Morning darklings,

A few days ago, a friend of mine and I were talking about memoirs and influencers—specifically kidfluencers, of which I knew very little until we spoke and I watch the docu-series Bad Influence (and wowthefuck). Our conversation moved to autonomy in our intake of media, and it got me thinking about what I personally watch and read, what I avoid, and the responsibility that’s tangled in all of that.

I’ve read Britney’s memoir and her sister’s, Paris’, Jill Duggar’s, and so many other famous people. I’ve read memoirs of previous cult members and women with lives so far removed from mine I didn’t know they existed. I’ve read memoirs from men who served in wars and ex-cons. I’ve read them all for insight, for knowledge, for truth—be it one-sided, as memoirs are. And sure, out of curiosity too.

I choose my fiction according to escapism, but I’ll drop it like a bad habit if it’s unrealistic or problematic.

I’ve avoided things that made me uncomfortable, as most people do. As well as things that feel inauthentic or staged, though that’s relatively new. If you all recall, I was obsessed with Love Island for… a long time. Now, I don’t engage. I miss it, don’t get me wrong. But enough has come out about what’s going on behind-the-scenes that I don’t want to participate.

Depending on your age, this may or may not be familiar, but let me set a scene. It’s an amalgamation of many similar days, not one specific day:

I’m watching MTV and Carson Daily announces that Britney Spears’ “…Baby One More Time” is up next.

I rush to the bathroom, pull my hair into pigtails, and slide back into the living room in time for Britney’s foot to start tapping the chair leg of a desk. I didn’t miss anything. I’m bouncing in anticipation.

When the school bell rings and the music starts, I sway my hips. I’m ten-years-old, so it’s more like my whole torso moves side to side, my knobby knees doing most of the work.

I hum at first, waiting for the song to really get started, then sing at the top of my lungs. Of course I know the dance. Of course. I’m fully into it when my mom walks behind me.

It’s loud, but I’m louder.

Instead of turning it down, today, Mom says her clothes are inappropriate for a girl her age. She says I can’t wear that, I know that right? She wishes I wouldn’t dance like her either. Those aren’t dance moves for girls my ages. Doesn’t Britney know she’s a role model?

I ignore her and keep dancing. She doesn’t get it, which is fine. Britney is older than me, but that just means when I’m her age, I’ll look like that. Until then, I’m only practicing. I don’t have boobies yet. But when I do, they’ll be just like hers. So I’ll dress like her then. Mom will have to buy the clothes still, but by then, she’ll see… she’ll see how much I need them. They won’t be inappropriate to her anymore.

Spice Girls comes on next, because in this day’s version of MTV, they are having a Girl Power marathon. I belt out “2 Become 1”, and Mom says nothing. She’s talked herself to death about this song. Now, she sings along. I still don’t know what it’s really about. I’m only ten, remember, and don’t care. “Make love” is as much hugging as it saying you love each other. It’s my choice not to know, but it’s better this way. I don’t need to. Not yet.

We didn’t know that Britney Spears was in a conservatorship. We didn’t know that the Spice Girls were having in-fighting. We didn’t know a lot of things.

But what if we did?

What would we have done?

That’s the question my friend and I discussed at length. If you know something toxic is going on behind-the-scenes, if you’re sure things aren’t all that you’re seeing, if you question things as you watch, do you continue, do you listen, do you read, do you consume?

In the case of the docu-series, abhorrent behavior has been exposed. Still, there are viewers—and a lot of them. Those who are showing up to watch young girls for disturbing reasons that make most people’s stomach turn, will always watch. Knowing what goes on may make it more enjoyable, as vile as that is. But plenty of her audience just wants to dance with Piper and her “squad”, watch her fake relationships blossom and fall apart.

Imagine another scene, happening right now, where another ten-year-old is watching a kidfluencer Live, dancing and singing along, laughing at the jokes only those who have watched for the last thirty videos know. They know the favorite colors of every person on the screen, just like I did with my favorite icons. Because their parents know what happened with the kids, should they stop watching?

What if you just suspect something dark is going on?

Didn’t my mother make comments like that? She assumed the label made Britney wear the “costumes” and the Spice Girls had overly sexual lyrics to grab the attention of boys and men as well as girls and women. And still, we bought the CDs, the t-shirts, watched the videos, sang to the music, called the radio stations on a loop in hopes of winning those coveted tickets we couldn’t afford.

I both contributed to Britney’s suffering and eased it. Because she made money, her father made money and had more control of her. Because she made money, she could eventually take him down and build a life for herself. Didn’t he start it because of the consumers, though? Not me, not you, just the general us. Before there was proof we would be there, her parents—on belief alone—took her to auditions. So how culpable are we?

Would a boycott of Britney’s music have stopped her father? Would Spice Girls have just gone their separate ways? Would kidfluencers’ parents let them be kids? Would the managers try harder? Push more? Be worse? Or is it too late by the time they get this big? Do they become untouchable by us?

That’s where we landed in our conversation—with the question of are we helpless? Comments, calls, letters, they fall on deaf ears once the figure gets to be So Large. Or do they? Can a stranger in Iowa call CPS? Can a stranger in Louisiana call the FBI? With nothing but hints, guesses, assumptions? And what happens when and if they do?

Well, the CPS was called on the kidfluencers and the momager in the docu-series. She just made sure to impress on the kids that if they didn’t lie, didn’t say she was wonderful and they enjoyed making their videos, it would all stop—they may never see each other again. All the kids, forever broken apart. Not to mention the stuff would stop coming in. So they said what they were scripted to. Just as they had been for years on camera. This time, there was just one take. But the backdrop of a mansion and the facade of joy on YouTube gave them made it easier for them to be stamped SAFE, right?

Is the best thing to do to stop watching entirely? Step away from all media like this? Keep your kids away from things they see as touchstones or relatable figures? Ignore the dancers you love because they have been called out to be in a cult (more on that in the Dancing With The Devil docu-series)? Is turning away the best move?

Most of these are just questions with answers that clearly cannot be agreed upon or there would be laws put in place to protect kids in meaningful ways, take down legal websites that encourage young teens to sell sexualized content to adults behind a paywall. But they are questions we should be asking.

My personal thoughts make this lil essay look like a haiku in length, but what matters most is that I’ll be thinking even more deeply about my decisions and media intake. Can I do a deep dive on each actor, each person behind the camera, the writers? No, sadly, I can’t. I’d like to. But I can’t ask the chicken’s name and see the pen it was raised in either (one of the many reasons I primarily eat meat only for the protein I can’t digest in other ways). So I must be as responsible as I can.

I guess that leaves us with the hope that we are doing the best we can.

I’d love to hear from you. What do you think?

Can you affect change? If so, how much of an impact can one person make? What actions would make the difference, do you think? Or would it take the masses? How many of us would it take? Must we make one collective choice or would many little actions be enough?

Joyce’s book launch

I’m so thrilled to give you the details! It’s going to be such a fun, chill event. ❤️ I hope you’ll come!

JANUARY 30th / 7 pm / Salon Rouge / Portland, OR — click for all the details and to RSVP

A week before the event, I’ll send out the address. It’s a speakeasy venue, so, you know, keeping it quiet.

a board filled with feels

Until next time, harness the Little darknesses and embrace the Little things.

*thumbnail image by Lisa from Pexels