It all started when my neighbor Anna – a calm thirty-year-old accountant – suddenly dyed her hair purple and bought a ticket to Seoul for two thousand euros. «For BTS», she said, and there was that special fire in her eyes that I had only ever seen in people talking about their children or first love.
I didn't get it. But I was intrigued.
Six months ago, I decided to understand what happens to people when they become part of something bigger. Not just buying a product or listening to music, but truly becoming. Transforming into part of a tribe. And it turns out that between a fan of Korean idols, a Tesla electric car owner, and a feminist movement activist, there is much more in common than meets the eye.
When «I» Becomes «We»
Remember your childhood? That moment when you first put on a sports team uniform or a scout badge? Something clicked inside, right? Suddenly, you weren't just Masha or Petya – you were part of something important, big, real.
Adults do the same thing, only they mask it with rational decisions. «I'm buying a Tesla because I care about the environment», says the person who has never sorted trash. «BTS makes really high-quality music», explains the girl who only listened to pop before. «Feminism is about justice», asserts someone who was never interested in social issues before.
And you know what? They aren't lying. They genuinely feel that way. Because the moment you join a group, magic happens: our values actually change. We start to see the world through the eyes of our tribe.
Anna really did come to love Korean music. But she didn't love it by chance – she loved it because through it, she found other people like her. People who also felt a little out of place in this world of adult responsibilities and gray weekdays.
The Mirrors Where We Find Ourselves
I ran an experiment. For two weeks, I observed communities of fans of the Korean group BTS, Tesla owner forums, and feminist channels on social media. I was looking for common patterns. And I found so many that at first I didn't believe it.
Initiation rituals. Every group has its «exams». A BTS fan must learn all the members' names, know their biographies, understand the references in the song lyrics. A new Tesla owner studies the features of Autopilot, shares photos of their electric car, uses special slang. A feminist reads foundational texts, understands the waves of the movement, learns to formulate her position correctly.
The language of belonging. Every community has its own dialect. «ARMY» (BTS fans) talk about «biases» and «comebacks». Tesla owners discuss «frunk» and «superchargers». Feminists use terms like «gaslighting» and «toxic masculinity». Mastering the language isn't just about learning words; it's about adopting the group's frame of reference.
Defensive reactions. Criticism of the favorite group, car brand, or ideology is perceived as a personal insult. And that's logical: when part of your identity is built around belonging to a community, an attack on the community is an attack on you.
But the most interesting thing I noticed was something else.
The Secret We Hide From Ourselves
All these people – fans, owners, activists – told me about their rational reasons for their choices. About the quality of the music, the technical specs of the cars, the importance of social justice. And they were sincere. But behind every story, I heard something else.
Loneliness.
Not the crude, obvious loneliness of someone sitting home alone and crying. No. A subtle, almost imperceptible feeling of separation from the world. A sense that you don't quite understand how to be yourself in this complex, fast-changing world.
Marina, 28, software engineer, BTS fan: «You know, I always felt different. Too emotional for work, too rational for typical women's gatherings. And here I found people who also know how to cry from beauty and yet seriously analyze social messages in music videos».
Thomas, 35, mid-level manager, Tesla Model 3 owner: «After the divorce, I felt like I'd lost myself. The couple friends stayed with my wife, bachelor entertainment wasn't right for my age anymore. Tesla gave me a community of people who think about the future, not stuck in the past.»
Sarah, 24, university graduate, feminist: «In university, I studied economics, and everyone only talked about profit and efficiency. But I wanted to talk about how to make the world more just. The feminist community gave me the words for what I always felt but couldn't explain.»
See? Behind every choice was a need for belonging. A need to find a place where you can be yourself – and not be alone.
When Belonging Becomes a Prison
But there's another side to the coin. And I encountered it when I tried to ask uncomfortable questions.
What happens when your group is wrong? When your favorite idol is caught in a scandal, when Elon Musk tweets something controversial, when part of the feminist movement slides into radicalism?
That's when things get interesting.
The people who, just minutes before, were telling me about critical thinking and independent judgment, suddenly turned into defense attorneys. Any negative statement about the group was explained away as the machinations of enemies, misunderstandings, bias.
Emma, an active member of a feminist community, confessed to me: «I noticed I started automatically agreeing with any opinion from our leaders. Even when something inside resisted. Because disagreement would mean betrayal of the group. And the group is all I have.»
There it is – the dark side of belonging. When the fear of being alone becomes stronger than honesty with oneself.
The Mechanics of Transformation
How does this work? How do smart adults willingly give up part of their autonomy to a group?
It starts with identification. We see a group of people who seem to be «our kind». Who share our values, interests, worldviews. It can be anything – love for certain music, concern for the environment, a desire for justice.
Then comes socialization. We learn the group's rules, its language, its rituals. Gradually, these rules become our rules, this language becomes our language.
The next stage is internalization. The group's values become our values on such a deep level that we stop noticing the boundary between «I think» and «we think».
And finally – defense. Criticism of the group is perceived as a threat to our identity. We are ready to defend the group even when an inner voice hints that something is wrong.
This mechanism works the same, regardless of the group. Fans of a Korean group, electric car owners, feminists – all go through the same stages of turning «I» into «we».
What I Saw in the Mirror
While observing others, I unexpectedly saw myself. It turned out I have my own «tribes» too. A community of therapists disillusioned with traditional psychiatry. Bloggers writing about mental health. People who believe in the power of stories more than the power of diagnoses.
And I, too, sometimes caught myself defending my group even when it was wrong. Using our special language to feel a sense of belonging. Being afraid to voice an opinion that might alienate my like-minded people.
It was painful. And liberating at the same time.
The Paradox of Belonging
Here's what I understood after these six months of observation: the desire to belong to a group is not a weakness. It's a fundamental human need. We are social beings, and we need other people not just for survival, but to understand who we are.
The problem isn't that we want to be part of something bigger. The problem is that we are afraid to admit this need. We are ashamed of it, we cover it up with rational explanations, we pretend our decisions are completely independent.
And when we don't acknowledge the need, we can't control it.
Anna, my neighbor with the purple hair, confessed to me six months after her trip to Seoul: «I realized I didn't fall in love with BTS. I fell in love with how I feel when I sing their songs with thousands of other people. That feeling of unity, understanding, acceptance. I wasn't looking for idols – I was looking for a home».
How to Find Balance
So what should we do? Give up all groups and become a hermit? Or accept that we are doomed to dissolve into the crowd?
Neither.
I think the answer lies in awareness. In the ability to see our needs and call them by their real names. In the capacity to love our group without ceasing to be ourselves.
Here are a few things I've noticed in people who manage to maintain balance:
They acknowledge their need for belonging. They aren't ashamed of it, they don't cover it up with rational explanations. They simply say: «It's important for me to feel part of this community».
They maintain connections with other parts of their identity. A BTS fan remains a caring daughter and a professional accountant. A Tesla owner continues to love classical music and play tennis. A feminist doesn't stop valuing motherhood and beauty.
They allow for imperfection in their group. They understand that beloved idols can make mistakes, that Elon Musk is no saint, that feminism has toxic currents. And this doesn't destroy their attachment – because they love the group not for its flawlessness, but for what it gives them.
They preserve their capacity for critical thinking. They can disagree with the leaders' decisions, question the correctness of the general opinion, voice an uncomfortable viewpoint. And yet they remain in the group – because they understand the difference between loyalty and blind obedience.
What We All Know But Are Afraid to Say
At the end of this research, I understood something important. All of us – BTS fans, Tesla owners, feminists, bloggers, therapists, teachers, parents – we are all looking for the same thing.
A place where we are understood. People who see the world through similar eyes. The feeling that we are not alone in this complex, often confusing universe.
And there is nothing shameful in that.
The shame is in something else – when we let the fear of loneliness dictate our decisions. When we are afraid to remain ourselves because it might push the group away.
True belonging isn't about losing yourself in others. It's about finding yourself among others. It's the opportunity to be honest, vulnerable, imperfect – and yet know that you are accepted.
Maybe the secret isn't to find the perfect group. But to become a person with whom others can be themselves.
Yesterday, Anna showed me photos from Seoul. In them, she's hugging girls from different countries – all in purple wigs, all with tears of happiness in their eyes. «It's not about the music», she said. «It's about me not being crazy. That there are other people who feel as deeply as I do.»
And you know what? I understand her. Because we're all a little crazy. And that's okay.
