What to do with the keepsakes?
A shovel, a bag of fool's gold, and problematic apparitions. Continuing the "powerful abusers" discussion inspired by how community is handling Neil Gaiman's sexual assault allegations.
About a week ago, I published an essay titled "How to Bury Your Heroes". This essay was read and graciously shared by many across various social networks, which prompted me to reflect on how timely and relevant these discussions are today. The better we understand how social and parasocial relationships and technologies shape our perceptions and behaviors, the better equipped we’ll be to separate "signal" from "noise" - look inward, reflect, identify what we truly value, and discard or minimize the things we find harmful or irrelevant. Of course, these choices are deeply personal. What I hope to inspire is unapologetic and undeterred reflexivity.
Like many, I’ve spent the past week scanning Reddit discussions about Neil Gaiman. Mostly because like many, I am still affected by the aftermath, and in part - to keep my pulse on how the community is processing the grief. This compulsive doomscrolling led me to reflect on how, as communities and audiences, we navigate the brand death of problematic celebrities.
If one can afford such luxury, a common approach is to separate the art from the artist. I find it difficult to accomplish after the fact — once I've already placed too much misplaced trust into someone. However, many find creative ways to make this separation work for them post-breach-of-trust.
Another approach is to reject the author’s work entirely, thus getting rid of the artifacts (books, collectibles, etc.).
However, in the spectrum of solutions between these two choices, a notable portion of people seem stuck in the processing phase, paralyzed by indecision about how to move forward. This got me thinking about what’s really at stake in these situations. Below, I’ve written down some of my thoughts and deliberations on the subject.
Discontinuing Support
One of the most common responses to the fall of a "disgraced" hero is to withdraw support for their art: canceling a Patreon subscription, unsubscribing from their mailing list, or refusing to financially contribute to their legacy. This approach, often referred to as "voting with the wallet," highlights how in consumer culture, one's personal economic choices may become a statement.
However, "voting with the wallet" should not be viewed solely as a punitive measure — a way to withdraw support as a form of punishment. It is naïve to assume that individual actions will have an immediate dramatic impact on a celebrity’s ability to make a living. Instead, withdrawing support should be seen as a conscious, moral choice — one that prioritizes what feels (personally) ethical and right over the culture of impartiality and convenient, anonymous consumerism.
As appreciators and supporters of art living in commodified society, what we aim to cultivate is a slow-burning flame — a reality in which the majority of our choices hold meaning and align with our values and beliefs. Over time, if enough people commit to this kind of reflexivity, "voting with the wallet" could become a powerful tool for demanding accountability.
But in order to get there, it becomes increasingly important to be able to continue difficult conversations.
Continuing the Conversation
As the Vulture article on Neil Gaiman by Lila Shapiro soared in the media, Amazon paused the production of the final season of Good Omens. Dark Horse dropped the Anansi Boys comic project, and theatrical adaptation of Coraline that was scheduled to premiere in Leeds Playhouse was scrapped. Although the podcast series by Tortoise Media was the first to cover the story, its reception did not result in the same magnitude of media shockwave. In many ways, the resurgence of the same story almost six months later helped to re-ignite the conversation. If anything, this underscores the importance of persistence when it comes to demanding accountability.
When comparing the compounding effect of these two journalistic projects — Tortoise Media series and the Vulture article — it’s intriguing to consider how the medium of distribution may have influenced public attention. Ever since the podcast series aired, many heard of the accusations, but did not get a chance to delve into details. The work by Lila Shapiro, on the other hand, laid out everything in the open in a painfully detailed long-form essay. Seeing photos and screenshots of conversations firsthand stirred up feelings that were impossible to perceive neutrally, dismiss, or downplay. Because with many — these details struck a familiar note. Abuse and manipulation, after all, is something that happens to many men and women every day, not just celebrities and their victims.
Ultimately, initiating and re-igniting discussions — whether through media outlets, social forums, or in person — ensures that these stories remain in public memory, which is essential for both accountability and for keeping the community safe. Continuing the conversation can make a difference, even if the impact isn’t immediately apparent. Witnessing detailed, direct evidence (screenshots, etc.) is likewise important, as it makes it much harder to remain neutral or dismissive.
Cancel Culture (Isn't Real)
In the last decade, cancel culture has become a buzzword, but the more we examine known instances of it, the clearer it becomes that this phenomenon does not exist as a "culture" in itself. The term encompasses a variety of scenarios that are not necessarily similar, but are often oversimplified and over-dramatized.
In a nutshell, cancel culture refers to a social phenomenon where individuals, public figures, or organizations face backlash, often online, for actions, statements, or behaviors perceived as harmful, offensive, or inappropriate. This backlash can result in calls for boycotts, loss of employment, diminished public influence, or reputational harm. The term is often used to describe the collective action of "canceling" someone, which typically involves withdrawing support or amplifying criticism.
The problem with cancel culture is that it's often used as a catch-all term for when people in power face consequences for their actions or receive any type of criticism, especially if this is something they’re not used to. Even when the calls to accountability are legitimate and justified, "cancellation" is often blown out of proportions but rarely results in the actual loss of power, support or priveledge. Cancel culture does not impact all offenders equally either; for the same offenses, ordinary individuals often face harsher consequences than celebrities or politicians.
While some powerful men and women have seen their reputations tarnished, few have truly been "canceled" in any enduring sense.
Consider Louis CK: after admitting to masturbating in front of female comedians, he was dropped by his agency and severed ties with HBO and Netflix. Yet, post-cancellation, he sold out many shows around the globe, demonstrating that public condemnation has done little to dampen his career.
In the literary world, we have J.K. Rowling: after making a series of controversial statements about transgender issues, she faced criticism from fans, former collaborators, and even actors from the Harry Potter films. Many bookstores and libraries distanced themselves from her work, and some literary organizations revoked invitations or awards. Yet, despite the controversy, her books continue to sell in massive numbers, and in recent years, she has launched new projects and partnerships, thoroughly capitalizing on her precious golden goose — the Harry Potter franchise. Post-"cancellation", Rowling’s career remains largely intact, proving that public condemnation has done little to diminish her commercial success.
Then there’s Mark Halperin, political journalist accused of sexual harassment, who admitted to inappropriate behavior while denying some allegations. When his new book faced backlash, his publisher publicly lamented the guilty-until-proven-innocent cancel culture, comparing criticism of Halperin to a death sentence. That such pushback is likened to death is rather dramatic, and reveals much about the worldview of those decrying the cancel culture. It's as if the outrage seems to be less about accountability, and more about the discomfort of being found out and challenged.
Sadly, when it comes to placating corporate entities like Amazon or major publishers, demands for accountability rarely accomplish the desired. TV adaptations may be put on pause, books may be temporarily withdrawn from the circulation, but secretly, all these giant commercial entities are simply hoping for the storm to blow over. This is why creating networks of public discourse and support around issues like sexual assault is our best chance at fairness and justice.
Sometimes, being acutely cognizant of problematic events and discussing them openly — without fear of disrupting the status quo — is the most effective way to move forward, and ensure that those who were previously unaware — become informed. This can be accomplished through organizing talks on problematic authors and their legacies in libraries, colleges, reading clubs, online, discussing such issues with friends, or writing about them. Instead of wholeheartedly relying on public outrage and placating companies and corporations for change, which can be both volatile and short-lived, this approach is focused on strengthening and informing communities and engaging public organizations (universities, festivals, guilds, etc.) for whom well-being of the community comes before profit.
If important conversations endure the test of public memory, they may eventually prompt the corporate world to take notice — though this should not be the primary goal.
What if Argument
Some might ask, "What happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?" and it's a valid question to consider. If, after reviewing all the evidence, including screenshots and the complexities surrounding the sexual assault cases — such as manipulative behavior, vulnerability, and power imbalance — the evidence still seems inconclusive, neutrality is an honest stance to take. However, let's take a moment to discuss what's truly at stake here.
In the legal system, there's a saying that "it's better to let a guilty person go free than to imprison an innocent one". However, public discourse is not a court of law, and the consequences for perpetrators of sexual harassment or assault are often limited to being publicly exposed — unless a formal legal process is involved. With that in mind, it’s worth flipping the question: "Is it better to silence a victim who may be telling the truth, or to let one (potentially) lying victim go?"
In many cases of sexual assault and harassment involving people of status — celebrities, politicians, musicians — it's typical for more than one victim to come forward with allegations. What makes these kinds of cases especially concerning is that sexual harassment may be a repeated offense, not a one-time mistake or bad judgment. It becomes a point of concern when such behavior is not an isolated incident, but a pattern.
In most cases, victims of sexual assault have nothing to gain by coming forward with their allegations, other than drawing public attention to their story. They risk facing online harassment and trolling, as well as re-traumatization once their story becomes a subject to publicity. They may also encounter legal challenges from the assailant’s representatives. Remember, the "playing field" is typically uneven from the beginning. Because of the many complications and consequences involved, some victims choose not to come forward at all. Taken all this into consideration, would we rather encourage the silence, or the conversation — however complicated and confusing it may be?
As a society, we always stand to gain more from having the conversations than from avoiding them. First, it discourages people in positions of power from perpetuating assault or harassment, as they know that if they are exposed, it could become a permanent mark of their reputation. Second, exposing assailants helps protect the public and potential victims-to-be. Third, when more victims are supported and encouraged to speak out against powerful perpetrators, they are more likely to be taken seriously by law enforcement and the legal system (because of public precedent). This leads to a more honest and truthful investigative processes (for example, taking rape kit collection seriously, documenting the allegations more accurately, proceeding with investigation in good faith), so both victims of assault, as well as victims of allegations (if accused unfairly) - can be protected.
Engaging with Legacy
One of the most common arguments for discontinuing sponsorship of creative work that comes from problematic artists is mainly economic: we don't want the creator to use our contributions to promote questionable politics or perpetuate abusive behaviors. But what about creators who are no longer capable in doing so?
The subject of engaging with problematic legacies comes up often in literary and speculative fiction communities, perhaps one of the most striking examples is H.P. Lovecraft.
Lovecraft was known for upholding racist, anti-immigrant and misogynist views that appear firmly engrained in his creative work. His disdain for both immigrant and native populations woven into many of his stories. In his early years, Lovecraft espoused conservative and traditionalist politics, which aligned with his broader worldview. These perspectives, accompanied by racist beliefs, persisted throughout much of his life. Even as the Great Depression prompted a shift in his political orientation toward socialism, his views retained elitism, steeped in aristocratic ideals.
Despite his deeply prejudiced views, H.P. Lovecraft’s personal life reveals peculiar contradictions that seem to undermine his own beliefs: he married and was financially supported by Sonia Greene, an immigrant of Russian-Jewish descent. Sonia Greene was a businesswoman, writer and amateur publisher who also actively participated in supporting speculative fiction writers by providing them with publishing opportunities. She bankrolled several fanzines, was a president of the United Amateur Press Association, and even co-authored Horror at Martin's Beach short story with Lovecraft.
H. P. Lovecraft was indebted to Sonia Greene in many ways, as throughout his adult life, he was never able to support himself financially through his work as an author and editor. Virtually unknown during his lifetime, his stories were published almost exclusively in pulp magazines. It was not until the 1970s that a scholarly revival of Lovecraft’s work began, ultimately elevating him to the status of one of the most significant 20th-century authors of supernatural horror fiction. This newfound recognition inspired a wave of direct adaptations, derivative works, and spiritual successors that expanded on Lovecraft’s characters, settings, and themes.
Despite much of his worldview being shaped by racism, Lovecraft’s horror is notably defined by a philosophy that highlights the insignificance and helplessness of Western civilization specifically, and humanity as a whole. The theme of civilizational decline is central to his works, as he weaves a mythos in which all human achievements —cultural, scientific, or otherwise — are rendered utterly meaningless in the face of cosmic indifference.
From literary analysis perspective, it is interesting to navigate Lovecraft's works. His descriptions of marginalized populations are so exaggeratedly damning and detestable, it feels as though they are not necessarily rooted in reality, but originate from an unstable, fearful, and neurotic mind. In this way, whether intentionally or not, Lovecraft’s writings capture the essence of Western post-colonial guilt and fear of retribution.
In creative communities, Lovecraft is akin to a skeleton in the closet: his writing had an undeniable influence on countless artists — writers, musicians, and directors alike — who draw inspiration from his distinctive brand of horror: cosmic, nihilistic, and anti-anthropocentric. At the same time, engaging with his legacy directly is often a subject to scrutiny and hesitation.
I believe that engaging with problematic legacies can be justified when we acknowledge and critically examine the problematic aspects of an author’s work rather than dissociating from them. This approach creates an opportunity to foster meaningful conversations. In some cases, a problematic legacy can even be leveraged to benefit vulnerable or affected communities.
Lovecraft Country is a television series inspired by the works of H. P. Lovecraft that premiered on HBO in August 2020. The show follows Atticus Freeman, a young Black man who embarks on a road trip across 1950s Jim Crow America in search of his missing father. His journey exposes him to both the overt racism of the era and supernatural horrors inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's works. While the show also faced criticism, mainly over portrayal of historical events, it demonstrates how in public discourse, post-mortem, Lovecraft's legacy isn't fixed — it belongs to the public domain, and is a subject to examination and re-interpretation.
Redistributing the Treasures
It often so happens, that a personal collection of works by a problematic artist no longer brings joy. In such situations, it can be helpful to reflect on where these works came from and whether that connection holds more significance — or carries even greater moral weight — than the controversy surrounding the artist. Some keepsake items may include contributions from other creators, such as authors or illustrators, whose work you may wish to continue supporting.
If, after considering these factors, the desire to part with the keepsakes remains strong, it’s best to prioritize options that do not economically benefit the author or their legacy. This could include donating the items to libraries or small, independent bookshops.
In Conclusion
A strong community is a community that doesn’t punish difficult conversations, puts vulnerability under a microscope, or naively assumes that the playing field for victims and assailants is always equal. However we choose to proceed, change starts with us willing to be honest with ourselves.