

They helped with my perception of myself as an invisible older woman. To believe that despite my small, nothing-special accomplishments in life, I was still a worthy person – that was a revelation to me. The message of loving yourself that pervades most of their music was what I needed to hear.


When I was at my lowest last year, staring at my own mortality after a heart attack, they came to the rescue. ‘BTS helped with my perception of myself as an invisible older woman’ Stephanie Le, 28, paralegal, Stockholm, Sweden BTS inspires me to love myself without feeling ashamed. I’ve never been vocal about my emotions so for me to have seven people who sing exactly what I feel truly helps me understand myself and find new ways to evolve. BTS represents those of us who had awkward lunch boxes at school, those of us who didn’t want to speak our parents language in public.īTS made me realise that my failures do not define who I am. They proudly speak Korean during important award speeches (like their UN speech), wear hanbok (traditional Korean dress) and promote Korean culture. But BTS have normalised hard to pronounce names. I adapted a western name because I didn’t want to be the odd one out. I was born in Sweden to two Vietnamese immigrants so the insecurities over my heritage have always been lingering in the back of my head. What sets BTS apart from other bands is their pride in being Korean. ‘BTS inspire me to love myself without feeling ashamed’ Ashley Briggs, 36, full-time parent and podcast producer/writer, Tucson, Arizona, US During this pandemic, I’ve found comfort in watching the members comfort each other. Their love and respect for each other is at the core of everything they do and it shows fans what genuine love and friendship looks like. They are the definition of friendship goals. I think what sets BTS apart from other artists is their friendship. BTS taught me that I am enough that I am worthy just by being myself. All I really wanted was a simple, comfortable life so my kids have a solid foundation. I didn’t need to find a corporate ladder to climb or build a brand in order to feel happy. I didn’t need to exhaust myself trying to prove my worth. “It’s alright to stop / There’s no need to run without even knowing the reason / It’s alright to not have a dream / If you have moments where you feel happiness for a while.” After reading those lyrics, a weight seemed to lift from my heart.

I stopped in my tracks to find the lyrics, and the words to that song were exactly what I needed to hear that day. Paradise began playing from a BTS playlist and the melody and tone of the song touched me instantly.
#All these sleepless nights bts free
One day, while I was using a free moment of nap time to scrub the kitchen, I started to panic. During a cycle of depression and anxiety, I felt like I was wasting my life. Finding BTS gave me energy on sleepless nights, comfort during isolation, and confidence when I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I was struggling with adjusting to life with a toddler and a newborn exhausted and feeling insecure. ‘After reading their lyrics, a weight seemed to lift’ No matter what's staged and what's "real," the film courses with the thrill of the truth of their liberation.Ashley Briggs from Tucson, Arizona. But the roiling party we witness here is real, the non-principals not extras but kids who were there, losing themselves in nights that come to blend together. Those beats, looping and hypnotic, are probably layered in for the film, which uses very little natural sound - boom mics would have cut against these kids' ability to ignore the film crew. Above all, this crowd dances, at clubs and in flats, on the beach and through traffic, to blunted electro hip hop that seems less the music they like than the element they inhabit. sense of a sleeping city belonging only to you and your most restless friends. Krzysztof sprints across the hoods of parked police cars, setting their sirens off, and the thrill of this stunt is compounded by its realness, by that early-a.m. Warsaw is their playground, their thumping club, their persistent high. As Marczak's camera bobs and glides behind and around them, the young men dash through the streets, duck through subway tunnels, watch fireworks from an apartment, fall for and then shake off young women and occasionally even vault drug-fueled through the daytime world, so blissed out they say things like "How cool would it be to say 'good morning' to everyone?" Too propulsively aimless to be anything other than life, but too fluid in its photography and precise in its compositions to be documentary, Michal Marczak's pulsing youth-right-now dazzler whirls with two real-life friends (Krzysztof Baginski and Michal Huszcza, playing themselves) and their occasional lovers through a year and a half of vivid Warsaw nights.
