Why We’re So Cruel to Celebrities
Part 1—The Dark Side of Online Judgment
It’s easy to criticize a celebrity. Too easy, in fact.
Social media has turned the act of judgment into a bloodthirsty sport, with likes and shares acting as trophies for the most cutting remarks. The outfit that missed the mark. The haircut that didn’t land. The red carpet moment that became a meme in seconds. We sit behind screens and casually dissect their choices, often forgetting that we’re talking about human beings.
The question is, why does this feel so normal?
Why has it become acceptable to tear apart celebrities for things as trivial as what they wear while they’re out grabbing groceries? One reason is the belief that they “chose this life.” We convince ourselves that criticism is part of the deal when someone becomes famous. They wanted the spotlight. They sought out attention. To many, their celebrity status makes them fair game for scrutiny, as if stepping into the public eye means forfeiting the right to dignity. This narrative has been repeated so often that it feels almost logical, but it’s built on a deeply flawed foundation. Being famous does not mean someone is immune to the pain of public ridicule, nor does it mean they “deserve” it.
Social media has made this worse, magnifying our tendency to judge.
Platforms like X and Instagram give us instant access to celebrity lives, and with that comes the illusion of closeness. It’s easier to critique someone when they feel less like a distant figure and more like a character in our daily feed. The curated snippets of their lives make them seem larger than life, but at the same time, oddly accessible. This paradox feeds our sense of entitlement. We feel as though we know them, and because of that, we feel justified in commenting on their choices. It’s an intimate detachment, where the familiarity is false, but the judgment feels personal.
What’s worse is how this judgment is often framed as harmless. A snarky tweet or a sarcastic comment under a photo seems like nothing in the grand scheme of things. But when thousands or even millions of people are participating in this cycle of critique, the collective impact is profound and enormous. It chips away at the person being targeted, while reinforcing the toxic notion that public figures exist solely for our consumption. This mentality feeds into a broader culture of dehumanization, where celebrities are reduced to objects for entertainment, rather than people with complex emotions.
The idea that celebrities are untouchable because of their fame is also worth examining. There is a widespread belief that their wealth, status, and privilege act as shields against criticism. The logic goes: if they have all of this, what’s a little online trolling? But this is a false equivalence. Money and status do not erase the brutal sting of public humiliation. Privilege does not cancel out the need for respect. The assumption that they should simply “take it” ignores the very real emotional toll of constant judgment.
The rise of cancel culture has only intensified this dynamic. Social media amplifies the speed and scale at which critique spreads, often blurring the line between accountability and cruelty. When a celebrity wears an outfit that gets labeled as a “fashion fail,” it’s no longer just about the clothes. It becomes a referendum on their taste, their personality, and sometimes even their worth as a person. The comments are no longer just comments. They’re a collective reckoning, a digital mob disguised as a joke.
Part of the problem lies in the way social media enables us to turn celebrities into avatars for our own frustrations. They become the punching bags for our bad days, the targets of our envy, the vessels for our unmet expectations.
This level of scrutiny does not exist in a vacuum. It reflects something deeper about how we view fame, power, and humanity. We project onto them the things we lack or desire, and when they don’t align with our ideals, we lash out. It’s a cycle that benefits no one, but it persists because it feels, in the moment, so easy and consequence-free.
Criticizing celebrities has become second nature, a habit that says more about us than it does about them. It reveals how easily we’ve allowed cruelty to become entertainment, how quickly we strip people of their humanity when protected by the distance of a screen. In the next part of this series, we’ll examine how this constant judgment ties to our own insecurities and why fashion—a realm meant for artistry and individuality—has been turned into a battlefield for public shaming.