Unpopular opinion, but isn’t it about time we stop shaming women for divorce – and shouldn’t that include Jennifer Lopez? By now, we all have heard that Lopez has filed for divorce from Ben Affleck after only two years of marriage. In what felt like a whirlwind romance during the pandemic, the world was shocked at the idea that the early 2000s had made a comeback with the reunion of Bennifer. Many, including myself, ran to the internet to read and comment on every detail regarding the trending topic, longing for some juicy news after a year in captivity, and Bennifer gave us exactly that. But with the intrigue, of course, came the hate, something I’m sure celebrities are no strangers to. Even bad publicity is good publicity, after all. Still, something feels wrong about the way the collective is handling someone’s heartache – it’s something cruel, something inhumane.
The author David Wong said, “But remember, there are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.” I guess this is the issue. Within the Latine community and within pop culture at large, Lopez is part of a group that came up at a time when people like her were relegated to mostly background roles. Her ambition toward fame and relevance was something she willingly put on display. The narrative she’s woven of a belief in true love helped sell countless tabloids and became regular watercooler chat long before the internet replaced the watercooler.
Now, I’m in no way apologizing for or defending Lopez. I wouldn’t call myself a fan, but I’ve always respected her hustle. Still, I’m well aware of the countless claims of her character flaws and arrogant reputation. As a believer in duality, I just wonder where we’ve lost sight of the idea that in every human, there’s always room to critique someone’s faults while remembering their humanity in order to preserve our own. Many will argue they were never a fan, never a consumer, never interested, but we must all take responsibility for our part in celebrity delusion. Frankly, the idolization of J Lo is one she didn’t do on her own. It was a group venture.
Yet the quickness with which people scramble to discuss someone’s unhappiness and bask in “I told you so’s” is slightly appalling. The lengths to which Lopez is scrutinized are dehumanizing, and the irony is that the same critiques come from those who latched onto her character faults and inhumane treatment of others. But would any “good,” humane person tear down someone who’s living through some of the most embarrassing and heartbreaking times of their lives on the world’s stage?
The idea of “the game comes with a price” is deeply troubling. Does being an artist mean you forfeit the right to empathy, and are subject to harassment and dehumanization? At what point will the internet stop and remember that these are still people living out their wildest fantasies in no different way than most anyone with ambition would love to in their chosen field?
Maybe the difference is that Lopez has never had boundaries with the public. Sure, she’s benefited from her lack of privacy as she displayed her many love stories in documentaries and original films, much like Taylor Swift does in songwriting or Beyoncé did with her acclaimed “Lemonade” album. But unlike those artists, Lopez’s perceived lack of authenticity has earned her an extra serving of cruelty.
The pop scene’s current it girl, Chappell Roan, recently uploaded a video where she stated that she doesn’t accept harassment as a normal aspect of being famous or as part of the job. To her, it doesn’t make it okay. She goes on to say it’s strange that people think they know a person just because they consume the art they create. Her desire to abstain from publicly engaging in the normalization of dehumanizing celebrities is a conversation that many celebrities have addressed.
It all makes me wonder: who decides which celebrities we worship forever, and which ones we tear down? Why is it acceptable to look at a heartbroken person (in this case, a woman’s sorrow), and label it with “she must be the issue”? Does living your life in public mean you’ve given up your right to respect? Mostly, I wonder: when will we shift to a culture with decency?
Katherine G. Mendoza is a seasoned Ecuadorian American writer and producer, boasting more than a decade of expertise in social-first storytelling. Her work has graced the pages and screens of renowned publications and media outlets including PS, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Variety, Univision, Telemundo, Huffington Post, and Uproxx.
