Do All of Our Thoughts Need to be Content?
Perhaps I should start a podcast...
I’m a chronic oversharer; I share, share, share, and share. My boundaries have recently gotten a lot stronger — not every person I meet is entitled to my life story — but in my early teen years, I felt the insatiable need to make people like me. If that meant bearing my soul to someone I had met five minutes ago, then so be it. Additionally, I am very opinionated. I will share (most of) my opinions, even if you don’t ask for them. Despite all my feelings and opinions, I do not have a podcast. I could, and part of me thinks I should (which speaks to the issue at hand). It seems that every time you see an influencer or content creator of any kind, they have a podcast. What are their podcasts about? Good question. Too much of the time, a podcast is just a couple of people talking at each other, not with each other. And what are they talking about? A lot of the time, their own brands. A podcast is just the new frontier for celebrities and influencers to make money through sponsored posts and plugging their own products. Since it seems like everyone and their mother opens up about their lives and opinions on podcasts, why not me?
One part of me thinks, who cares? If people want to put something out into the world, then they should. The internet is a cruel place, so more power to them for having the guts to do it. Even if it’s not my cup of tea, it’s gotta be someone’s. The other, more critical part of me thinks that if someone is going to put a form of media into the world, there should be integrity behind it. Not “meaning” necessarily but a “why.” Why do I want to create a brand as an already rich and famous celebrity/influencer? Think of all the celebrity and influencer-owned alcohol brands. Is there a reason behind all of those besides adding to their wallet? I do not know these people personally and cannot speak to their unique business motivations, but I roll my eyes every time I walk past Ryan Reynolds’ gin and Kendall Jenner’s tequila in the grocery store. It reads as greed to me, not integrity.
We hold artists to the standards of integrity, meaning, and importance, yet we let those standards disappear when it comes to public figures like influencers and celebrities. Why? For example, take Alex Cooper, host of the podcast “Call Her Daddy.” The show started out as a space for two women hosts to talk about sex without shame, and it has evolved into an interview-style podcast. This shift in content style has earned her a lot of praise and fame, considering she has had guests like Chappell Roan, Monica Lewinsky, Ellen Pompeo, and even presidential candidate Kamala Harris on the show. The questions posed are good, but they would be a lot better if Cooper pushed her guests and made them go deeper, yet that rarely happens. The cultivated conversations have potential but fall short of going anywhere but the surface. This seems to be a glaring pattern in the current state of journalism: a lot of interviewers aren’t pressing their interviewees. They accept the answer they are given even if it is in bad faith, even if it is wrong or bigoted in nature.
Lately, there have been many scandals related to podcasters. One of the most recent examples is from Emergency Intercom, hosted by Enya Umanzor and Drew Phillips. They posted a highly distasteful and, if you ask me, misogynistic podcast episode where they “jokingly” claimed activists like Malala Yousafzai and Greta Thunberg have “fallen the fuck off.” They repeat these words over and over again with Phillips repeatedly calling these women “bitches.” “That bitch fell the fuck off! Where even is that bitch?” The episode was met with quick backlash for their remarks and one of the critiques that stood out to me the most is how their comments are indicative of a larger, cultural trend: People move to a city like LA and become just like everybody else. They refuse to learn or engage with people outside of their small influencer community, they become wrapped up in their own hegemony. Fitting into a strict binary of personhood too often makes people neglect the world around them — the parts of the world that are ugly, violent, and in need of changing.
Think of the Kardashians. They have been behind the camera since 2007, nearly two decades. As time goes on, the more inflammatory they become. They are now comfortable outing themselves as Trump-Musk supporters because they know their fans will stick around — or at least, most of their fans. The same thing can happen with podcasters. They become so comfortable making inflammatory claims and expressing bigoted opinions because they have a false sense of safety — they think that their fans will stick with them through thick and thin, through scandal and cancellation. But most podcasters don’t have the same social and cultural clout that the Kardashians do — well, except for Khloé Kardashian, who hosts her own podcast.
By Nicole Eisenman
There is also a glaring disparity in who hosts a podcast. According to data gathered by Josh Morgan, “85% of American podcasts sampled had at least one white host. As shown in the chart below, two-thirds (66%) had a white male host. Altogether, 18% of podcasts had a non-white host.” The lack of diversity within the podcasting industry speaks to who audiences are inclined to listen to — we dignify the words of white men more than those of minorities.
Why has there been a push to monetize and contentize conversations? There are great podcasts out there, ones that really have something to say about something or other. And there are podcasts out there where people simply record their conversations, (conversations that don’t really pertain to anything). That’s what conversation is so much of the time, just talking about whatever comes up. The trend of podcasting everything speaks to our desire to create content about anything and everything. But it feels like podcast success is more about who is talking, rather than what is being said.
People want to be witnessed, and that isn’t a bad thing; it’s a facet of human nature. Ironically, as we grow more interconnected through technology and social media, the harder it becomes to stand out and the more incentive a person has to grow their internet presence. It’s no secret that, generally speaking, the more fame a person gains, the more their sense of self-importance inflates — ego grows as pockets grow. In a world where content is monetized and money is king, how do we responsibly produce and ingest content like podcasts?
Podcasting has the potential to be a space for people to generate authentic, human conversation, and there are a number of podcasts that do that. Yet too much of the podcasting world is taken up by already rich, already famous people promoting themselves and their own brands. The solution? I’m not quite sure. I think it requires an investigation of how and why we consume the media we do. Why do some people prefer to listen to Joe Rogan and others prefer The Daily? Why do people flock to the Target aisles when their favorite celebrity releases their own liquor brand? Media infiltrates every part of our lives, and we shouldn’t move through our world as if it doesn’t. I think we would all be better off if we consumed our podcasts more productively and responsibly. As for whether or not I succumb to temptation and join the podcast epidemic… we’ll just have to see.