On Fandoms

In lecture halls and living rooms alike, on social media platforms and at bustling comic cons, one thing becomes unmistakably clear: fandoms are truly everywhere. Whether it’s the widely recognized geek culture mainstays such as Star Wars, Marvel, Harry Potter, and anime, or more niche hobbyist communities like dedicated fly fishermen, passionate tiki culture aficionados, or classic car enthusiasts, millions of people around the globe dedicate substantial amounts of their time, money, creativity, and emotional energy into engaging with fictional worlds, beloved characters, intricate lores, and distinctive aesthetics. As an anthropologist, I find myself deeply fascinated by what this widespread phenomenon says about human beings—and more importantly, by what it might reveal about our most fundamental desires and deepest longings.

Fandoms as Modern Tribes

Fandoms function much like tribes in contemporary society. They offer identity, a strong sense of belonging, a shared language, established rituals, and even sacred texts—such as extended universe novels or detailed liner notes. For many individuals, especially within increasingly fragmented and digital societies, fandoms provide something that traditional institutions often no longer offer: a meaningful and supportive community. This sense of connection helps members navigate the complexities of modern life while fostering a collective cultural experience.

Humans are inherently meaning-makers. We gravitate toward stories that help us interpret our lives. Theologically, this resonates with the idea that we are created in the image of a relational, narrative God. In fandoms, people rehearse stories of heroism, sacrifice, transformation, and redemption—stories that often echo biblical patterns even when they aren’t intentionally Christian.

Ritual and Devotion

Fan practices—such as cosplay, writing fan fiction, organizing watch parties, and collecting memorabilia—may initially appear trivial or merely recreational, but they closely mirror many aspects of religious behaviors. These activities are deeply embodied and communal experiences that often involve significant personal transformation. For instance, a fan dressing up as their favorite character engages in a ritualistic act that parallels how a believer participates in religious ceremonies, both fostering a powerful sense of connection to a larger narrative and a shared community.

This doesn’t mean fandoms are religions, but it does mean they meet some of the same human needs that religion addresses: the desire to belong, to find purpose, to encounter wonder. Through an anthropological lens, this isn’t something to mock or fear—it’s something to understand.

Longing for Transcendence

Underneath the memes and merchandise lies a deeper hunger. Fandoms reflect the human desire for transcendence—for a story bigger than ourselves, for heroes worth following, for worlds where justice is real and evil is overcome. These are theological longings.

C.S. Lewis once said: “our lifelong nostalgia… is the truest index of our real situation.”[1] Fandoms are a kind of cultural nostalgia—echoes of Eden and signposts pointing us to a story that is actually true. Christians believe that story is the gospel: the tale of a hero who sacrifices himself to save the world, who defeats death, and who invites others into his victory.

Engaging Fandoms with Curiosity and Compassion

Rather than dismissing fandoms as escapist or childish, people of faith can approach them with curiosity. What does this fan love? What does this story say about the world and what it means to be human? These questions open doors to meaningful conversations, not just about pop culture but about purpose.

Faith invites us to see culture not as a battleground to win or a swamp to avoid, but as a field ripe for observation, understanding, and ultimately redemption. Fandoms aren’t distractions from the real world; they’re windows into how real people search for meaning, beauty, and connection.

A New Frontier

Fandoms remind us that humans are storied creatures. We were made for worship, for wonder, for belonging. Whether it’s through scripture or Star Trek, humans are constantly trying to locate ourselves in a bigger narrative. I see fandoms not as competition to my faith, but as cultural evidence that people are still yearning for it—even if they don’t know it yet.