What makes a celebrity?
A question that a colleague and I pondered when discussing the disappointing South African Music Awards night that happened this past weekend.
While she was already disgruntled by the lacklustre organisation of the event, my colleague was also disenchanted with the people in attendance and the lack of superstars.
What captured this moment for me was her retelling of a random woman who walked down the red carpet. All the media and photographers stared back at the woman in confusion. While the normal question at such an event might be, “who are you wearing?” it was instead, “who the hell is this one now?”
As a media industry full of talents but no opportunities, this woman’s walk down the red carpet opened a can of worms we don’t talk about. It was only after she had finished her strut that people were able to figure out she was indeed a social media star.
The introduction of social media changed the media landscape and many have not quite embraced the change it has made. The ability to become famous overnight has birthed a variety of stars like Noko Mashaba and Mihlali Ndamase but has also given space for the likes of torrid doxxers like Musa Kawula.
In theory, there no longer exists a need to become famous in the traditional sense; magazine covers, high profile TV interviews and attending the aforementioned red carpets. Especially for the South African market where stars often built relatable brands, you could be far removed from a star and only getting the opportunity to bask in their glory when they were on stage or you were in attendance at a screening of The Felicia Show.
But that changed as soon as social media reared its ugly head. Celebrities took to those platforms to distance themselves as salient brands. There was less cooking seven colours on Selimathunzi and a whole lot more viral meltdowns on Twitter threads.
The ability for anyone to take part in fame has watered down the traditional concept of a celebrity. A number of idols in the country are coming from backgrounds that have made them breadwinners or black tax payers while influencers are able to access their glamorous lives and status through already wealthy families, forcing celebrities to keep up with the standards of a pre-existing hierarchy.
I love the advent of influencers. They brought with them the potential to deconstruct the structures that have made it difficult for stars to stand up for their rights, earn the money that is owed to them and essentially run the way media is created. The 38-million of them and counting have killed fashion magazines, changed people’s approach to lifestyle choices, destroyed the careers of toxic public figures and have shown power over consumer trends. However, we see these young and old stars follow a system that is trying to bend to their will – while they do the same creating a system of a dog chasing its own tail.
As the traditional media landscape has changed bucking to a digital era of click bait headlines and social media shorts, the sales industry is enjoying the rewards of online shopping blown up by the lockdown. It then becomes clear that influencers are the new format of celebrity culture. The careers of Will Smith needed no blockbuster films or awards to remain attainable. It was his social media presence that transcended his fame for a younger generation. Music companies rarely allow international acts to release singles or albums without viral TikTok dance accompanying its success. And we all know what viral tunes have done for our stars.
The formula of fame no longer sits on who wore what better on a red carpet but who turns heads on social media. And as SA continues to chase trends set by the global north, is it not high time we started setting some as a country that already had relatable stars to begin with?
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