The Online Accountability Hunt
Demanding Authenticity via Queer-Baiting Accusations and the Like
When parents knock on their teenagers’ doors and ask what they’re up to, chances are they expect them to be doing their homework, playing video games, or viewing videos on YouTube or Netflix. Maybe FaceTiming a friend. Maybe even doom-scrolling to infinity on Twitter and Instagram. Regardless of their expectations, parents likely aren’t expecting their teenager to be holding a niche internet micro-celebrity accountable online, but nowadays chances are: that’s precisely what they’re doing.
Many argue that one of the main reasons why the press continues to play such a crucial role in modern society is because of its watchdog function. When a journalist acts as a watchdog, they gather information about the actions of people in power and inform the public to hold influential figures accountable. Many highly glamorized examples of the mainstream press fulfilling this role for the United States government abound (the Pentagon Papers, Watergate, Edward Snowden, and the NSA, etc.).
But with the advent of the Internet and the gradual shift from mass media journalism to networked journalism, as with influence, the watchdog function too has become democratized. Now all Internet users are administered binoculars and a pad and paper, fit for an online safari replete with perusing, discussing, and ultimately intervening.
The Internet takes its watchdog role seriously - very seriously - and in many capacities. This is something that is made all too clear if the Algorithm spins you over to “stan Twitter,” for example. In general, stan culture, well-stocked with members of different music- and film-related fandoms, has played a key role in making waves of mainstream cultural change. In recent years, figures like DaBaby, Ellen Degeneres, J.K. Rowling, and many others have had their cultural cache revoked as a result of stan Twitter denying them an endorsement. It’s also worth noting that stan culture has led to the creation of mainstream works of media like the Fifty Shades of Grey series (originally based on Twilight fan fiction written by E.L. James) as well as the curbing of COVID-19, far-right events and rhetoric and the raising of hundreds of thousands of dollars for causes like Black Lives Matter via BTS and their ARMY, to name a few examples.
It goes without saying that stans - and people online in general - are effective watchdogs. Unlike the sticky politics and molasses-like speed of many major publishers, citizen journalism reaps instantaneous results and isn’t beholden to looming stakeholders. The change that digital actors like stans make through creating, posting, and sharing on social media is tangible - so much so that it can impact the funds and careers of powerful cultural emblems.
Having participated in stan culture as a stan myself, as well as having been a keen observer, it’s clear to me that there’s a level of entitlement and even ownership over idols that comes with fulfilling this online and offline role. At award shows, music and film artists are often apt to thank their fans for giving them the success they have today. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without any of you!” And they would largely be right in making this statement! Fans are the ones buying the tickets, sharing the artist’s work on social media, and often performing free marketing efforts via fan cams, fan fiction, and homemade Etsy merchandise. The labor of fans contributes directly to the success of mainstream artists.
And because of the fans’ involvement in their idols’ lives and careers, it’s easy to develop a one-sided, or parasocial relationship, of sorts. Due to the widespread amount of information available about the celebrity via social media, fans might think that they know them more personally than they may actually do. Such feelings of proximity may make the stan feel particularly entitled to speak on behalf of their idol or even offer up criticism. Operate as a hyper-watchdog of sorts, with one eye fixated on the idol, and the other gazing outwards at anyone who dares to attack them.
In addition, ensuring that one’s idol upholds the image the stan has created of them in their head seems to be a common thread running through online communities. For example, many stans are quick to make assumptions about the sexuality and romantic prospects of their favorite singers and actors, including stans of artists like Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, and various Kpop groups. Collecting photographic and video snippets of their idols engaging in behavior and circumstances that are then characterized in particular fashions. Most often analyzing body language and positioning, paparazzi photos, time stamps, clothing, and more to better build their case for why their idol is a member of the LGBTQ+ community, for example.
And when idols don’t fit the image that stans and non-stans alike craft for them, backlash can ensue. For example, “queer-baiting” has been a buzzy Twitter phrase in the last few years. Having been used to describe artists like Harry Styles and Billie Eilish, queer-baiting refers to a character in media alluding to being a part of the LGBTQ+ community but not actually being in it, or most recently, to a real person claiming to be in the LGBTQ+ community when they’re not (often for publicity). Accusations of “queer-baiting” often come from non-stans (sometimes called “antis”) of popular celebrities, sometimes spurring stans to point to evidence that disproves the accusations.
For example, Kit Connor, an 18-year-old actor, came out as bisexual under the pretext of experiencing accusations of queer-baiting online. His tweet reads:
The “show” he’s referring to is the Netflix original series Heartstopper in which he plays a closeted bisexual teenager coming to terms with his sexuality.
Connor seemingly felt the need to prove his identity to fans and non-fans alike, being held accountable for simply being himself. The whole thing just feels rather Panopticonian - perpetual sets of infinite eyes on the idol making sure that they are embodying the person that exists in our heads, even if it means pressuring them to disclose information about themselves that they’re not comfortable divulging.
The feelings of closeness that emerge when you’re a stan can make you feel as though you’re doing your idol a favor - opening up space for them to come clean about aspects of themselves like their sexuality. Being a Harry Styles and Taylor Swift stan, I see this occur quite a bit online.
When you see the posts of celebrities generating on the same timeline where your best friend’s might also be, it’s easy to feel like you know the figure and thus know their inner secrets as you do your best friend’s. Nonetheless, the feelings of proximity that emerge when using social media are exactly that: feelings. I recognize that it’s not comfortable to admit that this distance between yourself and your “comfort person” exists and that there’s a level of being pandered to that operates, but it does.
Most artists didn’t ask to govern a democratic body that deliberates their sexuality and romantic partners on the timeline, especially not those who are fresh adults.
This isn’t meant to be an overly sympathetic, woe-is-celebrity, post on the perils of fame - though a case could certainly be made for that. And it’s not trying to siphon blame onto one particular sub-set of the internet. Rather, I’m intending to draw attention to the false sense of adjacency that emerges through social media use, whether it’s closeness to your former high school peers who you haven’t spoken to in years or literally Beyoncé. While accountability politics should rightfully be exercised in the event of calling out racism, misogyny, and homophobia online, we cannot expect to effectively demand hyper-accountability and authenticity from a system that thrives off the exact opposite.
Seeing people continue to hunt down these celebrities who are supposedly meant to be revered makes me wonder what kind of faux accountability work are we willing to reap on actual people in our lives, where we can create more direct impacts. Coming up with nit-picky, faulty criticism, shaming people for not spilling their guts for us, as if that’s something we’re somehow entitled to because we follow them on Instagram.
If we continue moving through the world as if people are merely pixels, life will start looking and feeling a lot less human. Who will hold us accountable then?