“Joss is (no longer?) Boss”: three layers of cancelling in the joss whedon fan community

ABSTRACT

Over the past few years, and in the aftermath of the #MeToo movement, increased attention has been devoted to the practice of “cancelling:” the withdrawal of support from someone whose values, action or speech are deemed unacceptable. While social justice advocates see cancelling as a tool advancing equality and inclusion, the pejorative term “cancel culture” has quickly earned a contested status and was used by opposers to warn against a “takeover” of “woke” values. The Joss Whedon fan community, centered around a creator celebrated for advancing feminist agendas in popular culture, is an intriguing site within this broader controversy. The aim of this study is to explore how fans navigate the ambivalences inherent in cancelling a previously-valued creator, and the tensions between promoting liberal values and protecting objects of fandom. Drawing on 20 in-depth interviews with Whedon fans and former fans, we propose a framework conceptualizing cancelling as consisting of three layers: cancelling the emotional relationship towards the creator, cancelling his works, and promoting cancelling as an ideological choice. The framework is helpful in understanding the broader tensions inherent in the practice of cancelling, in the context of culture and gender wars.

KEYWORDS:

• Cancel culture
• popular culture
• in-depth interviews
• fan communities
• popular feminism

Over the past few years, and in the aftermath of the #MeToo movement, increased attention has been devoted to the practice of “cancelling:” the withdrawal of support from someone whose values, action or speech are deemed unacceptable (Meredith Clark 2020; Eve Ng 2020). Yet, the term “cancel culture” has quickly earned a contested status. While social justice advocates see the practice of cancelling as a tool for advancing equality and inclusion, opposers associate it with “wokeism” (Daniel Sailofsky 2022) and warn against a “takeover of progressive values” (Clark 2020, 88). The case of the prominent creator, writer and director Joss Whedon, who has been subject to calls for cancelling in light of allegations around misconduct and abuse on his sets, is part of this cultural debate at the intersection of popular culture and gender politics. The aim of this study is to explore how members of a fan community make sense of cancelling as a cultural phenomenon, and how the practice is used to express and negotiate broader values as part of the “culture wars” in popular culture.

Cancelling has often been described in relation to the ongoing “culture wars”—referring to the central conflict between contrasting groups around broad ideological and political value gaps—e.g., opposing liberal and conservative values (Rebecca Lewis and Angèle Christin 2022; Jaime A. Teixeira da Silva 2021). In this struggle, gender has consistently played a central role alongside other “traditional” culture war issues such as religion, political ideology, or abortion. In the digital age, such conflicts are also contested on social media, where they are characterized by the competition between two phenomena—popular feminism, and popular (or networked) misogyny (Sarah Banet-Weiser and Kate Miltner 2016; Debbie Ging and Eugenia Siapera 2018)—both of which rely on social media logic for their dissemination and success. Similarly, cancelling—as a digital practice of ostracism—uses the affordances of social media in scope, access and time (Gwen Bouvier 2020; Clark 2020). While the practice of cancelling carries potential in serving important feminist causes by exposing sexual predators (e.g., Harvey Weinstein), the pejorative term “cancel culture” frames it as a “trend” in the sphere of popular culture, and implies its use for persecution or “witch hunts” against those who do not conform to “woke” ideals (see Lewis and Christin 2022, 1634).

The recent controversy surrounding Joss Whedon is a particularly striking case through which to investigate interpretations of cancelling as a cultural practice. Unlike other “cancelled” celebrities like Harvey Weinstein, who was convicted of sexual assault and unanimously condemned, the allegations against Whedon,¹ which included inappropriate and abusive behavior on and off-set, were considered more of a grey area in terms of moral and legal aspects—opening the door for a heated debate in fan spaces. This case is especially enlightening given the fact that Whedon was previously celebrated for advancing feminist agendas in popular culture, with his esteemed feminist works, revolutionary strong female superheroes, as well as his own self-declaration as a “male feminist.”

Despite the extensive recent attention around “cancel culture,” either as an important stage in feminist progress or as a danger to open debate (Clark 2020; Gwen Bouvier and David Machin 2021; Pippa Norris 2023), the scholarship still lacks a deep understanding of how the practice is used and interpreted by those who employ it, in light of its potential ambivalences. The focus of this study is thus on the ways fans, particularly those who identify with the objectives of the feminist struggle, perceive, evaluate and employ “cancelling.” Through a qualitative analysis of 20 in-depth interviews with Whedon fans and former fans, sampled from the fan community on Twitter,² we examine how interviewees navigate the ambivalences inherent in cancelling a previously-valued creator. Specifically, we investigate how they manage the tension between their emotional connection to the creator and his works, and the commitment to pursue social justice in light of uncovered transgressions. Our analysis of how fans view and justify their choices in light of these conflicts points to the conceptualization of cancelling as consisting of three layers: (1) cancelling the emotional relationship towards the creator, (2) cancelling his works, and (3) promoting cancelling as an ideological choice. Through this conceptualization, this study aims to further our understanding of cancelling as a political-ideological tool, and the roles this practice serves in the ongoing “culture wars” between conflicting ideologies on social media and popular culture.

Popular culture as a terrain of struggle over ideology

The realm of popular culture is considered one of the most powerful arenas in which ideas are created and circulated. Numerous scholars position it as a crucial site where power, ideology and identity are constituted, produced and materialized (Arjun Appadurai 1996), making it indivisible from political ideological struggles. Indeed, the “culture wars” between opposing liberal and conservative values have become a central aspect in recent discussions of contemporary popular culture (Lewis and Christin 2022; da Silva 2021). In this view, popular culture is seen as a “new front” of the culture wars (Jeremiah Castle 2019; William Proctor and Bridget Kies 2018) where opposing values compete for visibility and influence, particularly around gender. The debate over cancelling can be seen as one aspect within this broader gendered ideological struggle.

Past research has long considered how gender relations are actively constructed and negotiated within the cultural sphere. In recent decades, the digital sphere is widely recognized as a crucial arena for the negotiation over “competing forms of knowledge, culture, and ideology” (Joseph Ching Velasco 2020, 2). Recent years—that have seen the rise of dominant gender equality protests in the digital environment, such as #MasculinitySoFragile or the highly visible #MeToo campaign—have been dubbed as “a new era of the gender wars” (Sarah Banet-Weiser 2018, 5). The affordances of social media allow for the emergence of a dual-sided battle, via two competing phenomena: the trend of feminism in popular media, and the response of online misogyny.

In the context of the “gender wars,” the term “popular feminism” refers to the integration of feminist ideas (such as gender equality, women’s empowerment, and challenging traditional gender roles and power relations) into mainstream culture. As Sarah Banet-Weiser and Laura Portwood-Stacer (2017, 884) claim, this trend, fuelled through the affordances of digital participatory culture (Kaitlynn Mendes, Jessica Ringrose and Jessalynn Keller 2019) has become so popular as to be regarded as popular culture itself. Yet, the success of popular feminism in recent years has also produced, as Laura Mulvey and Anna Backman Rogers (2015) describe, the opposite effects: for example, in 2014, a poll by Time magazine included the word “feminism” in a list of irritating words readers would have liked to have banned. This counter-trend has been referred to as “networked misogyny” (Banet-Weiser and Miltner 2016), also termed online misogyny (Ging and Siapera 2018) or the manosphere (Mendes, Ringrose, and Keller 2019). These terms describe an anti-feminist sentiment that circulates to a wide audience on popular media platforms. Specifically, it is theorized as salient in male-dominated media subcultures, and often includes exclusionary practices and harassment against women participants (Suzanne Scott 2012).

Social media platforms are utilized both by social justice advocators and by critics of “progressive” agendas to promote their respective ideologies, leading to debates and clashes online. On the one hand, much scholarship has celebrated the potential of social media in democratization and social justice, allowing individuals and groups, formerly lacking a platform to speak, to be heard and to mobilize others (Bouvier and Machin 2021). On the other hand, social media has been claimed to encourage polarization, e.g., in discussions of social and political issues that tend towards simplifications, extreme points of view and moral rages (Bouvier and Machin 2021, 307). The practice of cancelling can be seen as an example of this ongoing struggle.

The controversy around cancelling and “cancel culture”

While the term “cancelling” is new, the social practice of thrusting an offender out of social or professional circles precedes the digital age. It can be seen as related to other practices of ostracism and public shaming that have been part of society for centuries (Ng 2020). The currently salient term—“cancelling”—entered the public sphere alongside the #MeToo movement (Ng 2020). Scholars trace the origins of cancelling back to Black Twitter (Clark 2020; Eve Ng 2022), and it has been used in conjunction with several social movements aimed at amplifying the voices of traditionally marginalized groups, like #MeToo or #BlackLivesMatter (Bouvier 2020). Unlike previous versions of ostracism like blacklisting or boycotting, cancelling is a mediated process (Clark 2020) that leverages the power of social media to expand its scope, accelerate its speed and reach a larger audience. Social media platforms, and Twitter in particular, are considered significant spaces where cancelling as a social practice plays out (Bouvier and Machin 2021).

In some cases, scholars describe cancelling as an active, individual choice of agency (Clark 2020). This can involve the withdrawal of support from a public figure who has acted in a morally offensive manner (Ng 2020) by the disinvestment of presence, time, or money—a behavior that is analogous to consumer-boycotts (Clark 2020). Alternately, on social media, cancelling can also be a form of “collective social movement” (Velasco 2020, 2) whose aim is to apply “collective strategies” to achieve cultural ostracism of targets (Norris 2023, 4).

Cancelling is often considered a tool for the marginalized to reveal injustice and respond to threats (Clark 2020; Ng 2020; Sailofsky 2022). In a hegemonic male society, it is often used for digital feminist activism (Mendes, Ringrose, and Keller 2019), as part of the social justice work to maintain or protect desired values and norms in the public sphere, e.g., for exposing sexual harassment. In support of such practices, scholars regard the role of cancelling as an alternative, restorative justice activism, or “raw justice” (da Silva 2021, 1), achieving social justice for victims who are unable to obtain legal redress (Norris 2023; Sailofsky 2022).

Yet, quickly, the term “cancel culture” has earned a contested status. It is mostly critics who have come to use “cancel culture” as the claim that cancelling has become a cultural “trend.” These critiques focus mostly around freedom of expression and the subjectivity of moral values (Velasco 2020, 2). Critics of the practice claim that individuals acting together on social media to cancel someone can potentially “act as judge, jury and executioner of others” (Thomas S. Mueller 2021, 1). Further, opposers warn against the consequence of cancelling in “weakening of the norms of open debate and toleration of differences in favor of ideological conformity” (Clark 2020, 1). In this view, cancelling is seen as one-sided silencing by the dominant cultural view.

In terms of freedom of expression, the main concern critics put forth is the fear that people with different opinions will self-censor out of fear of being “cancelled” (Norris 2023; Velasco 2020). Critics see here an inversion in the power balance: previously marginalized views (e.g., in terms of gender, race and sexuality) are now claimed to have gained the power to silence others, and practices that have originally been targeted at powerful oppressors are now too easily misappropriated by “social elites” to offensively silence those seen as dissenting (Clark 2020, 88). Thus, for those groups who have historically been privileged (Sailofsky 2022), cancelling is perceived as a danger and as a form of silencing (Velasco 2020, 6). The negative connotation in “cancel culture” further criticizes a “rush to collective judgement” (Norris 2023, 3) or a “mob” mentality (Bouvier and Machin 2021, 308), without the possibility for discussion or evidence-based negotiation of moral justice. The tension over cancelling is thus part of the broader struggles over ideology, morals and meanings in popular media (Lewis and Christin 2022).

Cancelling a feminist icon: the case of Joss Whedon

Within this broader struggle, our focus here is on the case of Joss Whedon, a popular creator, writer and director. Whedon is most known as the creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003, henceforth, Buffy) and its spin-off Angel (1999–2004), later becoming a distinguished writer/director in the blockbuster Marvel and DC franchises The Avengers (2012, and the sequel in 2015) and Justice League (2017). Until allegations against him surfaced, Whedon enjoyed a special status among his fan base and beyond (Robert Moore 2015), described as one of the most critically acclaimed auteurs of our time (Juliette C. Kitchens and Julie L. Hawk 2019). He was particularly celebrated for his role in advancing liberal agendas in popular culture, presenting in his work revolutionary strong female superheroes (Moore 2015), and referring to himself as a “male feminist”—all these were key factors for his critical acclaim and devoted fan base. The term “fanboy auteur” (Scott 2012) attributed to Whedon—due to his interaction with and endorsement of fandom—distinguished him as a creator deeply trusted by fans (Judith Fathallah 2014). The creator was thus himself an object of fandom, which exacerbated the complexity that later allegations posed to fans’ relationship with him.

The first allegations questioning Whedon’s supposed feminist ideology surfaced in 2017, when his ex-wife, Kai Cole, accused him of hypocrisy for preaching feminist ideals while engaging in multiple affairs with cast, crew members and fans. These allegations came on top of some criticism that had already emerged against Whedon for oversexualizing female characters, which reportedly led him to leave Twitter (on the grounds of a conflict with what he called “militant feminists”). However, it wasn’t until 2020, when Justice League actor Ray Fisher publicly accused Whedon of “gross” and “abusive” behavior on set, and actress Gal Gadot asserted that he threatened her career, that Whedon’s reputation suffered a significant blow. A few months later, in February 2021, Buffy and Angel actress Charisma Carpenter shared her own experience of Whedon’s toxic behavior, sparking support from numerous cast members denouncing Whedon. It is important to note that these allegations surfaced during a highly sensitive time for Hollywood as a whole (due to repercussions of the #MeToo movement), as well as for Whedon’s career, which may have been impacted by the allegations (e.g., an investigation started by Warner Bros., or the seemingly-unrelated exit from his upcoming HBO series The Nevers).

Yet beyond the possible repercussions on Whedon’s career, the allegations have placed Whedon’s fans in a challenging position. We conceive of fans here as a social identity and part of a participatory network (Francesca Coppa 2014): individuals who have a strong emotional attachment and a feeling of ownership through their engagement with authors and texts. In many definitions of fandom, affect and emotions play a crucial role in the relationship between fans and their idols, with fans characterized as “emotionally involved” with the text (Cornel Sandvoss 2005; see also Hilde Van den Bulck, Nathalie Claessens, Jelle Mast and An Kuppens 2016, 515). Moreover, as Fathallah (2014) noted, fans’ support of creators is often based on matching cultural politics.

Joss Whedon fostered a particularly close interaction with his fans, not only through his content, but also through his personal involvement in online and offline fan spaces (Moore 2015). As encapsulated in the fan-phrase “Joss is Boss,”³ Whedon fans were used to trusting his decisions, believing him to know “what’s best for our own good better than we do” (Derek Johnson 2017, 376). Henry Jenkins (2018, 16) claims that fandom is born out of a mixture of fascination and frustration. In the case of Whedon’s fans, this tension was painfully exacerbated when allegations that are directly related to his previous image as a “male feminist” came to light: the fan base had to deal with accusations against the creator, ones that question their relationship to his work, as well.

We thus ask: How do Whedon fans perceive, evaluate and employ the practice of cancelling as a tool to promote feminist ideals? And how does the practice shine light on the relationship between creators, audiences and cultural products?

Method

In order to understand how Whedon fans perceive cancelling as a practice, we conducted 20 in-depth interviews with Whedon fans and former fans. Interviewees were recruited from the online fan community. In the absence of a dedicated platform for the global fan community (like message boards of the early 2000s), we used Twitter to search for participants that were actively involved in the debate. Using data scraping tools (TAGS) and the Twitter search engine, the categories for inclusion were: users who follow Whedon’s personal account (@joss) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer (@BuffyTVS) and who responded to the abuse allegations posted by Charisma Carpenter’s account (@allcharisma) from February 2021, or to Whedon’s response to the allegations from January 2022.

To cover a wide range of fans, our sampling strategy sought for variance in interviewees’ gender, age, and involvement in online fan communities. Taking into account potential generational differences, the sample focused mostly on millennial fans (people born between 1981 to 1996), the generation who became fans of Whedon’s early works like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Browsing users’ public profiles, we created a list of over 150 potential interviewees who met the criteria and have public profiles. These users were contacted via direct messages on Twitter, asking if they identify (or have identified in the past) as fans of Whedon and/or his works, and would agree to participate in the study. Overall, we interviewed eight men and 12 women, aged 28–59, English speakers from the US, Canada and Europe. Interviews were conducted through Zoom, lasted between 45–130 minutes (79 minutes on average), and were fully transcribed. All 20 interviewees defined their political identification on the liberal end of the ideological spectrum, with different levels of involvement in the fandom (from those who only “lurk,” to key organizers of fan events, who had direct contact with the cast and crew). Interviewees are presented through pseudonyms, gender and age.

In the interview guide, we at first refrained from the terms cancelling or “cancel culture,” waiting to see if interviewees brought these terms up in relation to their interpretation of the allegations against Whedon and the effect they had on their perceptions and behavior. Only in the third and last part of the interview, we raised the term ourselves, by asking if the interviewees heard calls to “cancel” Whedon, or whether they encountered the term “cancel culture” in the context of the Whedon controversies.

Our thematic analysis, inspired by grounded theory (Anselm Strauss and Juliet Corbin 1998), identified recurring concepts in fans’ explanations and justifications for their choices around cancelling a creator who previously epitomized the values they celebrated. This analysis led us to identify three layers of cancelling: (1) cancelling the emotional relationship with the creator, (2) cancelling his works, and (3) promoting cancelling as an ideological tool (Figure 1). Through the framework elucidated by this case, we aim to contribute to our understanding of cancelling as a salient practice in today’s media environment.

Figure 1. Three layers of cancelling.

Findings: three layers of cancelling

“Cancel Whedon:” evaluating the emotional connection towards the creator

As fans are defined by their strong emotional connection to objects of fandom (Sandvoss 2005; Van den Bulck et al. 2016), the first layer of cancelling takes place in relation to Joss Whedon himself, as a person and a creator, in terms of a change in fan emotions towards him. This change in emotions may in turn lead to an intentional choice among fans to distance themselves from him as an object of fandom, and reevaluate their self-identification as Whedon fans. Although all of the interviewees felt disappointment in reaction to the allegations against Whedon, we can distinguish between interviewees who describe supporting Whedon despite an emotional reaction, and others who described how the emotional reaction caused by the allegations led them to intentionally remove (or “cancel”) him as an object of their fan identification.

The majority of the interviewees (16 of 20) belong to the second type, and described severing a previously-held emotional connection towards Whedon. For some, this feeling was mild: “The allegations bummed me out” (Hannah, F, 43), “I’m not excited about him” (Daniel, M, 37). Others, like Clara (F, 52), experienced the news on a visceral level: “Feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach and then I wanted to vomit.” For these fans, their emotional response affected their identification as Whedon fans, and resulted in a decision to openly withdraw their support from him. For example, Angela (F, 33) described needing to “take a step back,” saying she was “not going to worship him […] or like put him on a pedestal any longer.”

In order to justify or explain their decision to remove Whedon as an object of fandom, these fans relied on their own moral judgments of his alleged actions and their perceived severity. Almost all interviewees agreed that the evidence regarding Whedon “did not appear to reach the threshold of criminal behavior” (Clara, F, 52). Thus, the pertinent question was not whether Whedon was guilty of breaking the law, but rather, how (in)appropriate it is to support a person who acted as he did. The descriptions ascribed to Whedon’s alleged actions ranged from serious terms like “abusive and cruel” (Jacob, M, 37) to descriptions of inappropriate behavior: “unprofessional” (Angela, F, 31), “tasteless” (Ben, M, 34), “juvenile” (Alice, F, 41), “not the nicest” (Michelle, F, 39) or “just being a bit of a jerk” (Liz, F, 36). Many interviewees rejected the framing of Whedon’s actions as sexual assault, and instead spoke of an abuse of power. Interestingly, the perceived severity did not necessarily match the decision to cancel: many argued for cancelling him although they did not consider his actions as particularly extreme. For example, some fans who did decide to withdraw their support from him still discarded the allegations as “a private thing” (Donna, F, 31), or as a moral grey zone: “I’m hesitant to be judging how a man conducts his private romantic life” (Jonathan, M, 29).

The four fans who spoke against cancelling Whedon described similar initial emotional reactions, but still chose to continue supporting Whedon, based on a more forgiving moral judgement of his character and motives. For example, Owen (M, 44) described Whedon as “complicated […] I accepted him as a damaged person,” and Tommy (M, 37), similarly, saw Whedon as an “imperfect but innocent man […] a flawed person, who may have made selfish mistakes, and may have been too snappish and colorful in how he spoke.” Others who did argue for cancelling Whedon still rhetorically removed some of the blame from him, for example “diagnosing” him as one who “might be a little on the spectrum” (Daniel, M, 37), or as Liz (F, 36) explained: “he’s not just this horrible man […] he had a whole bunch of power over women, and power corrupts.”

From this view, cancelling can be understood as a form of accountability, and as an alternative justice system (da Silva 2021). This goal was evident in fan’ explanations that referred to concepts from the realm of law and justice, as well as direct criticism of the legal system. As Becky (F, 59) explained: “There are plenty of people who escaped legal consequences who still deserve not to resume [working].” Because of existing loopholes in a flawed system, she explained, she feels the need to be able to use the cultural sphere instead. Owen (M, 44) also mentioned the lack of regulation, explaining that people’s lack of power in institutions may lead them to cancel as an alternative option, “when other disciplines are done.”

The difference between the arguments of those for and against removing their identification with the creator is based mostly on how his guilt/responsibility can be assessed: that is, fans’ assessment of the available information, their sources and credibility. Those who argued for boycotting Whedon mentioned different kinds of evidence they can use to support their decision, such as the sheer amount of various reports: “It was just too many people that are adding up […] this sounds like a history of patterns” (Angela, F, 33). The recurrence is used to explain the credibility of the allegations, as explained by Jacob (M, 37):

It’s possible that one person could be lying, but two, ten, fifteen? I don’t see how anyone could deny it. It’s just the amount of these allegations, the number of individuals reporting. There are simply too many here to be discounted.

Another dominant question was whether you can trust or believe the information published, and the people that shared it. For those who decided to cancel Whedon, this was not a question—they believed the accusers, without feeling the need to justify this. Many interviewees stated they believed the accusations published by actress Charisma Carpenter, calling her a “fearless truth teller” (Alice, F, 41), and used this trust as their reason to withdraw support from Whedon: “She’s given a full account of her experience, and I believe it to be correct entirely, I don’t doubt a single word” (Jacob, M, 37).

Opposite declarations about the nature of evidence online were given by those who decided not to cancel Whedon. They detailed the difficulties of using online information as evidence, saying cancelling is too often based on “overreactions and misinformation” (Tommy, M, 37). Owen (M, 44) even directly blamed other fans’ responses to the allegations, stating that their information is “not a good proof […] half the people who are angry haven’t actually read enough” and unlike them, he strives to “operate on the facts, and not pass judgement if we don’t have all the details.” At the same time, “cancellers” also acknowledged that information spread online might not be sufficient, even criticizing the tendency to automatically believe and spread rumors: “Somebody posts something on the internet and we immediately believe them” (Kim, F, 39). They also describe a level of uncertainly in their ability to access the information: “I’ve never seen anything that felt like a fully sourced investigation […] it would fall under the realm of Hollywood gossip to me” (Kristin, F, 28). Both those who withdrew the emotional connection and those who don’t consider it their responsibility to “question things […] get a little bit like detective on it” (Michelle, F, 39).

The first layer of cancelling can thus be perceived in terms of a shift in fans’ identification with, and appreciation towards, Whedon as creator. This affective response can—but does not always—lead to a change in their behavior and consumption choices in relation to the creator’s work, which we consider as the second layer of cancelling.

“Cancel buffy?:” evaluating the consumption of Whedon’s works

In contrast to the relatively swift change in emotions towards Whedon as described in the first layer, the second layer addresses a change in fan behavior—the question of whether to give up the consumption of bodies of work that, for many fans, are seen as a significant part of their identity. This change was much harder for most fans. Interviewees described deep emotional connections to the shows Whedon created: “We’ve given so much time into watching his things, they are molding us in some way” (Angela, F, 33); “it was there for me when I hit the lowest and I will always love it” (Daniel, M, 37). Further, Whedon’s works are what brought together the social fan community that became important to many interviewees—in that sense, these texts “allowed us to find each other” (Liz, F, 36).

Through the idea of “separating the art from the artist,” fans could reconcile the tension between Whedon’s alleged actions, and the value they ascribe to his works. Out of 16 interviewees who “cancelled” their emotional relationship to Joss Whedon, only nine applied this also to Whedon’s works: as Simon (M, 30) explained, “we can cancel the person, but cancelling the work is a lot harder.” Liz (F, 36) explained this as the need to “separate the man that did all those horrible things from the show that you love.” Similarly, Matt (M, 38) claimed: “Whedon has made a horrible mess of things, I think he’s a horrible human being, but that doesn’t change the quality or the overall cultural value of the work.” Jonathan (M, 29) explains that the cultural work no longer belongs to the creator alone: “Buffy, for example, has transcended the man at this point. It’s a pop-culture phenomenon that’s owned more by the fans than the individual person.”

Other justifications revolved around the question of multiple authorship: while some consider the works of Whedon his own, others see them as a collaborative effort of many creators who should not be punished for Whedon’s “crimes.” According to Simon (M, 30), “there are more involved than just one guy who did something.” Others too referred to the contribution of the cast and crew: “Joss is only a small piece of it, [others] deserve to be credited” (Kristin, F, 28). This idea was also presented in terms of justice: “They deserve to get paid, they don’t deserve to be cancelled” (Simon, M, 30). Especially for those who identified themselves as “true fans,” who “paid attention to the writing staff behind the scenes” (Liz, F, 36), the dilemma was managed by removing their loyalty from Joss Whedon himself, and reestablishing fandom identification around his body of work.

More nuanced distinctions were made among different bodies of work, as well. All of the interviewees described a clear distinction between new materials that were created after allegations were made, and past materials that are already part of the fan cannon, as in Jonathan’s (M, 29) statement: “I can’t support Joss Whedon being involved in any future project.” While the distinction itself was made by all interviewees, many still resisted completely disconnecting themselves from his future work, stating they would not necessarily want—or be able to—avoid new Joss Whedon work. For some, this choice was based on the quality of his creations: “I really want that person to make more stuff” (Owen, M, 44), or “he still has stories to tell, and I want to hear them” (Tommy, M, 37). For others this choice was made with unease: “I would probably watch it, if I’m absolutely honest […] I love his stuff, but I also feel terrible for supporting him” (Michelle, F, 39).

While nine interviewees supported cancelling Whedon’s future projects, only two (Donna and Lori) felt the need to cancel his previous works. Interviewees who did not “cancel” past work justify this choice through their perception of the unique role of works of art and their value for the fandom, and especially through their own personal attachment: “Almost like a love affair, a very emotional commitment […] the story and the characters are so deep inside my bones, […] as much a part of me as my real family” (Clara, F, 52). The process of deciding whether to keep watching a creator’s work is thus a “case by case situation,” depending also on what they gain as fans: “I have to think how much value do I get out of watching this […] for me it’s easier with Harry Potter,⁴ because I was never fond of it in the first place” (Liz, F, 36).

Another justification for keeping a connection to the older works despite the controversy is their broader social contribution. Here, fans referred particularly to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, recognized as a groundbreaking series for its feminist themes and messages. None of the interviewees questioned the feminist values inherent in Whedon’s earlier works, or dismissed the groundbreaking role of Buffy in advancing these values: they called the show “a mark in history” (Alice, F, 41) that “influenced pop culture as a whole” (Hannah, F, 43) and “led to lot of different things [that] happen[ed] down the road” (Simon, M, 30). Referring explicitly to the progressive values that were unusual in the sexist landscape of the 1990s, Becky (F, 59) said: “I don’t think [Whedon] being a shithead mitigates all the good Buffy brought.”

The separation between creator and creation allowed fans to value the work, while at the same time question Whedon’s motives. Many now consider Whedon’s feminism as “fake.” They blamed him of “just paying lip service to feminism because he thought it made him look cool” (Clara, F, 52), and described him as one who “would talk the talk, but not walk the walk” (Liz, F, 36). Still, they believed he created a genuinely feminist show, maybe, as Clara (F, 52) put it, “in spite of himself, without even realizing it,” or as Kristin (F, 28) described: “I wouldn’t call him a feminist nowadays, but he wrote a feminist show, and I don’t think I should change my mind on that.” The extent of dissonance is apparent in claims like this one: “I’m almost at a cognitive inability to understand how somebody who is actually this kind of person created something this beautiful and this feminist” (Alice, F, 41).

For others, the new allegations uncovered made them notice or point out problematic representations in the contents, or indications for Whedon’s chauvinistic or abusive tendencies, that only now, in hindsight, did they identify in the show:

You can go back to his work and you can pick up little things now […] looking back at previous interviews and even storylines within shows and start seeing red flags […]it indicates a larger problem with women. He’s OK with you being strong and powerful, but only in the context he allows. (Matt, M, 38)

Indeed, fans’ re-reading of early works, including Buffy, in light of the allegations, allowed them to be more critical of female representations and tropes. Many brought up different examples where feminist messages are negated by the way characters were presented. They now felt some messages are “definitely missing the mark of how I view feminism now […] the story ultimately fell short” (Angela, F, 33). For many this led to re-watching with a “complicated feeling” (Ben, M, 34); while at the same time, only two considered this as a reason to completely withdraw their support from the show. One of them, Lori (F, 35), said she feels “like my memories of Buffy were tainted,” and thus refrains from re-watching the show.

“Cancel anything?” – evaluating withdrawal of support as an ideological tool

In the third layer of cancelling, interviewees not only advocate for cancelling Joss Whedon and his works, but endorse the practice of cancelling more generally as a tool for advancing social values. A full endorsement of this position was presented only by one interviewee (Lori, F, 35), who intentionally promoted the practice of cancelling as a means of utilizing fans’ power and influence to remove any person or cultural creation that may harm their values. All other interviewees posed a more complicated position in relation to this view, its perceived contribution or its dangers.

One key distinction here is between seeing cancelling as an individual choice, and trying to persuade others. Lori (F, 35) was the only interviewee who explicitly stated that withdrawing her support from Whedon and his works is not enough, and she needs “to make sure nobody supports him, that he is completely removed.” She strived for a collective, public statement that he is “done, cancelled, and will never make anything again.”

In contrast, other interviewees described their actions as a personal choice, and in fact, all interviewees besides Lori were hesitant to label their actions “cancelling.” They described their actions along a spectrum ranging from removing the emotional connection from Whedon (Layer 1) to withdrawing support both from him and his future and early works (Layer 2), while distancing themselves to different extents from the idea of persuading others, or from the practice of cancelling as a “cultural trend.” Withdrawing support here is framed as an economic sanction made by private consumers: “This is more about economics than it is enforcement of morality” (Jacob, M, 37). Similarly, Matt (M, 38) distinguished between making a choice “as an individual consumer,” for example not downloading Joe Rogan’s podcast,⁵ as opposed to “screaming for Spotify to take it off the air.” Others connected economic support more directly to moral statements, seeing it as a way “to vote with your wallet” (Matt, M, 38). Clara (F, 52) further elaborated: “As consumers, we vote by our views […] I will no longer give that show a dime’s worth of my revenue.” Money, attention, and views are thus considered as a way to support not only a person or their work, but also the ideas they represent. According to Jonathan (M, 29): “If you don’t like somebody, if you don’t want to support somebody, then don’t buy it. If you want to support a cause, you contribute to it.” Similarly, Angela (F, 33) explained her decision regarding some of Whedon’s works: “If I had to put money right now I’d say no […] this is showing your support.” According to this logic, content can still be consumed if they don’t further support it financially—for example, already purchased items: “No one’s making money off it, I already own the DVDs so that’s easier” (Liz, F, 36).

Many of the interviewees opposed cancelling as a choice enforced top-down. As Matt (M, 38) explains: “It wouldn’t be fair for a company to go, ‘we’re pulling all of Joss Whedon’s works.’ You need to leave it to the consumer. That’s where the choices need to be made.” Similarly, Clara thinks withdrawal of support shouldn’t happen by the entertainment industry, but on the side of the consumer: “If something does not feel right to you, then you turn it off […] I don’t like it being publicly removed” (Clara, F, 52). Fans were also opposed to “people who insist that everybody must feel the way that they do about it” (Becky, F, 59). As Becky claimed, these people “are not doing themselves or feminism or fandom any favors.”

Such a description expresses the tension in fans’ negotiation between the important goals they ascribe to cancelling in the aftermath of #MeToo (for example, the opportunity for the offended to express their voice) and the danger they perceive in the practice becoming a trend that, according to critics, has gotten out of control (Velasco 2020). Even if they did not support all aspects of cancelling, several interviewees described its possible benefits: “Cancelling is needed, like the #MeToo movement is needed” (Ben, M, 34), “we live in a horrible rape culture […] we can use social media to spread more awareness and information” (Kim, F, 29), or “you should have a platform to go out and accuse somebody and then have people listen to you” (Donna, F, 31). Many interviewees referred to the practice as a way to demand accountability: “I don’t necessarily want good people to get cancelled, but I also want people to own up for their shit” (Michelle, F, 39). Understanding power imbalance as a product of hegemonic society, Liz (F, 36) acknowledges how social media helped the change in our society, from “no consequences for actions for privileged white men,” to today’s calls for women’s rights: “we get social media and the possibilities for people to just promote things […] suddenly everyone can hear that and support that.”

On the other hand, the way that cancelling may be taken up in the digital environment reveals for the interviewees the dangers encapsulated in the critical term “cancel culture,” where “the internet is responding as a collective” (Alice, F, 41). While fan activism or use of social networks is often considered a bottom-up process, they also reject it when they fear individuals don’t put in their own judgement, or when cancelling is seen as an automatic, collective response. In line with the “cancel culture” critique, they fear its use as a silencing tool (Norris 2023). Tommy (M, 37) described his own experience. As a fan who chose not to cancel Whedon, he received harsh reactions: “I’ve been called an abuser apologist, a racist, fake feminist, for giving my opinions on what I think is true.” Several interviewees echoed the terms used to critique “cancel culture,” such as referring to an “internet mob.” These terms refer to the negative side-effects of the power granted by social media, such as the possibility of “people [being] stirred into frenzy very easily, it’s very easy to manipulate people online” (Matt, M, 38). According to Tommy (M, 37):

I think Ray [Fisher] and Charisma [Carpenter] lit the first matches and tossed them into a giant pool of gasoline, Twitter. The mob on Twitter took it from there. And when the mob says you’re cancelled, even if it’s over something that isn’t true, it’s really hard to put out that fire.

Our interviewees, despite predominantly holding progressive ideologies, nevertheless expressed concerns about the motivations behind cancelling. As Hanna (F, 43) explained, people who cancel Whedon do so in order to “feel like they should take a stand, be on the right side of this struggle,” or as Angela (F, 33) described it, help the privileged signal that “they are doing good,” instead of taking the time to critically look at each situation. They criticize the tendency to blindly follow a (progressive) trend, noting that “it simply became the popular thing to hate Joss, if you want to look good” (Tommy, M, 37). Thus, interviewees are critical of those who promote progressive values not because of their inherent values, which Jacob (M, 37) described as “appropriate and correct,” but because they have become popular and marketable.

In the context of broader ideological struggles, some interviewees saw cancelling as a problematic practice by both sides:

[The] far right used it to call people snowflakes and basically accuse anybody who’s speaking out as overly sensitive. The far left has used it against pretty much anybody that disagrees with them. It’s something that started out as a good thing and has now turned into a mess. (Matt, M, 38)

Thus, for some interviewees, cancelling is seen as a practice that further fuels the struggle between sides, rather than fostering meaningful dialogue about desired values.

Negotiating cancelling as a (feminist) practice

Using the cancelling of Joss Whedon as a case study, our analysis examined how fans perceive, evaluate and employ this practice to defend or reject certain values. As our findings indicate, cancelling was perceived as a difficult choice for the fans, both in terms of the internal debate around removing a valued figure within fandom, as well as in relation to critics’ claims about the possible misuse of social media for what has been pejoratively called “cancel culture” (Norris 2023). These tensions are further exacerbated given the social identity of this fan community and its specific relationship with the creator. As a self-declared “male feminist” with groundbreaking, esteemed feminist works, Whedon served as an important source of fandom identification, and as the center for the liberal agenda this fandom shared. Fans thus described conflicts between promoting liberal values—cancelling as a protest against a white male “predator”—and between protecting the value of certain objects of fandom to female empowerment.

Our proposed framework, which considers cancelling as built of a three-layer structure—the creator, his works, and the practice itself—helps us understand how fans reconcile these tensions. The first layer involves withdrawing support from the creator, in terms of a deliberate choice to remove him as an object of fandom, in response to a change in their emotional connection to him as an idol. This was the choice of the majority of interviewees. The second layer involves a change in fans’ consumption behaviour, withdrawing support from his works. Here, fans separated not only between creator/creation, but also between future/early works (almost all objected to giving up on works that are already part of fandom). The third layer involves advocating for the practice as a means of advancing progressive agendas in general. This was the choice of only one interviewee, while all other interviewees showed hesitance that echoed the “cancel culture” critique.

This model can contribute to our understanding of cancelling as a broader phenomenon. In the context of a highly involved fan community, which strongly associates itself with the content as part of their identity and community formation (Coppa 2014), fans make specific considerations around cancelling. Separating between the creator (Layer 1) and his works (Layer 2) allowed them to cancel someone who acted in a way that does not align with their value system, but keep the value of specific works that are important to them. The model can help us understand tensions and considerations applied in different contexts of cancelling, where the relationship between authors, audience, and texts is different. For example, whereas television and film are perceived as more collaborative art forms, individual genres like stand-up comedy may evoke different responses, as the work is inseparable from the creator.

Moreover, fans’ evaluations can be seen as largely based on their position in terms of supporting social justice. While the media reports of the allegations were using the framework of Whedon’s “guilt,” this was not the main factor that our interviewees used to justify the practice of cancelling. Instead, our findings suggest that the main factor for fans was supporting a feminist cause and standing with female accusers against misogynistic behavior and toxic masculinity. Thus, in the broader context of culture wars, cancelling can be seen as a “discursive accountability praxis” (Clark 2020, 88), one that is tightly connected with broader (feminist) cultural trends.

At the same time, and in light of the pejorative connotation of “cancel culture,” cancelling was considered a controversial tool, even for the liberal, feminist fans interviewed here. Many of them were opposed to describing their actions as “cancelling,” and would definitely oppose being considered part of “cancel culture.” Our interviewees were wary of cancelling used as a top-down tool, or of the practice becoming “trendy.” Instead, they carefully framed their choice as an individual economic signal, while remaining much more ambivalent about it as a broader, collective practice (Layer 3). As part of the contestation over the role of gender in culture, our findings show how even a group that embraces the objectives of popular feminism is ambivalent toward cancelling as an ideological practice, at times seeing it as potentially contradicting feminist goals.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Hadas Gur-Ze’ev

Hadas Gur-Ze’ev (MA, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem) is a PhD student in Communication at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Her research interests include negotiations of gendered power relations in digital environments.

Neta Kligler-Vilenchik

Neta Kligler-Vilenchik (PhD, University of Southern California) is Associate Professor of Communication and Journalism at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Her work focuses on political expression in the context of the changing media environment, with a focus on youth.

Notes

1. Multiple individuals involved in Whedon’s projects over the years have accused the creator of inappropriate and abusive behavior, including marital infidelity, verbal abuse, and creating a toxic work environment. See, e.g: https://www.vulture.com/2021/05/complete-timeline-joss-whedon-allegations.html

2. The platform has since been rebranded as X.com, but we use here the name at the time of data collection.

3. A quote from the ‘Serenity” film set that became a catch-phrase in fandoms.

4. Harry Potter author JK Rowling was “cancelled” by many fans following her controversial expressions on trans rights.

5. Joe Rogan’s podcast The Joe Rogan Experience was the subject of controversy, especially around spreading COVID-19 misinformation, and led to calls to remove his content from Spotify.