Met Gala meets Hunger Games

#Blockout and beyond

It was quite the moment when Haley Baley said “Let them eat cake” at the Met Gala as Israel invaded Rafah. Hard to get more Hunger Games than that.

In response, people on social media (especially TikTok) started the #Blockout campaign as a way to punish celebrities for not speaking up for Palestine by blocking them on all platforms. In my view, this could have strategic potential but so far it's been hamstrung by purity culture — which is all cancel culture really is. Its measure of success will be to what extent it inspires people to go after different targets with more leverage.

Blocking celebrities on social media really does have an impact. It’s both an attack on their revenue streams which are tied to engagement, and it's a defense of our own time and attention which can go to better things than envying the wealthy their lifestyles. But the blocking quickly became indiscriminate and even counterproductive. Some figures who changed their tune in response to this collective action were shamed, told that it's too late, and that they're being performative. To this I would ask, what is the purpose of pressuring celebrities in this way if not to make them respond?

Well, the answer is that the purpose is simply to dissociate ourselves from those we find problematic. That brings us back to cancel culture. Instead of going after real Zionists, people were blocking celebrities seemingly at random, even some who had done meaningful work for Palestinians. It also didn't escape my notice that Black women are always scrutinized first (more on that in another post).

Lizzo told her viewers that celebrities don't have as much power as we think they do. I agree that we often have an inflated sense of where people in the spotlight actually stand, especially media and entertainment figures. None of these people are writing laws or budgets. But several responders make the good point that celebrity culture acts as the carrot to capitalism’s stick. Moreover, there's so much people in entertainment could be doing — anyone who can afford $75,000 for a ticket has access to simply staggering amounts of capital. Blocking them for inaction alone makes sense.

The best thing about moments like this, though, is collective action. I’m reminded of the Uncommitted movement, voters who aim to leverage the threat of abstention in order to shift the Biden administration’s stance on Palestine. I'm also reminded of The Nap Ministry, led by Tricia Hersey, whose mantra is “rest is resistance.” There is power in refusal, rejection, and divestment.

There's also good in advancing alternatives. Campaigns like Operation Olive Branch and Pass the Hat build on the flip side of the Blockout to amplify support for Palestine. The most effective actions combine digital organizing with collective presence in analog space. From the student protests that spread across the country, to increasing militancy in the labor movement, people are coming together to force the change they want to see.

And that's what I hope for those involved in the Blockout: that we're able to articulate what we want to see change, and problem-solve to make it happen. Reclaiming our time and attention from celebrity culture is always a good thing. Pressuring the rich and powerful to act differently, or at least to take notice, is worthwhile. But that can't be it.

It's so easy to get sucked into one-upmanship, guilt by association, outrage porn, and other social ills exacerbated by purity culture in all its forms. It's harder to avoid the pull and keep our eyes on the horizon.

There’s a genocide to stop, and an imminent fascist takeover to avoid. At some point, that requires all of us to get off our screens and into the streets.

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