In 2008, the identical twin indie pop duo famously known as Tegan and Sara were just starting to hit their stride, due in large part to The Con. Though it was their fifth studio album, critics called it their "breakout" moment given its mainstream success. Little did the mainstream know, however, that the Quin sisters were beginning what would become a 16-year battle with a different kind of con—one that's not only wreaked havoc on their private and public lives, but worst of all, the community they built with their fans.
On Wednesday, Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara premiered at NewFest, the New York Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, & Transgender Film Festival, as its spotlight film. "Look, I think the vast majority of fans are just normal people and most of us have a pretty healthy relationship to celebrity," Tegan told Jezebel on the red carpet. "But I think this film highlights how that can go wrong.
Directed by Erin Lee Carr (Mommy Dead and Dearest, I Love You, Now Die: The Commonwealth V. Michelle Carter, and Britney vs Spears), the documentary tells the story of two Tegans. The first is the actual Tegan Quin, and the second is who the film refers to as "Fake Tegan" or "Fegan," the unidentified force who, since 2008, has convincingly been posing as the real Tegan online to—for one reason or another—fuck with innocent people.
Fegan's reign of terror began by catfishing fans in spaces where the real Tegan and Sara were known to engage in conversation, like LiveJournal and other message boards. In time, Fegan's catfishing evolved into sinister harassment, which included leaking unreleased demos and posting private information like the Quins' passport photos and their mother's cancer diagnosis. Fegan eventually began manipulating people in Tegan and Sara's personal lives, like their ex-girlfriends, as well as someone referred to as JT, who was deceived by Fegan into believing that her friendship with Tegan had become sexually intimate.
Given recent testimony from fellow queer pop artists like MUNA, Chappell Roan, and Mitski, Fanatical arrives at a particularly resonant time. Last month, MUNA posted that they'd become aware of "cyberstalking, hackings, bullying other fans and loved ones, and spreading falsehoods" happening online; Roan spoke candidly to Rolling Stone and the Guardian about the myriad ways she and her family have been stalked and harassed; and, in a letter to Roan, Mitski referred to fame and stan culture as the "shittiest exclusive club in the world, the club where strangers think you belong to them and they find and harass your family members.”
For many queer artists, there's an added responsibility of establishing a safe space for their most ardent admirers—many of whom are young, queer-identifying, and vulnerable to harassment and abuse both online and IRL. At various points throughout the film, Tegan—who, in the band's early years, made a habit of spending hours connecting with fans outside venues before and after their shows—wonders whether she should've made herself less accessible. On the one hand, it's crucial for artists to keep lines of communication open with those who've been integral in their star's rise. On the other, isn't it more important to take measures to keep fans—and the artists, themselves—safe? Fanatical underscores how unfair it can feel to artists who care enough to try and strike that balance.
"More power to artists like Chappell Roan and Mitski for talking about their feelings and saying why being a celebrity can be really hard. It's a really unnatural state," Tegan told Jezebel.
Tegan and Sara first heard of Fegan's existence from a fan named Julie in 2008, who was befriended by the fraudster online. After communicating with Fegan on a daily basis and for a number of years, Julie—completely unprompted—received photos of Tegan and Sara's passports. Concerned, she then passed a message along to their management, who told her that the (real) Tegan had no idea who she was. Julie, it turned out, was just one of a number of fans who were duped into believing they had developed a personal relationship with their idol.
Fanatical's investigation spans two years and as Carr told Jezebel, sought to center not just Tegan and Sara, but Fegan's scores of victims who shared private information about their lives with someone who is still a stranger. Unfortunately, despite a string of cease-and-desist letters and the aid of cybersecurity specialists and sleuths, Tegan and Sara quickly learned that it's become exceedingly impossible to locate online cons, let alone hold them to account. Fegan's reach remains terrifyingly unknown, and the investigation is ongoing.
"We just want to tell everybody to trust their gut," Carr said. "A lot of these victims will have trust issues for the rest of their lives and this happened 16 years ago for some people."
"You need to make sure you're not treating the online world like it's safe. It's not." Tegan added. "On a more personal level? Make your circle smaller. Until you can really connect with a person in person, keep yourself at a distance from people. I think that's how most humans have operated for all of time, but I also think the internet has made us feel like we can connect with people from afar, and in some cases, we can, but the next natural step in that evolution is being in real life with people. I hope this film emphasizes how important that connection really is."
That Fanatical doesn't have a happy ending—or an ending at all—is its most gripping element; Carr recently told Consequence of Sound that her team is still chasing down leads. As the internet continues to bring us all closer, it's disconcerting to be reminded that any of us can become the subject of some sort of deception at any moment.
Fanatical is now available to stream on Hulu.
