ITZY’s “Wannabe” video captures the experience of coming out as bisexual in adulthood. What is ITZY? If you don’t already know, they are a K-pop girl group, otherwise known as Victoria’s Secret models that can dance, serve face, and (kind of) sing. Yes, I’m perfectly aware that just because they are international does not mean we shouldn’t scrutinize K-pop for their perpetuation of a homogenous beauty standard the way we would in America. But for the purpose of this piece, just assume I agree with all that and am merely suspending my criticism of “skinny hot teens under the control of their record label” in order to explore the theme of their work in a more efficient manner.
I know it’s hard to remember, but the first week of quarantine in Los Angeles was a golden age. Yoga on Youtube was flourishing. Sourdough bread was having a moment. And the music video for ITZY’s “Wannabe” had just been released. As a peripheral fan of K-pop and a hardcore fan of cute girls, I watched it when it trended on Youtube. Like most K-pop videos, it was a collage of candy colors and pop culture references mashed together like a Warhol painting that can wink and rap. But then, I saw her.
Yeji. Or rather, the character Yeji plays: a lone girl in the club. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She carries herself with the effortlessness of someone who knows all your secrets. She called to me, and I had to understand why.
And that’s when it hit me. She knows my secrets because she is me. Girl in the club is not just any girl in the club, she’s a bisexual girl coming out to herself and the world for the first time. I will explain, with an act-by-act breakdown.
ACT I: THE PRISON
In order to understand what she represents, we must first understand what she is not. As a song, “Wannabe” is about refusing to conform to expectations. Translated to Britney terms, it’s “‘Lucky” meets “My Prerogative,” with a dash of that one line from “Overprotected” (you know…“I’m so fed up with people telling me to be…someone else but me” with a dramatic head toss). The other four members of ITZY get a storyline along that theme. Lia plays a rich girl who is bored. Yuna is a fashion model restricted by her clothes. Ryujin is a hot girl who wants to cut her hair. Chaeryeong is taking an exam in a sweatshop run by drone overlords. Okay, so that last one is less “I don’t want to be here,” and more “The threat of violence is keeping me here,” but you get the point.
Not our heroine, however. She walks into a crowded club wearing: a blazer, a crop top, and hoops with the bling. While the other four girls are trapped in their versions of prisons, Blazer Girl is free.
At first, the viewer might think, “she’s in a blazer, so she’s clearly coming from work.” It’s a classic “working girl who wants to let loose” storyline. Wrong. She’s wearing a blazer and a crop top. If she was working late and had no time to change before the club, that would mean the crop and diamond hoops were part of her professional work attire. If that’s true, then I must know what her day job is, because I would like to apply. Maybe, you say, she changed part of her outfit but not all of it. To which I ask, why bother taking off a blazer, putting on a crop top, and putting the blazer back on? No, this outfit is exactly what she wanted to wear to the club. This? This was a choice.
Blazer Girl’s prison is herself. She wants to be in the club, yet, she also wants to not be in the club. Not a single soul turns to look at her as she walks in. She could easily blend in with the crowd and turn up with the rest of them. Yet, she is different, and she knows it. She is special, but she’s not sure why just yet. Every bisexual woman who came out in their adulthood can look back on their K-8 wardrobe choices and point out contrasting aesthetic choices in style. My fourth grade choice to alternate between the cargo-jeans-and-an-XXL-camp-T-shirt look and the spaghetti-strap-midriff-and-rhinestone-tattoo look was the writing on the wall for my eventual coming out. The stitching in the fabric for my queerness, if you will.
ACT II: THE RESISTANCE
As the electronic honey-pop mantra of badness that is this song continues (and you know I mean badness in a good way), the action rises in each girl’s storyline. Sweatshop Study Girl ditches her desk for a daring escape from her drone overlords.
This sets the tone for the second act, in which every girl makes a bold move of resistance to escape her respective prison. All except Blazer Girl, but we’ll get to that later. Let’s see how the others step into their moments.
Hot Rave Girl cuts her hair. Right in the bathroom sink! And anyone who’s ever tried to cut their hair knows that good lighting and a second mirror, neither of which she has at her disposal, are crucial. This is a risk with high stakes that commands our respect. And since you asked, yes, I did start cutting my own hair in third grade and only hired a professional when I decided I wanted Ga In’s haircut from Abracadabra in 2010 and didn’t trust myself to pull it off. Coincidentally, 2010 is the year I first started questioning my own sexuality openly.
Next, we have Sulky Model Girl, who kicks her shoes off in an act of defiance. Being a model might not be relatable, but having tired feet? It’s a part of the foot-having-human experience. I once worked a receptionist job where everyday, I would alternate between meeting heels, desk heels, and subway heels, convinced that being seen in flats would jeopardize my future career as “GIRL BOSS.” Unfortunately for my 19-year-old self, I am now a stand-up comedian who worships in the Church of Boots. Oh yeah, Sulky Model Girl is wearing the outfit she’s being paid to walk in, making her resistance a Mad Max: Fury Road level of daring.
And Bored Rich Girl? In a move that can only be described as heroic, she jumps up on the long, luxurious table with stilettos on. That’s right; nobody is going to tell her what to do or who to be! One day, she will figure out how doors work so she can leave this mansion, but until then, she will resist by breaking expensive dishware and making a big mess! Because she is bored and rich, and not by choice. We know this because nobody chooses to order a whole lobster without at least tasting a bit of its buttery insides. She is living someone else’s fantasy, not her own. For all we know she is allergic to shellfish and her dad is Jigsaw.
Where is our protagonist in all this? She is still in the club dancing, blazer on, long hair swaying to all sides, just like her sexual preferences. While the others are changing their looks and their environment by cutting their hair and losing their shoes, she keeps her blazer—and nobody cares. This is very important. As she dances by herself in the club, the other club goers do not react positively or negatively. There is no pressure from anyone to change, and she could just as well leave the club and nobody would be worse off. Because the burden of being bisexual in a binary-obsessed world is that you can code switch effectively between straight and gay culture with nobody the wiser.
The other clubgoers appear to be dressed up in costume, though the theme eludes the viewer. Some costumes include a piñata, a neon chicken, and a Yoshi Geisha. Blazer Girl definitely stands out, and not just because she has the je ne sais quoi of someone who has satisfied everyone on the gender spectrum. She carries herself as someone who is different from her environment, but not uncomfortable with that difference. Just look at her with her hands in her pockets.
It’s common knowledge that pockets are very queer. Yves Saint Laurent famously put pockets on his designs to give women the freedom of masculine composure. While the other girls in “Wannabe” resist by pushing back on their environment or expectations, Blazer Girl resists by giving in to who she is. It’s a more muted resistance, one that speaks to someone coming to terms with bisexuality later in life, because it’s not so much a discovery as it is an acceptance of something you already knew to be true. The clubgoers don’t react because her bisexuality is not for them. Contrary to the Hollywood ‘90s trope of performative bisexuality for the male gaze, Blazer Girl shows us that being queer, in essence, has very little to do with who is watching. Just as costume parties are more fun when everyone is dressed in a unique costume, the club represents the fluidity of sexuality and Blazer Girl realizing she does not have to define her romantic proclivities by just one theme.
ACT III: FREEDOM
In the final act, “Wannabe” takes us to the happy ending of freedom and transformation for every girl. As the lyrics ring out proudly:
It’s none of your business
I do my own business
We see Blazer Girl fully let loose in the club. She whips her hair around, finally comfortable with her full, bisexual self.
In a parallel world, Hot Rave Girl loves her new look so much it gets her high. I get it, looking hot can feel like pure molly sometimes, and she does look hot even if her hair is short. Sulky Model Girl? She not only kicks off her heels backstage, but she botches her runway walk on purpose. Okay, she has range. Bored Rich Girl continues to cause destruction in her dining room, but now she is smiling. Therefore, she has transformed from Bored Rich Girl to Just Rich Girl, and that is a beautiful arc.
Blazer Girl doesn’t need to transform, because coming out isn’t about changing who you are. In my early twenties, I suspected I was bisexual, but I also went through a phase of trying to “figure out” if I was lesbian or straight in what can only be described as the very bisexual move of dating as many people across the gender spectrum as possible for “research.” After all, I am a Virgo moon, and I trust data more than anything. Much like Blazer Girl never changes who she is throughout the video, I didn’t change when I came out as bisexual because I was always bisexual. I just became comfortable with who I am.
When Blazer Girl wears a blazer and a crop top to the club? Honey, that is bisexual culture. She doesn’t have to choose one or the other, she can have it all. As an out queer woman who has dated men and women, I used to feel insecure about my queerness if I was dating a man. Of course I know now that there are more genders than men and women, and yes I have dated many of them including androgynous barista, feminine cat boy, financial analyst with a Tumblr, and even tall people. In the same way, Blazer Girl is the type of girl who loves to be in the club, but also hates it at the same time. Is there any better way to describe what dating a straight man while knowing Cara Delevingne exists feels like?
The freedom of coming out as bisexual as an adult is not about how others see me as much as it would be for a high school teen. It’s freedom from my own insecurities rather than the expectation of others. Like Blazer Girl, I love where I am, and also love hating where I am. It’s like being at a dive bar and wishing you were getting bottle service in a club, but then getting champagne in bottle service and wishing you were chugging PBRs in a dive bar. We always get away with just enough femininity and masculinity when it comes to presentation. Long femme hair, and hairy pits? Yes. Six inch heels and bare, short fingernails. Yessssss.
Forget the Sweater Song. All in favor of making “Wannabe” our new anthem? I’m just kidding, as a bisexual woman, it’s illegal to choose just one option, and I would never make you do that.
