Amiyah Golden
Words and Photos by Amiyah Golden
The light from the dim candles on my mantle cast shadows on the wall adjacent to the television used to stream my content of choice for the night. The one-degree difference in the weather and the voices urging me to decorate for the impending Halloween season is just another excuse for me to turn on something that will send shivers down my spine.
I pass the recommendations of “Hocus Pocus” and “Halloween Town 2” to indulge in the latest video from YouTuber Bailey Sarian with her segment, “Makeup, Mystery, Monday” where she recalls the tales of true crime stories while doing her makeup. Her videos that often start with a “theme song” and her embrace of dark humor has become a beacon for viewers who relish in Sarian’s approach to ingeminate real-life horrors in a way that’s considered entertaining.
It was a weekly routine that I formerly used to religiously devote my time to — justifying the lackadaisical approach as an alternate form of narration. However, I often felt slight guilt for looking forward to hearing stories about death and dismay.
My own penitence was actualized as I started to consume more YouTubers and podcasters who were divergent — and some congruent — with Sarian’s commentary such as Kendall Rae.
Kendall Rae’s way of covering similar topics surrounding crime has been presented in a format that focuses more on giving a voice to the voiceless rather than inciting shock value. With her platform being used to raise awareness and money for victims and their families, it forced me to look inward and reevaluate what I was so engrossed in. This isn’t an advertisement to watch Rae’s videos, but she was the igniter at the beginning of my own step back from my overconsumption of true crime, especially from those whose sole motive was based on acquisition. This isn’t declaring the demonization of monetary gain from creating content, but it is prompting scrutiny surrounding where the funds obtained from sharing gruesome tales of victims are allocated. Most of the time the families or any official organizations tied to the victim don’t receive any money, let alone a notice.
TIkTok user Charlie of @shunickmissingpersons shared her disdain with popular true crime podcast “Crime Junkie” in March of this year. This isn’t the first time that the hosts, Brit Prawat and Ashley Flowers, have been at the center of a controversy surrounding their platform.
Charlie’s sister was murdered over a decade ago and her story has been told numerous times without the consent of the family.
“My mental health could not possibly handle seeing the thousands and thousands of videos that people have created without our permission,” Charlie communicated via her nine-minute-long video.
“Why is her solved case from nearly 12 years ago continuing to be told over and over again? What was the point of this?” she added. “And if these groups have so much time to research why don’t they have time to reach out to the family remembers and ask and see if they can do it.”
The lack of approbation when it comes to the family is a big point of contention for many who argue about the propriety in generating regurgitated content for views and money.
Yes, spreading awareness is cardinal for many unsolved cases that don’t get the adequate amount of media attention or have gone cold, but what about the cases that have been solved like Charlie mentions. She is forced to constantly re-experience the devastating trauma of losing a sister to homicide.
We have seen the positive consequence of sharing cases that have gone cold with someone in the audience potentially being a witness, harnessing crucial information, or bringing a fresh perspective that could be of aid. There has also been attestation of missing people being found decades later due to word spreading through the grapevine and on different media platforms; so there isn’t a dismissal of the potential benefits that come from spreading knowledge but the how and why behind the intent is important to question.
“I’m so tired of murder victims being used as cash cows,” continued Charlie. “When we’re using a closed case and putting these things with advertisements, revenue, monetizing it and putting it behind paywalls for private subscribers … that is to make money.”
According to the businessjournalism.org, by 2019, 28% of the U.S. podcast listeners reported seeking out true crime as a favorite genre. In 2021, 20% of the top-searched shows on Apple podcasts and curated recommendation lists, in the U.S. were true crime shows.
And that number continues to rise and with much public desire comes capitalistic earnings and motivation often sparked by greed.
Present-day algorithms work hard to push out content that is controversial and will create buzz. TikTok creators can only gross revenue from the creator fund if their video is viewed directly from the ‘For You Page’ (FYP) incentivizing creators to come up with conspicuous titles — even if that means degrading the victims to catch the attention of users.
This is not only insolent but instills a culture of desensitization.
Professor Whitney Phillips of the University of Oregon is known for her research and writing regarding “the ethical implications of popular culture subjects such as the true crime genre.” Phillips also teaches the ways true crime can be potentially harmful and unethical, also finding, “the idea of commoditizing true crime troubling.”
The article, ‘The true crime genre is popular but is it ethical?’ by University of Oregon student Jillian Gray highlights “podcasts like “My Favorite Murder” or “Murder With My Husband” create catchphrases and sell merchandise inspired by their shows and real-life cases. In doing this, they are reducing victims’ lives and tragedies to marketable content. This branding of real violence and victims dehumanizes them by turning them into merchandise and memes.”
This concern isn’t based upon unfounded speculation, as a brief search will lead you down a deep rabbit hole of creators trying to one-up each other with tactless titles and anecdotes.
The idolization of murderers by the public has been an ongoing phenomenon with killers such as Ted Bundy, Charles Manson and Jeffrey Dahmer being endorsed by soulless individuals due to their own twisted attractions. Due to the internet, the desire to garner likes and interactions for rallying behind pure evil has outweighed the former fear of the permanence of social media. Many TikTok accounts have devoted their entire social platform to making “thirst” edits of serial killers by gathering footage from their trials and compiling clips together to eulogize degenerates — and the worst thing about it all is some of these videos are getting over 50,000 likes.
Because we have curated a culture comfortable with apathy, we have lost the will of empathy. Human life and feelings pale in comparison to clout… and that is always one hell of a drug.
We have begun to romanticize and normalize the intake of nefarious accounts of a terrible reality — and while we can’t hide from the wretched truth — we can re-evaluate our own internal purpose of why we stream hours of horror, pay for Patreon subscriptions that only benefit the creator and absorb these abhorrent crimes for personal gratification.
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