The Rose of Versailles, Takarazuka, and the Birth of Modern Fandom
When people outside Japan encounter the word oshi—often translated loosely as “favorite” or “bias”—they tend to assume it is a product of the social media era. Algorithms, platforms, idols, metrics of engagement.
But this assumption misses something crucial.
Oshi culture did not begin with digital technology.
It emerged much earlier, in a very different medium—one rooted in theater, manga, and a distinctly Japanese form of emotional projection.
To understand this, we need to go back to the 1970s.
A Fictional Heroine, A Theatrical Body
The Rose of Versailles introduced Oscar François de Jarjayes, a character who was neither fully male nor simply female. Raised as a man, serving as a military officer, yet undeniably a woman, Oscar became an object of intense identification for readers.
What made Oscar revolutionary was not just gender ambiguity.
It was the structure of desire she enabled.
Readers did not merely admire her.
They projected themselves onto her—her dignity, her suffering, her restraint, her refusal to resolve contradictions neatly.
Almost simultaneously, the Takarazuka Revue offered a living, breathing counterpart: the otokoyaku, women performing idealized male roles on stage. These performers were not “men” in disguise. They were images of masculinity filtered through female sensibility.
Together, manga and theater formed a closed loop:
- Fiction created a form.
- Theater embodied it.
- Audiences sustained it emotionally.
This loop did not require mass interaction or visibility.
It required devotion.
Devotion Without Reciprocity
Here lies the critical point.
What we now call oshi culture is often framed as interactive—likes, comments, replies, fan events. But the earlier form was one-directional by design.
Fans knew they would never be seen.
They accepted the asymmetry.
This was not a bug. It was the system.
The performer or character did not need to acknowledge the fan.
The fan’s emotional investment was complete precisely because it was unreturned.
This is where modern discussions of “parasocial relationships” often fall short.
In the Japanese context, distance is not an obstacle to intimacy—it is its condition.
Gender, Safety, and Emotional Architecture
Why did this structure emerge so strongly among women?
Because it was safe.
Takarazuka prohibited real romantic access.
Oscar was fictional and therefore unreachable.
Yet both allowed women to explore:
- Desire without obligation
- Admiration without possession
- Love without collapse into everyday power dynamics
This was not escapism.
It was emotional architecture—a carefully designed space where feelings could exist without being resolved.
Before Metrics, There Was Structure
Seen this way, modern fandom metrics—followers, engagement rates, monetization—are secondary layers.
The core structure was already complete:
- An object of devotion
- A maintained distance
- A fan who does not demand return
Digital platforms did not invent oshi.
They only made it visible.
Why This Matters Now
Understanding the origins of oshi culture changes how we interpret contemporary phenomena:
- Idol economies
- VTuber fandoms
- Character-based branding
- AI companions and virtual personas
These are not sudden cultural deviations.
They are continuations.
The real legacy of The Rose of Versailles and Takarazuka is not nostalgia.
It is proof that modern fandom did not arise from technology—but from a deeply human need to devote oneself without being consumed.