To be clear, such a public persona is gender neutral. Recall former talk show host and comedian Ellen DeGeneres, another “good” celebrity revealed to be the opposite. Allegations about her mistreatment of employees and toxic work environment, contrary to her talk show’s “be kind” mantra, eventually led to her controversial exit from TV.
In both cases, their personal branding driving “impactful change” was an intentional strategy, not a fandom’s wishful projections.
Unlike DeGeneres’ fervent advocacy to be kind that had a tendency to feel a little contrived, Baldoni didn’t intend to be seen as perfect. He often acknowledged how societal norms around masculinity have shaped his imperfect behaviours but that he was constantly learning to do better.
In other words, he would encourage women in Lively’s position to tell their truth, to hold men like him accountable for their actions – not attempt to silence her.
More relevantly, this construction of an ideal public persona happens too in everyday life, especially on social media. Someone doesn’t need to be an idolised public figure to have a desire to be seen in a specific way – or to succeed at it.
THE DANGER OF VULNERABILITY-DRIVEN CONTENT
Aside from Baldoni’s alleged transgressions, what troubled me most was the collective willingness to blur the lines between his public and private self – more so than in typical parasocial relationships.
The blurring of lines is often the halo effect at work: We assume someone good in one area must be good in all areas. For instance, if an actor is talented, we may assume they are also likeable. We are then disappointed when they cheat on their partner or display problematic political views, even as we recognise the average celebrity never reveals all of themselves online. Elusiveness is part of the allure of celebrity worship.
