What Do Celebrities Owe Us?

In middle school, I was a chronic celebrity crusher. Every month, my lock screen would cycle through a new heartthrob, and I would pretend that Timothée Chalamet was my boyfriend. To be vulnerable, I went through a uniquely intense crush phase with Rami Malek during his Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) era, and on Oscars night, I was so nervous about him here not winning that my mom had to stage an intervention.

The point of me revealing this obsessive period of my life is not to embarrass myself—although I think we’re past that— but to show that celebrities occupied a major part of my mental and emotional adolescent headspace. I also believe that connection amounts to something significant, which begs the question of reciprocity.

Recently, Ariana Grande has been putting out for her fans: a new album, an international tour, and cheeky lyric changes to allow fans a glimpse into her love life. But, spend a few minutes online, and it seems that people want just one thing from her: an explanation for her body. Specifically, her apparent thinness.

At this point in the discourse, I see little value in directly analyzing Ariana’s body or sharing what I think she should or shouldn’t do. But considering the conversation’s persistence— ongoing for months, arguably since the Wicked (2024) press tour—her lack of response has struck a great nerve with the internet council.

However sensitive it may be, the body image element of this controversy is unavoidable. The demand for celebrity access, especially for women, often devolves into public harassment of their bodies. Female celebrities’ bodies have long been a point of lurid fascination, reaching a particularly scathing point in the 2000s, when magazines like Star and Us Weekly ran cover stories that blatantly assessed weight gain and loss. Britney Spears is the classic example, as she was not just shamed for her weight but also for her appearance when going through a personal crisis. One’s body is private and sacred—and not owed to anyone.

In Ariana’s case, lots of online commentators don’t seem to be taking the same mean-spirited approach to scrutinizing her body. Instead, they voice a purported concern and, more so, a demand for Ariana to acknowledge these concerns and signal to her young fans that they should not try to emulate her appearance. According to the BBC, the top comment on her “petal” music video read, “It’s not about wanting the old Ariana back. It’s about wanting her to be healthy.” Writer Sarah Ditem from The Times wrote a more blatant story titled, “Ariana Grande’s image is a danger to girls,” reflecting the concerns for the pop star’s fanbase amid this discourse. “The singer’s denial that her extreme thinness indicates any kind of problem sets a worrying example to those who idolise her,” Ditem claimed.

Frankly, I hesitate to buy that the scrutiny, or the real anxiety behind their demand, would be fully quelled by a statement from Glinda herself. We’re well aware that skinniness, at many extremes (recall the 1990s historical beauty trend heroin chic), is an ideal that has tormented young women for decades. We don’t need Ariana or any celebrity to inform us of that directly.

Rather, I think fans desire a sounding board, a dueling ground, a space to project and grapple with our own societal woes. If celebrities are public icons, it seems only natural for them to serve as easily accessible examples of what’s circulating in culture. So, in an era of GLP-1s and self-deprecating words like “big back” coming back into fashion, it seems that Ariana has been caught up in a greater moment of body panic. 

Celebrities should understand the amount of emotional investment and space they occupy for fans, and that acknowledgement in itself is significant. This can play out on a larger scale, when celebrities make political investments in causes their fans care about. Olivia Rodrigo is putting her money where her verses are, supporting girls not only through her music but also through direct investments like her groundbreaking chantable, all women festival debut. But it can also be as small as taking the time of day to take a picture with a fan, a nod to the potentially immense impact that they have had on their life.

Ariana is in a tricky spot because her body has never, until now, been what fans connect with or gravitate toward. Rather, because she is a woman in the public space, it is automatically assumed to be something that fans are paying attention to, which frankly isn’t fair.

I don’t know what Ariana’s music means for everyone, but I’d venture to say that it doesn’t immediately conjure up body image—although the intensity of this discourse is developing that unfortunate association. Her Eternal Sunshine Tour makes apparent the joy, love, and nostalgia she wants to give her fans, even if she herself is not in the place to perform in a healthy manner. Ariana, rather than neglecting her fans, perhaps cares too much, sacrificing her own well- being to be a version of herself that means so much to people.

The mental and physical well-being of women celebrities should not be carelessly handled; what happened to Britney made that clear. They can make us happy, facilitate expression, and bring us community—but they will never be able to work through or solve our greater cultural sore spots for us. Instead, they’re often rendered rhinestoned punching bags, smiling through the abuse as we hold them individually responsible for broader societal problems we don’t have the infrastructure to fix wholesale.

If anyone owes anything, it’s the public that owes grace to a celebrity who has meant so much to her fans, but at this moment, only needs to care about herself.