Celebrities have enchanted the American public since at least the late 19th century, arguably starting with Annie Oakley and Buffalo Bill, an incredibly skilled sharpshooter and the host of the show she starred in. The duo provided international entertainment, for which they were adored.
We still tend to idolize famous individuals. Legions of fans will pre-order expensive merchandise for their favorite singer or author's signature, or wait in line for hours to see a band or a comedian perform from seats so far away that the performer is no more than a blur. For many, these people can do no wrong.
Even Chris Brown, who has a history of instigating domestic violence with a handful of partners, most notably Rihanna, continues to receive enough support that his music career has remained relatively strong.
However, things have changed since 2009.
With the advent of social media and smartphones, anyone who was already famous is now more in the public eye than ever, and many people have had their careers launched and subsequently tanked on platforms like YouTube, Tik Tok, and Instagram.
We are spending more time than ever watching and interacting with both the traditionally famous and media famous, which often tricks us into thinking that we know them on a personal level. This phenomenon is known as forming a parasocial relationship. Our 'interactions' with celebrities are still very limited; most of the time, they are not truly engaging with us at all, but merely talking at us, at best.
We're still their audience, not their confidants, friends, or family, no matter how much it may feel like we know them. Most people are not aware of this bias, though, so nowadays, whenever an internet scandal breaks out, especially for someone who is internet famous, we are less likely to excuse or ignore their actions and more likely to feel personally offended and inclined to stop consuming their content.
Ignoring a celebrity's bad behavior enables them, a la the Chris Brown situation. However, on the opposite extreme, we do not necessarily have to withhold from enjoying their work. It's often possible to acknowledge someone's mistakes and flaws while separating that person from whatever product they made that we like so much. It helps if we remember that they do not know us, and the slight was (most likely) not personal.
Context matters, of course. Perhaps the person did something quite heinous, and their content must be purchased in order to enjoy it. Maybe they made an honest mistake, or their work can be accessed freely on a platform like YouTube. Whatever they did may have felt personal, not due to an illusory closeness with that person, but because it was oppressive or triggering.
Such details can be difficult to sort through when most people immediately pour out their reactions on social media without stopping to account for parasocial bias or the momentum of cancel culture. It's difficult to maintain a nuanced perspective when people tend to gravitate to the extremes, an unfortunate staple of American culture.
However, as long as we realize that we only know them as well as we do beloved fictional characters, who will never truly interact with us, it's easier to watch them make mistakes (and to hold them accountable when it's necessary).