goalposts: how do you measure "dedication"? what does it mean to "grow" out of oshikatsu?
a poorly written personal essay on burnout, belonging, and the myth of the “real” fan
disclaimer: perspective of a hello! project fan located in the US. i'm young dumb and a little stupid. yes i do a thing called "academia" (tragically) but is it about the metropolitanism of the japanese idol hobby. no. take this with the appropriate level of seriousness: some.
So if any of you know me, you know that I have latched onto this hobby as if it is the only thing keeping me alive. Arisawa Ichika posted a selfie with some strange, cryptic energy? I'm there. Shimakura Rika is being ethereal on YouTube dot com? I'm SAT!
But lately, now especially as I enter a new stage of my life, I've found my will to do... anything, to be missing. Totally burnt out. I can't bring myself to listen to new music or watch content anymore and it's a strange feeling.
My life is... overwhelming. I'm working a job in a passion field (yikes), and I barely have time for myself. Countless melancholic tweets made over the years from Japanese users cross my mind. Is it fair to say that I have grown out of oshikatsu, and I have moved on from this phase of my life? It's supposed to be a good thing that I'm moving away from this seemingly trivial hobby that takes so much time and effort to engage with. It's supposed to be a liberating feeling (see: h!p twt tweets along the lines of "I HATE IT HERE") and yet I grapple with an emotion similar to that of grief.
Please don't get me wrong here. I still love my favorite idols dearly. I still carry attachments, I still react. Shimakura Rika's new college friends introducing "chingón" into her vocabulary is a primal excitement that I'm still capable of.
In these emotions I'm searching for reasons. Is it because Shimakura Rika graduated from BEYOOOOONDS and an undeniable chunk of my heart has been torn from my soul? Is Juice=Juice's rapid rise into virality intimidating to me? Are the tariffs so intense that I'm subconsciously protecting my wallet? All of the above. Maybe a decade really is enough time to dedicate, and to move on from. But somewhere along the vibes I realized these questions I carry are connected in a way that feels relevant to today's (albeit: international, foreign) attitudes towards oshikatsu.
If you've been on J-idol Twitter recently, you may have encountered the discourse stemming from the tweet attached:
I'm not trying to start shit. I get what this person is saying. There's some truth in it. But everyone I know who is committed has been to Japan or will eventually go to Japan.
— the Idol Helpline (@idolhelpline) March 4, 2026
But I would never say something like this until I actually lived in Japan and tried to live the day… https://t.co/AoA4OWbp1B
So one thing we can glean from this is that there's... A lot going on here. There's a point being made— domestic fans' dedication to the hobby is on another level that the overseas fan has to achieve the impossible to come remotely close. There's also an oversight as to which sector of the vast idol landscape this applies to, something so nuanced as a parasocial relationship that crosses international borders can't be labeled so loosely. Someone who is a fan of chika idols is arguably having a worse time with accessibility compared to someone following Hello! Project.
It's a slippery slope to generalize the overseas fan experience. A fan from Sweden will have a drastically different relationship to the hobby than a fan from Singapore. A younger, wealthier fan from South Korea will experience it differently from a fan in Okinawa. A fan who speaks the language will have a different experience from one who doesn’t. A fan who is Asian-presenting will move through these spaces differently from one who is not. There are clear socioeconomic elements at play when it comes to measuring "dedication and commitment" in a hobby such as this one. Address the "Gaman culture" shaped elephant in the room. The "struggle" is simply just different.
For a long time, the assumption was that the primary audience was domestic. Ironically, the pandemic briefly disrupted this model based on distance. When COVID put a pause on domestic events, travel, many idol companies experimented with new forms of accessibility: online meet-and-greets, streaming events, and sometimes even international outreach. Even if just for a moment, the distance between domestic and overseas fans narrowed.
What remains now from COVID is a hybrid environment where overseas fans are more visible than ever, but the infrastructure for our participation is still uneven. Much of what exists today is less a deliberate #globalism design and more a #capitalism patchwork response to the disruptions of the pandemic.
The tweet above touches on something real, even if the tone is, generously speaking, a little… dramatic. The reality is that domestic fans do experience the hobby differently. Proximity alone changes everything. Being able to attend a live after work, buy a ticket to a talk event, or casually stop by a release event creates a rhythm of participation that overseas fans rarely have access to.
But where this conversation often breaks down (or when the discourse fizzles out because who has the time to talk about this) is in the assumption that “dedication” is purely a matter of effort or attitude. Participation in idol fandom is shaped by a set of structural conditions that fans don’t always control: geography, language, money, and time. When those factors are actually accounted for in discourse, the meaning of “being a real fan” changes with it.
questioning "dedication"
In this fandom, consistency often translates into recognition. Fans who attend events regularly may eventually hear the words that hold surprising emotional weight: “I remember you.”
Part of the pressure surrounding oshikatsu comes from the way the hobby is structured within a consumer economy. Idol fandom operates through repeated participation: event tickets, merchandise, travel, and time. None of this is inherently malicious. I shamelessly think it makes things a little spicy and fun. In many ways it really is just the economic structure that allows the industry to exist at all. Fans are not only audiences but active participants sustaining the ecosystem that produces the experiences we enjoy.
Participation often becomes legible through visible consumption. Who is buying albums. Who is attending events. Who is showing up again and again. Without anyone explicitly saying it, those patterns can start to look like a kind of scale for measuring dedication (for those in the H!P twittersphere, does the word "hierarchy" sound familiar?) Those who are recognized are often perceived, by themselves or others, as especially dedicated supporters.
For overseas fans, the issue is not a lack of commitment but a difference in circumstance. Geography, financial constraints, work schedules, and visa limitations all shape how frequently someone can engage. Participation becomes episodic rather than routine. A fan's single trip to Japan might contain months to years of anticipation and planning, compressing an entire year of fandom into just a few intense days. An overseas fan experiences oshikatsu in inconsistent, wild bursts of emotion.
The pressure many overseas fans feel is more about the structure of the hobby and how we experience it through the "daily routine" on social media. The system rewards visible, repeated online presence. For those engaging from afar, matching that rhythm requires resources and flexibility that many people simply do not have. I think this element is what breeds personal insecurity in the fandom, and what encourages people to engage with this discourse in a very much personal way. When you exist outside of that "consistent replying, consistent content" rhythm, it’s easy to interpret distance as a lack of dedication, and change as a kind of failure.
It's clear that this model cannot be the primary way overseas fans measure their relationship to the hobby. For many people simply trying to live ordinary lives... Working, studying, maintaining relationships with friends, family, and the beyond— maintaining that level of presence is plain unrealistic. Kudos to all who can (shoutout Sam). You are all incredible people that have put in so much time and effort for joy. But it's naive to measure dedication and commitment in the same way one would measure one of a domestic fan's. And if we want to get all preachy, maybe we shouldn't be measuring at all.
rethinking "growing" out of it
There's also the broader social narrative that frames consumer hobbies as something temporary. These would be interests associated with youth— music fandom, online communities, collecting.. all are often treated as phases that responsible adults are expected to outgrow. Outside of this bubble, the latter two are especially labeled "manchild activities" or at best something you are supposed to leave behind once "real life" begins.
Of course, that narrative does not apply universally (Japanese society single-handedly disproves that), but for many overseas fans like myself, the expectation lingers somewhere in the background. One closely tied to the rhythms of modern work and adulthood (fill in the blank: _______ productivity logic). As life responsibilities and dreams pile up, the time and flexibility required in this highly participatory hobby become more and more difficult to sustain. The overseas fan such as myself is presented with the question: how long can I realistically keep this going?
Going back to what I've been ruminating about: stepping back from the intensity of oshikatsu does not necessarily mean abandoning it or growing out of it. There's a secret third thing in the relationship between fan and hobby.
From where I am now, part of the emotional whiplash also comes from how fragile the sense of continuity is. When Shimakura Rika graduated from BEYOOOOONDS, it felt like losing the center of gravity that had structured my relationship with the hobby for years. At the same time, watching groups like Juice=Juice rapidly expand in popularity (MORE!) has produced a strange feeling of anxiety in me. Not because success is a bad thing— if anything it is exciting to see the group receive the attention they deserve. But, because growth inevitably changes the scale of the relationship between idol and fan.
That moment of recognition, something that once felt possible through consistency, becomes rarer. Of course, no idol especially the lovely Arisawa Ichika owes recognition to any individual, and that was never the point of supporting them in the first place. But when you have experienced that continuity before, it becomes part of the emotional rhythm of the hobby. Watching the scale change you start to notice just how much of that rhythm depended on circumstances that were never fully in your control.
The discourse helped me reach the idea that maybe I’m just going through the motions right now. Trying to make sense of them in real time. The feelings that are keeping me from being more "dedicated" aren't coming out of nowhere. It comes from loving deeply, recognizing how this hobby has shaped me, and realizing that both the hobby and my place within it are changing. Oshikatsu is a relationship shaped by time, circumstance, and proximity. To understand it, expect it as something static would be missing the point entirely. An oopsie on my part.
I'm starting to accept that I may not show up the way I once did. I must admit I'm definitely getting FOMO in not understanding some new jokes. But I still love! The music still hits (congratulations everyone on streaming). Reading blogs are still within my routine even if I comment once every two months (very shocking if you've known my habits).
I'm not sure who needs to hear this. It's not “growing out” of oshikatsu. We're articulating what it means to grow with it. The discourse will continue. People will argue about dedication, about access, about what it means to be “real.” But from where I'm standing right now, I literally don't have the time for that. Still here! Just working off a different schedule. GO TOUCH GRASS! (while listening to More! Mi Amore)
If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this! Just a girl with big feelings... I saw the discourse (and then I saw McDonalds which is a whole other thing). I've known some of y'all so long I'd hate to just poof away. Big Love. Take care and catch up later!
