For the love of fangirls

When you think of fangirls, what comes to mind: large swaths of fandom (usually for a boyband) whose feelings culminate in tears and joyful screams? Perhaps you grimace or roll your eyes at the thought. In this fun, lively talk, playwright Yve Blake asks us to reevaluate our reaction to the misunderstood passion and power of fangirls, emphasizing why we should all embrace our own unbridled enthusiasm.

Four years ago,

a teenage girl changed my life

in one conversation.

She was 13 years old,

she was a friend's little cousin

and she casually told me

that she had met the man
she was going to marry.

So I said, "OK, tell me about him."

And she told me that his name
was Harry Styles.

(Laughter)

So I laughed a little, like you,

and then she said,
"I know you don't think I'm serious,

but I'm actually going to be with him.

Because I love him so much

that I would slit someone's
throat to be with him."

(Laughter)

And that was the moment

that I became obsessed with fangirls.

I didn't know it then,

but that moment would transform
the course of my life

and go on to change everything
that I thought I knew

about being an adult,

being a woman

and being truly happy.

But before we get started,

what is a fangirl,

and what is a Harry Styles?

Well, according to the dictionary,
the Merriam-Webster dictionary,

a fangirl is a "girl or woman

who is an extremely
or overly enthusiastic fan

of someone or something."

Technically, you can have
fangirls of anything,

but my specific interest
was in fangirls of boy bands.

Because of their somewhat
lethal reputation.

I remember, my dad had told me this story
of some Beatles fans in the '60s,

who apparently had torn
a parked BMW to literal pieces,

because the band had supposedly
just been sat in it.

In the '60s, the Beatles
were the biggest boy band on the planet,

but when I met this girl in 2015,

the biggest boy band on the planet
was none other than One Direction.

And Harry Styles was a member
of One Direction.

Harry Styles was reputed
for his compassionate demeanor

and perfect hair.

I learn this when I read thousands
of tweets about him.

I learn that he is a sweet cupcake.

I learn that he is a perfect angel.

I learn that one time,

he vomited on the side
of a freeway in California

and that within two hours,

fans had turned the site of the vomit
into a sacred shrine.

(Laughter)

I scroll through --

(Laughter)

I scroll through fan-made
paintings of Harry,

baby photos of him,

paintings of baby photos of him.

I watch videos that show me how to make
DIY love totems for Harry --

for example, a lampshade
covered in photos of his face,

or a key ring that states
the exact time of his birth.

I read hours of fan fiction,

and I fall down this specific rabbit hole

of stories that actually
place me as a protagonist

inside of various imagined
romances with him.

So in one, I tell him
that I'm pregnant with his child.

In another, we meet in hospital
where we're both fighting cancer,

and in another, we fall so deeply in love

that we become fugitives who kill people.

(Laughter)

But then ...

something unthinkable happens.

One Direction, the biggest
boy band on the planet,

loses a member.

Zayn Malik quits the band,

and the internet explodes with feels.

I read tweets as these girls describe
the physical pain of this loss,

how they can't eat or sleep or walk.

I read them describe
how much Zayn had meant to them.

And I watch videos
of 10-year-old girls crying.

But, like, really crying.

And then I watch as people
repost these videos but with new titles

that contain words like "crazy"
and "creepy" and "insane."

And suddenly, my YouTube sidebar contains

"Compilation: Fans react to Zayn leaving.

Psycho alert!"

Then I watch as mainstream
news outlets cover the story.

I read them describe
these "young banshees."

I read one journalist say,

"It's a commonly known fact
since the age of the Beatles

that there is nothing
scarier in this world

than a group of excited teenage girls."

(Laughter)

And then I ask myself a question
I've never considered in my life.

Why is it that the image of young girls
screaming their lungs out with excitement

for a pop star

is considered crazy, psycho,

scary, a bit much?

But the image of young boys
screaming their lungs out for a footballer

is perfectly normal?

Boys crying at the footie,

that's the love of the game.

Girls crying at a Justin Bieber concert?

That's pathetic.

And as soon as I realized
this double standard,

I realized that all
of my curiosity about fangirls

had been sparked
by exactly the same judgments.

I, too, had suspected
that they were a bit crazy.

I'd looked at images
of girls screaming for the Beatles,

the Backstreet Boys, One Direction,

and the word that had come to mind
was not "excitement"

but "hysteria."

And what I did not know
was the history of that word.

That in the 19th century,

hysteria was considered to be
a legitimate female mental disorder

that could be diagnosed by doctors

if women displayed excessive emotion
or difficult behavior.

The word "hysterical" comes
from the Latin word "hystericus,"

meaning "of the womb,"

because it was thought that this condition
was caused by a dysfunction of the uterus.

And so, a treatment for hysteria

was a hysterectomy.

Which is what we still call
a removal of the womb.

And at this point,

I decide to redeclare my obsession.

Because I am no longer
just obsessed with fangirls.

Now, I'm obsessed with the way
that the world talks about fangirls

and the way that the world looks
at young, female enthusiasm.

Because, I want to know,

if girls grow up in a world

where words like "crazy" and "psycho"
and "hysterical" are casually used

to describe female enthusiasm,

then how does that shape the way
that those girls get to see themselves?

And if girls grow up
in a world that tells them

that they are designed
just a bit crazier than the boys,

then isn't that a little bit
like telling them

that they are born less capable
of rationality than men,

less capable of reason

and unworthy of the same
intellectual respect as their brothers.

Separately, I become obsessed
with female screams.

Not in a creepy way.

I'm talking about, like,
those shrieks and squeals

that fangirls let out at concerts.

I want to know why it is

that some people instinctively flinch
when I merely describe the sound,

like it's painful just to think about it.

Then I meet Amy Hume.

She's a voice coach.

And she blows my mind.

Because she tells me
that the female voice

between the ages of 11 and 13

is one of the most
interesting things to study.

Why?

Because there's this research
by Carol Gilligan

that says that is the age

when girls begin to perform
and alter their voices.

For example, adding breath for maturity,

(Imitating vocal fry)
or adding vocal fry for apathy.

(Laughter)

But tell me, according to this research,

when do you reckon boys begin to perform
and alter their voices?

Now, I guessed 18,

because "men mature later," right?

Wrong.

The answer was four years old.

Because that is when boys learn
not to cry or squeal.

That those are not manly sounds.

And that's when I realized

that a fangirl's shriek
is therefore like a superpower.

(Laughter)

Because it's this fearless
and honest expression

of pure celebration and joy,

and it's a sound

they have not forgotten how to make.

I actually reckon that fangirls
have a second superpower,

because they know how to do something

that most of my adult friends
have no idea how to do.

Fangirls know how to love something
without apology or fear.

My years of researching fangirls

culminated in this determination

to write something that celebrates
and vindicates them.

So I decided to make
this thriller comedy musical

that sounds like a Beyoncé concert
meets rave meets church.

I called it "Fangirls,"

and I designed it like a Trojan horse.

So it appears to make fun
of these young women,

only to, like, smuggle them
into your heart.

(Laughter)

Thanks.

(Applause)

At one point --

Thanks.

At one point, a girl sings,

"Why should I hide my feelings?

Because they annoy you?

Or because it isn't what the boys do?"

And as a former fangirl cynic,

that is the question
that I want to leave you all with.

Why should fangirls tone it down?

Because they're crazy?

Or because our definition of "reasonable"

is based on what
it is acceptable for men to do?

What if we rethink the judgments
we've been conditioned to feel

when we see young women
screaming their lungs out with excitement?

What if we decided to rethink
the words we use

to describe that joy,

and what if we didn't
allow ourselves to diminish girls

with words that undermine
their intelligence,

their interests and their capability?

Because, according to my research,

they are capable of building a shrine
to Harry Styles's vomit

on the side of a freeway within two hours.

(Laughter)

That takes some executive skills
in logistics and communication.

(Laughter)

If that isn't "capable,"
I don't know what is.

(Applause)

I reckon, instead of judging fangirls,
we can learn from them.

We can all die tomorrow,

so why not love things
while we're still breathing?

And with that,

I'd like to ask you all
to try something with me.

Can I get you all to stand up?

Stand up if you can, stand up.

Alright, so here's what's going to happen.

I'm going to count to three

and when I finish,

I'm going to ask every single one of you

to let out your very best fangirl scream.

(Laughter)

Yeah?

Here is why I am asking you to do this.

Because if all five-or-so thousand of you
do this and really commit,

we all get our first chance
to hear that sound

and to decide that it is not
a crazy sound.

It is a hopeful sound.

So shall we do this?

I said, shall we do this?

(Audience: Yes!)

Alright. OK, I am going to cheat
and I'm not going to go full volume,

because I'm miked
and we don't want to hear that.

But it means you all
have to go 110 percent.

You ready? Take a deep breath with me.

Think of someone you love, let's go,

one, two, three.

(Audience screams)

(Laughter and applause)

You all just sounded stunning

and as sane and as intelligent

and as dignified

as when you walked in this room.

(Laughter)

Thank you.

(Applause)