Fandom spaces have recently developed an infestation of two types of posers: entitled people masking as “fans” and those who disregard the autonomy of real people. Don’t get me wrong, these people existed even before fandoms became popular. But social media has worsened the problem. The exponential popularity of fandoms hasn’t allowed us to treat the core illness: objectification and sexualization in shipping culture, particularly with real people.
First, let’s start with some basic terminology. Shipping is when fans pair two or more characters into a romantic relationship. They’re prevalent in fandom spaces, often in the form of fan art, but especially in fan fiction. The essential word in shipping’s definition is “characters,” indicating their inability to exist tangibly and independently.
Fan fiction, a written work based on existing media made by fans, is an art form. It allows fans to delve deeper into the worlds of the characters they know and love, and share their interpretations with other members of this community. This self-expression and creativity is the act of fans inserting themselves into media without barriers. There is a freedom to explore possible relationships and “what-ifs.” It takes passion to take something you love, make it your own and share it in a fandom where you can expect to be validated.
Online fan fiction is driven by community; the comments, kudos, likes and shares all foster more engagement. It allows writers to write without pressure — to build on something in a way that highlights and represents pieces of a story or identity. People see and relate to the media that jumpstarts their desire to be an extension of it.
While it is a form of self-expression and creativity, just because there are no bounds doesn’t mean there aren’t lines crossed at times. Fan fiction is free rein, but real-person fiction is a different beast.
The shipping of real people is often seen in memes. Chronic TikTok users during their midnight scrolls may have found it in the form of photoshopped pictures of former President Barack Obama hugging Harry Styles.
Their ship name? Hobama.
Or maybe you’ve seen it while watching the TV show “Euphoria”. It featured an animation of Kat Hernandez’s fanfiction with Harry Styles giving Louis Tomlinson oral sex right before a show.
While the randomness of the ships makes them outlandish and comical, it points to a bigger problem: real-person fiction being normalized.
For one, objectification is an inherent part of real-person fiction. It ignores the autonomy and consent of those depicted in public written work.
Bryan Fang, a fourth-year studying computer science, said, “I know that, especially in the spheres I’m in, where there’s idols and voice actors, some people can get kind of weird about it.”
This speculation of one’s sexuality is another facet of real-person fiction that contributes to a growing repertoire of fan fiction. While this is more prevalent in queer media, specifically shows featuring queer characters played by actors who may or may not be queer themselves — real-person fiction, as a result, is harmful to the actor and, frankly, an invasion of privacy.
Recently, with “Heated Rivalry,” a romantic story between two male hockey players, the writer, director and producer Jacob Tierney, along with actors Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie, were asked about casting actors based on sexual orientation for authenticity in an interview. Tierney responded, “I’ll answer this for them. I don’t think there’s any reason to get into that stuff … You can’t ask questions like that when you’re casting, right? It’s actually against the law.”
Limiting an actor’s identity to the roles they play rather than acknowledging their personal experiences is disingenuous to who they are, while also disregarding the struggles of those who identify as queer. Constantly speculating about an actor’s sexuality strips them of their autonomy, leaving the public’s perception of them as moldable play-things in the hands of real-person fiction fans.
While it is important to have representation that does justice to the queer community, it is also important to be respectful to those creating this art. Fan fiction lets viewers, readers and consumers interact in communities while allowing them to express and validate their own identities.
But public real-person fiction can harm actors and incite real-life harassment. Treating the core illness begins with acknowledging the importance of queer representation through fan fiction while simultaneously recognizing an actor’s autonomy beyond the characters they play.
