If you are one of the 600 million people to have bought a Harry Potter book, chances are you probably liked it. In fact, according to the Washington Post, “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” is one of the top ten most checked out books from the New York Public Library. However, nowadays it seems impossible to talk about the Wizarding World without mentioning its author, J.K. Rowling, who is widely known for her transphobic views. This begs the question, can we truly separate the art from its creator? Must we feel guilty enjoying art created by corrupt authors? The reality is that art cannot be separated from its author, but to discount the value of the art as a whole is a disservice to our society and to our own capacity to perceive nuance.
There are numerous instances in which popular artists have made less than admirable choices, even as they make renowned and impactful art. Take well-known figures like Pablo Picasso, Kanye West, Johnny Depp, Sydney Sweeney, and Roald Dahl, for example. All of these people have done questionable, if not objectively bad, things during their careers, yet their art is still consumed everyday.
Oftentimes in the media, you hear about celebrities getting “canceled,” a term for when the broader public condemns an individual or establishment for their actions and or behavior. Usually, this manifests in boycotting said celebrity, typically on social media. Many of us participate in cancel culture, which can be problematic. To cancel someone is to put a label on them, which doesn’t leave room for growth or change. It is often similar to bullying; even if someone did do something wrong, canceling them does not allow room for redemption, nuance, or learning.
There is no clear answer for how to deal with these situations. Regarding cancel culture, Franklin English teacher Dana Vinger says, “I definitely am not a cancel culture person. I believe in having conversations. These works [of art] are out there. They exist, and I think to ignore them can actually be harmful. … I think it is important to look at the mistakes that have been made, in history [and] art, … [and] hopefully avoid repeating those mistakes.”
But the situation does merit the question, is there a point beyond redemption? How are we supposed to argue for redemption or forgiveness for those who have harmed so many? The answer is different for everyone, which makes it impossible to have any book or piece of music be universally declared should be boycotted because of its author. However, it is important to recognize the big differences between someone who doesn’t share the same worldview as you, even if their actions can still be incredibly harmful, and someone who has committed felonies. Isn’t there a difference between someone who committed a racist act in their youth and apologized for it, and someone who has consistently and repeatedly engaged in racist speech and actions? Between someone who unwittingly pressured another person into sex without getting sufficient consent and someone who has multiple rape convictions? The only rulebook we have for what is acceptable to us depends on your own personal morals. The trick is not to shy away from that complexity, but instead to embrace it.
Choosing not to pay attention to negative things in the world doesn’t solve anything. This is why it is so important not to ignore these works of art; instead, we need to find a way to ethically consume this media. The two big ways to do this are to not financially support the artist — get their books from the library instead of buying them new or not buying tickets to a specific musician’s concert — and discussing the problem itself. This means pointing out times when the author’s or musician’s personal history bleeds into their respective characters or music, and discerning the possible effects of the art. Art is essentially a form of self-expression; it is not a product we make and give to someone else. It is who we are. This is why it is important to point out times when you notice the author shine through their work — the two cannot be separated.
Currently, Vinger’s students are reading “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian” by Sherman Alexie. The book follows Junior, a 14-year-old Native American cartoonist, struggling as he moves from the school on his reservation in Wellpinit, WA, to an all-white, better-funded school 22 miles away. The book has faced many widespread challenges across the United States and was the most challenged book from 2010 to 2019, with over 99 reported bans according to PEN America. The arguments against the book are due to the sexual content, language, use of profanity, and depictions of poverty, alcohol, and violence. But the book is also a raw and heartfelt depiction of growing up in poverty and struggle.
Millions of copies have been sold, according to the Fulton County Library System. It explores themes of abuse, struggle, and inequality that students might not have otherwise had the opportunity to learn about. Vinger shares that she has had “reluctant readers” come to her, saying that this was the first book they had ever read cover-to-cover.
The positive impact of this book is undeniable. Personally, I read it years ago, and then recently reread it. When I had just started it for the second time, I found out that in January of 2018, multiple women came forward as part of the “Me Too” movement — a global survivor-led movement to support survivors of sexual violence and call out their attackers — accusing the author, Sherman Alexie, of sexual harassment and unwanted sexual advances. Suddenly, I saw the book in a new light, and since Alexie shares about his trauma, it gave me empathy for all that he’s had to endure in his life, even if he did do very horrible things. Vinger says, “I want students to read the book and then have this information, … just to be able to see the power of the book itself, and then know this other piece, as opposed to knowing this thing and then immediately shutting off.”
Franklin librarian Ellen Pederson says, “We don’t want to say, ‘Oh yeah, well, this author made some frankly awful decisions, so get rid of this story. We can’t read it anymore.’ … But [we should], at least hav[e] that discussion. … Let’s be aware of what this person has done.”
The saying “never meet your heroes” comes from a very real fear of discovering things about the people we look up to that are not admirable. The situation is further complicated when our heroes are artists or creators. In Adrienne Maree Brown’s book, “We Will Not Cancel Us: And Other Dreams of Transformative Justice,” she writes about how hard it is for us to hold nuance: “We do not believe we can hold the complexity of a gray situation. We do not believe in our own complexity. We do not believe we can navigate conflict and struggle in principled ways. We can only handle binary thinking: good/bad, innocent/guilty, angel/abuser, black/white, etc.” The truth is, we cannot simply disregard the work of bad people; instead, we must consider our personal values, talk about how the author shows up in their work, and navigate the impact of supporting that person. Only then can we responsibly consume the work of these artists.