a photo of the actor Michael Sheen on a fuzzy blanket

Bad Fandom Friend

editorial

{Header image is a photo of my Michael Sheen blanket, given to me by my wife, so I could ‘snuggle’ with the actor.}

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Bad Art Friend and what it says about the online world and what are considered safe spaces therein.

If you’re not familiar with this, in early October, New York Times Magazine published a feature by Robert Kolker titled “Who is the Bad Art Friend?” It described, in gossipy detail, the growing feud between writers Dawn Dorland and Sonya Larson. Dorland had written a letter about her donating a kidney, and talked about it online, and Larson later wrote a story that involved someone donating a kidney. Claims of both plagiarism and betrayal followed and ventured into lawsuit land.

When I first read the story, I was firmly in Larson’s corner. The way Kolker wrote the story, it read like Dorland was constantly talking about her kidney donation on her Facebook account, all the while implying she didn’t need recognition for said donation. We’ve all run into those types of people: who insist they are doing something just for the sake of being a good person, but then brings it up at every opportunity as if they are waiting for a gold medal. I also wasn’t the only one that was noticing the White Woman ™ privilege of Dorland’s donation and talking about said donation.

But the more I read about the situation (from accounts other than Kolker, that is), the more I started being on Dorland’s side. Turns out that while yes, she did make a t-shirt about the donation and talked about it, she had talked to Larson about it in a Facebook group, not on her page. The letter itself was from the group, and not posted publicly. Larson’s actions took on the tinge of bullying and mocking.

I’m not the first to point out regarding this story that group chats are typically more personal than what you present publicly. We all have different sides of our personality we show in different places, and very rarely is what we post on our public Facebook page a completely accurate view of who we are.

For me, there’s even more to it, as most of the Facebook groups I belong to are fandom related. Being a fan of something not-mainstream (like sports) has long been something people keep close to their chest in fear of being made fun of.

a photo of a John Watson Funko pop, holding a butter knife and standing next to a turkey-shaped thing of butter
John Watson helped with Thanksgiving one year. Photo by Angie Fiedler Sutton.

It doesn’t help that much of fandom (especially the ones that are ‘on the fringe’) are neurodivergent, queer, or a minority in another way. We already have to put a mask on to ‘look normal’ in our regular work life. Fandom is one of the rare places we feel comfortable ‘being ourselves’, and thus consider it a safe space.

Like all groups, fandom has its issues. We get those who think Benedict Cumberbatch’s marriage (and baby) are fake, we have shipping wars (to the point where I did a podcast about it), and we have our share of Sad Puppies. But that’s just how humanity works, and no group is immune to having people on the extremes.

But fandom carries with it certain expectations. (Some of which are being forgotten, but that’s another essay for another time.) There’s a firm wall between creator and fans, and the creator is the one that should break that wall (i.e., no showing creators / actors fan art or fan fiction without the permission of the person who made said art/fiction). You don’t give creators ideas, as that means the idea is even less likely to be used (sometimes in fear of copyright concerns). And – except in cases where someone is being dangerous and/or harmful — what is said in fandom stays in fandom.

Even in today’s world, where it’s “chic to be geek” and geeks are no longer considered ‘uncool’, articles abound that portray fans as mockable. “Isn’t it quaint,” these articles inevitably theorize, “that there are weirdos out there that like to write fan fiction about a show” (without acknowledging things like Sherlock is just official fanfic); or “Isn’t it weird that fans would have stand-ups of their favorite celebrities?” (without acknowledging that sports fans have been doing this for years without being teased).

a custom Cards Against Humanity card, text reads 'Martin Freeman's deep, soulful eyes.'
My friends know me far too well. Photo by Angie Fiedler Sutton.

Even in academics, acafandom typically takes the ‘this part of fandom is bad’ rather than celebrating fandom, and what little is positive is typically ridiculed by other academics. I wrote an essay back in 2014 for my master’s thesis on why I hesitate to call myself a fangirl that covered the dual fate of being a female fan and how you’re immediately dismissed because of it.

What’s worse are the journalists who join a fandom or fandom event just to write these articles. It reminds me of when I was in high school and I had people ask to be friends or ask me out — specifically to make fun of me when it looked like I was interested. It’s not funny, it’s not clever, and in no way should it be acceptable.

Which brings me back to Bad Art Friend and how my position on the situation changed the more I heard about it. While yes, the plagiarism is definitely bad, the part that stuck with me was the betrayal and gaslighting that Larson and her fellow friends in the group chat did. Just because something is online does not mean it’s fair game. Our privacy is slowly shrinking, both in ‘meat space’ and in online, and it’s a fight for every inch. A group chat is different than posting it on your page, just like a fan club having a meeting at a library is different than you posting something on a bulletin board.

We need online safe spaces just as much as we need offline ones. I still remember growing up in a rural town in the middle of Missouri, not knowing anyone else who liked the same things I did. When I first heard of a Doctor Who fan club (in the late 80s/early 90s) in St. Louis, I had my mom drive me the almost 90 minutes into the city in order to meet fellow fans. I was awkward and scared and (hindsight being 20/20) not knowing how to interact with the world thanks to autism. I was able to go to a handful of meetings, but forever grateful to realize I was not alone.

Who knows what would have happened had it it been the current time and I was able to connect to such people in an online space whenever I wanted to? Just because it’s online doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be treated as real. Most of my best friends are people I have either never met or talk to mostly thanks to the internet. Fandom should be a safe space, whether it’s online or off, and I find it sad that people don’t seem to grok that. To quote Wil Wheaton, who has seen fandom from both sides of the exchange, “Don’t be a dick.”

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