cathfallon

When you talk like that, you’re not just expressing a preference. You’re deciding who’s allowed to be celebrated and who needs to step aside. You’re turning Jimin’s success into something uncomfortable. Something to tone down. The usual excuse? “He’d be happy for Namjoon.” Sure. But that doesn’t mean we should always expect him to be the one clapping from the sidelines. That’s not support. That’s erasure dressed up as maturity.

And let’s be real, if you say Namjoon should win, it’s called critical thinking. If you say Jimin should win, it’s solo behavior. This fandom has created a hierarchy of whose voice is valid, and Jimin fans are constantly told to shut up or stay grateful. In every vote, it’s the same. Jimin is never the default choice. Support only kicks in when PJMs do the work. And then people act like it was collective all along. It wasn’t. It never is.

You can vote for whoever you want. But the second you start deciding whose art is more worthy, whose career can “wait,” or who should be happy just cheering others on, you’re not being fair. You’re being selective.

What’s happening now isn’t just about AMAs. It’s about who this fandom is comfortable seeing win. And the truth is, Jimin makes people uncomfortable when he takes up space. That’s why they only clap for him when he’s quiet.

To me, he doesn’t need to change or make his music more digestible. What he does already has its own weight and depth. There’s something so intentional and emotionally honest in how he creates, how he performs, how he shows up. I just think he needs the right team around him. People who actually get his sensitivity, who can support his vision without trying to smooth it out or reshape it. People who can help him build something global, yes, but also consistent with who he is and what he already communicates so naturally.

어떤 말 해야 할지 What should I say? 

또 어떻게 전할지 And how should I convey it?

서툴기만 하네요 I’m really not getting my words right 

뻔하단 걸 알지만 I know that it sounds so cliched 

가볍지 않도록 이 말을 전할게요 But I’ll try to say this so it sounds sincere

I say Oh Oh 더 행복하길 바래요 I say Oh Oh I hope you can be happier

나 넘어질 때면 내게 그 손 내밀어주던 you You, who stretched your hand out to me whenever I fell

I say Oh Oh 이젠 내가 잡아줄게요 I say Oh Oh, I’ll hold it now

울고 싶을 때면 넘어지지는 않도록 So when you feel like crying, you won’t fall

시간이 흘은 뒤에도 After all this time has passed

우린 그대로일까 Will we still be the same?

처음 만난 그 때처럼 Just like we were when we first met

우리가 함께라면 Like the ‘us’ that together

사막도 바다가 될 수 있던 could turn even the desert into the sea

그때 그 모습 그대로 Just like we were then

I say Oh Oh 꼭 영원하길 바래요 I say Oh Oh I really hope that it’ll last forever

추운 겨울 속 네겐 따뜻한 봄날 같던 you You, who felt like warm spring in a cold winter to me 

I say Oh Oh 언제나 간직할게요 I say Oh Oh I’ll always treasure it

너와나 그 사이 채웠던 그 순간들 All those moments between you and I

Baby 떠나지는 마 Baby don’t leave

그냥 내 곁에 stay Just stay by my side

작디 작은 날 크게 봐준 너에게 You, who see someone as small as me as someone big

받은 만큼만 전할 수 있게 So that I can give as much as I’ve received

내가 했던 말 지킬 수 엤게 So that I can keep my word

걱정하지 마 Don’t worry

그냥 네 곁에 stay Just stay by my side

어떤 날이 기다릴지 모르기에 We don’t know what the future holds

무섭긴 하지만 겁이 나지만 And that’s scary and makes us afraid

함께라는 말 항상 잊지 마 But don’t forget that we’re always together

뻔하단 걸 알지만 I know that it sounds so cliched

가볍지 않도록 이 말을 전할게요 But I’ll try to say this so it sounds sincere

Jimin’s success defies the standard narrative of how artists rise in systems like K-pop. Systems where hierarchies are rigid, paths are tightly controlled, and deviation is often punished, not rewarded.

He wasn’t the obvious pick. He didn’t fit the prototype. From his trainee days, he was constantly told he wasn’t enough. He debuted last and had the shortest training period. And yet, against every prediction, he became a central force in one of the most influential music groups in history. That kind of trajectory isn’t just rare. It’s unacceptable by industry logic. Because success, especially in K-pop, is supposed to be the result of a clear formula: pre-debut rankings, seniority-based positioning, aesthetic compliance, and a willingness to play the game quietly until it’s your turn.

But Jimin’s story breaks that.

Not because he skipped the work. On the contrary, he worked harder than most. But because he carved out a place for himself despite being told there wasn’t one. Today, he may look like a predestined star, but that’s just how it looks in hindsight. What we’re seeing is not inevitability. It’s the result of relentless discipline, emotional resilience, and creative instinct. He isn’t here because he was chosen, he’s here because he refused to be erased.

And that matters, especially in an industry where going off script usually means getting sidelined.

In music sociology, there’s a concept called positional capital — the idea that your chances at success depend on how well you align with the system’s power structures. Jimin had none of that. What he had was ‘embodied capital’: the internalized skill, presence, and intensity that, once revealed, couldn’t be denied. That’s what made him visible. That’s what made him necessary.

When someone like Jimin succeeds, it’s not just inspiring, it’s structurally significant. It cracks open the illusion that success only comes to those who follow the rules, who wait to be picked, who belong to the inner circle.

Serendipity Jimin is powerful in so many levels