Fandom Has a Coddling Problem
DISCLAIMER: Most of the information presented in this piece is anecdotal, and from communities I have since distanced myself from. If you have any stories or, better yet, factual evidence of your own that corroborates my point, I would appreciate it very much. If you have difficulty believing my anecdotes because of your own online experience, which I'm sure is going to be as highly tailored to your own preferences and experiences as anyone else's, that's fine. I only hope the anecdotal nature of my examples does not get in the way of the cohesion or believability of my point.
This article is recommended for readers at least 18 years old.
Lately, my girlfriend has been telling me stories about various scandals she's been witnessing on TikTok, AO3, and Bluesky that make her concerned for the future of fandom, and the standard for what kind of behavior we allow in fandom communities. Other friends of mine also cite these scandals as reasons why they are afraid to write or publish, even stories they've been passionate about or working on for years. The behavior my friends observe from people in fandom ranges from open bigotry to virulent harassment to attempts to normalize insensitive, prurient, uncritical depictions of sexual and domestic violence; but all of it, I think, orbits around a central locus of willful ignorance. As a media student, this troubles me deeply. I am probably not the first person to claim it is an indicator as to the sorry state of American literacy. But it would be remiss of me to solely pin this troubling change in standards on any one factor. Some might argue it's merely a symptom of the literacy crisis; others swear up and down that it's because "normies" joined fandom communities during lockdown, when they had nothing better to do, and ruined it for everyone; still others claim that, because of the ubiquity of social media, extreme and shocking behavior appears more common than it actually is because it's an incentive for both users and platforms to garner money and attention. All of these, to me, suggest people think the problem of inappropriate behavior in fandom is a relatively recent one—within the last five years, at most.
But I disagree. Very strongly, in fact. The mycelia of this disease have been embedded in fandom for, to my knowledge, at least a decade, and they will continue to unfurl into something hideous unless we can identify and remove the source.
Here's my theory: right now, fanfiction and fanart in particular are experiencing the same sorts of problems the furry fandom was notorious for in the 2010s. As a response to the pervasive and unnecessary cruelty of late-2010s cringe culture, I think, an "anything goes" attitude has become widespread: people are doing this for fun and for free, so if you don't like what you see, leave them alone. That in itself is fine. I think it's also important to clarify that, if someone has specified they don't want critique on their art or writing, it generally is best to not give them any, on the principle that stomping on someone's stated boundaries is wrong regardless of your personal feelings about them.
But, like with any strongly-held belief, there needs to be a limit. There need to be exceptions. A rule is not robust enough to live by if it cannot account for and adapt to a wide range of potential scenarios. Right now, I don't see that adaptability in fandom, and I don't see it being encouraged. As a result, the "don't like, don't read" mentality is often taken to the extreme. To engage with a fanwork (or even the source material) in a way that doesn't convey complete, unquestioning approval appears to increasingly be regarded as bullying; this includes women, people of color, and queer people commenting on the ways a work might be socially harmful to vulnerable groups. Because of the accusations and harassment that are then sent toward such critics, all manner of behavior from ignorance to entitlement to outright hostility and depravity is allowed to reign unchecked. I mentioned the furry fandom earlier because, to me, the parallels are obvious. What started as a benign attempt to be all-inclusive and counter the vicious furry hatred and lolcow culture of the 2000s ended with Nazi furs and whatever the hell was going on at Rainfurrest 2015. Only now, in the decades following, are many parts of the furry community beginning to learn their lesson and be more judicious with whom they let in. I say this not to generalize furries—I am, after all, one of them—but, rather, to indicate the kind of hazard certain pockets of general fandom present today should they become more widespread. Furthermore, I point to a specific fandom as an example of the work required of us, and of what we're capable of if we're willing to do it.
Yes, fanfiction is a hobby, and it is (ideally, mostly) available for free; but we must not delude ourselves. When Archive of Our Own and FanFicton.net both have millions of users worldwide, on top of the additional millions posting about fandom on peripheral general-purpose social media like TikTok, Tumblr, Twitter, and Bluesky, we can no longer pretend that fanfiction is too insignificant or too unheard of to have the same real consequences as any other form of mass media. We cannot pretend that fanfiction is pure, unsullied by real-world beliefs, and incapable of reinforcing or challenging them; we mustn't be so stupid as to convince ourselves it exists in a vacuum; we mustn't be so selfish as to refuse the same responsibilities all creators have. If we are to be an actual community of human beings who respect one another, not just a pack of wild dogs who tear through everything and everyone we see, we must be able to find balance: to hold each other accountable without being wantonly cruel, and to accept one another's differences without giving the worst among us a free pass.
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