Unintentionally prophesied in the early 2000s by the likes of American rapper Eminem in his song “Stan,” stan culture and its growing prolificacy have become immensely widespread in recent years, enough so that Beyoncé’s dedicated fanbase, the Beyhive, were parodied on Saturday Night Live in 2014 and the term “stan” was entered into the lexicon of the Oxford English Dictionary earlier this year.

Despite the subculture’s prevalence online and in burgeoning youth cultures that cannot separate themselves from the internet’s omnipresence, most news media is lacking in its coverage of stan culture, and what limited coverage there is pertaining to it can be disparaging, with articles often noting the extreme extents to which some stans express their devotion to a celebrity they idolize.

The severity of sensationalism pertaining to stans this year alone has ranged from the harmless reporting of stans, sometimes deemed as superfans, waiting hours in line for a Lady Gaga concert in Miami to a celebrity gossip blog reporting on Taylor Swift’s legion of stans, dubbed Swifties, commenting rat and mouse emojis on Kim Kardashian’s Instagram posts to an article reporting on the aggressive nature some stans direct towards their own idols on Twitter.

Nolan Feeney, a music editor for Entertainment Weekly, reported on stans for the entertainment magazine, going so far as to interact with some on the social media platform, Twitter, and the online pop culture forum and stan mecca, ATRL. “I think a lot of articles about stans have been very sensational and focused on how they’re ‘crazy’ or ‘rabid,’” he said, “But I just knew there was more to it than that.”

The coverage of stans is made even worse by how the current definition of the term “stan” has been propagated by the Oxford English Dictionary as “[a]n overzealous or obsessive fan of a particular celebrity.”

Such an interpretation of stans and their prevailing culture in the contemporary world seems to bear some form of negative connotation with being a stan; as if to be a stan is to be Eminem’s “Stan,” i.e. someone who repeatedly and violently strives for acknowledgement from their favorite celebrity to a point where the obsessed fan would harm themselves or others for the attention of a celebrity.

Among those who consider themselves stans of a celebrity, there is a sense of a different perspective within stan communities of what it means to be a stan. Anthony Davis, 20, has been stanning Nicki Minaj since sixth grade, and finds the media’s portrayal of stans to be exaggerated yet sees truth in the culture’s obsessive tendencies.

“I feel like a stan is just engrossed in who they [celebrities] are as a person and everything,” Davis says as he scrolls through a seemingly endless Twitter feed on his phone teeming with images of and tweets in reference to the Queens rapper he devoutly follows.

Krista Burton, 20, is a Swiftie who has a different reasoning for what comprises a stan while also distinguishing her feelings as a stan from that of a fan.

“You can be a fan of a specific artist and not really place an emotional development in them,” she says. “But since Taylor Swift has been a huge part of my life and present throughout the journey, I don’t think the word ‘fan’ is strong enough to decide how I feel.”

However, Burton does recognize that there is a detrimental aspect to stans in this subculture of what some may regard as extreme fanaticism. “I think for a lot of people it can be really unhealthy,” she says. “I know Swifties who are always on their phone watching Taylor’s movements.”

“Like, they know when she’s online and they just start reposting their content to get noticed,” Burton continues. “It really gets unhealthy, obsessive, and stalker-ish.”

Regardless of Davis or Burton’s perceptions on what a stan is, it is certain that articles on the topic of stan culture are very few this year despite “stan” entering into the vernaculars of numerous teens and young adults, as well as of Nicki Minaj in her verse on Katy Perry’s song “Swish Swish” and of news outlets like Buzzfeed that tend to market themselves towards younger segments of the population.

A quick search of the term “stan” on Buzzfeed’s website yields more than 40 articles and listicles that relate to the word in some manner. A decent portion of these search results are in reference to comic book writer Stan Lee and actor Sebastian Stan.

Interestingly, however, the website seems to have overhauled its use of the word “stan” in over 25 pieces within the past two months alone. Of these pieces related to the term “stan” in Buzzfeed’s search results, only a few analyze the impact and psychology of the stan, with one analysis focusing on the media’s negative spin of fan and stan culture in pop music throughout time. The rest mostly use the term “stan” as if it were any other verb akin to “love” or “admire,” which provides a positive spin for a currently underrepresented and misrepresented culture in the news.

As much as Buzzfeed has begun overdosing much of its content with themes related to stan culture, even going so far as to have an entire week dedicated to stans this year, it seems to be the only non-specialized news outlet bringing it any form of considerable press coverage.

However, what content Buzzfeed does publish in relation to stans may not be enough to spur a movement like the fervor of groupies in the 60s, but it is comparatively more in quantity and, in some regard, quality; that is, if those other outlets are even publishing anything at all concerning an ever present subculture that has become less underground and more airborne nowadays thanks to the prevalence of the internet and social media making stanning more accessible to those with a Wi-Fi, broadband, or cellular connection.

What little media coverage stans do receive, Davis does not believe it is generally positive. “I think that the media portrayal is kind of skewed negatively, but I’m not sure if it’s always intentional,” he says. “The things that are worth talking about sometimes are the things other people outside of stan culture notice or when it gets extreme.”

Feeney believes the size of stan culture partially contributes its misrepresentation. “Part of [it] is just that stan culture is so big,” he says. “There are all kinds of stans and all kinds of stan communities and all sorts of ways to be a stan.”

Thomas Fortune, 21, stans multi-platinum solo artist, Beyoncé, and agrees that the media seems to represent the most extreme stans that “drag” and “come for” people mostly on the web. “It’s this unfiltered kind of anger and a celebrity as an excuse to come for people slash [sic] insult people,” says Fortune in his formal explanation of the two stan jargons mentioned.

Apart from the sensationalism of stan culture through the reporting on its most extreme proponents, the media representation of stan culture could be the result of a lack of journalists like Feeney who are well versed in contemporary pop and internet culture, or of a lack of being online where stan culture abounds in its natural habitats of social media comment sections and message boards on pop culture forums.

To improve on both the negative and lack of coverage of stan culture, Feeney suggests improving upon the coverage of pop music, which he believes is integral to stan culture considering how musicians tend to have greater and more represented stans in the media.

“I think you can’t really have serious, legit reporting and criticism about stan culture until after you have serious, legit reporting and criticism about pop music,” he says. “So I think as that trend continues or that type of pop coverage becomes more commonplace, coverage about stan culture will grow, too.”

Burton believes stan culture shares a direct relationship with the internet, and that it may receive better reception once both it and internet access mature. “I think stan culture is just beginning,” she says. “The more connected the world gets, the more intense stan culture will get.”

Whatever the trend may be for the coverage of stans, there are signs that it truly is in its beginning stages as Burton suggests, and that it is starting to receive fairer and wider coverage. Just this year, The New York Times culture reporter, Joe Coscarelli, highlighted the relationship between Taylor Swift and her Swifties, and how their strong relationship has emboldened Swifties to prevent leaks and preserve their matriarch’s good image.

Only time will tell whether the media reception of stans improves. All that is known is that these digital upgrades of now outdated groupies will continue subsisting off of Wi-Fi connections to feed their borderline obsessions of the idols they cherish. The internet is their sandbox and social media their pails and buckets which are rapidly forging virtual communities and societies that may soon rival those of the real world.

Major streets are blocked off. The subway is packed. Sidewalks are crowded and Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” blares from multiple directions, the bass turned up so earth-shatteringly loud that it can be heard through the Nassau Station underground. Despite all the commotion, the atmosphere in Greenpoint is not one of stress. It seems that today, on the morning of the 2017 TCS New York City Marathon, New Yorkers do not mind the disruption to the city’s sights and sounds.

At the corner of Manhattan Avenue and Greenpoint Avenue, spectators crowd along the street to see runners prepare to cross the Pulaski Bridge, marking the halfway point of the race. Neighborhood residents and international travelers alike bring the enthusiasm, practically dangling off fire escapes to wave posters and handing out free bananas by the bunch on the sidelines. There is a slight drizzle in the air, but that doesn’t deter the bands set up every few blocks playing covers of 80’s rock songs.

Christina, a resident of the neighborhood, came to the bustling intersection to cheer on three of her friends. “I’m two for three so far. I missed one,” she says, her neon pink poster rolled up below her arm. She has watched the race here four times now, though she claims she would never want to run it herself. Still, she loves the energy that the race brings to her area. “I think it’s really inspirational, and the camaraderie is great.”

While some only have to go out on their balconies or sit on their porches to see the race, others have to plan their trips months or even years in advance. Sharon, a woman in her mid forties, came all the way from South Africa with her husband to cheer him on in his first marathon. She stands on the sideline with a friend waving a full-size South African flag. She has never visited the city before this week, but her husband’s decision was more about timing than location. “Basically, it was in a year’s time from when the decision was made, and that’s enough time to train,” she says with a shrug.

A sight that brings a smile to the faces of nearly every runner that passes is a man in a full cow costume leaning over the sideline barrier, furiously rattling a cowbell and screaming cheers. Brian, who is from Seattle, is donning the outfit to cheer on his girlfriend and her sister, and chose the location because it’s nearby their Airbnb room. His favorite part of the race so far is the reactions of runners when they see total strangers cheering them on. “You can call anybody’s name here,” he says, then proves his point by screaming, “LET’S GO, MARY!” at a passing runner in a pink t-shirt with her name printed across the front.

The Butterfly Conservatory at the American Museum of Natural History in New York is now open for its 20th season. This year, organizers’ plans for the conservatory were disrupted by hurricanes.

The Butterfly Conservatory features species from Costa Rica, Thailand, Malaysia, Ecuador, Kenya, Australia and Florida that fly freely around visitors in the museum’s 1,200-square-foot vivarium, according to a news release. The vivarium is kept at around 80 degrees and is filled with tropical plants to recreate a tropical environment within the museum.

In past years the tropical plants came from Florida. This year, though, the plants were sourced from the New York City area after hurricanes destroyed many of the plants originally planned for the vivarium, said Daniel Jacobs, a volunteer who has been working at the conservatory for the past 18 years. “We had to scramble to put it together,” he said.

Jacobs said the type of plant is important for the health of the butterflies. “We were very careful when we acquired these to get the proper host plants for the butterflies,” Jacobs said. Still, because the plants are not from Florida, Jacobs said the butterflies would need to be carefully monitored to ensure they are compatible with the plants.

Jennifer Birdie, a higher education worker who recently moved to New York City from Coconut Creek, Fla. – known as the “Butterfly Capital of the World” – said she came to the museum specifically to see the butterflies. “I think part of it is nostalgia from back home,” she said.

Birdie said after living in New York City for three weeks, it was refreshing to see the nature and wildlife in the vivarium. “We take it for granted where I just came from. You walk down the street and there’s butterflies everywhere.”

“I think this is a good educational opportunity for kids, but also for adults,” she said.

Visitors to the conservatory can watch butterflies emerge from chrysalises inside the vivarium, and displays outside the vivarium educate visitors about different butterfly species, efforts to protect butterfly habitats and the ways butterflies help researchers study ecosystems.

Nick Krachler, a Cornell University doctorate student from Austria, visiting New York City for the weekend, said he appreciated conservatory volunteers’ willingness to teach visitors about the butterflies. Referring to one of the volunteers he said, “She had a piece of orange, and there was a butterfly sitting on it, and she showed us the butterfly closer and told us a bit about it.” He said he enjoyed being able to walk freely among the butterflies, and added that butterflies had landed on his shirt.

The Butterfly Conservatory, open now through May 28, has been visited by millions of children and adults in its time at the museum, according to the news release.

Explaining why he thought the conservatory was such an attraction, Jacobs said, “In the middle of winter, this is an oasis. Where in the city are you going to find a tropical environment at 82 degrees?”

My grandfather and I like to sit on the patio. When I lived back in Costa Rica, we did so every Sunday. He enjoys reading “La Nación,” a conservative Costa Rican newspaper, while I would take “Revista Dominical,” a weekly supplement about culture.

The silence was serene and every so often we would comment on the news of the week. “They’ve stolen a lot of money,” he would say routinely. I would agree, and the quiet, peaceful, satisfactory reading goes on.

The afternoon’s sun would fall and the wind from outside would progressively chill our faces. Around that time, my grandmother tends to join us outside. She hands my grandfather a sweater, and sits down beside us, contemplative. Looking toward the pool and the large looming wall behind it, where a great backyard used to be.

Fernando Cruz and Ana Rosa Lizano ran into some money troubles back in early years of this century. Those tumultuous times are forgotten now, gossip is no longer whispered in phone conversations between sketchy and irrelevant members of the non-nuclear family. Yet, the large looming wall continues to be a symbol of tougher times, of not getting too decadent with opulence. A remainder of an earlier epoch, of their old Miami apartment, of luxurious Mercedes Benz cars, of buying their own house in the affluent Escazú neighborhood.

But that is too recent when recounting my grandfather’s story. It begins in a small Costa Rican town called Grecia. His mother fathered a lot of children, many whom she abandoned. The fact that his own father didn’t recognize him didn’t help.

As a young boy, many nights were spent sleeping on strangers’ porches. He couldn’t get further than the second grade. He had to work to feed himself. He sold gum on the streets. Every once in a while, one of his uncles acknowledged him, when he was feeling up to it.

I’m convinced my grandfather’s positive attitude towards life was the key to his success. To this day, he looks back on his life with pride. He recalls anecdotes with a sense of nostalgia that I find surreal. “When I was about fifteen, I got a job washing car tires,” he said and continued, “In the old times, people got that service at gas stations. It was like something everybody did. I would throw buckets of water at the ties. I was pretty good! The richest people in the country would come to get their tires washed.”

Later on, my grandfather managed to get a truck driver gig. He did endless commutes around the country, transporting wood. We seldom talk about that time, probably because the sheer monotony of it doesn’t lend itself to much storytelling.

Afterwards, he became friends with the owners FACO, a profitable Costa Rican car agency. They gave him a job not because of his professional background, but because of his stupendous social skills with clients. My grandfather is a charm. He’s funny, he has a great personality, and he drinks. His health doesn’t allow him for more than one occasional whisky now, but before, social drinking was a nightly custom.

Eventually he became one of the company’s main executives. My heart breaks when I think about a boy, from Grecia, all white-skin, blond, and green-eyed. He barely looks Costa Rican. He’s sleeping on a porch. He’s working mundane jobs to survive. He can’t continue his education. At the blink of an eye, the shift of the cosmos, and he’s a car agency executive.

Suddenly, he has enough money to start his own car agency. He creates NASA from scratch, traveling around the world, making deals with Ford. He introduces their brand to Costa Rica. Trips to Tokyo are now customary. My grandmother still conserves a beautiful kimono from that time.

Somewhere along the way, my grandfather met my grandmother. She’s originally from Alajuela. Both of her parents were teachers, and she became an educator herself.

My grandfather arrived very late to his own wedding. Only two people in the world know the story behind it: the friend that drove him to the ceremony and himself. Whenever we arrive at that topic, he whispers to me, “One day, you’ll be the third,” and he continues, “It’s such an incredible story, truly unbelievable. It could be made into a movie.” He has me whining and begging in a second. “But I want to know now,” I say and continue, “You always say the same thing. When will you tell me the story?”

“Someday,” he says.

When I first inquired to my grandmother about it, she shrugged her shoulders. “I almost thought he had left me at the altar,” she said and continued, “He’s always been mischievous. I wouldn’t believe a word about some sort of incredible story.”

“But I do,” I said and continued, “He said it was movie-material.”

“He probably just took too much time getting ready,” she said and continued, “You know your grandfather, when he gets ready, he’s worse than a woman going to a party.”

I can attest to that from personal experience. We are always late to dinners and parties and other events because of his calm approach to time. “We’ll get there, don’t worry about it,” he says. He flashes me the gentlest smile.

My mother says he only shares that look with me. He used to share it with her, but stopped a few decades ago. They drifted apart, but that’s a story for another time.

My grandmother’s screams echo through their home. “Fernando! We should have left thirty minutes ago,” she says. He ignores her when she’s being too pushy.

I spared a glance at my mother, who lights a cigarette, “Oh, Dad, I can’t believe Mom hasn’t get used to him by now,” she says.

My mother says my grandfather used to be very intense. Very angry. He used to be known as Macho Tigre, which translates to blond tiger. I’ve never seen him live up to that nickname.

He doesn’t scream as he used to anymore. At least that’s what my aunt says. My grandmother disagrees. “Your grandfather still conserves that spark,” she says.

My mother says the last time she saw him truly angry was when they had to build the big looming wall. Bills were adding up. My grandfather had to sell his own company: reckless spending of money by someone who recently acquired it. That sort of lifestyle doesn’t last forever.

I think his face carries the remains of a life lived. Each wrinkle is a struggle, a trip, a work, a client, a car, a drink. Many of them are drinks. He gained a lot of money; he lost it. The apartment in Miami is gone, so is the large backyard. Their home property used to be twice its size. Now, the large looming wall bisects it.

My grandmother stares at that wall a lot. My grandfather sits in front of it with sort of easiness I cannot comprehend. It’s very much like his current approach to life.

“I’m happy now,” he says and continues, “I have a beautiful family. Your mother, your aunt, you. Your two little cousins. Your grandmother. I keep my home. You’re getting a great education. I cannot ask for any more.”

I’m humbled by such statements. My eyes get watery, but I don’t want him to notice. Suddenly, he stands up from his chair in the patio. He looks at both my grandmother and me. “Who’s up for a game night?” he asks and continues, “Let’s even bet money…I’m going to go get some quarters.”