Is Chappell Roan unfit to be famous? Some think we are currently witnessing the downfall of 2024’s most beloved pop princess—an artist too fresh to the industry to be able to handle the pitfalls of mainstream success. To others, these controversies are just the expected bumps in the road paving the way for the next global “Femininomenon” to take the world by storm, one sapphic cheerleading anthem at a time. Despite the explosive ups and downs of her year in the limelight, I feel that Chappell’s struggles with fame are not only expected, but entirely inevitable in today’s toxically online world, and that everyone needs to take a few steps back and reconsider what we think pop stars owe to us, and in turn, what we owe to them.
If you haven’t witnessed Chappell Roan’s meteoric rise to fame, it might be difficult to convey just how rapidly she has advanced into the public eye within the past few months. Since last September, following the release of her debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, the pop artist’s streams have increased over twentyfold, bolstered heavily by her performances at Olivia Rodrigo’s Guts tour, Coachella, Boston Calling, Lollapalooza, and most recently, the 2024 VMA’s. Her theatrical, cabaret-inspired, indie, synth-pop style harks back to pop artists of the 2000s and 2010s, and coupled with her distinct makeup looks and captivating live vocals, she has cemented herself as one of this year’s biggest stars. And yet, just like many of her pop predecessors, Chappell has begun to find herself in her fair share of controversy, prompting discourse amongst fans and haters alike about the prices of fame.
On August 19th 2024, Chappell posted a TikTok in which she called upon her audience to reconsider how they approach celebrities in public, asking, “If you saw a random woman on the street, would you yell at her from the car window? Would you harass her in public? Would you go up to a random lady and say, ‘Can I get a photo with you?’” This video garnered millions of views and an immediate reaction amongst netizens, some supporting her and commending her vulnerability, with others criticizing her inability to deal with her newfound fame. Her comments regarding whether fans should ask for photos sparked heated debates online, as well as memes joking about the artist’s potential reactions to public fan encounters. Chappell followed her comments with a second video in which she questioned the industry’s normalization of invasive behavior, stating, “I don’t care that this crazy type of behavior comes along with the job … that does not make it okay. That doesn’t make it normal.”
While fresh and topical, Chappell’s struggles with this kind of “fan behavior” are not at all unique. As she revealed in an interview with Rolling Stone, several notable artists such as Sabrina Carpenter, Charli xcx, Lorde, and Mitski contacted her to show support following the backlash to her statements, with Mitski writing to her, “I just wanted to humbly welcome you to the shittiest exclusive club in the world, the club where strangers think you belong to them and they find and harass your family members.” The gap between fan and artist responses to this situation makes it frustratingly clear that these shared experiences—happening mainly to female artists—reflect larger flaws in the music industry as a whole.
Parasocial relationships are often the topic of discussion when it comes to artists who exist in the age of social media, and at the root there is a disconnect between how fans discuss these concepts and how they act on them. According to recent research from Thriveworks, “51% of Americans have likely been in parasocial relationships, even though only 16% admit to it.” These one-sided perceptions of connection dominate the celebrity world, with fans of musicians, actors, sports stars, and more engaging with stars as if they were their friends. The K-pop industry capitalizes on parasociality; idols are prevented from having publicly-facing relationships in order for fans to believe that they could have a chance at dating their celebrity faves. While these strict rules don’t appear as explicitly in the U.S., it remains clear that the same financial incentives for K-pop idols to appear accessible to their fans exist at the roots of the American music industry. As Nick Bobetsky, Chappell Roan’s manager, discussed in a recent Billboard article, artists are often compelled to use their social media platforms to heighten “the personal connection that fans feel,” supporting the idea that there are great amounts of money behind images of relatability, even if they come at the cost of the comfort and safety of the industry’s biggest stars.
Fan reaction to Chappell’s TikTok feels somewhat similar to that of Doja Cat’s statements criticizing fans’ choices to call themselves “Kittenz” received extreme backlash. In addition, when asked by a fan if she would still say she loves her fans, she replied with “i don’t though cuz i don’t even know yall,” one of several comments which would frustrate fans throughout the leadup to the release of her 2022 album Scarlet. While Chappell has never made such direct claims that she doesn’t love or appreciate her supporters, both situations bring up questions regarding to what extent musicians owe their success to their listeners, and whether or not such gratitude warrants providing fans with more access to stars’ personal lives. Some have pointed out that more veteran pop icons such as Lady Gaga or Beyoncé have already limited this kind of personal access, likely a result of the same invasive behavior that Chappell is grappling with today. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if Chappell took a similar approach moving forward, as she has been clear for much of her career that she considers the character of Chappell Roan to be a “drag project”: a means of separating her on-stage persona from her personal life. Most recently, she told Face magazine, “I feel like fame is just abusive,” comparing it to “the vibe of an abusive ex-husband.” Her words make it clear that her reactions to fame are not up for debate, and that those who choose to fuel the toxicity are only contributing to the abuse.
Being a celebrity today places you in an uncomfortable middle ground in which strangers are given permission to interact with you as if you know them, and yet the socially agreed upon rules of consent don’t seem to apply when asking that artist, a stranger, for access to their time, image, body, and space. In an Instagram post published on August 23rd, Chappell writes, “Women don’t owe you shit … Please stop touching me. Please stop being weird to my family and friends … I feel more love than I ever have in my life. I feel the most unsafe I have ever felt in my life.” Celebrities like Chappell have been commodified beyond the point of recognition and when they act in a way that opposes those skewed images we hold, we as fans get angry at their “unreasonable” demands. We deem it to be socially acceptable to ask for a hug from an artist we have never met, and yet we mock the “where my hug at” men who creep around girls they’ve never met, asking for the very same things that we claim we are owed.
In the end, Chappell Roan deserves to be given the time and the room to find a more comfortable footing in the industry, and yes, that does mean respecting her boundaries. Maybe then she will finally feel comfortable enough to fully enjoy her newfound success. But, as the music industry stands today, the best we can do is wish her “Good Luck, Babe!” Judging by how people have reacted to her simple requests, she will most definitely need it.
