K-pop fandom has never just been about listening to a favourite group or comparing biases with other fans. For as long as the two have coexisted, fandom has doubled as infrastructure – a network of self-appointed archivists documenting everything from airport outfits to concert fancams, translating and subbing content in real time, and preserving it all long after the industry moves on. Without that instinct to save what would otherwise disappear, K-pop’s digital footprint would look very different today.
K-pop’s inception in the early 1990s was perfectly timed with the introduction and rollout of the Internet. While it wasn’t the go-to space for fans to gather just yet, it would soon start to play a huge factor in how fans would find other fans – sometimes across the country or even the world – to interact with and discuss all the latest in K-pop news.
From Dial-Up to Digital Forums: The Birth of Fan Spaces
In an essay for Teen Vogue in 2025, Korean-American author Giaae Kwon recalled her online fandom journey from the ‘90s and how it’s evolved to the modern age. Kwon recalled the ritual of coming home after school to dial-up internet in the late 1990s, racing to log on before her mother needed the phone line. She’d head straight to Soompi.com to catch up with other fans before her window of access closed.
While modern K-pop fans know Soompi as one of the leading English-language sites for K-culture, it began largely as a forum space – somewhere fans could discuss Korean dramas, celebrity news, and everything in between.
Founded in 1998, Soompi was the result of K-pop fan and UCLA graduate Susan Kang, who noticed a lack of K-pop and drama-specific spaces for English-speaking fans, since, at the time, the Korean industry was still very much Korea- and Asia-centered. So instead of waiting for the industry to take notice of the small but passionate Western fanbase, Kang took matters into her own hands, purchased a book called Make Your Own Website with Microsoft Word ’97, and thus, Soompi was born. It’s that kind of initiative and determination that still runs deep in K-pop fandoms to this day – those who see that something is lacking and create it themselves.
The Era of Real-Time Archiving: Fansites & Social Media
Once forums began fading in the late 2000s and early 2010s, fandom spaces began to shift, with the majority of K-pop fans migrating to other platforms, such as Tumblr and Twitter (now known as X), the latter of which would become a vital instrument for strengthening K-pop’s online presence. K-pop fandoms both then and now act as cultural memory banks, saving, downloading, translating, and distributing content in real time for others to consume. Before the industry finally took note of the growing Western popularity and included official translations for global audiences, self-appointed fans were the ones who took on those responsibilities. They would create accounts called fansites, dedicated fan pages run by an individual or small group of people to help keep other fans in the loop on all things K-pop, specifically related to either one idol group or multiple under the company.
In 2009, SMTownEngSub on Twitter was established, posting everything from music chart statistics and English translations of behind-the-scenes content and variety show appearances, and general updates for all SM groups. It is recognized as one of the oldest long-running fan bases and update accounts for SM Entertainment artists on the platform, and has been influential for new non-Korean-speaking fans just getting into these groups. Similar fansites have existed for ages now for all aspects of K-pop, including small things like idols’ airport outfits, candid and funny moments, concert footage, and other memorable moments that fans wish to remember.
A Legacy Preserved: Fandom’s Fight Against Deletion
The motivation behind archiving goes deeper than accessibility – it’s about ensuring moments that matter don’t disappear. When SHINee’s Jonghyun passed away in 2017, fans turned to his Instagram as a place to process grief and remember him as he was, not solely as how he was lost. When the account was removed in 2020 under Instagram’s inactivity policy, the response was immediate: fans organised, pushed back publicly, and argued that deleting a deceased artist’s account erased part of his legacy. The account was restored within 24 hours – a reminder that for K-pop fandoms, preservation isn’t a hobby on the side. It’s treated as a responsibility.
Similarly, in 2022, the popular live-streaming service VLIVE was shut down after being acquired by HYBE and merged into its Weverse platform. VLIVE, previously launched by Naver in 2015, allowed K-pop idols to broadcast live videos, chat with fans, and share candid behind-the-scenes content, and quickly became the largest archive of K-pop content. Once a group posted a set time that they’d be livestreaming, thousands and even millions of fans would log on and watch their idols, even if the stream didn’t provide translated subtitles. Some idols became so popular that a single VLIVE stream alone would accumulate millions of views, like BTS’ V, who garnered over 504 million cumulative views in one stream. Afterwards, the livestreams would be saved and displayed on the groups’ accounts for those who couldn’t watch in real time or if fans just wanted to go back and rewatch at any time.
However, after seven years, VLIVE ended once HYBE had acquired the service, leaving fans in disarray about what would happen to their idols’ content after it shut down. Unfortunately, HYBE confirmed the service would be wiped – none of the existing content would carry over to their new Weverse platform. Responding with urgency, fans quickly worked to download and save as many VLIVE streams as they could to post on other platforms such as YouTube, so that the content wouldn’t be lost forever.
Beyond Official Channels: Spreading the Word
Live streams aren’t just limited to one platform – Instagram is still a powerful tool in K-pop groups interacting with their fans. One live stream in particular that garnered a lot of buzz was aespa’s Giselle, who went live on Instagram in her most candid and raw appearance yet. Because of the topics she discussed (such as online harassment and upholding a perfect “idol image”), the Internet flocked to clips of her speaking out and praised her for breaking away from her idol persona.
But these clips wouldn’t have gone viral if it weren’t for fans screen-recording the stream and posting them on social media with translations. This allowed Giselle’s message to reach beyond aespa’s own fandom and make headlines, with fans of other groups gaining more respect for their artist and how she handled showing her more vulnerable sides and discussing more taboo subjects.
Another app called Lysn or Bubble, developed by DEAR U and founded by SM Entertainment, also provides direct access between fans and artists, and fans can purchase a subscription and stay connected to their favorite idols. Typically, the artist will send a general message to all subscribers, and fans can reply, but it doesn’t automatically guarantee the artist will reply to them directly. There are also limitations on the app, including a limited number of consecutive messages you can send – usually three at a time, but other versions can allow up to five.
For fans who don’t have a subscription to either Weverse or Bubble, others will use their access to translate the idols’ messages – along with any photos or videos they include – and share them on public social media accounts, such as X, Reddit, and Discord. This allows the wider fandom to stay in the loop about what their favorite artists are sharing and posting without having to pay for a subscription themselves. The goal is to make K-pop-related content as accessible and easy to find as possible, essentially enhancing the fandom experience for everyone.
The Indispensable Role of Fandom
K-pop fandoms don’t just exist within the industry – they’re the driving force behind it. If it weren’t for their passion and desire to memorialise certain moments in K-pop, some of it would be lost media by now. Companies can delete and erase content at any time, but once fans save, download, and upload it themselves, it becomes something to revisit – both their own journey as a fan and the artists’ journey over time. Archiving isn’t just nostalgia. It’s how K-pop’s history gets to survive its own industry.
