Being a Metalhead in Taiwan Is a Lonely Road, But It Made Me Who I Am

Being a metalhead in Taiwan isn’t just rare - it’s almost unheard of. But that’s exactly what shaped me.

I didn’t grow up blasting guitars or headbanging in my bedroom. Like most Taiwanese kids in the '80s, I was raised on pop music. Still, looking back, the signs were there. I was always drawn to powerful vocals, fast rhythms, and heavy beats. I just didn’t know what that meant yet.

Then came the moment that changed my life: the awakening sparked by Europe’s The Final Countdown in fifth grade. Even though I didn’t understand a single word of English, I felt the music in my chest. That song wasn’t just catchy - it cracked open a whole new world. I had officially fallen down the rabbit hole of rock.

Soon, I was hooked. Skid Row, Warrant, Poison, Firehouse. The list kept growing. It wasn’t until college that heavy metal truly found me and woke something deeper in my soul. My roommate introduced me to Helloween, and with that first listen, the gates to power metal and symphonic metal blew wide open. From there, I discovered the haunting beauty of opera-infused metal. Bands like Within Temptation, Nightwish, and Epica drew me in. I’d never cared for opera before, but something about the fusion of classical grandeur and metal's raw edge felt revolutionary.

Still, loving metal in a sea of pop meant living in a different sonic universe. I often felt like the odd one out. I couldn’t share my favorite tracks or headbang with friends who just didn’t get it. At first, the loneliness stung. But over time, I learned to embrace it. And you know what? Loving what you love, even when no one else does, is worth it.

Metalheads often lament how underrepresented the genre is, but maybe that’s part of the point. Metal has always lived on the edge. It is raw, defiant, and proudly different. There’s a quiet pride in that. It’s more than music; it’s identity. It’s community. It’s rebellion with a guitar solo.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, the universe sends you your people.

One of my best friends is also a metalhead. We were flatmates once, barely spoke at first, didn’t really click, actually. Then one day, she walked past my room and heard music blasting. Later, she caught me in the hallway and simply asked, “Do you like metal?”

I said, “Yeah.”

That was it. Instant bond. We’ve been best friends ever since.

I’m also lucky to have a husband who gets my music and a daughter who doesn’t mind when I blast my playlists around the house. In a place where metal fans are few and far between, that’s more than I ever dreamed of.

If there’s one thing this journey has taught me, it’s this: it’s okay to be different. Your path might be quieter, lonelier, and less understood, but it’s yours. And when you stay true to who you are, you create moments that matter. Not because others recognize them, but because you do.

So go ahead. Let your soundtrack play loud.