1950s with changes in the perception of the behavior of characters in TV programs. Such parasocial explanations followed on from a more psychological understanding of the phenomenon. Parasocial relations are characterized by a certain type of relationship between the consumer of a media product and a performer (actor, singer, TV presenter, etc.). Horton and Wohl coined the term in 1956 when they found viewers who projected personal or intimate connections with characters in television programs. It is important to note that, for this conception of parasocial relations, the separation between a celebrity and their fictional character is essential. Previous research focused on characters, series, or films; in contrast, here I analyze the construction of the bond between audience and celebrity or digital influencer. I establish the difference between the status of celebrities and that of digital influencers based on the strategies they apply to influence a lifestyle. In the Brazilian context, there is an intense consumption of content and a concealed commercialization of lifestyle (Lewis 2010; Abidin 2017) such that digital influencers foster an intimate relationship with consumers, building an illusory scenario of easy ascension in a career that lacks clear pathways of professionalization. The case study at the center of this discussion concerns an individual who, despite having emerged and ascended through the internet, rose to celebrity status and exerts power as such, in addition to possessing the attributes of a digital influencer. YouTube Celebrities  81

I review the concept of parasocial relationships and investigate it in relation to discussions about the professionalization of internet content production. Throughout this process, it is possible to understand the potentials and limitations of the connection between fans and celebrities within the contemporary context of media consumption. These connections between fans and celebrities are important for understanding the consumption of celebrity within a logic of marketing and visibility. The construction of an ideal of success tied to achieving fame2 or to reaching celebrity status is intrinsic (Lowenthal 1944; Dyer 2005; Rojek 2012). Understanding public recognition in the entertainment sector, as a professional and even personal objective, can be part of the process of resignifying social dynamics and the implications of lifestyle for the subject (Lewis 2010; Abidin 2017). The power of influence leads to developments that may impact the way we see exchanges in society, in both the production and consumption of content. This also influences the manner in which individuals are situated in the collective and how they are presented (or present themselves) to remain within social norms. In a context in which results are imperative, such as that dominated by digital media (Jenkins, Ford, and Green 2013), the construction of individual success (Lowenthal 1944; Duffy and Pooley 2019) in the sphere of entertainment seems to present itself as a goal increasingly associated with the overexposure of the individual. In this context of overexposure, celebrities adapt their behaviors and follow certain personal (and at the same time public) guides or plans. I present Felipe Neto and his fans as an object of investigation.3 Neto ended both 2019 and 2020 as the second-largest YouTuber in the world in terms of views, with over 11.6 billion as of December 2020 (YouTube 2019). Through analyzing Neto’s media practices and interviews with his fans, along with the Brazilian context, I contend that parasocial relations are central to the professional development of the YouTuber career in this country.

A P o ssibl e P r o c e ss o f R e c o n figu r i n g P a r a s o ci a l R e l a ti o n s h ips Transformations in the ways we establish connections and modify communication processes permeate the status of celebrities and their behaviors in society (Driessens 2013), especially with regard to digital media. The public values the everyday and 82   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

personal in celebrities’ daily routines. Thus, according to Sibilia (2003, 5), “the anchoring in ‘real-life’ becomes irresistible, even if such a life is absolutely banal—or, perhaps, especially if it is banal.” This is noticeable in the intimate relationships built between those who produce content and those who consume it, particularly when consumers incorporate the mediated lifestyle into their everyday life. When headlines feature everyday actions as major events, we return to debates such as those proposed by Boorstin (1961). Boorstin views celebrities as human pseudo-events and discusses the presence and appreciation of status in society and its meaning while also considering the processes of fostering intimacies and influence. Moving toward discussions on “celebrity culture,” understanding celebrity through structural lenses, versus “celebrity society,” while at the same time seeking a sociological understanding of the dynamics shaping the figure of the celebrity and the status attributed to them (Elias 2006; Van Krieken 2012), and understanding what separates celebrities and digital influencers from “ordinary” people (those who do not enjoy the status) remains in question. The media itself sometimes insists on reaffirming the human nature of celebrities, as if it were always necessary to remember that although they seem to be special and mythical beings, the famous are also like “ordinary” people. This can lead to the impression that habits and behaviors common among the general public, when transferred to celebrities, become special. This is the first necessary step to reviewing the interpretation of parasocial relationships. Fans consume mediated presentations of lifestyles that are close to their everyday experiences, the presenters of which attain fame and status as celebrities or digital influencers. Fans can therefore aspire to be just like the individuals who become celebrities and digital influencers. It is important to remember that the structure built around a celebrity consolidates a market logic that currently influences the social relations between fans and idols (Baym 2012). Followers are not always able to perceive the separation between what is done in service of professional ties and what is done for personal reasons. Yet there is a clear construction of the celebrity, and even sometimes of their personality, in a process that fosters public loyalty, the maintenance of the fandom, and consumption. Part of this understanding involves developing awareness that the famous are “people” too, despite having an extraordinary standard of living, as Morin (1989) argues when presenting such people as models to be aspired to within certain sections of society. The implication of social interaction, repercussion, and visibility is perceived, mainly, in the maintenance of fame and presence in the media. Driessens (2013) YouTube Celebrities  83

argues that the status and power built from the structural and social perception of the celebrity significantly alter the insertion of such individuals in social circles and events, which ends up catapulting them commercially and socially. According to the author, “the mediatization of a social field might have a positive influence on the creation of media personalities or on the collective and subjective perceived importance of attaining celebrity status” (Driessens 2013, 650). This is the second step to understanding the direct association between the production of content for the internet and the development of parasocial relationships. It is noticeable that the molds of great mass idols (Lowenthal 1944), even with recent changes in society, are still directly reflected in the construction of models to be followed and in the development of mechanisms of celebrity formation. Becoming a YouTuber is a present and future priority (Duffy and Pooley 2019), not only professionally but also as a “lifestyle” (Lewis 2010; Abidin 2017). It serves as an inspiration for many young people, teenagers, and even children. In their work on self-branding in international contexts, Duffy and Pooley (2019, 26) contend that “YouTube stars, Instagram influencers, and other social media personalities occupy a prominent place in the popular imagination, whether held up as digitally-enabled career exemplars or denigrated as product shills,” confirming the context presented in this chapter. In Brazil, for example, it is already evident that “if before the typical dream of a Brazilian teenager was to be a football player or actress, today the goal is to become a YouTuber” (Vilicic 2019, 10). The ease of producing and disseminating content on the internet in an authorial and individual way has provided the incentive for the construction of this “market of fame” in the professionalization of the sector. Celebrities associated with the production of internet content exercise more power and influence over the consuming public than professionals such as journalists and television, music, or cinema personalities (Marinho 2018). In this context, YouTube still presents itself as a space for the circulation and dissemination of content that would not have the same reach through the use of traditional media, as Burgess and Green (2009) argue. For this reason, YouTube prompts different ways of thinking about the value of fame, the process of achieving visibility, and the achievement of media recognition. In this way, questions are raised regarding the construction and legitimacy of the public individual within the contemporary networked society and regarding the development of new communication technologies. Even though the content shared by celebrities and the media may not correspond to the famous person’s everyday life, what matters most is the public’s 84   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

engagement with this content (Roscoe 2001; Collins 2008; Rojek 2012). Although an intimate life is created, the shared reality presents itself as a negotiation between the celebrity’s identity and the entertainment industry’s construction, complete with all its market relations (Meyers 2009; Nordlund 1978; Abidin 2015). Elements that constitute daily life are therefore commercialized and are directly determined by media influence and celebrities’ incisive reach in society. Marshall (2014a) points out that in these circumstances, the famous person, with influence and exposure, has a prominent position vis-à-vis the society in which they operate. He contends that “the power of the celebrity, then, is to represent the active construction of identity in the social world” (794). It can be understood therefore that celebrities outside of the entertainment industry can nevertheless reveal themselves as successful contemporary role models and can be seen as providing “recipes for life” (Bauman 2008), which attract and inspire the public through products of the industry of fame. The relations of influence and power intrinsic in these connections culminate in a proposal or imposition of a norm of conduct and behavior (Lull and Hinerman 1997). In other words, creators can exert powerful influence. It is also important to consider the economic aspects that currently encompass the cultural industry and fame. The emergence of university courses centered on the production of internet content and the great public interest in this highlight clear market potential. The creation of new labor markets and an updated ideal of professional success are thus allowed. This occurs in a society already deeply immersed in social networks and communication technologies. We live at a moment in which dedication to digital media is one step away from being a social obligation, in which “the contemporary focus on the ‘viral’ nature of circulation expresses media companies’ and brands’ utter terror of the unknown cultural processes now influencing all aspects of the media and entertainment industries” (Jenkins, Ford and Green 2013, 292). Duffy and Pooley (2019) present a problematic scenario in which the boundaries between work and leisure have been blurred as production and consumption merge in specific forms of everyday presentation of the self-designed to serve the creation of a self-brand. In this context, the careers of content creators are often fetishized. It is important to highlight, however, that the discrediting and constant questioning of the professionalization of YouTubers, Instagrammers, and other influencers appears particularly salient in Brazil. Despite this, the sector continues to grow. Although the Brazilian context shares some similarities with the professionalization of digital influencers occurring in other countries—as noted by Abidin YouTube Celebrities  85

(2017, 2020); Cunningham, Craig, and Silver (2016); Morreale (2014); and Salvato (2009), for example—it does warrant closer examination. Despite the fact that Brazil has one of the largest production and consumption markets for YouTube content, it is still in an early stage of development. The massive dissemination of internet content becomes a sequence of marketing actions for the celebrity or influencer (Abidin 2015; Abidin and Ots 2016; Zanetti and Meschiatti 2018). This falls precisely into the complex issue of “self-branding” at a time when “digital influencer” has become a viable career option (Duffy and Pooley 2019). When you see and relate to the life of your idol, be it a celebrity or a digital influencer, the path toward individual attempts at success within this market emerges. Here, we observe a direct link between reframing parasocial relationships, the consolidation of professionalization strategies, and the promotion of a path to success in this segment as part of a greater process of self-branding.

T h e R e l a ti o n s h ips B uilt o n Y o u T ub e B r a z il In the early days of YouTube in Brazil, when a diverse content market was not yet clearly established, relatively few content creators had access to the website or the means to create their own channel. This was the context in which Felipe Neto emerged in 2010, when he was only twenty-two years old.4 Since then, he has consolidated his visibility, reconfiguring his channel and content in 2016.5 Over the years, the number of content producers and YouTube subscribers has increased considerably in Brazil, especially among teenagers and young adults, thus confirming the relevance of YouTube as a virtual social network (Burgess and Green 2009). The Brazilian case is significant because of the large number of channels with more than twenty, thirty, and forty million subscribers.6 These channels consist of videos and live broadcasts with billions of views and also present recordbreaking levels of subscriptions compared to other countries. For example, in 2017, 2018, and 2019, Brazilian creators, such as Felipe Neto, Whindersson Nunes, and Luccas Neto, were consistently listed in the top ten biggest channels in the world (in lists published by YouTube), either in the number of subscribers or in the number of views. This reveals both the strength of content production and its continuing popularity with the public in the country. In 2019 and 2020, live broadcasts broke records of simultaneous views on the platform. On Novem86   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

ber 28, 2019 (Black Friday), Felipe Neto, in collaboration with other Brazilian YouTubers and in partnership with six major brands, held a broadcast that lasted five and a half hours and reached a historic peak of 500,000 simultaneous views on a non-sports channel or musical event. On December 22, 2020, Felipe Neto broke his own record, now alone, by livestreaming the last episode of a series of videos in which he played Minecraft,7 reaching 600,000 simultaneous participants (UOL 2020). As is the case with other mediums subject to social dynamics, some people tend to stand out on YouTube. This is Felipe Neto’s case. The ease of participating in the site and the proportion that this market has acquired in the last decade attract young people and point to the online market as a viable career possibility. These individuals see in their idols the concrete possibility for a future of fame, success, and conquest. What makes this phenomenon important and allows it to achieve such prominence is how it alters society’s relations, strengthens and devalues sectors and activities, and shifts moral, economic, psychological, and emotional values. It seems straightforward, in this case, to consider fame a synonym for success in life, both in the personal sphere and the professional. Nonetheless, content production gives way to a recurring phenomenon: the absence of a clear barrier between personal and professional spheres. This, in addition to reducing the limits between what is “real” and what is artificial in the process of creating content and maintaining fame (Singh 2016), presents a range of options for the fans to see themselves in the place of the celebrity because of the extensive knowledge they have of the idol’s life and the perception that their lives are indeed similar. The creators are responsible for establishing this view of a “common life” and, more importantly, triumphing through individual effort. There are numerous types of performances specific to such content producers. It is not my intention to reduce them to just one practice, but, considering the growth within YouTube, establishing personal connections with the public is a recurring strategy and proves efficient (Abidin 2015; Singh 2016; Thomson 2017). By publicizing their everyday life, celebrities, who act as digital influencers, and digital influencers themselves build intimacy with those who consume their content through digital media. The goal to foster connections relates to the idea of celebrity and digital influencer status as well as the concept of parasocial relationships. Even if the individual “deceives himself” in parasocial relations (Cohen 1999), the context of the receiver and the construction of the social relations around them will confirm and structure interactions and thus YouTube Celebrities  87

create personal connections (Honeycutt 1993; Giles 2002). These relationships appear to be a form of social interaction the individual needs in order to fill social voids that may be present in their lives (Giles 2002). Thus, the subject interacts directly with content they identify with and with what they believe will fill a gap in their individuality. Meanwhile, overexposure provides fans with more “true” connections (Levy 1979) by allowing access to a famous individual’s everyday life. Here, I understand this issue mainly from a social, psychological, and economic perspective. When considering social aspects, one has the impression that the individual fan seeks the celebrity to fill “social voids” (Rubin and Perse 1987), which results in a merging of absences created by the individual’s own experience in society and their personal needs (Davison 1983; Reeves and Anderson 1991). From a psychological point of view, relationships between individuals and celebrities function as a form of companionship and contribute to the construction of an individual’s personal identity (Giles 2002). And from an economic perspective, we note the monetization, or the attempt at monetization, of all these experiences (Hearn 2017). Considering YouTube’s national and international popularity, there are a number of people who teach how to produce content for the internet, how to become a creator—specifically a YouTuber—and how to follow this lifestyle. Among these, Brazilian celebrities’ initiatives stand out. For example, in 2017, YouTuber Whindersson Nunes, who has the largest number of subscribers in Brazil today,8 created an online course on how to produce content for the internet and how to achieve success.9 Gaining fame and profiting from YouTube presents itself as a possible career in contemporary society, especially with the development of communication technologies. Even if the courses offered by already consolidated YouTubers offer some support, just as YouTube does, validation from Brazilian universities shows to some extent the professionalization of the phenomenon. The undergraduate course Digital Influencer (CanalTech 2017), the postgraduate course Production for YouTube (PUC-RS, n.d.), and courses such as YouTube: From Planning to Production (PUC-RS, n.d.) indicate that there is a movement in favor of professionalizing the transformation of individuals into content creators for online platforms, including YouTube and Instagram. These courses instruct students in strategies for career success in social media entertainment, through popular rise and visibility, and in transforming such content into sources of income and fame. 88   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

F e lip e N e t o a n d t h e P r o f e ssi o n a li z a ti o n o f a L if e st y l e Over the last decade, YouTube has become more than a platform for sharing audiovisual content; rather, it can be a tool used to create a professional career. This process has gained traction in Brazil. Since celebrity is a cultural industry in itself (Lowenthal 1944; Boorstin 1961; Marshall 2009), other factors must be considered in addition to filling social voids and developing psychological connections and identifications. It is essential to understand that celebrity is sustained precisely through the connections made with fans. These connections may be personal or professional. Felipe Neto began his career as a producer of internet content and an entrepreneur in the segment in 2010. Since then, his areas of expertise in entertainment have expanded, encompassing literature, cinema, and sports.10 He also operates in the sociopolitical and educational sectors. Throughout his career, Neto has not demonstrated an intention to interact with his fans. In order to connect with his audience, however, he occasionally participates in activities such as holding promotional meetings at his mansion (Canal IN 2018), exchanging messages on social networks, attending public events, and participating in charitable actions. Yet, regarding his personal life, Neto repeatedly states that he is proud of not having grown in his career through content about everyday life (Neto 2013). Despite this, narratives about his private life, such as those in biographical and autobiographical books and magazines, and videos featuring family members, girlfriends, friends, and pets are consumed publicly. Even though the main content on his YouTube channel and social networks is not directly linked to his private life, it is still possible for fans to build direct relationships with their own personal stories, as seen in the findings of this study. Although celebrities do not present their own daily lives as their main source of income, this facet is part of the logic of the status of celebrity. It feeds fandom in specific ways and generates important developments in social dynamics, such as the processes of building content-production careers for the internet. In 2018, I interviewed Felipe Neto’s fans (also known as “owls”).11 In total, I conducted seventy-three online interviews consisting of nineteen semistructured questions concerning the limits between the personal and the professional sphere. The minimum age of participants was twelve years old and the maximum twenty-five; 87 percent of the respondents self-identified as women and 13 percent as men. YouTube Celebrities  89

Here, I analyze the answers to the following questions: (a) How is Felipe Neto a part of your life? (b) What do you think about the exposure of Felipe Neto’s personal life? (c) Do you identify with him? Explain. (d) What do you think of his personality? Do you care about his personal life? (e) Do you feel close to him in any way? How and why? The responses indicated some important aspects for the discussion of this chapter: First, the fact that they know details about Felipe’s personal life and follow his trajectory makes him a mirror and inspiration to fans. Second, although fans define the idol as a friend, brother, or model, there is always the reminder that they do not really know each other. Despite this, he is a source of constant company and inspiration. In this context, the privacy barrier seems rather fluid in shaping relationships between celebrities and fans. In the careers of Brazilian YouTubers, personal and professional spheres are not well defined, no matter how much the celebrities themselves and sometimes the fans insist on establishing limits between them. This is based on the confused and contradictory definitions of the personal and the professional, as seen by both parties. Celebrities sometimes restrict how much interference fans’ behavior can have in their personal lives. Others allow for much less privacy. This results in the lack of a clear standard of practice. In terms of influence, the interference celebrities have in fans’ behavior is also noticeable when evaluating the future desires of those who consume content, such as professional career, public positions, or material goods. At the same time, celebrities encourage certain behaviors in their fans, directly or indirectly, by advising their fans to act and thus directing events in their lives. From this, it can be concluded that the actions of celebrities, and of those who use their own personal stories as a source for content, strengthen parasocial relationships, fuel their fame, and contribute to the consolidation of a rising market. Both the direct power of the influence of fame status and the Brazilian context of internet content production seem to create increasingly powerful incentives for the professionalization of digital influence. In addition to specific platforms, such as YouTube or Instagram, the action (or consequence) of influence appears connected to the notion of parasocial relationships established in literature. However, I stress that this is an ongoing process. Based on the analysis of the interviews and research that took place between 2018 and 2020, I observed the commercialization of intimacy. Inspiration, personal and professional, permeates the feedback given by the respondents. There are answers based on the subjectivity of inspiration (in a cycle of “I want to be to others what he/she 90   Parasocial Interactions and Relationships

is to me”) and on the imperative of fame and recognition (connected to the most Olympian idea of celebrity). Regardless of its initial intention, the goal of achieving success in digital influence is fueled precisely by the overexposure of the trajectory of celebrities who produce internet content, the commercialization of this material, and how this content prompts an increase in the intensity and strength of the intimacies of parasocial relationships. This is also noticeable in Crystal Abidin’s (2020) ethnographic work on digital influencers and their audience. According to Abidin (2020), direct influence on fans is notable not only in physical behaviors, such as the wearing of certain clothes and makeup, but also in the formation of opinions and personality traits. This is consistent with the experience of Brazilian fans who use idols as aspirational figures for their professional future. The idols mirror a lifestyle commercialized through the production of internet content and other forms of knowledge, such as book publications, appearances on TV programs, and interviews in magazines. The lifestyle presents itself as a recurring demand, as Abidin and Ots (2016) point out, in both Brazilian and global contexts. The need for professional reinforcement, coming mainly from content producers already consolidated in online platforms, only confirms the direct relationship within the construction of social and emotional bonds between fans and idols. This is followed by a process that transforms the individual consumer of content into a producer and, perhaps even more importantly, an entrepreneur of their own.

C o n clusi o n Understanding that the public/private and personal/professional spheres are fluid and increasingly associated with content monetization is vital. This monetization is also connected to the transformation of ordinary individuals into digital influencers and celebrities through, almost exclusively, the development of relationships with the public. As Hearn (2017) suggests, “this new digital ‘affective’ capitalism purloins our desires, emotions, and forms of expressivity and turns them into commodities and assets” (63). Thus, it is challenging to comprehend and examine the monetization of an individual as distinct from the monetization of the relationships that individual creates and nurtures with fans. On the one hand, there is the media discourse against idolization of famous people and their influence. On the other, there is a process of reconfiguration of parasocial relations due to media needs. With this in mind, it is possible to YouTube Celebrities  91

think of parasocial relationships as something beyond individual psychology or as relative to societal position. These relationships are a significant part of the consumption and maintenance of the fame of many celebrities. Currently in Brazil, there is a movement toward transforming fans into future content producers. This movement is directly linked to the presence of celebrities and influencers in the professional education market segment. Such a presence goes against the notion of celebritization as constantly promoted by the media, instead revealing how the celebrities themselves further their role in society. Issaaf Karhawi (2020), in his book From Blogueira to Influenciadora: Steps to Professionalize the Brazilian Fashion Blogosphere, considers how to professionalize the career of influencer in the country. However, this process of professionalization is still in its early stages in Brazil. Given these particularities, I believe the Brazilian case study may reveal important aspects of the phenomenon, mainly the production, monetization, and consumption of content.

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F AN I N T ERA C T I ON S

6. T OO V U L NERA B L E T O F I G H T Protective and Agentic Digital Housewives and the Dataficated Fame of the Victimized Young-Fresh-Meat Idols Zhen Troy Chen

Using a case study of fan-celebrity interactions between Cai Xukun and his fans (known as iKun), this chapter examines the changing mechanisms of dataficated fame of male young-fresh-meat (xiao xianrou) idols in the Chinese entertainment industries. Taking an ethnographical approach, such as participant observation and in-depth interviews, I use fan-created texts, engagement, and digital fieldwork notes to inform thematic analyses of my findings. Departing from Li’s (2020) “female gaze” argument—where female fans’ interactions with their idols are interpreted as progressive, empowering, and feminist, as part of the “she economy”—this chapter argues that the majority of female fans who engage with young-fresh-meat idols reflect a dialectical and paradoxical entanglement. That is, female fans are perfect consumers who conduct labor as “digital housewives” on the one hand; on the other hand, via their cultural jamming endeavors, they are creating ruptures that disturb the dynamics of gender relationships in a patriarchal society. Such ruptures result from and are embedded within a complex market economy. These ruptures are co-shaped by the privatization of media, the proliferation of new (social) media, and fans’ agentic interactions, where changing entertainment industry mechanisms, aesthetics, and perceptions of masculinities become visible, contested, and negotiated. With the proliferation of social media and the development of entertainment industries in China, fandom subculture has changed significantly. Thirty years ago, becoming a fan in China (zhuixing zu—literally “tribes-chasing-the-stars”) was a fringe activity. It required significant emotional and financial commitment and was subject to scrutiny by mainstream national media, as depicted in the well-known comedy Starstruck, broadcast on CCTV1 (Jiao 1993). This critique and pathologization of fandom have subsequently been refuted by emerging

academic fandom studies in the West and China, with a focus on diversified fandom communities and their agentic engagements (Chen 2021; Fiske 1992; Fung 2013; Jenkins 1992b; Yang 2009; Zhao 2018; Zhang 2016). Following the opening up and economic reform of China from 1979 onward, media privatization took off in China’s mainland. With new entertainment and values hitting the east shore of China, the moral panic previously associated with fandom was largely discarded by the mainstream media after Cantopop stars from Hong Kong and Mandopop stars from Taiwan and Singapore started to flood into the mainland (Fung 2013; Wang 2010). The fresh stars were invited to perform on the most popular national stage, the Spring Festival Gala, reflecting the growing popularity of young idols. This occurred in tandem with the privatization of state-owned culture affairs (wenhua shiye) turning into cultural and, later, creative industries (Keane 2013). More TV channels and online programs were being produced, creating more celebrities; the growing influence of social media resulted in further diversification, and competition with the entertainment industries resulted in the emergence of new young-fresh-meat idols. Traditional pop stars and celebrities compete with young idols emerging from reality shows; these young idols are marked by a diversified representation of values and aesthetics, among which femininities and masculinities are at the forefront (Yang 2016). The focus here is the changing aesthetics of alternative masculinities and the monetization thereof, with a case study of fan-celebrity interactions between Cai and his iKun fandom. With the democratization of celebrity and taste in a social media age, celebrities are no longer the nation-endorsed and market-loved personas engineered as perfect role models, as “collective admiration of socialist heroes” (Jeffreys 2012, 1).2 Amid changing gender representations and aesthetics, “soft masculinities” have become a rich site for cultural analyses (Louie 2012). Among the “soft masculinities” manifest in the entertainment industries, “young-fresh-meat” (xiao xianrou) has become an internet buzzword to refer to young, beautiful male idols (Li 2020). These male idols are perceived by fans as vulnerable and thus in need of protection and care (Zhang and Negus 2020). The new favorites of the industry, they are referred to as “cultivated idols” or “traffic stars/idols” (liuliang mingxing) in China (Yan and Yang 2020), since fans believe that such idols’ fame has been largely cultivated by their fans, generating significant data traffic online and lucrative incomes for both the idols and the platforms (Li 2020). Existing research has acknowledged fan engagement and interactions as characteristic of agentic prosumers (Chen 2020, 2021), where fans channel their 96   Fan Interactions

energy and resources for progressive purposes and outcomes (Fung 2013; Zhang 2016), especially with the help of digital technology. While I am sympathetic with such a perspective, the dataficated fame of young-fresh-meat idols and their supportive “digital housewives” can be deemed problematic if examined from a gender and labor perspective (Jarrett 2017). With this historicity and locality in mind, this chapter aims to break the (dis)empowerment dichotomy by providing critical analysis of Chinese female fandom and its discourses on Sina Weibo, one of the most popular social media platforms in China, through the case of Cai Xukun. Cai is one of the most popular traffic stars among the young-fresh-meat in China. However, study of his fame and fan-celebrity interactions is still scant in fandom literature, with a few recent exceptions (Wang and Mao 2019; Yan and Yang 2020; Zhang and Negus 2020). Cai quickly rose to fame through a TV/internet variety show, Idol Producer. Such variety shows are often arranged through licensing deals with similar media formats in Japan and South Korea, where contestants compete for debut recording opportunities and sponsorship based on voting (Zhang and Negus 2020). Idol Producer is a successful media spectacle in Chinese (online) television history, “with Cai Xukun, the eventual winner, having garnered over 47 million votes in the finale and becoming the most controversial pop icon that year” due to his nonconformative representation of alternative masculinities (Zhou 2019). According to Yan and Yang (2020, 7), such variety shows have developed a new mode of fan-celebrity interaction, producing “cultivated idols.” This interaction moves away from a parasocial relationship to a para-kin relationship, where fans co-create idols through social media (Yan and Yang 2020). Fans who support Cai are largely females, who identify themselves as mama-fans, sister-fans, or girlfriend/wife-fans; they are united by their claim on Weibo that “he is too vulnerable and fragile to fight alone” in the cruel entertainment industry and against his anti-fans.3 Cai’s fans organize themselves as a group known as iKun (i is homophonic to “love” in Chinese), the protective and supportive guardians of the victimized Cai. As a cultivated idol, Cai has been attacked in online forums and by mainstream media, such as Xinhua, which frame the young-fresh-meat as “sissypants,” using Cai as an example (Souhu 2018). During a three-month participant observation on Sina Weibo, publicly available online discussions were collected and in-depth interviews were then conducted. The rich texture of qualitative data gathered through such a process identifies a dialectical and paradoxical engagement of Chinese female fans where the (dis)empowerment dichotomy can be broken. Too Vulnerable to Fight  97

In comparison with feminist and queer readings of fandom in the West, fandom on social media in China is in a state of flux; these discussions are less developed and less explicit. The spaces maneuvered by idols and fans, enabled by the ostensive liberation of sexuality (or rather, the expression thereof), are juxtaposed with explicit corporate exploitation and implicit social control over opinions on gender politics.4 The cultivation labor and its expressive activities used by fans to produce cultivation idols work as the overarching analytical framework for the ensuing thematic analyses. A number of themes emerge. First, corporate exploitation from the entertainment industry and control from digital platforms converge through emerging market mechanisms already apparent in Japan and South Korea. Second, female fans’ changing expectations and agentic cultural jamming practices observed on Weibo qualify them as the new agentic “digital housewife” (Jarrett 2017), subject to new forms of control through affective and emotional labor. Here I demonstrate how the case study of Cai illustrates new developments in the entertainment industries and the cultural changes of Chinese female fandom.

N e w A e st h e tics a n d N e w B r e e d o f D a t a fic a t e d T r a ffic S t a r s Following the opening up and economic reform of China, the entertainment industry has been increasingly shaped by gender politics and aesthetics. According to Jiang and Leung (2012), Chinese urban youth are not satisfied with domestic media productions and are cultivating a worldly outlook and taste through consuming transnational media texts, such as Hollywood films and American or Korean dramas. The appeal of such aesthetics, tastes, and idols has in turn been reproduced in China as sophisticated tropes and thematic genres produced for the assembly lines of entertainment industries. Before cultivation idols became the new favorite of the entertainment industries, such aesthetics, tastes, and idols penetrated a plethora of media texts, paratexts,5 and formats in the Pan-Asian entertainment industries (Zhang and Negus 2020), such as animation, comics, games, and (light) novels (Chen 2020, 2021), TV and films (Jiang and Leung 2012; Zhang 2016), reality and variety shows (Yang 2009; Zhao 2018), Japanese idols, the Korean wave (Jin 2016; Kim 2016), and fan fiction (Lam 2020). To narrow down the focus of this chapter, the alternative masculinity manifest in the young-fresh-meat idols and their fandom is foregrounded for further 98   Fan Interactions

analysis. Based on an orientalist, culturalist, and sometimes essentialist theorization of alternative masculinities as “soft,” Chinese men represented by such idols are marginalized and frequently mocked, teased, and criticized. When such young and fresh idols’ (collective) identity is in the process of becoming real men (as they grow older and more masculine), the cultivated idols are subject to the gaze of their young female counterparts, older women, and men from different age groups, all at the same time. The social and transitional human becomings (see more in Chen 2020) are intertwined with social, familial, and personal responsibilities (Wong 2020). This means when the young-fresh-meat idols grow older and more established in their field and trade, they are supposed to undergo a “transformation” stage, to move their focus of career from “self as commodities” to “works as commodities.” Therefore, the soft versus macho masculinities is a becoming and “cultivation” process, where fans’ expectations and tastes co-shape the manufactured persona of the idols. Ideal male archetypes are evident in Eastern cultures where Confucianism still has a lasting impact, albeit with localized modifications and modernizations. For example, the traditional seonbi archetype in Korean culture has been refashioned and popularized in Korean period dramas. Seonbi (선비, the Chinese equivalent of shusheng)—literally students undergoing Confucian teachings and code of conduct—are the emerging literati, well-educated, well-mannered, aspirational contributors to the welfare of the country, local community, and family (Kim 2001). Aesthetically, they are romanticized and portrayed in popular media texts as good-looking, lean and slender, youthful, boyish, and cute. With the industrialization and platformitization of the entertainment industries and the impact of the K-pop formulas on Chinese business models and aesthetics, transnational and transmedial texts have been produced, consumed, and prosumed with the help of algorithm-based categorization as database and affective consumption. Fans are thus (re)targeted by an infrastructure and database created by platforms that feed the data fandom in China (Azuma 2009; Chen 2021; Zhang and Negus 2020). In China, romanticized and objectified tropes and traits of “soft” masculinity are packaged for female consumption and subject to the “female gaze” in a rising “she economy” (Li 2020), mirroring trends in Western entertainment that have also taken an aesthetic turn described as “revenge of the twink” (Buchanan 2017). Jung (2017) suggests that this aesthetic turn has developed to the point where muscled and hypermasculine men become excessive and “pointless” in Western media representations. However, compared with the fact that diversified Western tastes are balanced by other tropes and archetypes, it seems that the Chinese or Too Vulnerable to Fight  99

wider Eastern screens are dominated by such young-fresh-meat idols (Zhang and Negus 2020). Such affective tropes and elements are used as a model and benchmark for datafication as early as the A&R (artists and repertoire) stage, right before a star is engineered and manufactured. This practice is not new for traditional A&R managers, who look for a certain look, personality, and talent/ skill. However, it gets more sophisticated and is supported by big data generated by fans. This process is also orchestrated via a Pan-Asian industry norm developed in the K-pop industries as part of the Korean wave (Jin 2016). Such a transnational linkage makes the “victimization” of cultivated idols a significant contributing factor that affects and shapes a novel fan-star relationship underpinned by a competitive and exploitative industry norm.

F a n s ’ Aff e ctiv e a n d E m o ti o n a l L a b o r f o r “ V icti m i z e d ” I d o ls The new breed of idol stars is distinct from traditional celebrity stars in China, such as singer-songwriters and actors/actresses who accumulate their fame primarily from their work, be it music, TV dramas, or films (Zhang and Negus 2020). Conversely, idols are young and inexperienced, with a less significant repertoire. Therefore, to fans, the monetized work is the idols themselves—a persona and erotic capital (Hakim 2011) that is deeply connected to fans’ varied and repressed fantasies. The term “idol” (偶像) and this concept of it is said to have been introduced to China’s mainland during the late 1980s, the heyday of Hong Kong’s, Taiwan’s, and Singapore’s entertainment industries (Wang 2010). According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, an idol is a representation or symbol worshipped as a god, also a “false god” or “an object of passionate devotion” (Merriam-Webster 2004). Its Japanese equivalent, 人形/にんぎょう (a figure of persons or humanly shaped figure), also makes it a symbol or vehicle for meanings to be filled in. As depicted in the 1993 comedy Starstruck, idols have been criticized for their lack of acting skills, and their fame is largely accumulated by their look and persona rather than artistic and creative strength (实力), as a discursively constructed totality. Within the more established entertainment industries such as music, film, and TV, both male and female stars are reluctant to be associated with the label “idol” since the term signifies that they do not have much to offer other than looks. For example, Andy Lau, who established 100   Fan Interactions

his name in the music, TV, and film industries, is still subject to the “idol” assessment and the shame associated with it, due to the origins of his fame—his handsome look; this is despite turning sixty in 2021, with fans spanning more than three generations. The intensity and organizing mechanisms of fans have changed significantly over the past four decades. Earlier fandom studies have documented Chinese diva Faye Wong’s fans (Fung 2009) and, fifteen years ago, the first nationwide reality show Supergirl, which created Chris Li, a tomboyish or unisex style idol (Zhao 2018; Meng 2009). Supergirl is celebrated as a democratizing benchmark because fans can vote for their favorite idols and support their rise to the top of the entertainment industry (see Yang 2016). In the 1990s, Hallyu, the Korean wave of popular culture, hit the shore of China and the trainee model was adopted, fostering a new fandom practice known as cultivated-idol culture (偶像应 援文化). Fan devotees support their idols when they are still young trainees, during which time idols normally go through a series of training and intense competition. This model resembles that of opera troupes in feudal China, where children learned Peking opera from an early age and were labeled xizi (actors), a derogatory term for the trade. Decent families would never send their children to such places even when they faced financial crises, since the opera performers were categorized as below-the-nice-streams/outcasts (下九流), especially when men played female characters through nandan and fanchuan, with cross-dressing and extravagant and ideal feminine traits (Wang 2015; Wu 2012). Therefore, idols are stigmatized and judged in the same way as early opera idols, where even famous idols become victimized, yet in turn they receive empathy, sympathy, and support from their fans. Idols first go through an A&R process (talent scouts and management) as trainees and then debut via a series of variety and competition television shows to accumulate popularity and support. Devotees are either voluntary and professionally organized or hired supporters who do data work to produce both “metric and semantic information” for their targeted idols and celebrities on social media (Zhang and Negus 2020, 493). Platforms such as Weibo are increasingly important to building the profile of idols in the Chinese entertainment industries. They offer a virtual space for fan-idol engagement, as cultivation idols need virtual engagement on a constant basis, where fans witness the growth of their idols—or a transformation from “zero to hero.” In this process, cultivated idols are produced in an industrialized roster system with a similar look and feel to K-pop idols, supported by similarly devoted fans (Zhou 2019). Too Vulnerable to Fight  101

P r o c e ss e s o f V icti m i z a ti o n Following domestically made idols such as Chris Li and several boy bands (such as the Fighting Boys), the Korean entertainment industries incorporated some Chinese trainees and, later, official members of established bands as part of their Pan-Asia strategy (Kim 2016). From the early 2000s, the internationalization strategy of K-pop has been fruitful in creating both boy and girl bands, such as Wonder Girls (2007), Girls’ Generation (2007), Super Junior or SJ (2008), EXO (2012), and BTS (2013). SJ, as one of the earlier bands formed under the internationalization strategy, included three Chinese members: Han Geng, who was recruited from Beijing in 2000, and two other members, Zhou Mi and Henry Lau, who later debuted through the subgroup Super Junior-M in 2008; while EXO had four: Chris Wu, Lu Han, Huang Zitao, and Zhang Yixing. After Han Geng’s 2009 departure from SJ due to labor and contract disputes, the exploitative and competitive nature of the Korean entertainment industries was widely reported in Chinese media (see more in Kim 2016) and was used by fans to create discourses of “victimized idols abroad” and to justify their “protective love” by comparing two different entertainment systems and how idols suffered from such arrangements. Nationalist sentiment works as a significant motivator in China, just as it does with the K-pop roster system and its associated fandom in South Korea (Kim 2016). On fan sites, Chinese fans created a narrative that Han Geng was treated badly because he was an ethnically Chinese idol, and devoted fans would buy laptops for and even send money to support him. Han (among other Chinese trainees in the K-pop entertainment industries) was seen by fans to have been subject to dual exploitation, on the grounds that both the national identity and the trainee identity are mutually reinforcing such idols’ powerlessness and victimization. Being both Chinese and a trainee makes Han and people like him a foreigner and outsider and an inexperienced member of the idol group, which was picked up by the variety shows repeatedly and to some degree was co-manufactured by their company and the variety show to produce gags and stereotypes. This became a formula where Chinese trainees first debut in South Korea and then “return” to China. All aforementioned former EXO members, termed 归国四子 (“The Returned Four”), followed Han’s example and became top-tier traffic stars mobilizing fans on social media platforms. However, these cultivated young-fresh-meat idols are also very controversial and often subject to mainstream media’s criticism due to their unconventional and queering/ queered masculinities, ranging from their new aesthetics (makeup, outfits, and 102   Fan Interactions

hairstyle) and how they carry themselves in shows to how they engage with their male team members (homosociality). Such a controversial identity further makes them victimized, attracting female fans’ support, protection, and care. The queering of the new breed of Chinese idols is on the increase in China. As one of the key features of such boy bands, the queering—or overt homosociality among group members—is crystallized for fan service, largely targeting a female fan base (Chen 2021). According to Brennan (2019, 2) this presentation can be viewed as queerbaiting, since it is deliberately designed by the industries and thus reflects “the history of the regulation of popular media.” However, the queerness of idols has always been subtly evident, yet they are never gay, in China, similar to their female counterparts, “queer but never lesbian” (Zhao 2018, 470). This is especially the case for Cai, since his makeup and appearance represent a dramatic departure from how masculinities can be presented on Chinese screens. His dyed hair, heavily applied eyeliner, and signature outfit of a deep-V-neck top with a lace insert are just some examples that put him in the top headlines on Weibo. Such desirable (for fans) and controversial (or avant-garde, given its context) traits are arranged, prioritized, and packaged for sale within a neoliberal and consumerist industrial and cultural logic. In the Chinese context, queerness is defined by tropes such as lookism, obscure and ambiguous identities, and taste (lifestyles), which are monetized for consumption by youth (see also Zhao 2018). While such queerness of young-fresh-meat idols is celebrated as progressive from the perspective of visibility politics (Zhao 2018) and of intersectionality in terms of nationality/ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and sexual orientations, we should be careful if such intersectional progressiveness is reversed and used as covertly political means for the ends of consumerism. Intersectionality, when being appropriated, will lose its critical edge, since it is used as concrete and affective genres, segments, and tactics actualized through perpetuating media texts and paratexts consumed and co-created by fans. The affective, immaterial, erotic consumption of idols is deemed progressive if evaluated by the Western standard, as in visibility politics (Lavin, Yang, and Zhao 2017). However, whether this will contribute to the more resistant and progressive ends for structural, cultural, or political changes is not entirely clear in Chinese fandom communities (Zhang 2016; Chen 2020). I will demonstrate how fans carry out datawork on a daily basis, adhering to while still challenging the normalizing industrial norm by jamming and queering it. It is a process of supporting their idols to garner clout and in turn capitalizing on their artificial influence and popularity. Too Vulnerable to Fight  103

F a n I n t e r a cti o n s a n d I d e n tific a ti o n P r o c e ss e s Cai’s cultivated and dataficated fame offers a unique case study of Chinese fandom due to his fans’ influence on his success (Zhou 2019). The influence for Cai comes from both devotees and anti-fans. This may sound surprising; however, controversies also generate traffic. Conforming to and capitalizing on the industrial norm shared in the Pan-Asian entertainment industries (Zhang and Negus 2020), fans’ agency is evident and is underpinned by their own complex identification processes. My primary research involved creating an account on Weibo and joining iKun, where I was invited into the entry-level fan group. I was given tasks, such as data creation, monitoring, and popularity approving, to complete and to compete with other fans to demonstrate my loyalty to and true love for Cai. Creating an iKun identity involves tedious and mundane tasks and work, centrally managed by less-central nodes or hubs of Heads of Fan Groups. Varying tasks then are distributed in a hierarchical fandom, as diverse as daily patrol of comments and discussions about Cai on Weibo, reporting negative comments from non-fans and anti-fans, up-approving and liking Cai-related news, and investing in Cai’s musical works, reality show appearances, and merchandise associated with or sponsored by him. Such interactions are underpinned and dictated by search engine optimization (SEO) mechanisms developed by Weibo, including both metric and semantic information, to create positive associations for Cai. With Weibo, there are different rankings that symbolically “define” the overall reputation of Cai, his philanthropic endeavors, and his commercial value. The overall reputation can be improved and enhanced through associated keywords when searched along with Cai, and rankings range from the hot-topic ranking and the group discussion ranking to the reputation/impact ranking designed by Weibo, to name but a few. As fans/workers, we can do this in two ways: generating positive buzz around Cai and his work (given that idols function as both the celebrity and the work itself) and sanitizing negative comments toward him. However, there are guiding terms (话术, “discursive techniques”) through which one avoids offending anti-fans. We are instructed not to initiate arguments but to report anti-fan accounts based on the grounds of personal attack and defamation, disinformation, and false information, since Weibo has a code of conduct set by the regulations of governmental bodies and platforms. In addition, fans believe this non-interfering approach also will potentially attract affective and supportive sentiments from the non-fans who search the keywords 104   Fan Interactions

pertaining to Cai or under the public sections of Cai-related hot topics and group discussions. Such a strategy reflects the diversity of fans’ identification processes with regard to their cultivated idols.

I d e n tific a ti o n As , W it h , a n d Ag a i n st In addition to participation in the iKun online fan group, interviews were conducted with fans. Interviewees are anonymized with participants’ consent. The focus of these interviews was Cai’s stardom and persona construction/cultivation by fans. The questions asked included how fans perceive their relationship with Cai; why they support Cai; what activities they do online and/or offline to support him; and how fans engage with other (anti-)fans online. As argued earlier, the narrative of the double exploitation of Chinese idols is used to mobilize fans so they identify as or with Cai. Some informants regard their powerless positions in family, school, and wider society as analogous to the powerlessness encountered by their idols—not only as female (fans) or effeminate or feminized men (idols) but also as the inexperienced at work. Fans feel the need and even urgency to be united and talk back in the group I observed. Such agency is closely related to Cai’s feminine and queer expression, albeit never explicitly gay. Here, feminine is queer for both these female fans and their nonnormative (effeminate or feminized) idol. The idol, as a symbol, is thus objectified, manipulated, and re-personated for fans’ diversified purposes. Such a reattribution process of idols speaks articulately about the strategy employed by fans to identify as or with idols like Cai, to counter those who identify against him, and to make and negotiate their own meanings. One experienced female fan reflects, I guess there are at least two identities of Cai, straight and the performed/ tamed queer identity. I mean tamed by a K-pop style. But to most mamafans and (elder) sister-fans, he is straight, if you know him gradually through the Show. He may look sissy, as criticized by mainstream media, but they are missing the point. They don’t even know his works. 反差萌 fancha meng (ギャップ萌え), [literally Gap Cuteness, affects and emotions triggered by a contrast or mismatch of the signifier and signified traits of a certain character] is one of the main reasons for onlookers to turn themselves into devoted fans. He is not that shuai [handsome] according to Chinese aesthetics since his face is not that sophisticated with an angular Too Vulnerable to Fight  105

face. Not manly. That is, his face is cute, budding and even androgynous, however he is very tall, and his character is very tough and resilient. To mamas and sisters, he brings a strong sense of security, at the same time, with a “little man” look and traits. It triggers the will to protect and the sense of being protected is promised by his capabilities. (pers. comm. 2020) As demonstrated through this reflection, one can understand why Cai accumulates and mobilizes support from his fans, who long to act as both protector and protected. This demonstrates the changing aesthetics in terms of Chinese alternative masculinities, where female fans look for economically independent and responsible men who are young and beautiful. Some fangirls use more vulgar and emotive flames to refute straight males’ attacks: “He is not sissy; he is very good in bed like a drill machine and you know fucking nothing as a greasy uncle!” (Weibo forum discussion, 2020). While these comments reflect an overtly straight female perspective, other female and queer subjects focus more on his “camp” style when parodying and fighting the misogynistic anti-fans.

A n ti - F a n s : T h e I n t e r a cti o n s a n d I d e n tific a ti o n s Ag a i n st C a i a n d His F a n s On his English sister-fan website, the lyrics of Cai’s new EP, the 2019 REBIRTH (Kunsland 2020), were translated by fans to demonstrate and further reify his victimized persona and to show that, despite that, he is determined to stay positive and strong: “Only by destroying ‘me,’ can I be ‘born’ again. Destruction will only make me stronger” (Kunsland 2020). Fans believe this is a powerful message being sent to the wider audience, the destructive and anti-fans included. Fans explained an incident that saw Cai being criticized by mainstream media and “toxic straight-male fans” from Hupu.com, a sports fandom social media platform (see also Wang and Mao 2019). When Hupuers saw Cai endorsing the National Basketball League of the US, they felt offended and created satirical and parodic videos online to ridicule and attack Cai, targeting his queer and effeminate/feminized persona. As for mainstream media outlets, the new breed of young-fresh-meat idols are often criticized collectively for their close association with K-pop and alternative masculinities. Such masculinities are framed as “non-Chinese”; rather, they are supposedly alternative types of masculinity that have been transplanted and become trendy in China, corrupting Chinese youth. 106   Fan Interactions

In 2018, China Central Television responded by producing a program, entitled First Class for the New Semester. Students and parents were asked to watch it together. This “order-to-watch” from Chinese public schools is itself a phenomenon unique to China, but what is more intriguing is what happened after the show was aired. Mainstream media and opinion leaders on social media criticized the idols who appeared in First Class for the New Semester as “sissy-pants,” addressing an outcry about changing expressions of masculinity on behalf of the nation’s parents. Xinhua News Agency’s editorial linked this performance of masculinity to national identity, using a catchy phrase: “If the young of a country are sissy, the country will be sissy.” In this editorial, China is portrayed as an open and diversified society, where different aesthetics coexist. What is deemed problematic is the “deliberate” feminizing of male idols in the entertainment industry, creating “pathological aesthetics” and “selling personae” (SOHU.com, n.d.). The traditional gender-reverse performances (fanchuan) were defended (see also Wu 2012), while such an industry “new norm” is subject to severe scrutiny. In other words, this piece pathologizes emerging alternative masculinities performed by young-fresh-meat idols. While traditional performative arts allow male performers to perform female characters, young-fresh-meat idols cannot show femininity, especially when it is packaged for sale. This triggered a series of debates in Chinese and Western media. People’s Daily argues that “the well-groomed, exquisite and gentle aesthetic is one of the many kinds of diversified masculinities; where it is more meaningful to foster and cultivate inner beauty rather than lookism” (transprinted—copied—news in Souhu 2018, translated by the author). The different undertones of Xinhua and People’s Daily are then simplified by fans as “clashes between the mainstream”; meanwhile, ChinaNews reprinted several articles critiquing the use of the slur “sissy-pants” as gender stereotyping toward both women and men, as well as arguing that asking people to “man-up” is a reproduction of hegemonic masculinity targeting the new generation (Qian 2018). Many fans of Cai chose to debate and educate Cai’s anti-fans and their misinterpretations of the op-eds from the mainstream media on Weibo forums as part of their daily work routine. Therefore, the data work also includes anti-fans’ contributions, since they boosted Cai’s data traffic online and kept him ranked at the top on Weibo and other social media platforms (see also Wang and Mao 2019). The defined two themes have demonstrated how (dis)empowerment informs aspects of Cai’s female fandom. In the next section, I will show how such a dialectical and paradoxical (dis)empowerment becomes possible in a consumerist society Too Vulnerable to Fight  107

through fans’ cultural jamming practices, namely organized resistance at both the image and discourse level of the media and commodity system, to express a political view (Carducci 2006).

N e w Digit a l H o us e wif e wit h Ag e n c y The exploitation or disempowerment of the perfect consumers has been well established by scholars using a feminist Marxist approach (see, for example, Jarrett 2017). This reifies a (dis)empowerment dichotomy in fandom literature, where female fans were manipulated as pendulum-like passive and agentic subjects (see Lavin, Yang, and Zhao 2017; Li 2020). As demonstrated in the iKun case, female fans attempt to expose the methods of domination of the industrialized and dataficated fame, jamming and tricking advertisers to invest in their victimized “underdog” idols and to foster progressive change through resisting within the very system, applying the very logic, used to disempower them—a data game. Here, the dialectical and paradoxical relationship between fans’ agencies and exploitations is in line with the (dis)empowerment dichotomy constructed, analyzing fandom from a political economy perspective. Following a Marxist critique, fans’ digital labor is regarded as unpaid social reproduction, which fuels the entertainment industry or gift economy by selling the attention of fans while exploiting their affective labor (Fuchs 2016; Jhally 1987; Turk 2014). Building on the concept of unpaid labor, Jarrett (2017) defines the “digital housewife” as one who produces two use-values of alienable user data and inalienable affects, that is, a double exploitation of the housewife offline for their unpaid reproductive labor and online for their unpaid affective labor. The female fans’ work is unpaid and, in addition, they bulk-buy the work of Cai as a form of support; in turn, they obtain gratification. Based on my digital ethnography, fans deliberately and voluntarily do so, and even feel obligated to contribute as a martyr and defender of Cai: “I feel I am obliged to protect him as a sister-fan.6 He is so cute and vulnerable. Above all, he is hard-working and deserves the fame. I have followed him from Day 1 [of Idol Producer]. We [fans] have made it thus far together. We should go on and fight together!” (pers. comm. 2020). Through the carrying out of fan labor, fans’ agency and subjectivity become evident. They work and write themselves and their idols into being. In Cai’s case, fans push him to top rankings on Weibo, gaining industry recognition commercially and symbolically. Therefore, female fans’ affective and emotional 108   Fan Interactions

labor has to be understood with regard to changing neoliberal industrial norms. Cultivated idols are indeed underdogs compared to established celebrities. Their struggles in the creative industries are real (especially in the K-pop industries), even though idols appear to be always carefree and perfect under the limelight. The following statement from a female fan in a fan-group discussion about the topic of potential “exploitation” triggered very strong and emotive resonance/ resistance: I heard about the exploitation thing. Very interesting. Everyone, every single one of us is exploited. We are instruments getting tasks from our masters and work the shit out of ourselves . . . So shall we all die? So they get no one to exploit? Sisters, we are building this together. Cai started from nothing. But the advertisers don’t care, they look at the numbers. What can we do? Do some datawork while you are working for your bosses. They are the real exploiters! If you work without cyberslacking, you are a real dickhead! (Fan-group discussion 2019) Cyberslacking refers to (office) workers who use their work internet access for leisure while maintaining the appearance of working. This statement clearly demonstrates that fans are well informed about and completely aware of the realities of the labor market—they are using one capitalist operator (the entertainment industries and their datafication of everything) against another (their own professional work, which is often well-paid and deemed decent). Therefore, to these fans, their fan work is emotional and affective on the personal level and transgressive on the collective level toward the entertainment industries. To specify, the very transgressive and subversive register of their protective and productive labor is that fans’ labor is trying to achieve guerrilla wins within the very same system, the very same logic, through disrupting or subverting media culture and its mainstream industrial institutions (Carducci 2006).

C o n clusi o n Organized and empowered as they may appear, Cai’s fans are united symbolically and virtually through the commercialization and industrial norms, for consumerist and neoliberal ends, while culturally jamming the very logic of neoliberal industry norms and consumerism. This is evident through the reflection of fans’ own accounts of their affective and digital labor, as well as their lived experiences, Too Vulnerable to Fight  109

including but not limited to their paratext creation, data work, and fan-group regulation and policing. With such agentic orchestration (and rehearsal) of their identities as the new digital housewives, mothers, or sisters, they are exploited by the much-celebrated platform and sharing economy. However, based on the ethnographic investigation, fans do not see their affective and (im)material investments as exploitation; rather, they leverage the platform economy for their own aims through their agentic activities. Such agentic fandom, while claiming to be protective of these idols, is endowed with a somewhat arbitrary manipulation of idols’ personas among rich media texts and paratexts that are created and manufactured by the industry elites with obvious commercial motivations. Therefore, such agency can go awry and even be destructive for the cultivated idols. That is, if idols’ personas do not make sense or conform to fans’ desires, devoted fans may well become non-fans and even anti-fans themselves. The identification processes demonstrated in this chapter also go beyond the (dis)empowerment dichotomy where progressive ends can be achieved, foreseeing possible solidarities between women and men with diversified identities, desires, and agendas. Therefore, the young-fresh-meat idol fandom examined here reflects a dialectical and paradoxical entanglement. Female fans are perfect consumers who conduct labor as digital housewives on the one hand. On the other hand, via their cultural jamming endeavors, they are creating ruptures that disturb the dynamics of gender relationships in a patriarchal society through economic means and privatization of media. When critiquing such consumerist and neoliberal exploitation and appropriation, we might unnecessarily and naively create a binary opposition between the economic and the political, while the personal and agentic are often neglected. The market and even consumerist fandom practices can hinder or reinforce progressive ends from the perspective of fostering solidarities, contingent upon the agency of the fans. Therefore, fans’ agency needs further qualitative studies such as this, especially when vernacular fandoms are intertwined with other socioeconomic, political, and cultural agents in lived and situated milieu (see, as a recent example, Zhang and Negus 2020).

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7. C L O S E T O YO U Film Fans’ Visitation to Film Location Sites Xin Cui

This chapter uses Hengdian World Studios in Hengdian, China—the largest outdoor film studio in the world—as a case study through which to observe film fans’ offline interactions with film celebrities in an off-location film tour. By combining the analysis of my personal experience at Hengdian World Studios, observation of the activities of local film fans, and online interviews with three fans who have previously visited the destination, I explore film fans’ on-site activities and close interactions with celebrities. This chapter demonstrates that film-related sites are important places for fans and celebrities to interact with each other offline, and that the on-site fan and tourist activities allow fans to be physically close to film celebrities. Finally, this chapter explores how film fans’ visitations to film studios can act as a catalyst for the development of local film-related tourism.

F il m Au d i e n c e s a n d F a n s ’ V isit a ti o n s t o F il m L o c a ti o n S it e s With the boost of film location sites around all over the world—such as The Lord of the Rings (New Line Cinema) film tours in Queenstown, New Zealand, and Harry Potter series (Warner Bros.) film tours in Oxford, UK—as well as film studio tours in Hollywood and Hengdian, it is worth analyzing the film audiences and fans who come to location sites of screen media works and experience local tourist activities. Scholars and researchers in media and tourism studies define such journeys as “film-related tourism” (Beeton 2011; Roberts 2016), “film tourism” (Hudson and Ritchie 2006; Buchmann, Moore, and Fisher 2010; Connell 2012; Yen and Croy 2016), or “film-induced tourism” (Macionis 2004; Beeton 2005).

While the terms may differ, film-related tourism is widely understood as the visitation of a site because of its appearance in a film or involving film-related elements on-site. It is worth noting that the term film, in this case, includes film, television, and the representations of other screen media (Yen and Croy 2016, 1029). In other words, screen media in all forms has the potential to motivate and inspire audiences and fans to visit film locations and physically interact with celebrities at these destinations. Considering the diversity and variety of film location sites, Sue Beeton (2005) systematically proposes two subforms of film location site: on-location film site and off-location film site. Generally, on-location film sites refer to the existing buildings, built environments, and natural landscapes, for example, castles, hotels, main streets, and mountains (Beeton 2005, 210). Off-location film sites refer to the constructed set, studio site, and the representation of natural landscape produced by computer imaging and other techniques—for instance, film studio soundstages, external facades constructed at a studio site, and vistas (Beeton 2005). From the perspective of tourism studies, there are at least two types of film location sites in which fans can be physically close to and interact with film celebrities: one is the natural and existing locations, places, and landscapes represented in screen media works and the other, the manufactured and constructed film settings and sites. On-location film tours that fans can join are relatively common and widespread around the world. In Asia, Lost in Thailand (Xu 2012) film tours in Chiang Mai (Thailand) can be seen as a typical example. Chinese audiences and fans visit Thailand to see and experience what the film characters and cast experienced in the film at the destination. It can support the contention in film-related tourism studies that film can enhance the awareness and appeal of the filming locations through the power of imagery (Riley and Van Doren 1992; Macionis 2004; Beeton 2005). Meanwhile, Lee, Scott, and Kim (2008, 824) suggest that the traits of celebrity help fans shape their perceptions of the destinations with which they are associated, and in film-related tourism studies, film celebrities play an important role in stimulating travel to these destinations (Beeton 2005). Likewise, visitations to off-location film sites are undertaken by audiences and fans around film studios, such as Warner Bros. film studio tours and Sony Pictures film studio tours in Hollywood and Hengdian World Studio tours in Hengdian, China. Hengdian World Studios (HWS) provides visitors with the opportunity to visit film locations, observe the ongoing work of media crews, and participate in different types of on-site film-related activities at the destina112   Fan Interactions

tion, such as hiring and dressing up in film characters’ costumes in the studios. Located in Hengdian Town, Zhejiang Province, HWS comprises more than 30 live-action shooting bases and 130 indoor studios, standing in for different styles of Chinese traditional buildings, gardens, rooms, and transport, representing Chinese people’s life in past dynasties (Hengdian World Studios, n.d.). By 2017, more than a quarter of Chinese domestic screen media works were being filmed and finished in HWS’s shooting bases and studios (Hengdian Group 2017, 37). Each tourist site at HWS is designed with a specific theme to represent film elements and provide certain film-related tourism activities and services; for example, the Palace of Emperor Qin film studio replicates the magnificent imperial palaces from the Chinese Qin dynasty (221–207 BC) and represents the film sets and props used by media crews for filming the stories set in the Qin dynasty. By the end of 2020, tourists to Hengdian were allowed access to more than ten film-themed studios and parks within the complex. HWS has also been classified as one of the most popular tourist attractions by China National Tourism Administration, and from 1996 to 2019, the total number of visitors reached 170 million (Hengdian World Studios, n.d.). Building on previous studies (Geissler and Rucks 2011; Milman 2010), Williams (2020, 41–42) suggests that places that are designed to support a thematic identity and operate an enclosed space with guest-controlled access, and that “offer some form of entertainment, food services, and merchandise,” can be defined as theme parks. Based on Williams’s (2020) definition of theme park, Hengdian World Studios functions not only as a huge film studio for media crews but also as a film theme park for tourists where they can experience different film-themed activities. At HWS, tourists can be physically close to film celebrities through taking part in on-site fan and tourist activities, for example, observing ongoing works of film crews, joining in temporary celebrity seminars, and working as extras (Hengdian World Studios, n.d.).

T o P h y sic a ll y “ M e e t ” C e l e b r iti e s a t H W S Ethnographic methods, including autoethnography and personal observation, are used in this research to show film fans’ on-site fan and tourist activities and their close connections and interactions with film celebrities at the destination in a personal narrative. While employing ethnographic methods at Hengdian, the author becomes an independent film fan and tourist, visiting local film location sites, taking part in on-site relevant fan and tourist activities, and interacting Close to You  113

with celebrities at the destination. Thus, a substantive amount of the data presented in this paper was collected from the ethnographic fieldwork separately undertaken in Hengdian in August 2019 and October 2020. According to travel agency Ctrip’s introduction (Ctrip, n.d.), visitors usually need to spend one to three days when visiting Hengdian and HWS due to the concentration of attractions in Hengdian. When I visited HWS as an independent fan and tourist in 2019 and 2020, I spent three days visiting the film studios at HWS and one to two weeks sightseeing the whole town and living with the local communities during each travel period. “The desire to visit or inhabit fictional worlds is common across fan cultures” (Williams 2020, 48), and “tourism remains a key element of fan practice, allowing fans to forge and maintain connections with imagined worlds” (Williams 2018, 105). Here, Williams highlights the connection between fan studies and tourism studies, as well as the overlap between on-site fan activities and tourist activities at a film location site. Based on Saler’s (2012) research on the overlap between the themed space and the often-slippery concept of immersion, Williams (2020, 45) argues that “immersion is dependent upon a knowledge that the place one is inhabiting is ‘not real’ but the visitor/fan can still proceed as though it is, . . . allowing theme park fans to engage in a suspension of disbelief.” Wolf (2012, 48) classifies theme park tourists’ immersion into two forms: physical immersion and conceptual immersion, which rely on, respectively, tourists’ constructed experience and their imagination. In the case of fans’ visits to HWS, the essential point is not the place but the imagined or real connections with film celebrities at the destination and the immersion in the local fan practices and touristic activities. At HWS, fans’ immersion in the environment and connections with film celebrities are more likely to be embodied conceptually and emotionally when fans search for and see the film location sites of certain film celebrities’ screen media works. Fans cannot always meet real film celebrities at film location sites, but they are still able to build and maintain connections with film celebrities through taking part in the on-site activities, such as taking photos with the locations and dressing in similar character costumes. These on-site fan and tourist activities can lead fans to be more immersed in the themed environment and less suspicious of the “reality” at HWS, and they stimulate fans’ expectations for more encounters and interactions with film celebrities at the destination. Building on previous research about celebrity worship, Yen and Croy (2016, 1032) state that when visiting the shooting locations, fans are able to experience 114   Fan Interactions

celebrity worship, which has been conceptualized as the art of identity development, facilitating and providing a sense of fulfillment for some individuals. Regarding my experience at HWS during the travel to and search for the film locations of the screen media works of my favorite actress, Li Sun, I felt an emotional immersion in the film tour and the environment. It is not a physical and real interaction, but the tourist activities and the environment at the destination deepened my emotional and imagined connection with the celebrity. This can be perceived as the power of immersion in the environment and celebrity worship of the film celebrities at the film studios. The immersion here is capable of convincing fans of the on-site themed and fantastic elements, and thus the connections with film celebrities become more rational and observable. The imagined connections with film celebrities built through the conceptual immersions at the destination are no longer the daydreams of fans but can be seen as the basics of the parasocial relationships with celebrities. At each location, visitors can follow local tour guides and film-site guideposts to visit the sites, with introductions of famous film locations and relevant stories behind the scenes of celebrities and their media works. Hence, it was not difficult to discover the film locations where my favorite actress, Li Sun, had worked. At some of the film studios, such as Palace of Emperor Qin, HWS retains the set, backdrops, and props of famous and popular screen media works and exhibits them with film-site plaques in specific areas for tourists and fans to take photos (figure 2). During the tour of the Palace of Ming and Qing Dynasties studio and the Palace of Emperor Qin studio, I found the film locations of Li Sun’s television works, including Empresses in the Palace (Zheng 2011) and The Legend of Miyue (Zheng 2015), and I asked my travel companion to take photos with the locations in the images. As Roesch (2009, 159) expounds, taking photos in film locations can be understood as “shot re-recreation” behavior, suggesting people place themselves in the frame to re-create and represent the film characters’ positions. Indeed, for me, the connection with the celebrity Li Sun was built in the process of shot re-creation since we have physically experienced something similar in the same place. Furthermore, another way for fans to tangibly encounter and interact with film celebrities at the film-related sites at HWS is to observe the on-site film crews’ ongoing work. As the sites are used for both media crews to film works and tourists to visit, HWS provides the opportunity for fans to observe film celebrities and their work at a distance, even though the filming places were fenced off to prevent tourists’ access to the sites (figure 3). Based on my experience at Close to You  115

2. A film site plaque at Hengdian World Studios (permission to photograph was obtained from the studios). Courtesy of Xin Cui.

3. Local ongoing film crews’ guide board (permission to photograph was obtained from the studios). Courtesy of Xin Cui.

HWS, at some of the studios, fans and tourists were able to obtain information about the on-site media crews and film celebrities from the studio staff and find the filming places and the celebrities at work by following their instructions. Moreover, film celebrities sometimes walk over to the tourist areas and have short conversations with their fans during breaks in filming. It follows that at HWS, filming places and tourist areas can coexist in harmony, and fans can also encounter film celebrities at work or off work in the filming places. According to Turner (2014, 2), “the exorbitance of celebrity’s contemporary cultural visibility is unprecedented, and the role that the celebrity plays across Close to You  117

many aspects of the cultural field has certainly expanded and multiplied in recent years.” Furthermore, in academia, cultural and media researchers have tended to “focus on celebrity as the product of a number of cultural and economic processes” (2). Tourists’ and fans’ observations of film celebrities at work could be perceived as consumer behaviors if one assesses the scale and provenance of celebrity “as a discursive category, as a commercial commodity, as the object of consumption” (2). Beeton (2005, 203) suggests that tourism at filming sites can also be seen as “industrial tourism,” with visitors gazing at the film industry while it is at work. Building on this research, I suggest that during the film industrial tour at HWS, the on-site media crews and film celebrities are the industrial tourism products and commodities for general tourists and fans to observe and consume. Fan interactions with film celebrities at film-related sites can be also considered a process of consumption, in which the celebrities become commercial touristic commodities at the destination. Fans pay for the observation of the ongoing works of film crews and the encounter of the film celebrities when they purchase the entrance tickets to these sites. For fans desiring closer interactions with film celebrities at HWS, they can also work with film crews as extra actors by registering at the destination with the Hengdian World Studios Performer Association.1 Considering media crews’ demand for a huge number of trained and experienced extra actors, HWS established the performer association to systematically teach acting skills to those registered. Local film crews also post relevant information about recruiting extra actors at HWS (figure 4), and the association then collaborates with these media crews by sending “graduated” registered fans to them at HWS. Hence, the local performer association provides a convenient opportunity for fans to meet and work with film celebrities in media crews. In this guise, the relationship between fans and celebrities is not only one of worshippers and idols but also work partners. SOHU.com (n.d.), an online Chinese newspaper, interviewed an extra actor at HWS and showed that the extra has worked with the female celebrity Li Sun and performed as one of her servants in a television drama; his character has a series of dialogues and interactions with the protagonists, and thus he got a chance to speak to Sun at the filming sites. The physical interactions between fans and celebrities also include on-site temporary events, such as live performances and celebrity seminars. HWS releases and updates the information online about film celebrities’ temporary events and advertises the events around the tourist areas at the destination. Therefore, tourists and fans are able to learn the news of certain film celebrities’ 118   Fan Interactions

4. A poster for recruiting extra actors (permission to photograph was obtained from the studios). Courtesy of Xin Cui.

live performances and seminars in advance. These events can be understood as both fan activities and tourist activities. They are held in the touristic areas at HWS since the target consumers also include general tourists, who might encounter the events and celebrities and join in the activities serendipitously. In this regard, meeting and interacting with celebrities at a touristic site at HWS support Turner’s viewpoint that “our fascination with particular celebrities is on the one hand a fantastic projection, but on the other hand we can actually encounter them in everyday life” (Turner 2014, 5). Based on Ferris and Harris’s (2011) model of unstaged and pre-staged encounters between fans and celebrities, Raphael and Lam (2018, 174) explain that “unstaged encounters occur in unplanned circumstances in which the celebrity is sought by the fan away from organized public appearances,” while “pre-staged encounters take place under organized, controlled and restrictive situations in which the celebrity is ‘at work,’ performing their public persona and actively seeking fan attention.” Within this perspective, celebrity live performances and seminars at HWS can be classified as pre-staged encounters between film celebrities and fans, where fans’ access to these events is limited by structural distinguished factors—“celebrities appear on stage, while fans sit in the audience” (Raphael and Lam 2018, 174). In addition to physical interactions, Raphael and Lam (2018, 174) indicate that trophy seeking, which refers to fans’ desire to take away a souvenir of sorts from the encounters with celebrities, motivates fans to obtain souvenirs like photographs and autographs from celebrities in order to retain physical evidence of the moment of physical encounter. It follows that through attending these temporary events at HWS, fans can not only closely and physically interact with the film celebrities, but they can also obtain the physical evidence of the interactions in, for example, photographs and signatures.

M o tiv a ti o n s a n d R e fl e cti o n s i n T a l k i n g wit h t h e F a n s To better understand fan motivations and experiences when visiting film locations, I also conducted several online semistructured interviews advertised via Chinese social media, including Weibo and WeChat.2 Participants in the interviews were selected from a group of users on these two Chinese online 120   Fan Interactions

platforms who replied to my request post on WeChat—“share your touristic experience in Hengdian, if you have been there before”—or who posted certain travel notes about their journeys with some keywords or tags on Weibo, such as “Hengdian” and “Hengdian World Studios.” Interview questions were designed in a semistructured format (Jennings 2005) and divided into three parts, focusing on, respectively, their pre-trip motivations, on-site activities, and ideas about any authenticity issues linked to their visits. Before starting the interviews, I let every participant know that they were participating in a university research project about film-related tourism in Hengdian and that their replies would be included in this chapter anonymously. To ensure anonymity, interviewees have been given pseudonyms (Participant 1, 2, 3, etc.) in this chapter. The language in which participants and I conducted our interviews is Chinese, and I have translated the interview contents into English.

F a n s ’ T r a v e l M o tiv a ti o n s Before film tours, tourists could be motivated by a series of factors, such as the local environment, buildings, facilities, humans, services, and activities, as well as touristic internal desires, and then build up the expectations for the travel destinations (Dann 1977; Riley and Van Doren 1992; Macionis 2004; Meng and Tung 2016). Therefore, in the case of Hengdian, it is worth understanding fans’ motivations to travel to the destination and expectations of the on-site interactions with film celebrities. In the interview, Participant 1 (P1) expressed that her visit to Hengdian was motivated and induced by a number of film celebrities, such as Bingbing Fan and Yifeng Li, and their screen media works. P1 further explained, I have watched a lot of film works which were featured at HWS and I think I am quite familiar with the local film locations and landscapes, which were represented in the screen media works previously. Before the travel, I really looked forward to seeing the real places in person where my favorite casts, such as Bingbing Fan and Yifeng Li, worked previously for performing the characters and filming the film stories. I believed that a strong emotional connection among me, the celebrities, and the locations would be built when I arrive at the sites and physically experience the environments. (Participant 1, Weibo message to author, March 21, 2020) Close to You  121

People’s travel motivations could be influenced by their familiarity with the destination, and domestic tourists’ cultural familiarity with their home country acts as an impetus to realize this travel motivation (Horng et al. 2012; Meng and Tung 2016). Raphael and Lam (2018, 174) also suggest that “knowledge and familiarity with a show and its characters then constitute a major motivating factor in fan-celebrity interaction.” It follows, due to the knowledge and familiarity with one or more screen media works and their characters and casts, that for domestic fans like P1, fan-celebrity interaction is embodied in the emotional connection with the film location sites and the celebrities, a connection built spontaneously when they arrived at the destination. Moreover, P1’s travel interests can be understood as a desire for a media pilgrimage to film location sites, as visiting the destinations associated with a certain celebrity can be understood as a sort of pilgrimage (Lee, Scott, and Kim 2008). Based on Couldry’s research on the set of a British soap opera (2000, 33), Reijnders (2011, 58) suggests that “media pilgrimages are comparable to traditional, religious pilgrimages,” as they are more than physical journeys but also symbolic journeys toward certain central values of society. For media pilgrimage, these values are implicitly connected to the symbolic authority of the media, and it places the emphasis on the symbolic meanings of ritual activities (Reijnders 2011, 58–59). In terms of film-related tourism, the values of tourism locations could be (but are not limited to) in relation to the film and television works that were made or set at the locations, on-site film productions and filming activities, and/or on-site film-related events, such as film premieres and film festivals (Reijnders 2011, 58). In film-related tourism studies, Macionis (2004, 89) states that pilgrimage to film and its related elements is one of the main motivations for tourists, especially for specific film tourists, who actively seek out places that they have seen in films. Therefore, fans might also worship film sages and shrines, such as film celebrities and film location sites, and thus they could be induced by film celebrities and film location sites to visit the destination (Lee, Scott, and Kim 2008). Meanwhile, fans can indeed gain happiness during their film pilgrimage (tour): on the one hand, “tourism is the best kind of life for it is sacred in the sense of being exciting, renewing, and inherently self-fulfilling” (Graburn 1989, 28), and on the other hand, visitors are satisfied when they actually manage to see film celebrities and witness the film production process in their journeys (Meng and Tung 2016, 441–442). P1 can be seen as an enthusiastic tourist in Hengdian who spent nine days at Hengdian and visited nine touristic attractions, compared to the suggested and 122   Fan Interactions

frequent travel length for most tourists in Hengdian of two to three days (Ctrip, n.d.). When talking about the local experience and fan activities, P1 stated, In some of the studios, I found a range of famous and popular film location sites which have been featured in my favorite film celebrities’ screen media works. I also brought four imitated film-character costumes and dressed in these costumes at different sites for taking photos with the locations. In these environments, the film set and costumes can convince me that I performed the same characters as the celebrity Bingbing Fan did in the film works. In this way, I think I finished the achievement that “I become you” at the film location sites. (Participant 1, Weibo message to author, March 21, 2020) The immersive experience and emotional connection were embodied in P1’s touristic activities, such as dressing up in a character costume for taking photos at the film locations. I also witnessed similar situations during my journey to HWS, where some tourists and fans dressed in costumes and asked photographers to film them from the same direction and angle as the original in order to reconstruct and re-create the film scenes as closely as possible. As reflected in the interview, for P1, dressing in similar costumes and performing the same characters as the film celebrity can build an emotional connection with that film celebrity. In addition, P1’s achievement at the film location sites can be understood by Couldry’s (2000, 83) description as “a sense of completion: to finally see everything,” and even further, “to finally experience everything.” Still, the words “see” and “experience” here highlight and accentuate the importance of the physicality and tangibility of the places where film celebrities have worked. For fans like P1, through visiting the sites and doing a series of fan activities, closeness to the film celebrities seems to be physically real. Fans’ desires to physically connect and interact with film celebrities at film-related tourism sites can also be understood as celebrity involvement, originating from leisure involvement, which refers to “an unobservable state of motivation, arousal or interest toward a recreational activity or associated product,” as celebrities are a source of leisure activity or product (Lee, Scott, and Kim 2008; Havitz and Dimanche 1997, 246, cited in Yen and Croy 2016, 1030). According to Yen and Croy (2013, 1030), fans—or, in their words, “celebrity worshippers”—can create an emotional bond with the destination place due to the celebrity association. Lee, Scott, and Kim (2008) also prove that the level of celebrity involvement Close to You  123

can positively affect desires to visit destinations that the celebrity signifies. For P1, the on-site fan and tourist activities further reinforce the emotional bond as well as create a physical bond with the destination.

R e fl e cti o n s o n t h e Aut h e n ticit y o f I n t e r a cti o n s wit h C e l e b r iti e s Regarding the reflections on the physical interactions with celebrities, the interviews with participants show that they have considered authenticity issues at film-related sites after completing the journey. In fact, the discussion of authenticity is popular and controversial in both celebrity studies and tourism studies, and the debates in these two academic disciplines are ongoing (Boorstin 1961; Beeton 2005; MacCannell 1973; Turner 2014). Daniel Boorstin’s (1961) arguments about pseudo-events are relevant to discussions of authenticity in contemporary culture, where he describes a kind of event that is intentionally designed and staged for the public. Applying this theory in celebrity studies, Boorstin further points out that celebrity is the human equivalent of a pseudo-event; that is, the human pseudo-event, who is elaborately created for media and audiences (1961, 57, cited in Turner 2014, 3). Moreover, Boorstin believes celebrity also suggests a kind of culture “impelled by its fascination with the image, the simulation, and losing its grounding in substance or reality” (1961, 57, cited in Turner 2014, 3). Nevertheless, fans’ physical visits to film-related sites can be understood as an unusual behavior in Boorstin’s (1961) described cultural context. Tourists are able to see the real people in the real places rather than the images and simulations in media and virtual worlds, highlighting the desires of tourists to search for the authenticity of celebrities (MacCannell 1973). In order to understand how fans reflect upon their interactions with film celebrities at the film locations, participants and I discussed the perceptions of authenticity of the interactions they had at Hengdian. Participant 2 (P2) showed her affection and admiration for the reality of the environment: It was a really amazing and interesting experience to see the real film locations, which are almost the same as the fictional representations of them in screen media works. No matter in the shooting bases or their surrounding places, I can always see the ongoing film crews and actors/actresses 124   Fan Interactions

as well as the well-designed props, which can deeply convince me of the “reality” of the environment. I can confirm that HWS is the daily working place of the film celebrities. (Participant 2, WeChat messages to author, March 22, 2020) Participant 3 (P3) preferred to describe the authenticity in her visit to the film location sites at HWS as a sense of “familiarity”: The key reason I enjoyed visiting the film locations in Hengdian is the familiarity to the film celebrities and their media works, which were featured at these location sites. I strongly felt familiar to the film set, the backdrops, and the props which were showed in the celebrities’ films or television dramas previously, even though it was the first time I saw them in person. The visit to the sites was like a film journey across different media works to relive the celebrities’ performances in the films and television dramas I have watched previously at cinemas or home. (Participant 3, Weibo message to author, March 23, 2020) For both P2 and P3, the real film celebrities, film locations, filming set, and environment are capable of making them feel a sense of authenticity toward the film-related sites and interactions with the celebrities. However, it is difficult to determine the extent to which the so-called authenticity of fans’ experience at the film-related sites is really authentic or not, since touristic spaces in reality can be called “a stage set, a tourist setting, or simply a set depending on how purposefully worked up for tourists the display is” (MacCannell 1973, 597). At HWS, when tourists and fans observe on-site media crews’ ongoing work and when they work with film celebrities as extra actors, it seems that they are legally allowed to enter into the backstage regions of film crews, film celebrities, and film industry, a place “typically out of bounds to members of the audience” (Goffman 1959, 126) and in principle not open for visitors and fans. However, “it is always possible that what is taken to be entry into a back region is really entry into a front region that has been totally set up in advance for touristic visitation” (MacCannell 1973, 597). It means what fans see and experience at HWS might be deliberately created and staged for tourists, especially considering that celebrities can be seen as a kind of commercial commodity for people to consume (Turner 2014). Therefore, it is probable that the authenticity represented to fans at HWS is staged authenticity, which refers to the staging of local elements in order to create an impression of authenticity for the public (MacCannell 1973, Close to You  125

cited in Lovell and Bull 2018, 5; Gotham 2010, 612). Instead of looking for objective authenticity, which focuses on the sense of genuineness or realness of artifacts or events (Steiner and Reisinger 2006, 299), people may be willing to seek out “existential authenticity” in their travels, referring to a state of being in which people are “true” in their personal experience (Berger 1973, cited in Steiner and Reisinger 2006, 301). In this way, fans’ experiences at HWS can be “authentic” so long as they emotionally and intellectually believe their experience is authentic, because existential authenticity is created from tourists’ activities (Steiner and Reisinger 2006). It can suggest that at Hengdian, some fans, such as P2 (as reflected in the interview), are able to feel a sense of authenticity through occupying the studio environment and interacting with the film celebrities in a series of fan and tourist activities, for example, searching for and seeing the real film locations, observing the ongoing works of film crews, and encountering the film celebrities during the film journeys. The authenticity here is derived from fans’ on-site experience at the destination.

F il m F a n s , F il m T o u r ists , F il m Act o r s When people seek places seen on the media screen, they become film tourists (Busby and Klug 2001, 316). Building on Busby and Klug’s (2001) argument, it follows that when fans arrive at the destination and seek out film location sites, their identities are automatically extended to tourists; so at HWS, they are both film fans and film tourists. This dual identity suggests that with the boost of film-related tourism and the popularity of film location sites all over the world, film audiences and fans are no longer merely the media-content receivers; many become film tourists to visit film-related tourism sites and to be physically close to film celebrities. The case study of HWS also implies the diversity of places and spaces for fans and celebrities’ offline interactions, caused by the coincidence of fans activities and tourist activities at the destination. In addition to the huge economic income brought in by tourists when they visit the film location sites (Connell 2012), in the case of HWS, we cannot overlook the power of film audiences’ and fans’ additions as extra actors in media crews when they visit the filming sites. Their addition to media crews also supports the operation and development of the film industry. For fans who work as extra actors in media crews, their identities are further extended from film tourists to film actors. Thus, they are film fans, film tourists, and film actors at the same time, and in this process, fans’ interactions and relationship with film celebrities 126   Fan Interactions

become closer and deeper to some extent.

C o n clusi o n The study of celebrity fandom is not an isolated discipline but one that intersects with other relevant academic and research areas, such as tourism studies. In our modern society, fans’ and celebrities’ offline interactions are various in form and take place in numerous locations, such as at film location sites. These become one of the places for film fans and celebrities to interact with each other physically and offline. In contrast to virtually interacting with each other, offline interactions can provide a chance for fans to be physically close to celebrities and vice versa. The advent of social media has meant that the perceived distance between fans and celebrities is no longer far away; fans can also meet and interact with film celebrities physically through, for instance, visiting film location sites. Celebrities could be the images and simulations in media and the virtual world as well as the real people in the real world. At film locations like HWS, fans can have real and physical interactions with film celebrities in which celebrities become a kind of tourism product and interactions with celebrities become tourist activities. When visiting the film locations and shooting bases at HWS, fans also complete the identity transfer to film tourists, or even film workers if they get a chance to work with film celebrities in on-site media crews. In addition, such an offline and physical interaction with film celebrities at film locations can leave fans with physical evidence of their encounters, such as photographs with the film locations and film celebrities. It can also support Turner’s (2014) viewpoint that we can meet celebrities in our daily life, such as at touristic areas and film locations, where fans are able to emotionally and physically connect with film celebrities, meet film celebrities, observe film celebrities, and even work with film celebrities in an orderly manner.

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8. T HE F O U NDA T I ON O F C ON T I N U I T Y AND C ANON I C I T Y I N A S I MO V ’ S S HARED U N I V ER S E Vincent Tran

There is no shortage of names for the creator of the Foundation universe, Isaac Asimov. As “the Good Doctor,” “the Human Typewriter,” or “the Father of Robotics,” alongside Arthur C. Clarke and Robert A. Heinlein, Asimov became inducted informally into the “ ‘Big Three’ of science fiction for their influential work in expanding the definition of the genre” (Christiansen 2020). Among his purported 500+ works and publications, what arguably contributed most to Asimov’s renown are the Robots and Foundation series. With stories written from 1940 to 1986 and more commissioned by his estate after his death in 1992, this shared universe covers stories involving robots, detective work, and a galactic empire spanning thousands of years, together known as the Foundation shared universe. Despite its place as a science fiction milestone, very little research has been afforded to the Foundation universe. The aim of this chapter is to unpack this dense shared universe, exploring how it was constructed but more importantly how Asimov’s position and image as an author affected its expansion. This chapter will also examine how fan practices such as creating timelines can create rifts between how fans perceive the canonicity of a shared universe and the writers and estate of a shared universe. This analysis highlights the intricacies of the relationship between the author, text, and fandom of a literary shared universe. Key to this will be close analyses of book covers as well as the universe’s narrative construction, demonstrating the marketing of Asimov’s brand and image and the elevation of these to celebrity status. Proposing a spectrum in order to view different modes of authorship, with “the artistic author” on one end and the “industrial author” on the other, ultimately this chapter argues that the deliberate construction of Asimov as an author created a hierarchical approach in both fans and the estate toward texts of the Foundation universe.

T h e S ci e n c e F icti o n U n iv e r s e A shared universe is defined here as a transfictional textual environment occurring between discrete texts, series, and/or settings that attempt to become realized and believable. Conceived in 2007 by Richard Saint-Gelais, transfictionality details “those practices that expand fiction beyond the boundaries of the work: sequels and continuations, return of the protagonists, biographies of characters, cycles, and series, ‘shared universes,’ etc. Transfictionality crosses historical periods as well as boundaries between national literatures or literary genres, it affects literature as well as other media (film, television, comics, etc.), and it penetrates mainstream or experimental literature as well as popular culture” (Ryan 2008, 386). Within this context, Marie-Laure Ryan extends and deepens the idea of transfictionality through three “relations”: expansion, modification, and transposition (Ryan 2013, 366). Most important to shared universes is expansion, where more texts are added to the world, whether in prequels, sequels, or any manner in between. However, a sequel by itself does not make two texts a shared universe, such as French Connection II (Frankenheimer 1975) to French Connection (Friedkin 1971). Rather, the two texts must either have different protagonists, in the case of spin-offs or prequels that can be seen in the prequel Dune: House Atreides (Herbert and Anderson 1999); or both texts must exist in two separate series, as found in the numerous Star Trek series intertwining and crossing. This then serves as the basis for references to the terms “shared universe” and “universe.” Shared universes in science fiction are no new phenomenon; in fact, shared universes have been a narrative staple in science fiction since its inception. One can trace this back to Jules Verne’s Voyages extraordinaires, the title for his fifty-four novels set in the same universe. Timothy A. Unwin points to L’Ile mystérieuse (The Mysterious Island; 1874) as one of the key examples of showing intratextual relations. The Mysterious Island continues the stories of both Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870) and In Search of the Castaways (1867), where the characters of both the previous books, Tom Ayrton and Captain Nemo, appear as side characters (Unwin 2005, 144). Equally, the 1920s–1950s “hard sci-fi” pulp magazines saw the beginnings of many shared universes. This period was home to universes such as L. Sprague de Camp’s Viagens Interplanetarias, Poul Anderson’s Psychotechnic League, H. Beam Piper’s Terro-Human Future History, James Blish’s Cities in Flight, Marion The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   129

Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover, and of course, Asimov’s Foundation universe. This period of pulp magazines represents the beginning of the historical context for Asimov’s Foundation universe.

Asi m o v ’ s F o u n d a ti o n a n d R o b o ts Where then does Asimov’s shared universe fit within the canon of science fiction shared universes? To begin, Asimov’s universe comprises three main streams of series: the Foundation series, the Galactic Empire series, and the Robots series. The Foundation series began as eight short stories serialized in the science fiction magazine Astounding Science Fiction (1930–) from 1942 to 1950. These stories would then be collected into three novels, Foundation (1951), Foundation and Empire (1952), and Second Foundation (1953). Inspired by Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–1789), and set thousands of years in the future, the Foundation stories deal with the fall of a galactic empire. This fall is predicted by mathematician Hari Seldon through a branch of mathematics he coins “psychohistory.” Seldon predicts that if left unchecked, the upcoming and inevitable death of the Galactic Empire will plunge the galaxy into 30,000 years of barbarianism. Seldon states that while his psychohistory shows that it is too late to prevent this collapse, it does show that through certain actions, this period of barbarianism may be reduced from 30,000 years to just 1,000 years. To do so, Seldon concocts the “Seldon Plan,” a thousand-year galaxy-spanning plot meant to achieve exactly this end. He establishes two “Foundations” on two planets at opposite ends of the galaxy, each with societies tasked with specific roles in the plan. The Foundation stories of this period tell primarily of the inception of the Seldon Plan, the multiple crises that the first Foundation must overcome, and their eventual discovery of the illusive Second Foundation. Where Foundation dealt with the fall of the empire at the end of a 12,000-year rule, Asimov’s first three novels—the Galactic Empire trilogy, Pebble in the Sky (1950), The Stars, Like Dust (1951), and The Currents of Space (1952)—showed the empire at the height of its power. These stories were pastiches and snapshots of events and characters during the Galactic Empire’s rule, with no real allusions to how it would fit into Foundation. Only one major plot point from Pebble in the Sky has any bearing on other texts in the Foundation and Robots series, and more so in a capacity from which it was retconned.1 130   Fan Interactions

The same cannot be said for Asimov’s Robots series. Published just before and alongside the Foundation series, the Robots series started off, like Foundation, as a group of short stories serialized in science fiction magazines until they were later collected in a novel, I, Robot (1950). Unlike Foundation, Gunn recounts that the Robots series was never set out to be a “consistent future history of the robots, even though the publication and the surprising success of I, Robot, with its parts glued together made it seem as if he had” (Gunn 1996, 65). Instead, Asimov’s Robots series was a “body of literature” that was more philosophical in nature, examining sentient robots “from a cluster of viewpoints” (Gunn 1996, 65), unlike the historically and continuity-driven Foundation series. Each story is episodic and largely unrelated to the others as they explore an alternative future covering the invention of robots and the moral quandaries that arise from their existence. Asimov continued the series with the novels The Caves of Steel (1953) and The Naked Sun (1956), as well as a brief return in the short story “Mirror Image” (1972). They tell the story of Elijah Baley, a detective tasked with a robot partner, R. Daneel Olivaw, to solve interplanetary crimes in an age when humans have started to colonize the galaxy. While initially wary of Daneel, Elijah grows closer with his robot companion in each story as the crimes escalate in scale from simple murders to those that place the fate of Earth in Baley’s hands. Although both the Robots series and the Foundation series were popular and have become staples within the science fiction canon, it took forty-three years after the publication of Foundation before Asimov would connect his series into one overarching shared universe. This paints an overview of the Foundation universe up until Asimov’s death: three series, some starting in serialized magazine publications and eventually becoming novels, released over a period of forty years, wherein the separate series were more concretely connected into one large shared universe in Asimov’s final novels.

F o u n d a ti o n — T h e Multipl e P h a s e s o f P r o d ucti o n This chapter first defines and delineates authorship into a spectrum of artistic and industrial authorship, taken from Thomas Schatz’s view on the relationship between filmmakers in Hollywood: that artists “adapt their own and their audience’s narrative impulse to the demands of the medium,” whereas industrialists “exploit the medium’s capacity for widespread dissemination and consumption” (Schatz 1981, 5). Schatz argues that within this dichotomy, whereas the artists The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   131

(in this case filmmakers) “advanced narrative traditions developed in drama and literature, producers and exhibitors advanced the commercial potential anticipated by previous forms of mass entertainment” (5). Authorship in media can be placed on a spectrum. On one end is artistic authorship, whose main purpose is the creation and aesthetics within the constraints of the medium. This can be likened to typical Romantic notions of authorship: the author has free agency, with the text being the fruit borne solely from the author (Schatz 1981, 5). On the other end is industrial authorship, whose goal is the dissemination and spread of the text as much as possible for economic gain. Similarly, this taps into the notion that authorship is corporatized and controlled by a larger body or entity of peoples, or the Foucauldian idea of the author-function, with “authorship as a discourse that governs the ways in which the production and consumption of texts are given meaning and value” (Johnson 2013, 137). What needs to be stressed is that this is a spectrum of authorship and not of authors; very purposefully, this is a spectrum that measures the motivations and goals that authors may subscribe to, instead of specifically labeling authors as “artistic” or “industrialist.” Its purpose is to extract aspects of the text and its production to distinguish its potential goals, either artistically or industrially. This avoids pigeonholing one author as entirely artistic or entirely industrial; instead, this spectrum allows one to classify certain aspects of one authorship as artistic, as industrial, or somewhere in between. While authorial intent can never truly be known, especially in posthumous cases, by analyzing patterns in the construction of a text, one may illuminate potential goals that authors were trying to achieve. Asimov’s position as an author shifted and can be tracked across multiple “phases” of the Foundation universe, which I broadly categorize as the Magazine Phase, Asimov’s Return, and the Estate Phase.

The Magazine Phase Foundation (1951), Foundation and Empire (1952), Second Foundation (1953), I, Robot (1950), The Caves of Steel (1953), The Naked Sun (1956), Pebble in the Sky (1950), The Stars, Like Dust (1951), The Currents of Space (1952) The first phase of the Foundation universe is, fittingly, foundational in nature. The three streams of stories exist as separate narrative threads, with the Galactic Empire and Foundation series loosely connected by the Planet Trantor. The 132   Fan Interactions

Planet Trantor is a significant location for the Foundation universe, with its first appearance in the mostly unrelated short story “Black Friar of the Flame” (1942), and serves as a key location for the events of the macro-story of Foundation. Asimov’s image as an author began to be constructed as artistic during this period. By Asimov’s own statement it was after his first published story in Astounding Science Fiction, “Nightfall” (1941), that he “was suddenly taken seriously and the world of science fiction became aware that [he] existed” (Asimov 1969, 1), though it is difficult to quantify this. This chapter relies on cover analyses of magazines and books to give a tangible assessment of Asimov’s construction and image as an author. During the 18-year period between 1939 and 1957, Asimov published over 37 stories in Astounding Science Fiction; of 222 magazine covers, Asimov was featured 9 times for his 37 published stories, a total of roughly 4 percent of the covers. This placed him in the top four featured writers on the cover of Astounding, behind A. E. Van Vogt (18 times) and Poul Anderson (14 times) and alongside Robert. A. Heinlein (9 times), each of which would become prominent in the canon of science fiction writers. While not at the peak of popularity, Asimov can be considered to have begun and grown in prominence during this period, garnering exceptional coverage as one of the top four writers among hundreds of other science fiction writers in one of the most prominent magazines in the industry. However, it was in the interim between 1957 and 1982, during which Asimov was largely on hiatus from fictional writing, that a meteoric rise in the brand of Asimov can be observed as his image as an author is solidified as artistic. Sixteen years after he had stopped writing the Foundation series, Asimov would go on to win the 1966 Hugo Award for Best All Time Series for Foundation, with the Hugo Awards arguably regarded as the most prestigious science fiction award. Fans of science fiction began to classify and reminisce about science fiction stories of roughly the 1940s to the 1960s as the “Golden Age” of science fiction, of which Asimov, among others, was a key figure (Luckhurst 2005, 71; Roberts 2006, 31). Furthermore, Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, and Robert A. Heinlein became referred to by fans and the popular press as the “Big Three” (Hoppa 2007, 6; Gunn 1996), considered the “best known members of the group of authors who brought science fiction into a Golden Age in the middle years of the twentieth century” (Holford, n.d.). Asimov also briefly returned to science fiction novel writing during his hiatus with The Gods Themselves (1972), which won his second Hugo Award for Best Novel in 1973. Two final factors can be recognized as part of the wider shift of constructing Asimov’s artistic authorship: two sci-fi The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   133

magazines brought him on in their creation and had Asimov as one of the lead columnists/editors, as well as lending his name to Asimov’s Science Fiction (1977–) and Asimov’s SF Adventure Magazine (1978–1979), with the former still running as of 2022. Using Asimov’s name as a marker also recurs following his death, as I will show. With television appearances on David Letterman as well as other late-night talk shows with Dick Cavett and Bill Boggs wherein he promoted his biography, Asimov’s image as an artist was continually reinforced as the master and creator of his works.

Asi m o v ’ s R e tu r n Foundation’s Edge (1982), Robots of Dawn (1983), Robots and Empire (1985), Foundation and Earth (1986), Prelude to Foundation (1988), Forward the Foundation (1993) Through these prestigious awards, fan-induced titles, and television appearances that made him a household name, Asimov’s image shifted to an explicit form of artistic authorship. This form of authorship, while promoted and strengthened by Asimov himself, would then be leveraged by Doubleday, the main publisher for Asimov’s novels, with his return to fiction writing. In 1981 Asimov received a US$100,000 commission from Doubleday to continue the Foundation series. The success of Foundation’s Edge (1982) would spawn three final novels by Asimov. Anecdotally, Asimov remarked that he had many reservations that he would not make back his $50,000 advance, to which Doubleday in response said it had all confidence he would (Asimov 2009, 649–650). This emphasizes Doubleday’s confidence in Asimov the author and in using Asimov’s name both from an artistic and an industrial authorship approach. An examination of the first-edition novel covers upon Asimov’s return to writing illuminate the growing power of Asimov’s brand in the 1980s. On the covers for the first three Foundation novels, Asimov’s name is in some cases microscopic or even unreadable relative to the prominent title of the book, and it is placed at the bottom of the cover, with the title at the top: a clear indicator of the importance of the story over the author. This can be contrasted with the covers following his return, for the books from Foundation’s Edge to Forward the Foundation. Here, Asimov’s name takes place at the top of each novel in a typeface that is at least as large as, if not larger than, the title. As expertly detailed in their history on the matter, Ned Drew and Paul Spencer Sternberger argue that, by the 1930s, book covers “offered an interweaving of rigorous formal aesthetics and potential for creative expression with an ultimate 134   Fan Interactions

goal of social and economic utility” (Drew and Sternberger 2005, 20). The cover of a book was “not only to speak for the publisher but for the author as well” (20). For Doubleday and Asimov, the usage of the name “Asimov” fills both artistic (social) and industrial (economic) utilities. The Asimov name becomes imbued with a sense of importance as it lingers above the titles of the novels, suggesting the power and hierarchal position that his name now commands. Where before Asimov’s name was subservient to the text, now it is presented as the overseer of the franchise. This raises the cultural currency of the Asimov name, or as Jonathan Gray explains of paratexts, “the advertiser is still faced with the same fundamental need to create a desire, hope, and expectation . . . that will convince a consumer to ‘purchase’/watch it” (Gray 2010, 30). For Doubleday, Asimov the name as an authorial figure over the Foundation universe is leveraged to imply the importance of Asimov’s auteur-like status as well as it simply being a very marketable brand. Furthermore, Drew and Sternberger argue that from the early to mid-1970s, book cover design was motivated by “an increasing corporatization of commercial publishers” (2005, 98). Evident of this was an approach labeled “the big book look” (98). This look was characterized by “the author’s name and the title in a large typeface along with a centered spot illustration dominating a field of unmodulated color” (98). Drew and Sternberger draw on American photographer Hank O’Neal to state that this method of design aesthetic “was most often used for a noted author whose name would be the most effective marketing tool for the book” (98). This specific look was reserved for prolific authors, rather than an all-encompassing design shift for the era. The “big book look” is evident with the subsequent Foundation and Robots novels, and despite the fact that the design had its inception roughly in the mid-1970s, Doubleday persisted with this aesthetic upon Asimov’s return in 1982 and with his final book, Forward the Foundation, in 1993. Finally, Doubleday also showed awareness of marketing the medium of novels itself. As Gunn argues, following the Second World War, sci-fi novels had an expected sales cap of 5,000 copies (Gunn 1996, 191). However, throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s, “the number of titles had escalated from a few hundred a year to more than a thousand by 1982” (191). Science fiction literature had begun to shift from magazines to novels, and the novels’ popularity and prolificacy, in tandem with Asimov’s brand and the fandom for Foundation, led to the publication of Foundation’s Edge (1982) by Doubleday “in the expectation that it would become a best seller” (Gunn 1996, 192). These factors reveal a strategic approach from Asimov and Doubleday in the 1980s to both confirm and elevate Asimov the brand to an absolute industrial form The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   135

of authorial power for the Foundation universe. The targeted economic stratagem of bolstering Asimov’s name on the covers re-established the hierarchy of the Foundation universe, with Asimov the brand above the franchise, which is then above the text. By Asimov’s admission, Foundation’s Edge was originally named Lightning Rod; however, as Asimov explains, “Doubleday vetoed that instantly. A Foundation novel had to have ‘Foundation’ in the title so that readers would know at once that that was what they were waiting for” (Asimov 2009, 653). Similarly, when Asimov continued his Robots series, he proposed the named “The World of the Dawn.” Doubleday once again stepped in: “A robot novel would have to have the word ‘robot’ in the title, they said,” leading to the publication of The Robots of Dawn one year after Foundation’s Edge. Both of these would be Asimov’s first two novels to enter the New York Times’s top 100 list (Asimov 2009, 676). Asimov the name was no longer just a science fiction writer; in the same way, the Foundation series was no longer just some space opera pulp from the 1950s. Doubleday elevated and marketed the brand to a growing fan base and audience that had developed over forty years. Narratively, it is during this phase that the Foundation shared universe proper was formed. Robots and Empire’s story revolves around a robot named Giskard, who has been granted telepathic abilities. Giskard allows the villain of the story to destroy Earth as he believes this will force humanity to unite, creating an eventual Galactic Empire. This empire Giskard predicts will eventually become the Galactic Empire in Foundation. Forward the Foundation was the final story Asimov published in the Foundation universe before his death, upon which his estate gained ownership of the rights to all his stories. Per Monk’s (1990) examinations on science fiction, Foundation’s Friends (1989) was published shortly before Asimov died. Foundation’s Friends was an anthology in honor of Asimov, combining the talents of many high-profile science fiction authors, such as Ray Bradbury, Poul Anderson, Hal Clement, and Orson Scott Card, to name a few. This novel is the culmination of Asimov’s brand of authorship, from being positioned alongside many other authors from the magazine era to now being placed above them in effigy. The cover of Foundation’s Friends firmly positions Asimov’s name above all others, tagged with “Stories in Honour of.” During this period, Asimov’s name is one of renown, solidly part of the “Big Three” and the wider canon of speculative fiction overall. This tribute novel also signified the movement to the third phase of the Foundation universe, as Foundation’s Friends was the last Foundation novel with any part written by Asimov. 136   Fan Interactions

T h e Est a t e P h a s e Foundation’s Friends (1989), the Caliban trilogy (1993–1996), the Second Foundation trilogy (1997–1999), the third Robots series (2000–2002), Have Robot, Will Travel (2004), the Susan Calvin trilogy (2011–2016) Of all eras of the Foundation universe, the post-Asimov era is the most prolific. After Asimov’s death, his estate commissioned many novels to continue this shared universe, some of which took place in the Robots era, some in the Foundation era. Once again, the covers of the novels of this period highlight some of the main strategies of authorship used. Continuing the trend from Asimov’s own novels, each cover is clearly adorned with Asimov’s name in the possessive form, implying an ownership over each novel, especially given that most of these novels have Asimov’s name more prominently displayed than that of the actual author. In particular, of the seven series, five of them have “Isaac Asimov’s” as part of their official title, with each of them being some permutation of Robots or Foundation, Asimov’s two most popular series. The estate in this case dips into both sides of the spectrum of authorship: the implication of both the Asimov name and his series tries to impart a sense of fidelity and legitimacy toward the texts in the absence of Asimov himself, evoking the artistic notion that these texts are in some part an extension of Asimov’s own ideas. At the same time, this is a form of industrial authorship, meant to continue economic success, capitalizing on a preexisting franchise and fan base by presenting these novels as a continuation of the Foundation universe. This is facilitated through the continual serialization of the universe, in which the Foundation universe novels, as a product, are promoted to be continually consumed based on a previous fan base and sense of renown. Anecdotally, Asimov’s wife, Janet Asimov, has stated that Asimov was not sure how to continue his series after Foundation and Earth, hence his final two novels being prequels to Foundation—Prelude to Foundation and Forward the Foundation. Regardless of the reason, this left the potential for new stories to finish the remaining 502 years of the Seldon Plan. However, in the two decades that followed Asimov’s death, no novel commissioned by the estate has touched on any of the post–Foundation and Earth years. Instead, the texts by Asimov’s estate fall roughly within one of three time periods: running parallel with the Robots series, within the 20,000-year gap between Robots and Foundation, or just before or running parallel with the first Foundation story. Herein lies the conflict in how the texts are presented by the estate and how the texts themselves operate within the shared universe. The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   137

First, as mentioned, these texts are positioned as in some part an extension of or a direct inspiration from Asimov the author himself. More specifically, they are presented as legitimate transfictional extensions to the diegetic universe of Foundation. Yet as extensions, they are all a mixture of prequels, interquels, and intraquels. As Mark Wolf documents, a prequel is a story that occurs “before an existing story, and acts as an expanded backstory for it”; “an interquel is a sequence element that occurs between existing works in a series, while an intraquel is a sequence element that occurs during a gap within a single existing work” (Wolf 2012, 207). Wolf notes that prequels, interquels, and intraquels have many narrative constraints placed upon them. As future chronological events are already known, these extensions are not so much “about the destination, but about the journey to that destination, exploring how the beginning and end state of things are connected” (207). Of interquels, Wolf mentions that how these interquels choose to fill in the gaps also determines their relative interconnectivity within the universe: “The trade-off is one of newness versus connection to the other stories; the more an interquel introduces new characters and new material, the more original and less determined by existing stories it becomes, yet it also becomes less connected to those stories at the same time” (207). As such, interquels remain in a liminal state, as they are often “less canonical . . . [and] must be tucked into the ellipses of the main series to avoid conflict with the main series and its chronology” (Wolf 2012, 208). Wolf’s observations on the roles of these narrative extensions are crucial in highlighting the tension in the post–Asimov Foundation universe. By their nature, prequels, interquels, and intraquels serve as intermediary stories that often lack narrative impact in the overall universe and are often used simply to flesh out background information or recontextualize future stories. However, they are presented in a state of what Jason Mittell coins “authorship by origination,” where the reader believes that a “singular creator devises every word and thus is responsible for creating everything found in the text” (Mittell 2015, 87), which the estate promotes through evoking Asimov’s name. Yet these novels cannot draw close to or move past the furthest chronological point occurring in texts that Asimov wrote. Their inability to do so means that the narratives put forward often have little to no bearing on the main narrative moving forward, as there are very few ways for the main narrative to interact with these prequels, interquels, and intraquels and incorporate them into the main story. For instance, the Caliban trilogy by Roger MacBride Allen takes place roughly alongside the other Robots stories Asimov wrote. In this universe, Asimov posited 138   Fan Interactions

the “Three Laws of Robotics,” a set of rules designed by humans to make the robots of the story subservient and loyal to their masters. The Caliban trilogy introduces either robots that are built without these rules entirely or a new type of robot built with “gravitonic” brains, as opposed to the regular “positronic” brains established in the Asimov books. To reconcile the appearance of a new type of robotic brain, Allen ends the trilogy with all of the unique robots destroyed, leaving no possibility for a re-emergence in the main timeline. Caliban is representative of many if not all of the novels released after Asimov’s passing; they cannot contradict or recontextualize the novels that Asimov wrote to any great degree, nor can they have any universe-defining change, as the status quo of the universe is already known by Foundation and Earth. This does not mean that these texts are not part of the Foundation universe just because they do not offer some grand impact to the universe; like many auxiliary texts in a shared universe, they fill in and flesh out the diegesis of the world. Rather, these novels exist in a liminal stage of articulation: they must try to offer something new, such as Caliban’s lawless robots, yet must also recognize that whatever new is introduced will be fleeting and gossamer, as it will never be seen in the later developments of the universe. The overwhelming image of Asimov and the desire of the estate to portray the commissioned texts as a direct continuation and representation of Asimov’s “vision,” as a form of artistic authorship, ultimately leads to a hierarchal relationship between the estate texts and Asimov’s texts. The implication of using Asimov’s name in the possessive form is overridden by the content of the texts themselves: Asimov’s texts will always be the main through line of the universe, and any other authors will be subservient to them, unable to enact any wide change. This case study shows how tension arises when artistic authorship and industrial authorship are at odds with one another. Chiefly, it is about how texts in shared universes are positioned and marketed against the content of the texts themselves. For the Foundation universe, there is a seemingly impossible hurdle— because Asimov never finished the series, no one else can either. This hierarchal positioning can be seen in other shared universes when the artistic authorial image of the “originator” overshadows its successors. Indeed, Oz historian Michael O. Riley notes that in discussing the canon of L. Frank Baum’s Oz universe, there is the tendency to delineate the universe as “consisting of those books by Baum and those by ‘other authors’ ” after his death (Riley 1998, 232). Although Riley himself disagrees with using this delineation, he does note that it springs from the intention “to minimize the achievement of Baum’s successor” (232). The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   139

Indeed, in the teaser trailer for the Apple TV+ series Foundation, Asimov’s name is evoked by showrunner David Goyer as being the creator of “the greatest science fiction work of all time,” influencing the likes of Star Wars. He also suggests that “if ever there was a company that was trying to better people’s lives through technology, through connectivity, it’s Apple. And that was something very much that Asimov was hoping to do” (Goyer 2020, 0:32). There is no mention of the estate novels, nor the fact that the Foundation universe is composed more of the estate novels than of Asimov works. Instead, Asimov is placed at the forefront as the only figure behind these stories.

A n t a g o n istic T i m e li n e s Finally, the reception of these estate texts is reflective and showcases the role of fans and shared universes. In line with the seemingly hierarchal position of the estate-commissioned novels, the audience reception of these texts also reveals an “Asimov” versus “not-Asimov” approach. Mittell draws upon Bob Rehak’s notion that the process of “fan mapping” is “part of a larger facet of affirmative fan productivity . . . labelled ‘blueprint culture,’ as fans work to document the canonical facts established by a fantastic fictional franchise” (Mittell 2015, 270–271). These “orienting paratexts” as Mittell calls them, “allow viewers to make sense of complex serial forms through practices of orientation and mapping” (2015, 261). Indeed, Mittell points out that this process is common with fans of science fiction franchises wherein official maps are not presented, pointing to Star Trek as an example (270). Mittell states that “today’s television outright demands that viewers stretch beyond the time and space of their initial viewing to try to make sense of what they have seen” (275); this process of “demand” from a medium also occurs elsewhere. As seen across multiple fan websites, many set out to compile timelines that order the texts of the Foundation universe in chronological order. Shared universes seem particularly ripe for orientation and timeline maps, often with not only a relatively large volume of texts but texts that occur across different series. With large universes such as Foundation, creating timelines helps bring clarity to possible convolution in reading the universe. Across thirteen compiled timelines by fans published online, only three incorporate the post-estate books into their chronology (Asimov Wiki, n.d.; Iqbal 2003; Oygür 2017; McBirnie, n.d.; Hamilton 2015; Pez 2012; Palumbo 2016, 5). Many of these timelines come with qualifying statements for their logic; the 140   Fan Interactions

majority display an overt othering of the estate books and, in turn, demonstrate reverence for the image of Asimov. One website noted that it did not include “any fan fiction or ‘Asimov’s Friends’ books” (Asimov Wiki, n.d.). More often than not, fans simply analyze the books within the chronology of Asimov’s writing, without acknowledging any of the estate books. Within Asimov’s Foundation universe, fan practices enforce a hierarchy of canonicity, based upon the authorship of Asimov. There is a clear divide in prioritizing only Asimov’s specific books as canon, with the estate books decidedly not. As mentioned earlier, of the fan-compiled timelines that do include the estate-commissioned books, many come with caveats, which can be observed across three examples. Discussing the Second Foundation trilogy, “Sikander,” a self-proclaimed science fiction fan, opines that “they fail to capture the essence of Asimov’s Foundation books.” In response to the announcement of the Apple TV+ series, Sikander expresses the “hope the TV series is good and true to Asimov’s vision,” once again affirming Asimov’s position as the final voice of the universe (Iqbal 2003). Similarly, one timeline by Johnny Pez (2012), science fiction writer and compiler of the “The Insanely Complete Robot/Foundation Fiction List,” does include the estate books; however, Pez goes to the effort of color-coding each entry, delineating them into Asimov-written books, estate-commissioned books, and noncommissioned books. Pez also comments that many of the estatecommissioned books are “not necessarily canonical.” Finally, fan site Asimovreviews.net, a blog by Asimov fan John H. Jenkins, chooses to separate its timelines into Asimov-only and “Non-Asimov,” explaining that “inasmuch as Asimov wasn’t personally involved in (or even aware of) this work, I really can’t in good conscience count them as official books” (Jenkins 2014). Furthermore, Jenkins draws comparisons to the estate books from Theodor Seuss Geisel’s Dr. Seuss: “I cannot help but think of the analogy to the works of the late Dr. Seuss. A huge body of subsidiary Seuss literature has appeared since Geisel’s death. This material is presumably authorized by his estate but definitely not up to the usual Seuss standard of quality, thereby cheapening the name. There are legitimate concerns regarding this scenario playing out with Asimov” (Jenkins 2014). John Jenkins’s lamentations on the estate books directly reflects an observation made by Henry Jenkins, how “fan reading practices can be mobilized into active opposition to producer efforts, how the fans’ own rewriting of the textual materials makes them active critics of future narrative developments and protectors of what they see as central to the program” (Jenkins 1992b, 124). Whether in footnotes, or qualifying caveats, or The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   141

outright omission, there is an overwhelming sense that estate books will generally be of lesser quality compared to their authorial source, according to these timelines and fans, and potentially damaging to the integrity or the legacy of Asimov himself as well as the integrity and quality of the Foundation universe. This brief examination of fan-made timelines reveals the potential incongruities between fan engagement with canon wherein a franchise involves a strong authorship-by-originator. These tensions are compounded by the estate books’ lack of what Mittell calls “canonic integration,” wherein there are “interwoven story events that must be consumed across media for full comprehension” (Mittell 2015, 298). In fact, aspects of Robots and Aliens (a sequel to Robot City, itself originally sourced by Asimov before his death as a writing challenge to utilize the Three Laws of Robotics) directly contradict many parts of lore of the Foundation series, most prominently that no alien life exists outside of the humans of Earth, established in Foundation and Earth. Robots and Aliens, however, introduces distinctly nonhuman life into the story. The Asimov’s estate’s apparent disinterest in commissioning books that directly continue Foundation and Earth inevitably leads to a shared universe where there is one easily definable core in the Asimov books, with every other text being relegated as supplementary or nonessential to the comprehension of the universe. Gray describes these as “antagonistic paratexts” where “the products of fan creativity can challenge a text’s industry-preferred meanings by posing their own alternate readings and interpretive strategies” (Gray 2010, 144). It is through this process that fans “become active participants in the construction and circulation of textual meaning” (Jenkins 2012, 24). Through these timelines, not only do fans communicate their own perspective upon the canon of the Foundation universe; the timelines also operate as “entryway paratexts” or a consumer’s “first port of entry” (Gray 2010, 205). Indeed, many of these timelines are presented as a method for newcomers to start reading the series. In omitting or purposely downplaying the significance of the estate books, a “proper” method of consumption is perpetuated—that Asimov’s own stories represent the “true” way of experiencing the story and everything else is unneeded or, in some cases, damaging to the experience of the Foundation universe. With his growth from a science fiction author to Asimov of the “Big Three,” the Foundation shared universe offers glimpses into the celebrity status of Asimov’s name and into leveraging his brand for his return to fictional writing. Asimov the brand was used to impart a sense of continuity and validity toward works not written by him, yet the legacy of his artistic authorship name halted any 142   Fan Interactions

potential continuation of the same story. This tension between the canonicity of the estate books and Asimov’s works is realized in fan reactions, where the “proper” method to consume the universe is expressed through the curation of timelines of the universe. Whether the estate will allow the chronological continuation of Foundation remains to be seen, and perhaps this is something that only psychohistory can predict.

The Foundation of Continuity and Canonicity in . . .   143

T RAN S F ORM I N G CELEBRITY I DEN T I T Y

9. M U RRAY S T OR I E S AND KEAN U MEME S The Role of Offline Encounters in Online Celebrity Identity Construction Racheal Harris

Humans are a narrative species. The stories we tell ourselves as well as each other help us establish an identity and give structure to our sense of memory and time. We are also a species who like to look, and long before we were glancing at words upon a printed page, we were looking at pictures, at totems, or at renderings of the various idols our species has adored. These figures became the focal point of our legends, as a point of reference not only for the ancient worlds and customs of our ancestors but for the contemporary age as well (Zenor 2014, 8; Milner 2016, 50–51). The advent of the internet and social media has resulted in the fracturing of social narrative to some degree (in that interpersonal interactions during storytelling are becoming less common), but how we share narratives in this online landscape does reveal a great deal about new and creative ways humans are constantly establishing identity and constructing relationships via the sharing of stories. The gods of the internet age are often the same figures we see in other forms of entertainment media, notably film and television. Their ascension to the online stratosphere is not surprising; after all, the purpose of the celebrity has often been to act in the role of the avatar or the archetype (Rieber and Kelly 2014, 103; Zageris and Curran 2019, 112) and, in doing so, to invite adoration or worship. Now, just as before, we look to these figures to relate to ourselves, to our own inner psyche, and to give us guidance for how to best live our lives. That we manipulate their images in the narratives of the online world is merely an evolution of the parasocial relationships we have been conducting for generations.1 Writing on fandom and fan relationships in 2002, Matt Hills suggested that academics had not placed enough of an emphasis on cultural creativity or participation and their importance to the fan experience (Hills 2002, xii–xiii). As

fandom, along with the internet, has developed exponentially in the twenty years since then, the same sentiment continues to ring true. Nowhere is this more evident than in the way we assess the creation, but also the sharing, of fan narratives. While there has been an increase in the attention that academia pays to the study of fandom, fan communities, fan spaces, and elements of participatory fandom (such as conference attendance or LARPing—live-action role-playing), how fans converge on the internet to share stories and curate celebrity personas remains a developing field. This chapter addresses some of this lack, specifically as it relates to the niche relationship between offline encounters with celebrities and the influence of these among online fandoms. Owing to the constraints of the project, this cannot be an exhaustive discussion, but it captures one idea, which is that the narratives built between fans and celebrity figures online become integral to how the celebrity figure is viewed as a real-life person. In some cases, such as the two used in this chapter, the fact that the celebrities in question have no online presence is actually beneficial, if not central, to the success of narrative building for their online persona. Specifically, these two differing methods of narrative communication (online and offline) not only inspire each other but rely on each other. As case studies, I will draw on two iconic celebrity figures: Bill Murray and Keanu Reeves. Between them, Murray and Reeves have close to one hundred years of experience in the entertainment industry (Murray has been a fixture of television and film since the early 1970s and Reeves since the mid-1980s), making it impossible to touch on every single aspect of their collective careers but ensuring that most if not all readers are familiar with at least a portion of their individual oeuvres, as well as their cultural currency. With this expectation established, this chapter focuses on the development of the online personas of Murray and Reeves during the last two decades. This particular aspect of their celebrity has been central to their enduring bankability and is compelling for two reasons, the first being that both men are notoriously opposed to engaging with online media themselves; in fact, they both are renowned for shunning the Hollywood spotlight. The second is that, in spite of their aversion to entering into the online world, it is specifically because of the use of online platforms and virtual communities that both men have been able to enjoy a resurgence in popularity that has not only reinvigorated their respective careers but elevated their cultural status to phenomenal heights. It is further important to consider that, due to the longevity of both of these figures, there are members of the fan community who understand their cultural 148   Transforming Celebrity Identity

relevance through their online output more so than through the impact of their body of work. For instance, while I (born in 1983) might recognize Murray from Caddyshack (1980) as opposed to his later work with Wes Anderson, I was not alive when the former was released and thus my understanding of the cultural zeitgeist of that period is limited to a historical interpretation. This in turn changes Murray’s relevance to me and, in doing so, affects my relationship with his celebrity status. While I have engaged with other Murray films that are more relevant to my lived experience—Ghostbusters (1984) and Scrooged (1988) were staple films of my childhood—my knowledge of his cultural impact will always be incomplete, as is my lived understanding of the time and place that ushered in his fame. Similarly, for younger fans, the cultural importance of Reeves’s early films—such as Parenthood (1989), Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989), or My Own Private Idaho (1991)—is a concept rather than a lived experience. It has been argued that every generation’s Keanu Reeves is the Keanu of the present (Pappademas 2019), though this is an assessment that fails to account for the nuances of popular culture and the role of nostalgia in creating relationships between the fan and the celebrity (in both online and offline experiences). For instance, to younger fans, Reeves is perhaps the badass antihero of the John Wick franchise, while his eponymous Ted of Bill and Ted is someone they do not really understand other than as a punchline. This does not prevent an engagement with meme elements of his meme persona such as Conspiracy Keanu (based on Reeves’s character in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure), but it does suggest that the meaning younger audiences take from this meme will differ from that of a fan who is drawing directly off the emotions and memories that the character of Ted and engagement with the film provoked among them and their peers at the time it was released. Assessing these cultural interpretations and the associated weight of Murray or Reeves as a cultural marker is certainly an area deserving of greater consideration. To delve into such a topic is outside the scope of this brief chapter, which serves more as a conversation starter. Murray owes his online legacy to the always increasing library of Bill Murray stories, which have circulated as variations of contemporary urban legend or folktale for decades. In contrast, much of Reeves’s present popularity can be traced back to his unanticipated success as a meme. It is these two specific forms of output that will be the focal point of discussion here, and as they will demonstrate, Murray and Reeves are adored not because of their output, which continues to be arguably limited in scope, but because of their mythologies. Fans love them because of who they are as people as much as for the idealized versions Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  149

of what their personas represent. By engaging with them in acts of participatory fandom, be it the sharing of encounters or the construction of memes, the fan community has curated archetypal personas for both Murray and Reeves that will endure in the public memory long after their individual stars have faded. With the ether of the online world being immune to the destruction of time, one might even say that their strong online presence has already ensured each of them some form of immortality. So what is a Bill Murray story and how does it differ from a Keanu meme? What role do fans play in the construction of either, and how are the legacies of these men being influenced by fan curation? These questions form the center of my remaining discussion, which will begin with an assessment of Murray and his historical relationship to fans in the offline world, with a view toward how these encounters have inspired later online fan accounts. I will then shift focus to Keanu Reeves, looking specifically at how his celebrity identity has been influenced through the curation of memes. Bill Murray stories have a lot in common with urban legends but also function as a kind of real person fiction (RPF). I liken them to urban legends because of the frequency with which they are passed around between internet users, often as an account that happened to someone other than the person telling the story, and because of the moral points that they often espouse. While urban legends traditionally draw on elements of the fearsome and horrific, their purpose is also to reduce social fears and cultural anxieties (Fernback 2003, 32). Bill Murray stories embrace this idea and amplify the comedic, with a focus on the unpredictability of daily life and the inherent danger that accompanies jumping to conclusions about how another person will act. The morality aspect of Bill Murray stories has recently been drawn out in Gavin Edwards’s (2016) The Tao of Bill Murray, which likens the actor to a sort of modern-day guru and, via referencing a range of fan accounts and personal interactions between Murray and the author, breaks his celebrity antics down into a roughshod code that, if embraced, leads to a better way of living. In much the same way as a reader might engage with a book about a spiritual leader in the effort to reprogram their outlook on the stresses of contemporary life, The Tao of Bill Murray focuses on Murray’s celebrity status as a mechanism to make his sage advice and often bittersweet reminiscences sound spiritual. In the examples used in this book, Murray uses his humor often to humble the person with whom he is interacting, and always with the intention of teaching them some sort of life lesson. In this sense he embraces elements of the trickster figure, in that it is not always clear what motivates him toward fan 150   Transforming Celebrity Identity

encounters nor what the fan takes away from the exchange. In many examples, the fan engages with the expectation of Murray behaving like the jovial clown he so often appears to be in his films; however, this does not always eventuate, which can leave the fan acting as the punchline for a larger joke Murray was playing out for a different audience (either one that the fan is not aware of or one that comprises only Murray himself). This is particularly true of encounters that take place at baseball games (where he will often playact aggression with fans who support the opposing team) or on the golf course (where exchanges with fans are frequently undertaken at their expense and for the pleasure of the gallery). On the surface one might wonder why fans would risk engaging Murray publicly when there is such a high possibility for embarrassment. The answer is that the credibility and pride that comes from disseminating accounts in the online world outweigh any sense of lived embarrassment. After all, the encounter is only a moment in time, but the account is timeless. The account also represents endless opportunities for curation, including the opportunity for fans (or third parties) to correct elements of the narrative that were perhaps undesirable in the moment but which can be reconstructed in the online world into something far more flattering. Regardless of how a fan might respond to Murray’s taunting, unlike other figures the public love to loathe, history suggests that we generally want to look beyond any of the shortcomings on display, to love Murray. Underneath his eccentricity, his image has been curated to suggest that he is ultimately campaigning for a life lived outside of the social constructs to which we have all become victim. When we engage with a Bill Murray story, what connects with us is not the individual so much as the message. We want to be the type of person who has the gumption to playfight with a stranger at a ball game or to show up to a public function in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Similarly, Murray encapsulates a sense of “coolness” in the accounts of him crashing birthday parties and private dinners, which most of us can imagine but rarely in relation to our own future behavior. His unannounced appearances as bartender, karaoke singer, and taxi driver are the stuff that rebels against social order and appropriateness. Unsurprisingly then, these are the very elements of his persona that Bill Murray stories encapsulate, and they were doing so long before the internet. Outside of his own reminiscences of folly, there is an abundance of stories from other celebrities and members of the public that further detail Murray’s antics with the public. These accounts are not specific to Murray but feed into the larger celebrity identity of the comedians with whom he rose to Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  151

fame. For instance, Murray was a member of the Second City comedy troupe before joining National Lampoon and, eventually, Saturday Night Live (SNL). The importance of this affiliation cannot be underplayed, particularly in relation to National Lampoon, which was central to the American social zeitgeist of the era. Members worked on a range of comedic outputs in the 1970s and have been credited with creating comedy as it is known today (Tirola 2015). Many early accounts of Murray’s antics in this period incorporate other members of the series, such as Dan Aykroyd (whom Murray would work with on Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters II), John Belushi, and John Candy, into their larger narratives. For fans of SNL then, Murray exists as part of a larger troupe and, over time, has come to embody traits that were in these early days more synonymous with other members. John Belushi is an example of this, as many of Murray’s more contemporary behaviors during fan encounters (notably those that take place in people’s private residences) echo characteristics of Belushi in the 1970s.2 When viewing him retrospectively, it is clear to see how Murray first began to build a celebrity persona within the group identity of his castmates and how elements of this have been carried through into his present-day image, forming almost a historical pastiche that incorporates the legacy of late celebrity friends. With both Belushi and Candy being deceased and Aykroyd keeping a low profile compared to Murray, it is also possible that, in constructing their accounts, many long-term fans draw from this shared group persona, of which Murray represents the last socially active member. I have also indicated that there are parallels between Bill Murray stories and examples of RPF, and these are important to consider when assessing the purpose of these narratives. I draw links between Bill Murray stories and RPF because of the common themes that exist across a range of story examples—for instance, the catchphrase “no one will ever believe you”—but also because they are written by fans. Undeniably, Murray provides the fodder for the narrative, but the telling rests squarely with the imagination of the individual it happened to, and thus, it is open to embellishment depending on how specific elements of the narrative may have made the fan look. Primary among these would be instances in which a fan has felt embarrassment about their behavior or treatment during an encounter and has reconstructed the factual account in a way that becomes more flattering. Although for many the excitement of meeting their idol in the flesh eclipses any social faux pas, for others, particularly in cases where Murray has antagonized or heckled them, there may be a need to save face. This creates an interesting dilemma, as in order for the story to be well received, which in 152   Transforming Celebrity Identity

turn brings the contributor validation of their experience, it also needs to be flattering of Murray by casting him firmly into the archetypal persona already entrenched in the fandom. Thus, we cannot assume that any of these accounts illustrate Murray as he is in “reality” (whatever we might classify that to be). Painted in a negative light, Bill Murray stories capture the essence of what has made Murray a controversial figure among his peers. They show him entering the world with the intention of having a fan interaction. His decision to interact with a specific individual may play as being spur of the moment, but it is ultimately a conscious decision and, as many of his fellow celebrities will attest, once he “turns on” for the audience, his performance is precisely that: a carefully curated facade, designed to garner attention and applause (Murray and Peper 1999, 145). Less flattering tales, such as that of Richard Dreyfuss (who detailed Murray punching him in the face during an alcoholic rage), give a different interpretation of Murray’s true-to-life persona and the numerous flaws he possesses (Keveney 2019). Still, and perhaps because of Dreyfuss’s cultural currency compared to Murray’s, such counternarratives have done little to tarnish the idea of Murray as a modern-day Peter Pan. This is the element of his persona that fans invest in and the one that displays most prominently among fans in their online accounts of him. Similarly, Chevy Chase has accused Murray of cruelty and of bullying (Edwards 2016, 214; Nashawaty 2018, 178–180), but these accusations have been overshadowed by his own history of bad behavior, once again leaving Murray with the appearance of innocence. To modern audiences, actors like Dreyfuss and Chase have less cultural relevance than Murray, which again highlights the need to consider audience understanding of the celebrity along with their cultural capital when considering how the celebrity is read and understood by the fan community. In the decades since society migrated online, Bill Murray stories have popped up frequently, casting Murray and his fans in a range of unlikely places. Today, the largest repository is Bill Murray Story (www.billmurraystory.com), which lists hundreds of unverified accounts submitted by members of the public and detailing their fan encounters. The website does stipulate that some accounts are fictional, making them compelling variants of RPF, while others draw on encounters that took place decades prior to being recounted for the online audience. While the length of time that has elapsed since the fan encounter does not make it untrue, it is necessary to note that memories tend to be fickle and prone to change or embellishment over time (Draaisma 2013, 21). As such, there is again no way to tell if these historical accounts are any more or less genuine Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  153

than their modern equivalents. In a few instances, photographic evidence of the encounter acts as proof of its validity. Therefore, the audience need to suspend disbelief and, in doing so, trust that the accounts of their fellow fans are accurate. In relation to several thematic consistencies (Murray’s inappropriate attire, Murray’s karaoke singing, Murray’s alcohol consumption), there is also evidence of the online persona informing his contemporary cinematic works. In recent years, much of Murray’s celebrity persona has spilled into characters within his films. His work with Wes Anderson is one example of the way he appears to play versions himself—compounding the ideas that fans have formed about him. More recently his role in St. Vincent (2014) played on elements of Murray’s disinterest in social expectation, while even his role in Get Low (2009), which is based on a true story, further complicates the distinction between where the cinematic Murray ends and the real-life Murray begins. Similarly, actually playing “himself” in the film Zombieland (2009) and Zombieland: Double Tap (2019) heightened the sense that in real life, Bill Murray is the screwball character who fans can encounter in the everyday—the same Murray they have encountered online in his urban legends. Again, he maintains the air of the trickster, moving between the fantasy and reality realms with a sense of ease. Over time it has become evident that the interwoven history and persona of Murray cannot be disentangled from the historical tapestry of his life—a fact only confirmed in his own semi-autobiographical account of his life. Despite having an aversion to online media and technology, Murray has ensured he will live on online, with his fandom, forever. The type of participatory fandom evident in the collection and dissemination of Bill Murray stories benefits fans in that it encourages engagement between online contributors. These interactions can span not only large geographical distances but also disparities in age, upbringing, and lifestyle. People come together in their enjoyment of Murray and his antics and, in their mythologizing of his figure, find new ways to share their own stories. These are stories in which Murray may only play a passing role and in which the real value is the bonding experience that takes place in the online forum. This is equally true of other forms of online fandom where individuals come together to discuss a specific celebrity figure and the relationship (real or imagined) they have with that person (van der Graaf 2014). When we think of the meme, also rampant in fandom and pop culture more broadly, the same is not true. Unlike Murray stories, which are uploaded, shared, and curated by specific individuals (who may choose anonymity), the meme is constructed around the premise that there is 154   Transforming Celebrity Identity

no “author.” Its purpose is to be repurposed and shared without being linked to any source and, thus, without necessarily being anchored in the real. This brings us to the consideration of our next “breathtaking” case study: Keanu Reeves. In contrast to Bill Murray stories, Keanu memes exist more firmly in the realm of fandom. Although he has often been caught by the roving cameras of eagle-eyed fans, Keanu Reeves does not actively seek to engage with social media. Despite this reticence, various fan pages on three of the major platforms (Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter) are devoted to his work as well as to his daily movements. In the case of Twitter, these are commonly curated in a way that appeals to the deeper fan mythology of Reeves, in that they detail his interactions with the public and are often captioned with one of his recognizable quotes or musings about life. Images in these posts are frequently drawn from acts of kindness perpetrated in his daily life, exchanges between him and fans as well as members of the public. Twitter audiences get the sense of Reeves as a kind and giving person who has a deeply philosophical view of his life, wealth, and fame. Rather than his celebrity being a barrier then, it is a mechanism through which he can improve the lives of others. Similar themes are evident in his meme persona and, increasingly, in the ways his interactions with the press are framed. Reeves is aware of their existence (Fry 2019) and has, at times, provided the fodder for some of their most recognizable or popular catchcries, but he is not involved with the finer details of their construction. Unlike with Murray stories, there is also far less structure around where these memes are stored and how they are shared. If one were looking for an online repository, Know Your Meme (www.knowyourmeme.com) would be the easiest place to start, but with over 12,000 entries, there is little hope of engaging with them all. Such is the nature of memes though: they do not live on a single platform nor draw the attention of a singular audience. They are as ubiquitous as a slang word or catchcry, popping up without rhyme or reason. Despite their number, Keanu memes do demonstrate a clear genesis. The later examples, such as “You’re Breathtaking” and “Keanu Reeves Walking in Slow Motion,” are directly related to his recent surge in popularity among the fan community. This surge in itself owes a huge debt to the public attention he garnered from Sad Keanu, the meme from 2010 responsible for starting the ripple, which would lead to a tidal wave, which would become the Keanaissance (Romano 2019). There are two branches of mythology central to Reeves’s mystique. The first defines him as the philosophical deep thinker, always training for his next film, starting a side business, or reading a complex work of fiction (think tomes by Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  155

Tolstoy or Chekhov). This mythos has been present, to varying degrees, since Reeves’s turn in Point Break (1991) and has developed over the years to reflect both his side projects and his interest in martial arts. The second branch of this mythology draws heavily on the tragedies Reeves has encountered throughout his life and cites these as contributing factors for his media avoidance, as well as for what has been read as the philosophical pessimism or sense of weltschmerz that he frequently displays in press interactions.3 Despite originating from different sources, there is a great deal of overlap in these two mythologies. And in both instances, if we are to believe Reeves to be this type of person, then there would be scarce time for him to entertain such modern trappings as the internet and its time-zapping social media platforms anyway. Luckily for fans, how Reeves feels about the online landscape is inconsequential, because the internet has no care for the feelings of those it seeks to deify. Much like the public chooses to be in love with Murray, we want to be in love with Keanu. The internet allows us this fantasy. Our adoration requires no reciprocity, and nowhere is that more evident than in the largely fan-driven world of meme culture. In much the same way as his character in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure is thrust into a world he doesn’t understand (King 2018, 408), when it comes to the meme culture, one could argue that Reeves was also ill-prepared for and perhaps a little ignorant of the world that was enveloping him. Memes are a form of storytelling, a language through which contemporary culture expresses ideas about the world. Despite language barriers, memes are a universal form of communication, with a style and form that identify them to a diverse audience. People share memes because they want to be active participants in the telling of a cultural story (Denisova 2019, 8), which gives them a sense of fulfillment by allowing them to contribute to the online communities of which they are active members. Memes have matured over the last two decades. As their use becomes more prevalent, as they become a more intrinsic part of the social vernacular, it becomes evident that they have grown to represent a broad spectrum of the fan demographic and play a vital role in individual expression, as well as in the construction of larger cultural narratives. Unlike Bill Murray stories, Keanu memes have a minimal focus on written words, making them more accessible to a universal fanbase. As Keanu memes change to reflect new perceived elements of Reeves’s persona, we are seeing a rich cultural interchange taking place. It is a narrative being constructed around a human persona, the effects of which are quickly spiraling out of the online world and into the real. 156   Transforming Celebrity Identity

Limor Shifman identifies six features common to memes, which he suggests makes new fans want to engage with the original content and appropriate it for redistribution (Shifman 2014, 74–84). Ordinary People: Though Reeves’s celebrity status excludes him from being “ordinary” in the general sense, Sad Keanu works because it captures him enacting an ordinary behavior: eating a sandwich on a park bench. Flawed Masculinity: The sadness Reeves exhibits in the Sad Keanu image can be read as a flaw in his masculine persona, which has often embraced the role of the action hero. When we consider that the fan demographic for Reeves is largely female and rooted in his status as a sex symbol, the expression of vulnerability here opened Reeves up to derision from male fans, as his posture and vulnerability can be read as a detriment to his masculine energy and an opportunity for his maleness to be called into question as a means of irritating the female fan demographic. Largely though, the evolution of the meme demonstrates that this did not take place. Humor: The distribution of the meme, particularly in instances where Reeves was photoshopped into iconic and historic locales, was funny. Simplicity: Much of the humor that the examples of the meme generated was reliant on the fact that both the image and its message were simplistic. Repetitiveness: The simplicity and the dialogue around the image were easily able to be repeated. In some variants, the image was repeated numerous times, creating multiple Sad Keanus sitting together. In other instances, different Reeves images were superimposed with the original, making Reeves’s enduringly sad persona a repetitive presence. Whimsical Content: Many of the later examples of Sad Keanu (and, later, Happy Keanu) were incredibly whimsical. His inclusion in a still from the film Forrest Gump is an example that draws on pop culture, while his superimposition among the workers building Rockefeller Center is one that draws on historical content. When we look at most Keanu memes, five of these themes are at play, although in the case of Sad Keanu and its progeny, Happy Keanu, it is Reeves being portrayed as an ordinary person that engages the audience, and thus these two variants meet all six characteristics identified by Shifman (2014). When we consider the Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  157

relationship between these memes and the sudden emergence of Reeves on YouTube (in user-posted clips of him riding the subway and offering his seat to people), this idea is given additional support.4 Culturally the culmination of these media was the turning point for Reeves in popular culture. As of the time of writing, there are over a dozen Reeves-related memes. The rest of this chapter will consider two of the primary ones: Sad Keanu (which draws on Reeves in real life) and Conspiracy Keanu (which hearkens back to one of his most identifiable characters but also the character with whom he has become most unfairly equated). These each draw on a distinctly different time period, as well as different aspects of the actor’s life—and yet they share an important commonality, which is that they encapsulate why audiences respond to Reeves. Sad Keanu is based on a candid photograph of a disheveled Keanu sitting on a park bench eating a sandwich. He is dressed in hiking boots, jeans, a ratty T-shirt, and a suit jacket. His hair is unkempt and, with his head down, he looks every bit as sad as the name of the meme suggests. Sad Keanu caught the imagination of fans because it humanized Reeves. No longer was he a surfer bum, an action hero, or sometime blockbuster leading man. He was every man. This idea is mirrored in many of the variations of the meme, which show Reeves at various historically significant places and overlaid with other pop culture texts. In its meme form, the image is largely a photoshopped attempt to place Reeves in a variety of humorous situations. Although the initial photograph on which the meme is based was one that was perceived as quite sad, the explosion of the meme was generally very funny. Even so, over time the image sparked concern over Reeves’s well-being, so much so that it spawned a “cheer-up Keanu event” (which continues to run annually on June 15), and Reeves was eventually forced to address the issue in the media, where he assured fans that he was okay (Suddath 2010). This reignited the mythos related to his tragic past, a mythos that has since been read by fans as a confirmation of his status as a “good dude” who leads a secretive yet very charitable life. As new memes are born as a direct result of Sad Keanu—Happy Keanu, Sad Keanu in a Helmet, and Tai Chi Keanu are all examples of this phenomena—we are seeing that his celebrity identity is largely based on an idea of who Reeves is in real life. In turn, this element of Reeves’s personality has become the cornerstone for his reemergence into mainstream celebrity after a significant career lull. As investigation into the mystique of Reeves has continued, we have also seen a rise in his popularity as a philosophical authority. This mimics Murray in some ways, although where Murray is seen as the more “carefree” type of character, Reeves is frequently portrayed as the stoic. 158   Transforming Celebrity Identity

In contrast, by riffing on his iconic role in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Conspiracy Keanu, conceived in 2011, draws on elements of Reeves that have instigated the ire of critics throughout his career, even while they were the same traits that made audiences respond so well to the film upon its release. Critically, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure was panned, but as King highlights, even among its first test audiences, its message resonated with fans, something that both Reeves and his costar Alex Winter intended in their approach to embodying the characters (King 2018, 411). Three decades later, it is not a question of whether audiences believe that Reeves (and Winter for that matter) were only playing themselves in the film; the fact is that they want Reeves to be like Ted. The success of the recently released Bill & Ted Face the Music (2020), which came along in the midst of COVID-19, when the world really needed something to smile about, is indicative of the pull of this version of Reeves, one that remains culturally relevant because of his meme persona. Conspiracy Keanu draws on the same stylistic delivery as early memes, notably Advice Animals, which use bold white impact text over the image to convey their point (Dynel 2016, 663–664; Denisova 2019, 48–49). The image in this example is taken from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and captures Ted midway through his signature phrase: whoa. For anyone who has seen the films, looking upon the image automatically conjures the tone and tenor of the “whoa.” It is as if Reeves is standing in front of you saying it. The meme was quick to gain popularity, and today there are thousands of entries detailing every kind of ponderance that one might imagine Reeves to have. It plays an important part in his online mythology because amid the silliness of some of the captions is the deeper heart of the Reeves persona, that of the contemporary philosophical figure. Whereas Sad Keanu focuses on Reeves having sad days like the rest of us, what Conspiracy Keanu highlights is that beneath the thin facade of stupidity beats a philosophical heart and the mind of a spiritual leader.5 Although many of the thoughts expressed through Conspiracy Keanu might seem inane, they are things that have likely passed through the mind of a great many of us at some point in time. Others are just so downright stupid (yet true) that they cannot do anything but bring a smile to one’s face. Such is the reason for their creation. Zageris and Curran suggest that Reeves’s enduring popularity as a meme is linked to the mythology of his celebrity, in that it is his uncanny ability to project into the archetypal figure that makes him beloved of audiences (2019, 137). Whether we are engaging with Reeves in any one of his meme personas or through an iconic film character, in him we see, at the very least, something Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  159

of the person we are or hope to be. As all memes are fan-built, what we see in their tone, and their dissemination, is a clear interpretation of how fans understand and relate to the subject, as well as the currency of that subject in the fan vernacular. The danger for Reeves now is that his image is so golden that even the slightest of transgressions risks tarnishing it. The image of Reeves that we have come to know and love, often through our laughter over memes of him, has made him not a celebrity figure to be worshipped but one that is loved. The world no longer cares about the missteps Reeves may have made in some of his film roles; instead, they are rooting for him. In the online world particularly, he holds the attention and the hearts of millions of fans, who not only engage with him through their engagement with his memes but also use his meme persona in the construction and distribution of their own emotions. By sharing a Keanu meme they can turn around an otherwise bad day. Alternatively, they can positively impact the mood of someone else. There is a lot of hatred online, as any social media user can attest—but what Keanu memes show us is that there is also the capacity for hope, for love, and for compassion. During a 2019 interview, Stephen Colbert asks Reeves what he thinks happens to people when they die. Pausing for a moment of self-reflection, and in doing so furthering his own grief-centered mystique, Reeves states that he knows that we will be missed by the people who love us (Keanu Planet 2020). While this may be true for those of us living in the everyday, the one thing that the internet ensures for Reeves and Murray is that there is no death; immortality and perpetual love and adoration remain very real possibilities. The closest that we, as fans and consumers, can come to attaining a similar immortality then lies in our engagement with their respective online personas. Though creativity, curation, and dissemination are largely anonymous in the online world, as fans continue to produce and share content, something of themselves becomes interwoven with the legacies of these celebrity figures. Whether sharing a Bill Murray story or creating a Keanu meme, in both instances fans are engaging with forms of participatory fandom, in which the celebrity figure becomes a bridge between them and the rest of the fan community. The sharing of either output can bring them into contact with the wider fan community and can help them gain respect or status within that community, or in the case of Murray specifically, dissemination of the narrative can make the lived encounter feel more real. In both cases, what is evident is that the distribution of the content is done to bring joy rather than alienation. This is important to note, as fan communities, particularly online, have received a good deal of negative attention that has focused on infighting and exclusionary subgroups 160   Transforming Celebrity Identity

that evolve in the online world (Barnes 2016, 28; Click 2019, 2). Perhaps most important, however, is that in both cases there is an element of reciprocity. While this is again more evident in Bill Murray stories, which rely on the presence and engagement of Bill Murray with a member of the public, the same is also true for Reeves, who owes a good deal of his contemporary popularity (dubbed the Keanaissance) to his newfound status as meme icon. Reeves may not interact with the public with the intention of adding to his online persona, but many of his lived interactions with fans make it into his extensive meme catalog. Sometimes his direct engagement with his meme persona only serves to fuel the creation of more memes (one need only view the long list of pending submissions at Know Your Meme for confirmation of this fact). More importantly though are the soundbites he gives during interviews and live appearances, which have become central to establishing the tone of several of his memes as well as influencing his archetypal identity, and cultural currency, as a sage. As with Bill Murray, whose online mythology and celebrity shares many parallels with Reeves, Reeves’s persona is built around an archetypal quality. Unlike Murray, who has always been the trickster comedian, as Reeves has matured as an artist and as a celebrity, his archetypal persona has adapted from the youthful goofball into the mature, wise teacher. There is a quite common refrain that laments that one should never meet their idol. For many of us, the illusive celebrity figures we are drawn to amass an almost godlike status over the course of their careers and, as with the gods of any age, there is something about them that makes them inherently irresistible. In cases like that of Murray or Reeves, perhaps it is like van der Graaf (2014) highlights: we love them because they accompany us through life. As they age, mature, and progress, so do we. This in turn deepens our imagined or parasocial connections. The desire one might have to encounter their god in real life, though, is always weighted against a lingering fear that they may be a disappointment. Tabloid media and the internet would not exist at such a supreme scale if celebrity gods adhered to the standards of the deities of antiquity. Although they may be far from perfect representations of humanity, both Murray and Reeves have spent long and overwhelmingly fruitful careers challenging this assumption. Based on the pervasive online accounts of their offline awesomeness, it would indeed be difficult to resist the temptation to walk on by should our paths ever cross. Certainly, the opportunity to enact our own Cinderella story seems at least semi-achievable. Perhaps in this instance we can believe what we read and take comfort in the fact that they are each, in their own ways, righteous dudes. Murray Stories and Keanu Memes  161

10. C E L E B R I T Y F AN S C O U R T S I DE Trash Talk, Twitter, and Teaming Up Susan Maloney

Research on sports and celebrity is well developed in terms of sports stars blending stardom and being media personalities, but there has been far less examination of the celebrity sports fan and the use of social media for self-presentation and of sports stars interacting as fans. As proposed by Mathiesen, to understand celebrities in synoptic space as simply ornamental figures is to greatly underestimate them. They are transmitters of media messages to the larger population (1997, 227). The shift from the historic, panoptic, elite spectator overseeing the performance to the synoptic performer in the limelight of public attention brings with it a certain power. As visible, active fans endorsing and participating in sports spectacles, celebrity fans bring with them another layer of entertainment while enhancing the authenticity of their own personas. More than accepting and engaging in surveillance because of the pleasure of watching and being watched (McGrath 2004), celebrity fans are afforded the opportunity to build their social capital and their brand. They have much to gain from the experience of being watched. Marshall explains that whether online or through the dimensions of television, radio, or magazines, media forms are, in general, the principal ways in which the famous are publicized and thereby given influence and power (2006). Being a celebrity fan, seen at the game and participating in social media as a fan, is a means of maximizing this power. It allows for further exploration of the intimate and personal as well as their professional identity. It is another channel through which the celebrity becomes more than what they have achieved (Marshall and Barbour 2015, 6). In addition to acting, singing, dancing, product development and endorsement, activism, and influencing, it appears that being involved in sports as a participant or fan is an increasingly popular way to proliferate celebrity status and the public self. In turn, professional sports stand to benefit greatly from the sway and popularity of the celebrity who engages with it online and offline. This

chapter will take examples from professional tennis and NBA to explore the celebrity fan. These examples are used for the proximity that spectators have to the sporting action, in comparison to other sports, such as baseball and football, that are played in a stadium on a field. The Twitter accounts @Tennis, @NBA, and @BleacherReport, the official sites of the NBA and ATP Tour, and websites tennis.com and hupu.com were included in the research for this chapter.

P a r ticip a n t C e l e b r it y F a n a n d t h e W illi n g n e ss t o B e S u r v e y e d So how has celebrity fan presence evolved from simply being courtside, like longtime basketball devotees Billy Crystal and Jack Nicholson or decades-old tennis fixture and tennis foundation creator Cliff Richard? Celebrity fans continue to be courtside at NBA games. They could not be any closer to the action. Every NBA celebrity fan observed in this study enjoyed a premium courtside seat. Meanwhile, celebrity tennis fans enjoy prominent seating in the player’s box, the royal box, or, at the very least, first-tier seating. Their presence in the sports venue, a fan dwelling, unifies them with the sports fan community while maintaining lines of distinction between them and the regular fan base. Like all live fans surrounding the game, they are co-contributors of the sporting experience; however, being closest to the locus of interest, the celebrity fan has greater influence and becomes a co-creator. They have a greater function than simple spectatorship. Fans audiencing at home can easily note the regularity of celebrity fan attendance. The more animated the celebrity fan is, the more screen time they are given. Fashion publications canvass celebrity arrivals and note who is wearing what, like any red-carpet arrival. Bloggers and entertainment publications showcase celebrity fan attendance and style. Roland-Garros (the French Open) includes celebrity fans on the official website gallery. Commentators make mention of celebrity attendance live in the stadium and during the broadcast. The Australian Open includes courtside chats with celebrities during breaks in play either about an upcoming project that is being promoted or to get their fan insights on the action. The home viewer is treated to frequent honey shots of celebrity fans and player partners whose bios are regularly included in the commentary package. Each partner reaction or interaction is made available for scrutiny. Budding and Celebrity Fans Courtside  163

breaking romances between celebrity fans are witnessed. For instance, Khloé Kardashian’s inclination to date professional basketballers makes her gossip fodder but also an anticipated attendee whose tumultuous romances bring another layer of entertainment to the space. Accessory to this are the Twitter feeds where fans exchange their thoughts on the game and critique the celebrities in focus. Forms of mass media, such as television, convey the synoptic space and work in conjunction with the panopticon to control and regulate viewers through entertainment, specifically through titillating content (Finn 2012). Sports fans are steered to watch the celebrity fan audience along with the game. A clearly defined marketing and public relations goal in sports organizations is to strengthen the relationships between the organization and its stakeholders. It builds a better image for the sport and the organization to have celebrity fans in attendance. Celebrities elevate the practice of fandom. This mutually benefits the celebrity fan, as this exposure fosters parasocial relationships and boosts persona with minimal effort. Celebrity self-presentation as a part of the spectacle is controlled in what on the surface appears to be an uncontrolled setting. Being seen courtside presents untold endorsement opportunities. The regular fan sees how trends are set and how fame and celebrity are constructed while watching a professional sports game. The fashions of the likes of Dolce & Gabbana and the red soles of Louboutins are hard to miss. Celebrities are not seen holding up view-obstructing placards, and it’s a rarity to see them wear team or event merchandise. However, they will wear designer snapbacks and branded sneakers and slides that are the product of brand and celebrity collaborations. The fans audiencing at home have easy access to the knowledge that celebrity fans are invited guests, if not partial team owners, who often do not have to pay for the most expensive seats in the arena. Courtside ticket prices affirm the status of celebrity. Sports business writer Darren Rovell claimed that one fan purchased a pair of courtside seats for game 6 of the NBA finals in Oakland for US$69,287.21 each. The cheapest seats in the nosebleed section were US$679 (Rovell 2019). The median household income at the time was $66,442 (US Census Bureau). Usual NBA ticket prices average around US$50–$105. In the arena, there is a sense of class division between the premium seats and the cheaper seats available to the general public. Celebrities and elites have access to premium beverages, buffets, private entry and exits, and separate bathrooms. So while the celebrity fan nowadays sits close to the gladiators of the sport, showing a willingness to be a part of the thrills and the action, they 164   Transforming Celebrity Identity

don’t much have to deal with the messiness of mixing in with strangers or regular sports fans if they don’t want to. Celebrities don’t appear to be in attendance as businesspeople, even though they may well be. There is a notable amount of investment in sports organizations by celebrities that ramped up early in the 2000s. Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith have minority shares in the Philadelphia 76ers, Justin Timberlake has an interest in the Memphis Grizzlies, and Usher’s investment group bought into the Cleveland Cavaliers. Jay-Z, for instance, is an officially certified sports agent for the NBA and Major League Baseball, so he could well be working on negotiations for the talent agency he founded, Roc Nation. Celebrities also don’t appear to be outright socialites. They signal interest in and at least some knowledge of the game. The celebrity fan is framed as an elite who is partaking in everyday fan practice. If the celebrity fans are not actual royalty, such as Wimbledon patron HRH Duchess of Cambridge, they are still often referred to as royalty by fans and commentators. Basketball regular Beyoncé is widely known as Queen B. When in the company of her musician husband, Jay-Z, they are referred to as the Carters, which draws parallels with political elites such as the Kennedys or the Obamas. The special seating and elite company reinforce their status. So we have the royalty of the sport (#GOAT, #KingJames, #KingofTennis, #QueenSerena, #RussianPrincess) and the royalty of the spectacle (Duchess Meghan, Empress of Soul Gladys Knight, Reality Queen Kim Kardashian, Sir Elton John, David Beckham OBE). Furthermore, we have fewer celebrity fans who are content to just sit back and enjoy the incredible athleticism of the sport: Rather than watch from a respectful distance celebrity fans are right there in the thick of things, firing the troops up, goading the enemy, living the highs, suffering together through the lows. It’s clear that Drake considers himself as much a part of the Toronto Raptors as Kyle Lowry, Pascal Siakam or Kawhi Leonard. But which one of us, in his place, wouldn’t do the same? To be a fan is ridiculous; Drake’s crime is not really to be annoying at all, but to live the ridiculousness with more conviction than any of us. (Timms 2019) Celebrity fans are in the privileged position of being able to interact with players, coaches, and owners, sometimes even inserting themselves into the action as the musician Drake has controversially done during the NBA playoffs. He created controversies talking to players, physically interacting, and becoming Celebrity Fans Courtside  165

so animated out of his seat and on the court that he has been accused of interfering in game play. In addition to sports stars and sports sponsors, the role of celebrity fan as patron or ambassador of a sport has arisen. Ambassadors for professional sports have traditionally been those who have excelled in the sport to a memorable level of excellence. This is observed as undergoing change. In 2013 Drake was appointed NBA ambassador for the Toronto Raptors. Though not a player, as he has performed in this role, he has immersed himself deeper and deeper into the team and reaped the rewards. When the Toronto Raptors won the 2019 NBA playoffs, this culminated in Drake receiving a championship ring like the players. He took this even a step further, having an additional commemorative championship ring made for himself and commemorative leather jackets made for the team. The ambassadorial role of musicians and celebrities of other fame in the NBA is now being replicated elsewhere. Creamy-complexioned Chinese pop idol Cai Xukun was awarded an NBA China Chinese New Year Celebration Brand Ambassador role, intended to continue the expansion of the NBA internationally. Dwarfed as Xukun is by the chisel-jawed professional basketballers that he appears with on promotional materials, the unusual fit has not gone unnoticed: “Given the new pop star’s large fan base, other industries like sports and education may potentially choose to cooperate with the girly idols in a bid to tap into the Chinese market. Tensions [exist] between mainstream and countercultures, as well as conflicts between market profits and brand values” (Bei 2019). The appointment incited a lot of debate on Hupu and other forums. In spite of this, NBA China has not relented (Ming 2019).

O n li n e I n t e r a cti o n s a n d C e l e b r it y F a n s As Marshall, Moore, and Barbour (2015) have suggested, persona is constituted by connections and online identity as well as offline identity, and these online connections too are well worth examining as a means for understanding the strategic and negotiated agency that constructing a public persona entails. The discourse between celebrities, athletes, and fans has taken on a new transparency via Twitter and Instagram. Fans that follow celebrities on Twitter can learn more intimate details about their personal lives (Brojakowski 2015, 28). It is easy to feel that we are having unfiltered access. Similarities appear 166   Transforming Celebrity Identity

in the way that celebrity fans and regular fans use social media. There are numerous examples of what Turk calls the “gift economy,” gifts made by fans for fans (2014). Celebrity fans too share traditional gifts of fandom (Sabotini 1999). Selfies, game footage, trolling comments, memes, encouragement, insights, personalized messages of congratulations, and, occasionally, fan art are generated and shared in a similar fashion to the regular sports fan. Normalizing affirmational behaviors function to demonstrate that the celebrity fan is a part of the fandom. Prominent examples are Rihanna creating a Crying Jordan meme and a short adaptation of the Lion King with herself as Simba and LeBron as Mufasa (Wilder 2017); Drake again, NBA fan eternal, has penned and shared several songs that are based on friendships with NBA players. Not using filters or sharing highly constructed images while in the arena can be understood as another normalizing agent. Over the period of this study, a notable aspect of the images shared by celebrity fans in situ is the candid, natural appearance. David Beckham’s cheerful Wimbledon selfie with his mother looks much the same as a regular fan’s happy snap except for the spacious seating, the private screen, luxury food basket, and expensive suit (Beckham 2019). The practice of taking the selfie also normalizes. Anna Kendrick and Brittany Snow were featured on the US Open Twitter feed as a couple of gal pals enjoying the game and taking a few selfies with their cell phones to capture the occasion (US Open Tennis 2019). Tennis organizations capitalize on the presence of celebrity fans by not only capturing them in the televised footage but also sharing images of them on social media. There are a few points of obvious difference between the way that the regular fan and the celebrity fan use social media to construct their identity. Celebrity fans tended to not tweet game and score updates for tennis or basketball. Another difference in celebrity fan and regular fan social media practice was sharing snaps of food and beverages consumed during play. During the Tennis Opens, and especially Wimbledon, regular fans shared images of the elegant mood created at home or elsewhere, including what they were eating or drinking—a type of mimetic fandom (Taussig 1992) where the home viewer aestheticizes the fan experience. This reinforces a difference between them and the celebrity fan, who, it is assumed, has snacks and drinks delivered courtside. The regular fan tries to emulate the atmosphere in their own space all the while being bombarded with advertisements for Uber Eats and fast-food chains. Another distinction is that the celebrity fan tweet has more gravitas than the regular fan, regardless of their knowledge of the game. And, if using the number Celebrity Fans Courtside  167

5. Reach of Twitter accounts in 2019.

of likes, retweets, and interactions as a gauge, a celebrity fan tweet or “gift” has a higher value than that of a regular fan, for the obvious reason of the number of followers and the magnitudinous reach of a celebrity fan. Haberstroh (2018), in an interview from Bleacher Report, quotes current NBA player JJ Redick: “One of the reasons that the NBA is so good . . . is NBA Twitter.” Haberstroh notes that “NBA commissioner Adam Silver has decidedly taken a pro-social-media stance, encouraging GIFs and highlights to be freely distributed.” In 2018, the NBA was tweeted about more than any other sports league (Haberstroh 2018). The league’s official Twitter account boasts over 28 million followers. Still, we see that the reach of the celebrity fan often overshadows the Twitter accounts for the league and sports’ organizing bodies. Over the period of this study, celebrity fans frequently trended higher than the hashtag for the game or the players. The presence of celebrity can evidently upset the balance and shift focus away from the sporting event. Here are a few standout examples of attention on celebrity fans eclipsing the sport: The Beyhive (Beyoncé’s fandom) went into overdrive when Nicole Curran (philanthropic role model and wife of team owner Joe Lacob) leaned in to speak to Jay-Z while she hosted the Carters at a Golden State Warriors finals game. An innocent courtside interaction and a perceived side-eye by Beyoncé inspired a 168   Transforming Celebrity Identity

fan fiction about Curran having romantic designs on Jay-Z. This instantaneously escalated to death threats directed at Curran from Beyoncé fans who did not exhibit familiarity with a very positive female persona of the NBA. Another example was Meghan Markle watching friend Serena Williams’s US Open tennis match live, in full view, and not wanting to engage with other fans. Attempting to switch off from her duties as Duchess of Sussex, Markle made an unsuccessful bid to mark out her private and public persona. This was a brazen bid when she used the tennis arena as the space to publicly announce her relationship with Prince Harry. This elucidates the paradox of the celebrity fan trying to say, “I’m just like every other fan” while enjoying the celebrity privileges that differentiate them from the regular fan. A drunken Woody Harrelson resuming his complimentary seat at Wimbledon in a dapper suit and borrowed hat had many people laughing and far and away beyond the doubles match being played. Fans on Twitter and commentators alike were delighting in seeing him falter from a polished, packaged image. “The internet was quick to recognize that this was the real game” (Hoffman 2019). The significant Twitter response indicated that others identified with his errant behavior. He provided a moment of relatability and quickly became a memeable interloper. “Woody Harrelson being denied a return to his seat at Wimbledon then finally being allowed is the best thing in sports today.” (Left Coast Leafs podcast 2019) [When tennis player Mahut collapses to the ground after being hit in the groin] “The cut to Woody Harrelson here is the best directing you’ll see all year.” (Chambers 2019) “Woody Harrelson at Wimbledon is my spirit animal.” (Toronto 2019) In addition, it is common practice for sports writers and bloggers to comment on celebrity fans and especially player/celebrity relationships. Regular sports fans also engage in exchanges about these relationships. Bleacher Report features several articles of this nature. After the game is over, multisite discussion continues. NBA player Ben Simmons’s on-again, off-again romance with Kendall Jenner exemplifies the longevity and the reach that some of these relationship debates can have. Concerns about whether they are a good match, whether he plays better when Jenner is at his games or not, whether their lifestyles fit, whether celebrity fans and celebrity partners should be allowed into their sports Celebrity Fans Courtside  169

6. Fans tweeted Woody Harrelson’s reactions at Wimbledon 2019. Courtesy of Tyler White/@TylerRuinsTV.

home—these either fizzle over time or escalate. The organizations treat the relationships as good for business, often featuring the celebrity fan courtside in their social media as well as the live broadcast, even though regular fans don’t always agree with a coupling. Because the stadium is a memory place that makes an identity statement about the city and the fans (Boyd 2000, 331), as well as the team, celebrity presence is checked. It was reported that Scott Davis of Business Insider asked 76ers co-owner Michael Rubin what he thought about over 10,000 Philadelphia fans signing a petition to keep Jenner away from games. He responded, “I think it’s 170   Transforming Celebrity Identity

7. Tweets about celebrity fan Woody Harrelson eclipsed the on-court action. Courtesy of Tyler White/@TylerRuinsTV.

ridiculous. I think Kendall’s awesome. I’ve spent a bunch of time with her. I was with Kendall a few days ago and Kendall insisted on going home and getting a good night’s sleep when Ben wanted to stay out for a late dinner. So, Kendall’s been a great influence on him, and we’ve won every game she’s been at but one so far” (quoted in Polacek 2018). When news of tennis pro Naomi Osaka’s relationship with fledgling rapper Cordae became a discussion topic on a forum (Cecilia 2019), it took only a couple of comments before comparisons were already being made with celebrity fan Redfoo previously dating Vika Azarenka, thus illustrating the imprint of these connections in the collective memory of tennis fans, fans who have developed their own mediated memories through the consumption of celebrity-attended tennis matches, social media shares, and possibly familiarity with the music of those celebrities. While these memories serve as a way for regular fans to comment on and affirm their tennis fan status, they also contribute to the formation Celebrity Fans Courtside  171

of a collective, cultural identity (van Dijck 2004). Although shared memories are rarely uniform, uncontroversial, or uncontested, the fact that certain individuals, events, places, and legacies are shared through this network of memory helps fans craft themselves as a collective, as an “us” (Houdek and Phillips 2017, 2). Fans know celebrity and sports bonds exist with or without the occasional reminder. The connections reside somewhere in our mental architecture because we have located them in the same space online or offline. We join the dots and expect that celebrities and sports stars mingle in the stratosphere. The friendship between Beyoncé and Serena Williams simmered along vaguely under the public eye. So it came as no surprise when Serena, Beyoncé, and tennis reporters were all online celebrating Serena’s appearance in Beyoncé’s music video (Fisher 2016). Equally unsurprising was that Beyoncé and Jay-Z performed at LeBron and Savannah James’s wedding in 2013. Celebrities achieve their status not only because of their outstanding performance but also via their distinct lifestyle. The locus of power brought about by celebrities being seen as sports fans is significant. Ironically, the regular fan is necessary for the fame and power of that union to exist, all the while having to accept that individually the regular fan has little clout. There is not sufficient space to address it substantially in this chapter, but another category of celebrity fan is the sports star who, while still in the game, builds celebrity beyond their sporting abilities or fans other sports. The year 2019 saw further escalation of sports star participation as celebrity fans: for instance, NBA player Andrew Bogut tweeting AFL (Australian Football League), tennis talent Nick Kyrgios tweeting NBA, tennis champion Ash Barty tweeting cricket, NBA MVP Steph Curry tweeting golf, former basketballer and current wheelchair tennis champion Dylan Alcott moving further into a career as a television sports presenter while at the peak of his game. Success in at least one sport appears to correlate with authority in other sports as well. Of great interest is Nick Kyrgios. His online and offline candor and fan interactions are carving out popularity and a variant celebrity at the same time. Simultaneously player and sports celebrity insider and trash talker, he provides memorable interviews, memorable matches, and memorable tweets. His unpredictable, authentic, sometimes out-of-hand behaviors have fan followers wondering what he is going to give them next. His fan numbers don’t fade with controversy; they increase. He lets the fan into his wheelhouse, offers insider perspectives, and they thrive on it. His on-court and off-court antics spread through the media remarkably. In an interview with Rothenberg (2019), amid 172   Transforming Celebrity Identity

Kyrgios’s praise for Federer and Murray, there was no holding back on Nadal and especially Djokovic. When speaking of Djokovic and his celebrations: I just feel like he has a sick obsession with wanting to be liked. He just wants to be like Roger [Federer]. For me personally—I don’t care right now, I’ve come this far—I feel like he just wants to be liked so much that I just can’t stand him. This whole celebration thing [blowing kisses to the crowd] that he does after matches, it’s like so cringeworthy. [But] we’re talking about a guy who pulled out of the Australian Open one year because it was too hot. No matter how many grand slams he wins, he will never be the greatest for me. Simply because, I’ve played him twice and like, I’m sorry, but if you can’t beat me, you’re not the greatest of all time.

S a m e but Diff e r e n t Jacquie L’Etang, one of the leading scholars in the study of sports as they connect to society and media, explains that sports can unify nations, promote social change, and affect the national psyche, making them powerful cultural agents (2006). And sports arenas are one of the more obvious places that popular memories are crafted and circulated. Being a sports fan provides a sense of community that is becoming more elusive in today’s distancing society. Watching and attending sporting spectacles as a fan allows us the opportunity to satisfy desires to be part of something grand, to experience public victory, to feel a sense of pride that stands above what we might achieve in our own privately lived reality. It is a space in which we can all participate, with our favorite teams and athletes as our surrogates on the court. An elite athlete can be treated as a sacred being who embodies something of the divine within (Weiss 1969). As fans in public, we can align ourselves with their apex achievements and thereby enhance our own persona. When celebrities do that too, we appear aligned in taste and values, on the same team, more closely connected. There is a celebrity fan effect on sports events. We are playing with constructing public identity around the same deities. We want to be accepted and approved of and achieve a sense of belonging in our culture. We recognize ourselves in celebrity fan behaviors while seeing

Celebrity Fans Courtside  173

distance at the same time. The regular fan and the celebrity fan together help to shape the event and the cultural practice of attending or watching a game, riffing about it, and being a fan. Whether at the game, on social media, or at home, we would like to think fanning is completely authentic, but we know that today it is, at least in part, constructed. We curate and edit our presentation of self just as celebrities do. We celebrificate ourselves. The best bits make the highlights reel. As active fans and social media users, we blur the role between producer and audience. The professional sports arena is a supercharged media environment that is amplified by online exposure and interactions. It is natural to assume that celebrity fan presence and interactions have a strong influence on the consumers’ image of the celebrity fan and what it is to be a fan. By being close to the action and close to the public, celebrity fans are empowered as vanguards of the space. Keaton, Watanabe, and Ruihley provide evidence that whether fans use social media or not, there is no differentiation between level of commitment or investment in a team. Their study revealed no differences in self-esteem or feelings of self-actualization (2015, 100). However, when people view a favorite celebrity, they form a parasocial relationship, one where intimacy is created. Identifying with a celebrity fan may increase self-esteem as fans see themselves as an extension of their favorite celebrities, worthy of the same love. There’s been a transformation of power, of the way in which influence and power have shifted over time, the ways in which our culture legitimizes and establishes influence and power. We once had a clear representational idea of celebrity via television and a very mediated media. We can’t see media and cultural institutions as stable now though. These different notions of public, fanning, connections, and business are changing. Celebrities show us how to be, but to do it as effectively as they remains an unattainable ideal, because while we might have access to the same tools, we are not afforded the same exposure. In the way power and fame are shaped, we are dealing with complex structures. Courtside celebrity fans are a potent nexus of media representations and self-presentation (Marshall 2014a). Celebrities can use their influence to support a brand, to flaunt riches, to bring prestige, and to entice new converts. Even with all the knowledge we have about how authentic or controlled these interactions might be, we are still prone to seduction. Professional sporting organizations are big business, with no cap on market expansion goals. For the 2018/2019 season, all NBA teams generated combined 174   Transforming Celebrity Identity

revenues of almost US$8.8 billion—regular-season ticketing accounted for over 22 percent of that amount. In 2019, a total of 500,397 visitors attended the Wimbledon Championships over the duration of the tournament, an increase from the previous two years (Gough 2019). Both global tennis fans and NBA fans are heavy consumers of social media. Increasingly, sports fans favor streaming via mobile and desktop platforms as ways to engage with sporting brands (IMGArena 2019). There are no limitations on the number of viewers who can now engage online; it is a global store. However, there are only a fixed number of seats in the arena; therefore, who is seen as the occupants of those premium seats is of significance. They are a visible part of the machinery. Thus, it is the celebrity fan, the famous, who attracts the most attention online and offline, who is most likely to be located courtside with the wealthy. The mediatized arena coupled with social media is a promotional spectacle and an enthralling, identity-shaping experience all at once. However, without the interest of regular fans wanting to engage, the machine stops. “Celebrity status operates at the very center of the culture as it resonates with conceptions of individuality that are the ideological ground of Western culture” (Marshall 2014a, 8). Celebrity culture shapes our thoughts, style, conduct, and manner. The greater the exposure, the stronger the bond. It affects entire populations, who are constantly nudged by celebrity presence to be shifted into aspirational consumers. Further, what makes something significant or insignificant is in flux. There is always some unpredictability around who will be the next celebrity, influencer, or champion. Being seen courtside allows for an unpredictable amplification of the persona of the fan (celebrity or not) and that impacts on the value of the game and the social capital of being associated with it. The investment that people have in celebrities and sports has the greatest potential to deepen attachments that fans have and affect the way things move in a culture. There is certainly evidence that the celebrity fan can be beneficial for the sport and that sports fanning is good exposure for the celebrity brand. This chapter maps the beginnings of a picture of the celebrity fan and the need to better understand celebrity fan behaviors and how they shape domains of sports fandom. With these examples of the celebrity fan performing fandom courtside and online, this study begins to address the way that celebrity fans pervasively shape the sports fan experience for others. Ideally, further studies will follow. This expands upon the formative scholarly work of Marshall (2006, 2014b, 2014c), who has identified how the discourse of celebrity has been normalized, Celebrity Fans Courtside  175

generalized, and extended in contemporary culture, and which explores celebrity and the proliferation of the public self. Celebrity is an ever-evolving construct. Celebrity fans bring their power to the sporting domain while furthering their own identity through their unavoidable presence in the stadium and online. They appear successful at leveraging their own careers while garnering wider attention for the sport. Further, celebrity fan performance becomes a part of the cultural collective along with what occurs on the court. Engaging fan practices, specifically in tennis and the NBA, is just one of the instruments used in the expansion of celebrity culture. Sports arenas have produced their own stardom, which is now melding with other forms of celebrity. It is a unique form of power and influence. The growing presence of celebrity fans demonstrating fandom to other fans is not without its complications. Whether or not celebrity fan and sports are a good marriage is debatable. Nonetheless, it exists. It is a certain strategy to attract a larger audience and increase the fan base of sports such as professional tennis and the NBA—a strategy that may well be to the annoyance of the existing sports fans, who see the synoptic space as being hijacked. As they appear online and courtside, celebrity fans bring color and emotion to the sports and show us how to fan while mirroring what sports fans have shown them.

176   Transforming Celebrity Identity

C ON T R I B U T OR S

Jessica Balanzategui is a senior lecturer in cinema and screen studies at Swinburne University of Technology, Melbourne, Australia. She is author of The Uncanny Child in Transnational Cinema, founding editor of the Amsterdam University Press book series Horror and Gothic Media Cultures, and editor of Refractory: A Journal of Entertainment Media.  Zhen Troy Chen is senior lecturer in digital advertising, London College of Communication, University of the Arts London. He is also adjunct research fellow of the Griffith Centre for Design and Innovation Research at Griffith University, Gold Coast campus. He has authored China’s Music Industry Unplugged: Business Models, Copyright, and Social Entrepreneurship in the Online Platform Economy, and has been published in Journal of Consumer Culture and Asian Journal of Women’s Studies. Bertha Chin is a senior lecturer in social media and communication at the Swinburne University of Technology, Sarawak. She is a board member of the UK-based Fan Studies Network and set up Australian and Asian chapters of the network. She is one of the few Asian scholars on the editorial board of the prestigious International Journal of Cultural Studies. Bertha is also a member of the Asian Media and Cultural Studies Research Network. Joyleen Christensen is a senior lecturer in film and literature at the University of Newcastle, Australia. Recent research projects include fan responses to the boyband One Direction; reception of the MCU’s Captain America character; works on Hannibal, Supernatural, Shadowhunters, and In The Flesh, as well as book chapters on the Hollywood remake of Infernal Affairs. Xin Cui is a PhD candidate at the Department of Communication and Media, University of Liverpool. Her research looks at the impacts of film-related tourism on the destination city’s place image, identity, and history. Paula Fernandes is a PhD student at the Postgraduate Program in Communication at the Federal Fluminense University in Brazil. Her areas of interest include

celebrity culture, fame, scandals, success, visibility strategies, fan culture, and virtual platforms. Divya Garg is a PhD candidate in the School of Media and Communication, RMIT University, Melbourne. She contributed to The Darker Side of Slash Fan Fiction: Essays on Power, Consent, and the Body. Her thought piece on “Queerbaiting and Japanese Popular Culture” is part of Queerbaiting and Fandom (University of Iowa, 2019). Racheal Harris is a PhD candidate with Deakin University. Racheal has contributed to several collections on popular culture and published a monograph as part of the Emerald Death & Culture series, Skin, Meaning, and Symbolism in Pet Memorials. Celia Lam is an associate professor in media and cultural studies at the University of Nottingham Ningbo China. She has been published in Continuum, Celebrity Studies Journal, Northern Lights: Film and Media Studies Yearbook. Her most recent book is Celebrity Bromances. Susan Maloney is a tutor and lecturer in the School of Law, Humanities, and the Arts at the University of Wollongong, and also teaches communications and media. She was an interviewee/contributor for Teaching with Confidence in Higher Education: Applying Strategies from the Performing Arts. Renee Middlemost is a lecturer in communication and media at the University of Wollongong, Australia. Her work has been featured in The Routledge Companion to Cult Cinema; Intercultural Communication, Identity, and Social Movements in the Digital Age; and Aussie Fans: Uniquely Placed in Global Popular Culture (University of Iowa Press, 2019). She is the cofounder of the Fan Studies Network Australasia, and coeditor of Participations. Christoper Moore is a senior lecturer in digital communication and media at the University of Wollongong, Australia. He is a researcher in internet studies, fans and celebrity, analogue and digital games, and online persona. He is the coauthor of Persona Studies: An Introduction. Jackie Raphael currently teaches and researches at the University of Western Australia in Perth. For more than a decade, she has researched celebrity culture, social media, endorsements, branding, iconic status, persona, and bromances.   178   Contributors

Vincent Tran is a PhD candidate at Swinburne University of Technology in Melbourne, Australia. His doctoral research focuses on the history, rise, and proliferation of the shared universe from nineteenth-century literature to the current day. Janey Umback is an educational trainer and assessor based in Melbourne, Australia. Umback served as the editor of Makers of Melbourne, as well as a monthly contributor to Veri.Live magazine.

Contributors  179

NO T E S

C h a pt e r 1 . Div e r sif y i n g F a n M e t h o d o l o gi e s a n d I n qui r i e s 1. The Graham Norton Show (BBC), for instance, has several episodes where certain works of erotic fan fiction are read aloud and certain works of erotic fan art are shown to the stars involved in the works, inviting the stars’ and the audience’s laughter at the expense of fan writers and artists (see season 1, episode 5; season 12, episode 7). 2. There are some notable exceptions to this, including Rukmini Pande (2018) and Lori Morimoto (2018), who have conducted interviews with fans of color as part of their research. There are also many studies that have looked at participants of non-Western fan cultures such as Korean pop music fandom (e.g., Capistrano [2019] looks at Filipino Korean pop music fans). 3. In Marvel alone, phase 4, starting from the widely successful Black Panther (2018) movie, guarantees racial diversity through Asian superheroes (Shang-chi) and Muslim superheroes (Ms. Marvel/Kamala Khan). 4. See Stitch’s tweets during the harassment campaign (Stitch’s Media Mix 2021). 5. The project known as “Decolonising Fan Studies: A Bibliography-inProgress” was originally created by Rukmini Pande in June 2017. 6. All names of research participants are self-chosen pseudonyms unless one was not provided by the participant. While Ms. Andry and Sofia are selfchosen names, Kari is an assigned one. 7. Kari refers to a primary relationship in Shonda Rhimes’s How to Get Away with Murder featuring its Black female protagonist with a white woman. 8. Notable Bollywood actors have, for instance, supported advertisements for fairness creams. Many of them, such as Priyanka Chopra, have recently received criticism for such endorsements. 9. Conversations about anti-Blackness have become more prominent on social media platforms such as Twitter, and while recently K-pop fans were much lauded for their support of the Black Lives Matter movement, others point to prevalent racism within the community. See Aliya Chaudhry, “Black

K-pop Fans Continue to Face Racism Online,” The Verge, July 24, 2020, https://www.theverge.com/2020/7/24/21335831/kpop-racism-fans-black -lives-matter-harassment.

C h a pt e r 4 . # Alw a y sK e e p F ig h ti n g 1. As originally defined by Horton and Wohl (1956), “media figures” can be understood in broad terms and include presenters, actors, celebrities, fictional characters, etc. 2. The four types of user figure relationship are (1) PSI (the media user exhibits behavioral and cognitive responses toward the media figure that are consistent with the figure being an acquaintance), (2) Identification (the user recognizes a shared perspective with the media figure), (3) Wishful Identification (the user wishes to emulate the media figure in some way), and (4) Affinity (the user likes the media figure but doesn’t form a parasocial relationship with them or identify in any way with the media figure). 3. The Winchester family legacy is explicitly referred to in episodes 2.08 “Crossroad Blues,” 9.1 “I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here,” 10.19 “The Werther Project,” 10.22 “The Prisoner,” and 15.9 “The Long Road Home,” among others. 4. A Sprout Social analysis reports over 17,000 instances of the keywords “Supernatural” and “legacy” appearing on Twitter together between March 22, 2019 (when the stars announced that season 15 would be the final season), and November 19, 2020 (when the final episode of Supernatural aired). 5. In the past five years, there have been close to forty individual T-shirt campaigns, supporting a wide range of causes, including various cancer organizations, Alzheimer’s Foundation, the National Stroke Association, homelessness, camps for children suffering from diabetes, anti-bullying campaigns, the preservation of Cherokee cultures, prison-dog training programs, EarthJustice, and numerous Random Acts projects. 6. The issue of tackling cyberbullying was added to the campaign’s goals at a later stage. 7. Later renamed the Random Acts Support Network, the initiative now also partners with the Pop Culture Hero Coalition. 8. Specifically, the Castiel Project—a play on the name of the Trevor Project—was a fan-directed campaign prompted by negative responses to 182   Notes to Pages 66–78

the handling of the death of Misha Collins’s character in the third-to-last episode of the show. In effect, the fundraising surge acted as an expression of fan frustration with how Castiel’s death—coming mere seconds after the angel’s declaration of his love for Dean Winchester—could be interpreted as reinforcing the “bury your gays” trope of television shows killing off queer characters.

C h a pt e r 5 . Y o u T ub e C e l e b r iti e s 1. Senft (2008) suggests microcelebrities are characterized by being able to emerge through digital media and rise from there toward the massive consumption of content. Microcelebrities have the possibility of reaching other statuses, such as celebrities or digital influencers, depending on the subsequent analysis of reach, visibility, and commercial appeal. 2. Rojek (2012) goes so far as to state that there is a “formula of fame” and that it is possible to apply it to become known. However, the maintenance of this status implies other factors. 3. Felipe Neto Channel, “Felipe Neto” (accessed October 18, 2020), YouTube channel, https://www.youtube.com/naofazsentido. 4. Neto was born on January 21, 1988, in Rio de Janeiro, RJ, Brazil. 5. This year, Neto modified the language used on his channel, as well as the content, adapting to proposals aimed at children and youth audiences. 6. There are more than twenty Brazilian channels with between twenty million and forty million subscribers on YouTube. The country stands out in the production of content by YouTubers, and not by companies, television or music channels, actors, or producers. For example, Felipe Neto reached 41 million subscribers on December 27, 2020, being among the ten largest channels in the world in his category, along with Whindersson Nunes (41 million), Você Sabia (37 million), and Luccas Neto (32 million). 7. Felipe Neto, “LIVE—ÚLTIMO EPISÓDIO DA SAGA MINECRAFT! [+10],” YouTube video, streamed live December 18, 2020, https://www .youtube.com/watch?v=cGAHQpo38-4&list=PLnRuoKy8h_HsnIf9BNo _a4K63jEyowJ8C&index=14. 8. Until July 2021, the channel had 42.8 million subscribers. 9. The Whindersson Nunes course is no longer available online. However, more information is available at https://portal.comunique-se.com.br Notes to Pages 80–88  183

/influenciador-e-professor-whindersson-nunes-lanca-curso-sobre -conteudo-na-internet/ (accessed March 14, 2022) and in a video uploaded by Whindersson at his YouTube channel on October 2, 2017, available at https ://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfsZVob90jo. 10. Felipe has already released a biographical book (Não Faz Sentido: Por Trás das Câmeras, 2013); two recreational books related to his channel (Felipe Neto—Acredite se Puder, 2019, and O mundo segundo Felipe Neto, 2019); and two magazines that mix recreational activities and biographical content (“Felipe Neto: A Trajetória de um dos maiores Youtubers do Brasil,” 2017, and “Felipe Neto—A Vida por Trás das Câmeras,” 2018); and had an unauthorized biographical book published (Felipe Neto—O Influenciador, 2021). He also acted in the film Tudo Por Um Pop Star (dir. Bruno Garotti, 2018), and was a sponsor of and investor in the national soccer team Botafogo (between 2017 and 2020). 11. Corujas (or “Owls”) is the name Neto’s fandom goes by.

C h a pt e r 6 . T o o V ul n e r a bl e t o F ig h t This study has been approved by the University of Nottingham Ningbo’s ethics committee for its use of digital ethnography and interviews. The author wishes to thank Chen Siyu for her support in data collection. 1. Moral panic associated with fandom refers to the regulation of obsessive fandom in China, where “positive energy” as an official discourse regulates the registration of fandom organizations and fans’ behaviors online and offline. Therefore, idols and celebrities are expected to regulate, guide, and even educate fans to adhere to gongxu liangsu (public order and good morals) and socialist values. This is vaguely defined and works hand in hand with the platform level regulations. See also note 2. 2. Over the past forty years, the Chinese entertainment industry has developed rapidly with different ownerships, public, private, and in flux. The market-oriented celebrities and idols are deemed to have enjoyed more freedom than their public counterparts, given the fact that the latter are paid by taxpayers and their works and behaviors are subject to more careful scrutinization. 3. Anti-fan has been theorized by scholars such as Gray (2003), referring to fans who follow a certain celebrity just to hate them. However, the term used 184   Notes to Pages 89–96

in this chapter and in Chinese fandom is its colloquial meaning, where nonfans or ordinary social media users comment on a celebrity in a negative way. 4. See a recent example of a ban on public accounts of university gender diversity groups on WeChat from a report: Joyce Lau and Jing Liu, “LGBT+ Groups from Chinese Universities Silenced on Social Media,” Times Higher Education, July 9, 2021, https://www.timeshighereducation.com/news/lgbt -groups-chinese-universities-silenced-on-social-media. 5. Such paratexts include derivative works (toujin novels, slash fictions) created by fans and other digital labor, such as producing positive comments, regulating fandom groups, and creating data that benefit the idols in rankings and sponsorship deals. See also recent research in this section documenting varied practices from across the Asian markets. 6. Mama-fan, sister-fan, and wife/girlfriend-fan are used by fans due to their own identification preferences and choices. Therefore, the interpretation based on mere age (self-identification) is problematic. Zheng (2021) recently analyzed such fandoms in the Chinese context and argued that this is a tamed and domesticated “Oedipus complex” where the father is nonexistent. Despite such a critical assessment, she emphasizes this as an evident case where female agency plays a key role in resisting the patriarchal arrangements in Chinese society, in the form of producing media works manipulating the male idols in their fan-idol relationship or creating slash fictions involving two young-fresh-meat idols.

C h a pt e r 7 . C l o s e t o Y o u 1. Hengdian World Studios Performer Association officially launched in Hengdian in 2016. It primarily organizes and trains extra actors, standardizes the market of extra actors, establishes a network for extra actors, coordinates the relationship between actors and crews, and safeguards the rights of actors (Trustexporter, n.d.). 2. Weibo is a Chinese microblogging website. Launched by Sina Corporation in 2009, it is one of the biggest social media platforms in China in which users are allowed to upload posts (with certain tags) in a public online space and send messages to each other (People’s Daily Online 2014). WeChat is a Chinese multipurpose messaging, social media, and mobile payment app developed by Tencent. It was first released in 2011 and became Notes to Pages 97–120  185

one of the world’s largest stand-alone mobile apps in 2018, with more than one billion monthly active users (Xinhua News Agency 2018), in which users can send information and make payment to each other at any moment, from anywhere. Ethics approval for fieldwork was obtained from the School of the Arts Research Ethics Committee at the University of Liverpool on April 16, 2019. Follow-up ethics approval was obtained on October 21, 2020, for data collection at Hengdian during the COVID-19 pandemic from the Central University Research Ethics Committees at the University of Liverpool.

C h a pt e r 8 . T h e F o u n d a ti o n o f C o n ti n uit y a n d C a n o n icit y i n . . . 1. Retcons, or “retroactive continuity,” refers to a process in which a creator deliberately alters the narrative history of a world so that “going forward, future stories reflect this new history” (Friedenthal 2017, 7).

C h a pt e r 9 . Mu r r a y S t o r i e s a n d K e a n u M e m e s 1. The notion of parasocial relationships proposed by Horton and Wohl (1956) draws on the power of the perception of reciprocity in the celebrity/fan relationship. Although completed long before the invention of social media or the internet, their findings continue to be relevant to how fans engage with fandom and the celebrity figure across all forms of entertainment media. Mark Duffet also explores this theme at length in Understanding Fandom: An Introduction to the Study of Media and Fan Culture. Unlike Horton and Wohl’s, Duffet’s assessment is more sympathetic toward fans in its suggestion that most fans are aware (to some degree) that their relationship with a particular celebrity or character is built on fantasy and that this is something that they take into account when interacting with the celebrity or with each other (2013, 82–84). 2. Drawing on one of his popular characters from Saturday Night Live, Belushi was often referred to as “the guest who wouldn’t leave.” While shooting The Blues Brothers in Chicago, he would often disappear from set, only to be found hours later asleep on the lounge of a stranger or having

186   Notes to Pages 130–152

invited himself into a member of the public’s home for something to eat. The accounts that survive about these encounters have a great deal in common with Murray’s irreverent interactions with both fans and unsuspecting people he happens past in public. 3. Since the explosion of the Sad Keanu meme, Reeves has often played up to his perceived persona. In 2011 he published a book titled Ode to Happiness, which draws on his experiences in life with a hopeful yet melancholic tone. Similar sentiments have been displayed in media interviews, including a much-hyped encounter with Alex Pappademas (2019) for GQ and Hadley Freeman (2019) for The Guardian. 4. Numerous video and photographic accounts of this exist on both Google and YouTube, suggesting that the initial encounter that caught the attention of the internet and the press in 2015 was not simply a one-off occurrence. 5. In 2020 there were two books published that treat Keanu in much the same way as Murray has appeared in The Tao of Bill Murray. Be More Keanu by James King and Kate Holderness and What Would Keanu Do by Chris Barsanti each reflect on what we might learn from the example of Reeves as celebrity and philanthropist and saint, while also suggesting how we might bring more of the same positive qualities into our own lives. In 2019, For Your Consideration: Keanu Reeves, by Larissa Zageris and Kitty Curran, provided a potted history of Reeves, his career, and his enduring cultural relevance; while the 2021 Keanu Forever by Billie Oliver reflects on Reeves’s enduring legacy through the lens of his cultural currency.

Notes to Pages 156–159  187

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I NDEX

Ackles, Jensen, 64–65, 69–70, 72–74, 76–77 affect, 1, 7, 9, 19, 26–27, 29; definition, 14; as method, 14–18 #AlwaysKeepFighting, 73; campaigns, 64, 72–78 Archive of Our Own (AO3), 7, 14, 21, 25, 52, 60 Asimov, Isaac, 9, 128, 130–143 Barbour, Kim, 5, 6, 31, 36, 162, 166 boyd, danah, 35, 58, 61

in everyday life, 3–4, 6, 165. See also celebrity studies fan studies, 1–4, 7–8, 10, 13–15, 17–26, 28–30, 35–36, 45, 69, 114, 181; decolonizing, 2, 20–25, 28–29; waves of fan studies, 3–4, 10 fandom: female, 8–9, 16, 49–53, 55, 57–58, 60–63, 95, 97–99, 103, 105–110; iKun, 95–97, 104–105, 108; SPNFamily, 65, 68, 71–73, 76–77; as subculture, 95 Gray, Jonathan, 3–4, 6–7, 62, 135, 142, 185

Cai, Xukun, 95–98, 103–109, 166 celebrity studies, 2, 4, 7, 13–15, 17–18, 24, 26, 69, 124; as fan, 162, 172–176; interaction with fans, 2, 6–8, 9, 69, 95–97; mythology, 6, 9, 52, 154–156, 159–161; public persona, 1, 2, 5–9, 120, 166, 169; star image, 4, 50, 57; taxonomy of, 4 Chin, Bertha, 2, 21, 24, 35 Collins, Misha, 64–65, 67, 69, 71–72, 74, 76, 183

Harrington, C. Lee, 3–4, 6–7 Hengdian World Studios, 9, 111–114, 116, 118, 121–126, 184 Hitchcock Morimoto, Lori, 2, 21, 23–24, 181 Holmes, Su, 3–15 idols, 13, 60, 83–84, 87, 91, 95, 147; in China, 95–110, 118, 166, 184–185; definition, 96

ethnographic, 1, 3, 22, 34, 54, 91, 95, 110, 113–114

Jenkins, Henry, 13, 20, 34–35, 49–50, 59–61, 82, 85, 96, 141–142

fan communities, 2, 7–8, 15, 18, 20–21, 28–29, 31, 45, 50, 53, 58, 60, 62–64, 68, 96, 103, 148, 150, 153, 155, 160, 163; on-site activities, 111–127; practices, 2–4, 8–9, 15–17, 101, 108, 110, 114, 128, 141, 164, 176; practices

Marshall, David P., 5–6, 31, 36, 49–51, 79, 85, 89, 162, 166, 174–176 Marwick, Alice, 31, 61, 79 Moore, Christopher, 5–6, 8, 31, 33, 36, 111, 166 Murray, Bill, 9, 148–161, 173, 187

Niche Creative Industries, 31–32, 40; definition, 31 Padalecki, Jared, 64, 66, 69–70, 72–75, 77 Pande, Rukmini, 2, 14, 21–22 parasocial relationships, 8, 54, 65, 67–68, 78, 81–84, 86–87, 90–92, 97, 115, 147, 164, 174, 182, 186 persona studies, 1, 4–8, 31, 36, 45. See also celebrity studies

160; celebrity use of, 4–6, 40, 49–50, 52, 55, 61, 64, 71, 76, 102, 155–156; fan use of, 25, 28, 30–32, 34–35, 39, 45, 106, 162, 167–168, 170–171, 174–175 SPNFamily (Crisis Support Network). See fandom Stanfill, Mel, 2 Styles, Harry, 8, 49–63 Supernatural, 8, 21, 26, 64–78 symbolic immortality, 65, 70 transfictionality, 129

Redmond, Sean, 13–14, 49 Reeves, Keanu, 9, 88, 148–150, 155–161 real person fiction (RPF), 150, 152–153; definition, 13 Sandvoss, Cornel, 3–4, 6–7 Senft, Theresa, 6, 31, 80, 183 social media, 46, 51, 57, 59, 63, 65, 67, 69, 84, 88, 95–98, 101, 107, 120, 127, 147,

228   Index

Usher, Bethany, 6, 165 YouTube, 79, 82, 84–86, 89, 158; professionalization, 81–82, 84–86, 88, 90, 92; YouTubers in Brazil, 9, 86–88, 90 Zubernis, Lynn, 69, 74

F ANDOM & C U L T U RE

A Fan Studies Primer: Method, Research, Ethics edited by Paul Booth and Rebecca Williams Queerbaiting and Fandom: Teasing Fans through Homoerotic Possibilities edited by Joseph Brennan Gaming Masculinity: Trolls, Fake Geeks, and the Gendered Battle for Online Culture by Megan Condis Emo: How Fans Defined a Subculture by Judith May Fathallah Johnny Cash International: How and Why Fans Love the Man in Black by Michael Hinds and Jonathan Silverman Fandom as Classroom Practice: A Teaching Guide edited by Katherine Anderson Howell Fandom, the Next Generation edited by Bridget Kies and Megan Connor

Straight Korean Female Fans and Their Gay Fantasies by Jungmin Kwon Aussie Fans: Uniquely Placed in Global Popular Culture edited by Celia Lam and Jackie Raphael Fame and Fandom: Functioning On and Offline edited by Celia Lam, Jackie Raphael, Renee Middlemost, and Jessica Balanzategui Austentatious: The Evolving World of Jane Austen Fans by Holly Luetkenhaus and Zoe Weinstein Sherlock’s World: Fan Fiction and the Reimagining of BBC’s Sherlock by Ann K. McClellan Star Attractions: Twentieth-Century Movie Magazines and Global Fandom edited by Tamar Jeffers McDonald and Lies Lanckman

Fandom, Now in Color: A Collection of Voices edited by Rukmini Pande Squee from the Margins: Fandom and Race by Rukmini Pande Disney’s Star Wars: Forces of Production, Promotion, and Reception edited by William Proctor and Richard McCulloch

Re-living the American Frontier: Western Fandoms, Reenactment, and Historical Hobbyists in Germany and America Since 1900 by Nancy Reagin Fan Sites: Film Tourism and Contemporary Fandom by Abby S. Waysdorf Everybody Hurts: Transitions, Endings, and Resurrections in Fan Cultures edited by Rebecca Williams