Knowledge Isn’t Fashion
Awareness of social justice issues shouldn’t be a status symbol
Being well-informed shouldn’t be a status symbol
Cultural trivia these days doesn’t just cover our ability to recall the names of pop stars or their latest work — in some corners of the internet, this cultural knowledge is used to measure our devotion to social justice.
You like Mark Ruffalo? Didn’t you see he created a film about trans people and didn’t cast any trans people in it?
You’re a fan of Good Omens? Don’t you know that Neil Gaiman is married to Amanda Palmer, who has said and done a variety of ableist and transphobic things?
You look up to Ezra Miller? Don’t you know that he created a documentary that was sympathetic to the cop who shot Michael Brown?
How could you not know these things? We’ve been talking about them for months. Everybody knows these things. Where have you been?
I see these types of interactions playing out in digital social justice circles quite often these days. In some far corner of Tumblr, Twitter, or Facebook, someone chirps happily about a media property they love, or a public figure they idolize. Maybe the media-lover shares a gif of their favorite actors in an embrace. Or perhaps they just gush about how wonderful the show or performer makes them feel. It’s usually a small, personal moment, except for the fact that it’s online.
Then someone materializes, someone who’d say they have good intentions, to tear down the object of the media-lover’s affection. They act as a gatekeeper to cultural know-how, with the underlying tone of: If you aren’t aware of this knowledge, this problematic morsel, you are woefully out-of-date.
Everyone should know about this special, obscure, upsetting fact by now, they might say. We’ve been talking about it for months. Didn’t you hear? Where have you been?
The nature of this special knowledge varies for each cultural moment and media property. It may involve revelations that a show’s creator is also an abuser, or news that some celebrity tweeted sexist remarks. Maybe one of the writers or producers is involved in the creation of a film that, based on the trailers, at least, sure seems like it’s going to be homophobic.
The media inevitably becomes tainted by these truths. And if you aren’t up to speed with them, and you still unreservedly like the media, you might become tainted by association. Everyone is incentivized to keep up with the latest news and developments so they can avoid the media and remain relatively pure. And those who are in “the know” more quickly than others are able to quickly accumulate social status, and sometimes power.
The problem isn’t the knowledge, or the fact that it’s been trotted out in a moment that otherwise involves praise and celebration. It’s fine to share upsetting but important facts. I do it all the time. You won’t hear me praise Kill Bill, a film I still genuinely love, without also mentioning that Quentin Tarantino abused and disabled Uma Thurman in the creation of it.
We can love a media property and revel in the things that make it good while still navigating its problems. We can hold onto our feelings of affection and nostalgia while also confronting upsetting facts. One of my personal favorite ways to deeply savor a TV show or book is to delve into its flaws and limitations. If you love something or someone, you want it to be the best it can be.
Knowledge is not a weapon. It’s not an accessory. It’s not a badge of social credibility, or a marker of your status over someone else.
And the truth is, Mark Ruffalo did have the cis arrogance to create a trans narrative that featured no trans people. Neil Gaiman’s wife has created songs that make a mockery of disabled people and trivialize the experiences of trans people. Ezra Miller did make a film that explores Darren Wilson’s perspective on his murder of Michael Brown. People deserve to be aware of these facts, so they can make informed decisions about who they want to support, and whose work deserves their attention.
But it matters how and why we share special, problematic knowledge. If we spread important information in a non-judgemental way, we can empower people to reflect on it rather than find it threatening. If we allow people to make their own decisions about which creators are worthy of their support, they will make choices they truly believe in and can stick to, rather than short-term reactions motivated by public shame.
Unfortunately, that’s not how these conversations tend to play out on the internet. Social media sites are rapid-fire quip-delivery machines, with millions of people competing to deliver the best, most-scathing hot take. There are too many messages being consumed and responded to at all times, and the conversation never pauses or stops, causing endless spirals of fighting, extreme rhetoric, and dismissive jokes.
And so, rather than gently informing a Harry Potter fan that J.K. Rowling supports transphobic writers, we pop into their mentions and say, “Just admit you hate trans people.” Instead of having a deep conversation about whether pop artist Halsey should have worn a shirt featuring two hate crime victims on it (with the victims’ permission), we drag one another for being lesbophobic and biphobic. Instead of explaining to one another why Good Omens is both a meaningful queer love story and yet another show that avoids depicting gay male intimacy by merely hinting at it, we get into a knock-down, drag-out fight over who the show “belongs” to, and whether it is queerbaiting.
There is no presumption of good faith in an environment like this. No room for dialogue or reflection. Either you know everything about a topic and have the “correct” opinion, or you’re going to be made a public example of, end of story.
In this context, knowledge ceases to be a tool that uplifts and gives people agency. Instead, information is leveraged as a form of fashion, a marker of in-group and out-group membership. Either you’re a cool, aware, socially conscious person, who knows the problematic fact du jour, or you’re totally out of the loop, which makes you either cringe-inducingly ignorant or banally evil.
Which side are you on? What kind of person are you? Are you in fashion? Have you abandoned Millennial Pink for Neon Chartreuse? Have you given up the undercut for the not-so-ironic mullet? Do you know why we don’t like Stranger Things anymore? Are you cool? Have you heard the backlash to the backlash? Are you in? Do you know?
Sometimes, the special knowledge comes out in waves, and a new fact invalidates a previously-trumpeted one, creating an arm’s race of awareness. You might think you’re wielding the latest, hottest take, but actually you’re holding onto information that has been disproven or critiqued. And when knowledge has become fashion, wearing an out-of-date fact can be as bad as having no information at all.
Let’s go back to the Ezra Miller example. Last year, the actor came out as nonbinary. For a little while, this itself became a piece of special knowledge, leveraged to signal how up-to-date on queer issues a person was. Several times, I witnessed someone chiding someone else for calling Miller “he,” asserting vehemently that since Miller was nonbinary, it was correct to refer to the actor using “they.”
But Miller doesn’t actually use they, he uses he. He said so the moment he came out as nonbinary. And so, pretty quickly, the people who did the chiding became the people being chided. It was wrong for them to assume that every nonbinary person uses “they.” It was wrong for them to chide others when they weren’t even well-informed.
We should understand that no one can remain fully informed on all issues at all times.
But that micro-fracas is just the tip of the iceberg. Shortly after Miller’s coming out, people began to delve into his past. And they found a short film he created, The Truth According to Darren Wilson, Darren Wilson, of course, being the police officer who killed the unarmed teenager, Michael Brown.
The information spread quickly: Ezra Miller made a documentary supporting Darren Wilson. He was called a racist and a Blue Lives Matter apologist. Celebrating Miller’s coming out was no longer in fashion; liking Miller was no longer a good look. A lot of people, myself included, scrambled to get on the right side of history, to spread the knowledge, and walk back any support for Miller that we had previously voiced.
But then, a few people actually watched the film, looked into its production, and it turned out that the story was a little more complicated. First, the film was not a documentary, it was a four-minute short. It’s essentially a dramatization, in which an actor portraying Wilson justifies his actions and tells his “side” of the story in killing Brown.
In the final moments of the short film, it is revealed that Wilson is prepping for his interview with ABC News, and it’s heavily implied that Wilson is rehearsing a lie. Even in the original article that shared the film with the world, commenters were quick to point out that the film was not exactly sympathetic to Wilson.
It also turned out that the film was co-written and directed by Sol Guy, a Black man and Black Lives Matter activist. In a statement explaining their intent behind the film, Guy and Miller said they made a conscious decision to not come across as justifying or sympathizing with Wilson’s actions.
Many people have explored and critiqued this short film; most seem to agree that it was ineffective and unnecessary at best. And while the content and nature of the film was misreported by many, I will say I’m personally glad I learned that it exists. The truth does inform how I approach Miller as an actor; it does temper my enthusiasm for him. I’m glad conversations about the film have happened and are still happening.
That said, it does strike me as a problem that the moment a nonbinary, Jewish person came out about his queer identity, a handful of people began sharing a bad-faith misrepresentation of his past actions, and dispensed that misrepresentation in order to undermine and shame people who were enthusiastic about him being a part of the trans community. And it’s a problem that many other people, myself included, took this misrepresentation at face value, and further disseminated it without looking into the details ourselves.
It can feel powerful, being in the know. With the right information, you can change the entire mood of a conversation. You can silence the people you dislike. Sometimes people are really grateful for the knowledge you shared. If you reliably become a fountain of information, people start to look up to you. It can be intoxicating.That doesn’t make it okay to act out our worst impulses while pretending our motivations are pure and just.
Knowledge should enfranchise people. It ought to give the voiceless a voice, grant agency to the powerless, and give the formerly boxed-in the power of choice. Knowledge is not a weapon. It’s not an accessory. It’s not a badge of social credibility, or a marker of your status over someone else. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.
We all should work to share information widely, and should do so with a spirit of goodwill. We should be generous and open in how we dispense facts. We should understand that no one can remain fully informed on all issues at all times. No one has ownership of the truth. It ought to be freely given to everyone, with no strings and no judgement attached.