My Afterglow Moment: How a K-Pop Concert Altered My Perspective on Celebrities

My Afterglow Moment is a series where staff writers and editors share their favorite music-related memories.

Written by Tiana Woodard

Photo Courtesy of BTS Diary

For most of my life, my favorite celebrities were made up of one of two things — millions upon millions of pixels compacted onto my family computer screen, or sheets upon sheets of vibrant, glossy poster paper plastered on my bedroom walls.

Since I am the fourth and final child in a single-income family, my parents never had the money or time to bring me to see the Jonas Brothers or the Cheetah Girls live. I filled this void with posters, music videos marathons, and my own childhood imagination. My imagination did the most work, molding celebrities into godly beings. And as I grew up in a struggling household, my musical tastes changed; my brother’s influence got me hooked on anime openings and, eventually, the synchronized dancing and bubbly vocals of Korean pop groups. So, as I grew older, the distance between me and my favorite artists was more than just a plane ride across the country — it became an entire ocean.

Fast forward to 2015, and this barrier finally broke down. After years of rejections, my parents finally showed interest when I asked them about then-rising K-pop group BTS’ concert in Dallas. A few days before my birthday, my dad surprised me and my mom by purchasing me a VIP+ ticket. With VIP+ tickets, not only was I going to be a mere seven rows from these young men who meant the world to me, but I was going to meet them backstage, too.

As excited as I was, I was more nervous than anything. Seeing how reserved, professional, and noble BTS and many other K-Pop idols were during any fan interactions, I felt too lowly for their attention. Celebrities had been in their own separate, intangible sphere my entire life, and finally having the opportunity to enter this sphere was terrifying. (Hopefully, my anxious, verbal blunders wouldn’t start a U.S.-Korea diplomatic war.)

Thankfully, one of my K-Pop friends who had already met multiple artists  was my concert buddy. But when the concert venue went dark and red stage lights revealed the seven young men right before me, not even she could contain my hysteria. As their two-hour performance continued, BTS dismantled my concept of celebrity little by little. Since their agency prohibited recording, my fanatic eyes were forced to take in as many details as I could, noticing some minor choreography mistakes, their nerve-driven speeches, and even their worn-down Chuck Taylor’s. I didn’t find these small mishaps off-putting but rather humbling and comforting

My comfort was short-lived, however, for the fast-approaching time to meet them had my misconceptions creeping back. The suspicious looks from security guards and a nudge from my concert buddy finally convinced me to step forward and meet these idols. Because of the long line behind me, I could only spend about a minute speaking with the group, but these few moments did more than enough to break my stereotypes. It wasn’t just their makeup artists that made BTS look youthful; the seven members were barely adults, their youngest member still waiting for high school graduation. Their shy gestures, cute words of gratitude, and respectful demeanor proved to me that they were just as anxious as any other person meeting strangers for the first time — the only bonuses they had on their side were years of idol training and a double-digit-step skin routine. As we each waved our goodbyes, I also waved in a new chapter of my life— a chapter in which BTS and other celebrities that I grew to love were truly human.