The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
4 — Wednesday, October 5, 2022 

“ur review was great, maybe if 
you had gotten ur eyes off my tits 
you could’ve watched the movie!”
Three 
lines, 
19 
words. 
Poetry, in arguably its finest 
21st-century 
form: 
Instagram 
DM. Amandla Stenberg could’ve 
written Hamlet, but Shakespeare 
certainly could not have written 
this. Just a syllable or two short of 
a haiku, but with clear intention 
embedded within the distinct 
stanzas — the innocent opening; 
the shocking, abrupt twist in line 
two; the closing sentiment that 
kills me every time. As a film 
critic, maybe if she had in fact 
“watched the movie,” none of 
this would’ve happened. The real 
kicker is that she knew exactly 
how this would play out — she 
just didn’t know it would backfire 
quite so gloriously. 
Said film critic is Lena Wilson, 
a writer for the highly esteemed 
New York Times, maybe you’ve 
heard of it? Well, prior to a month 
ago, you definitely had not heard 
of her. After a scathing review 
of A24’s comedy-horror flick 
“Bodies Bodies Bodies,” Wilson 
took to Twitter in a now deleted 
post to release this infamous 
private message from actress 
Amandla Stenberg, who stars 
in the film. Shock! Outrage! 
Inevitable controversy ensued! 
But let’s get some more context. 
On its own, Stenberg’s puzzling 
message doesn’t make much 
sense, reading like an out-of-the-
blue, overly-offended response 
to a critic just trying to do their 

job — something that Wilson 
evidently capitalized on. If you 
didn’t read her pay-walled review, 
then you might be unaware of 
the specific line Stenberg had 
clearly taken issue with and was 
directly alluding to: the line in 
which Wilson called the film 
“a 95-minute advertisement for 
cleavage and Charli XCX’s latest 
single.” Not a good look, to say 
the least (and to say the most, 
Charli XCX’s single “Hot Girl” is 
a bop and she responded to the 
drama in about the best possible 
way).
Here’s where things start to 
get messy. Wilson tweeted that 
screenshot with the assumption 
that out of context, the internet 
would blindly sympathize with 
her. Wilson, who is gay, framed 
the DM as a homophobic, petty 
retaliation from a privileged 
actress unhappy with a less-
than-stellar review. She acted 
as if the reason she posted a 
private message to an extremely 
public forum was that Stenberg 
had “more social power” than 
her, and that it was simply not 
okay for them to do something 
like this. The fault in Wilson’s 
strategy here is that, contrary to 
how the online public may try 
to appear, no one is an absolute 
empath, especially not when it 
comes to petty celebrity disputes 
and the lives of the elite. They 
may seem easily manipulated and 
often blindly misled, but Wilson 
had no substantial credibility or 
established camaraderie with the 
Twitter masses to inspire them 
to act on her behalf. 

‘Bodies Bodies Bodies,’ 
internet gossip and 
pseudo-intellectual arts 
criticism

SERENA IRANI
Daily Arts Writer

Outrage! Scandal! It feels like a 
part of our nature to be drawn to 
these emotions, and I have often 
wondered how guilty I ought to 
feel for being so enraptured by 

other people’s business. There’s an 
argument to be made for the virtues 
of gossip; sharing information with 
others makes me feel closer to them, 
like we’re both a part of something. 
The content of gossip allures 
me as well, like my conversation 
partner and I are momentary 
anthropologists, parsing through 

the evidence, analyzing what the 
information may suggest about 
the subjects. Both in its exchange 
between myself and another and 
our inevitable discussion of others, 
gossip makes me feel less lonely and 
more human. 
But then of course there are the 
drawbacks, particularly when we 

broaden our scale. Gossip fuels the 
mob mentality that makes us leave 
critical thought at the door for a quick 
emotional high at another’s expense. 
It leads us to putting celebrities on 
pedestals only to ruthlessly tear 
them off again (ahem, #FreeBritney). 
There’s an inevitable tie between 
art and gossip, something that the 

writers here on the Arts section are 
intimately familiar with. As they 
open their books, enter theaters and 
attend concerts, they are well aware 
of the mutable, often reactive culture 
surrounding the art they consume. 
I challenged the Arts writers 
to reflect on how art interprets 
gossip and how gossip shapes our 

interpretation of art. The result? A 
scandalous, titillating exploration 
of all the art-related things that 
makes our jaws drop and eyebrows 
raise — along with answers to the 
pressing question of why we do it. 
Enjoy yourself, and don’t forget to 
tell a friend. 
XOXO

SARAH RAHMAN
Senior Arts Editor

Design by Abby Schreck

Inconsequential, 
potentially 
made-up gossip from strangers is 
my preferred entertainment.
In the two days after I discovered 
the “Normal Gossip” podcast, I 
listened to 18 episodes (all that was 
available at the time). I listened 
while 
driving. 
I 
downloaded 
episodes to listen to at work. It 
even replaced my running music. 
It remains the only podcast for 
which I have paid a subscription. 
I needed the bonus episodes that 
subscribers — called “friends” or 
“friends of friends” — have access 
to.
In each episode of “Normal 
Gossip,” host Kelsey McKinney 
tells a true gossip story, sent in by 
a listener, to a guest who has not 
heard it before. McKinney turns 
away from dark, ill-humored gossip 
in favor of light-hearted stories: 
knitting group gossip, kindergarten 
soccer parent gossip, coffee shop 
coworker gossip. The mundanity 
of the subjects is eradicated by 
McKinney’s talent for gossipy 
storytelling, consistent twists and 
grudges that, while often petty, are 
deeply identifiable — if you found 
out that the snobbish rich lady in 
your knitting group who went viral 

for selling “male tears” coasters on 
Instagram was secretly making 
them out of the acrylic yarn she 
looked down on you for using, you 
would start plotting revenge too. 
Through this podcast, the listener 
can experience these moments 
with the stories’ protagonists.
While waiting for a new episode 
to release, I did wonder what 
made this podcast different from a 
fiction podcast. Narrative podcasts 
have 
arguably 
better 
stories. 
“Normal Gossip” has the “this 
really happened” element, but the 
stories are heavily anonymized 
to avoid legal concerns. While 
McKinney claims an ability to 
tell when stories are fake, she has 
admitted on Instagram that even if 
they do end up with fake gossip, a 
story is a story.
What 
even 
makes 
gossip 
compelling at all? It’s something 
many of us are taught to look down 
on and avoid. It’s also something 
undeniably enjoyable. It’s exciting 
to know things about people, to 
be trusted with information. In 
many situations, knowing gossip is 
a sign of inclusion within a group. 
It creates a connection between 
the teller and the receiver. Even if 
the connection is impersonal, they 
share classified knowledge. They 
are in on a secret that others aren’t. 
A sense of community can not only 

result from gossip — it is part of 
what makes it valuable in the first 
place.
As 
untraceable 
and 
inconsequential as the stories 
on “Normal Gossip” are to the 
average listener, listening invites 
them into a group. The stories 
come from other listeners — other 
members 
of 
that 
community. 
Listeners who subscribe can see 
the podcast’s “close friends” stories 
on Instagram, where they can send 
in mini gossip stories in weekly 
“question box” games and guess 
what the next episode’s gossip will 
involve. The stories McKinney 
and her team choose to tell on 
the podcast often take place in a 
niche community themselves. The 
feeling of secrecy increases. This 
is something a narrative podcast 
can’t so easily achieve.
Around when I became a 
“Normal 
Gossip” 
listener, 
I 
stopped watching drama videos on 
YouTube. I had once enjoyed half-
hour- to hour-long explanations 
and rants about what other content 
creators and celebrities were doing 
wrong. I frequented channels 
like Smokey Glow. Other times, I 
clicked on long videos from and 
about people I didn’t know or care 
about, guided by titles about people 
breaking the law, killing their 
pets and exploiting their children. 

These videos would function as 
podcasts or background noise 
while I cleaned my room or folded 
laundry.
If the video’s creator was a good 
storyteller, I enjoyed listening 
for a while, at least enough not to 
click on something else. Listening 
to several of these videos in a 
row, however, left me feeling 
strange. The stories themselves 
had little emotional impact. I 
had no connection to them, and 
they had become commonplace. 
Besides, as terrible as anything 
was that I heard, I was listening 
under the guise of entertainment. 
These types of stories weren’t 
shocking anymore, and the reason 
I clicked in the first place was to be 
entertained.
I fear I have become desensitized 
to the often horrific stories of abuse 
and exploitation by celebrities that 
I hear on YouTube. I no longer 
watch those videos as much, less 
out of consideration of my mental 
health and more because I no 
longer enjoy them. In contrast to 
“Normal Gossip” episodes, these 
videos made me feel distanced 
from the YouTube community. 
Hearing the inconceivable things 
that some people have done broke 
any sense of community.

Desensitization, entertainment and the role of 
‘Normal Gossip’

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Design by Serena Shen

ERIN EVANS
Senior Arts Editor

The DeuxMoi Effect

Meet 
DeuxMoi: 
the 
self-
proclaimed 
“curators 
of 
pop 
culture” and the tabloid magazine’s 
replacement. If you haven’t heard 
of it, DeuxMoi is an Instagram 
account known for spilling all the 
stars’ hottest tea. The account’s 
owners are still anonymous yet 
rumored to be fashion designer 
Meggie Kempner and socialite 
granddaughter Melissa Lovallo. 
No matter their identity, they have 
become a trustworthy source for 
any and all celebrity gossip with 
over one million followers.
The account began in 2013 to 
promote a lifestyle and fashion 
brand. Everything changed seven 
years later during the beginning 
of quarantine in March 2020 
when DeuxMoi asked their 45k 
followers for pop culture tea. 
People were stuck inside and 
bored, so gossip and drama were 
the perfect antidotes. As a result, 
the account blew up and now 
has over 1.6 million followers, a 
podcast, a book and even an HBO 
series in the works.
DeuxMoi is known for its “blind 
items” anonymously submitted by 
its followers through Instagram 
direct message or its online 
submission form. Posted to the 
account’s Instagram story as a 

screenshot, the content includes, 
but is not limited to, couple 
rumors, stories about celebrity 
behavior, new projects and even 
the stars’ coffee orders. Most of 
the blind items hide the person 
in 
question 
through 
a 
code 
name, while other less serious 
accusations name the celebrity 
directly. Being the gatekeeper 
of such a high volume of gossip 
is a risky position to occupy, but 
DeuxMoi acknowledged it with 
their Instagram bio which says, 
“statements made on this account 
have 
not 
been 
independently 
confirmed. this account does not 
claim any information published is 
based in fact.”
In addition to its hot gossip 
items, DeuxMoi posts celebrity 
sightings and the places to be seen 
on its “Sunday Spotted” round-
ups. From doctors to hairstylists to 
restaurants and hotels, DeuxMoi 
knows the hottest destinations. 
Whenever I wonder why, in 2022, 
people still care so much about 
celebrity culture, I remember the 
phrase “DeuxMoi made me do 
it.” It’s what followers write when 
attributing a meal, beauty product 
or fun night out to DeuxMoi and its 
posts. While many of its featured 
locations come with a hefty 
price tag and impossible-to-get 
reservations, DeuxMoi still lets its 
followers dine, shop and explore 
like the stars. DeuxMoi is the new 

way to be in the know, enabling 
everyone to feel like they’re 
included in the celebrity scene.
At its core, DeuxMoi represents 
a microcosm of internet culture. 
Whether or not its followers care 
about where the celebrities are 
spotted or what the gossip is, 
they do care about being a part 
of a community. Nowhere is this 
more evident than the account’s 
new series of posting individuals 
spotted in DeuxMoi merch — 
“Deuxmerch”. 
In 
addition 
to 
submitting Leonardo DiCaprio’s 
latest 20-year-old conquest, people 
are snapping pictures of DeuxMoi 
merch seen worn at the airport or 
at Trader Joe’s. Once the poster, 
DeuxMoi’s followers are now the 
posted. It’s the way to say “Look 

at me, I know what’s happening, 
I have the inside scoop.” Sure, 
it’s cool to be famous — but in the 
world of DeuxMoi, it’s way cooler 
to be in the know.
Thanks 
to 
DeuxMoi, 
the 
everyday person is now paparazzi 
and every celebrity sighting is 
a story to tell. Society no longer 
needs to pay attention to the 
tabloid magazine in the grocery 
line to know what’s the hottest new 
restaurant or the latest celebrity 
couple. Anyone and everyone can 
share stories, saturating the media 
with gossip while also making 
seemingly unreachable echelons 
of society more accessible. For 
better or worse, DeuxMoi has 
democratized celebrity culture, 
and it’s here to stay.

CARLY BRECHNER
Daily Arts Contributor

Design by Abby Schreck