Dissecting Controversy through Doja Cat’s 'Scarlet'

By Aarush Santoshi

Amidst the ever-shifting music industry of the past two decades, controversy has emerged as an unrivaled melody, threading its ubiquitous notes through the fabric of pop culture and leaving an indelible mark on the contemporary zeitgeist.

From career-shattering political statements (see: Sinead O’Connor’s 1992 Saturday Night Live performance) to high-profile feuds (see: that awkward moment between Kanye West and Taylor Swift at the 2009 VMAs or Azealia Banks’ Twitter feed) and provocative marketing (see: Lil Nas X’s rollout of ‘Satan shoes’ to promote “MONTERO”), controversy continues to be wielded by, for and against celebrities, often leaving audiences with the unenviable task of reconciling our moral compasses with our continued parasocial consumption of the artists we think we love. This dynamic was on clear display ahead of and through the rollout of Doja Cat’s fourth studio album, Scarlet, which made seemingly intentional use of controversy as a marketing strategy.

Disclaimer: My use of the word “controversy” should not be interpreted as a stand-in for moral judgment. Controversy can be an effective tool for generating public discourse about important issues: Sinead O’Connor’s SNL performance, for example, in which she tore up a photo of Pope John Paul II while performing Bob Marley’s song “War”, drew the public eye to child sexual abuse in the Catholic Church. And the backlash she faced — from Joe Pesci’s physical threats against her to Madonna’s condemnation of her actions (even though she featured burning crosses in the music video for her 1989 song “Like a Prayer”, much to the Vatican’s chagrin) — only served to intensify this result.

Even when celebrity controversy doesn’t have an obvious positive effect, it is more often than not morally neutral. There are some clear exceptions, like Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis’ character defenses of convicted rapist Danny Masterson, but I’m not sure I would classify these cases as particularly interesting examples of “controversy” because, well, there is nothing controversial about them: Any reasonable person would recognize Kutcher and Kunis’ behavior as morally reprehensible. There also wasn’t anything generative about their behavior, at least not in the public sphere; the headlines momentarily dominated our for you pages, but most everyone moved on when the next piece of gossip dropped.

That’s not to minimize the repercussions of the actions of high-profile individuals expressing unequivocal support for a known sexual abuser. But it does bring up an uncomfortable point: As consumers (of music, of artists, of trend cycles), we tend to be more comfortable engaging with “controversy” when there is nothing at stake and are deafeningly silent when our own morality will be implicated in our response. That is, we avoid the question of “Should I continue supporting this artist?” (a question that is, I admit, complicated by the infinite number of avenues of monetized consumption available to us) by focusing on the things that don’t matter as a way of ignoring the things that do.

When it is no longer possible to feign ignorance, we respond with moral outrage, not at the action itself, but at the fact that one of our faves was the one to do it. And, quite often, nothing major changes: Time spent in Ticketmaster cues, online merch stores and streaming platforms is asterisked by “I know they did this, but…” to preserve a parasocial relationship we single-handedly created. It’s also worth noting that these brief displays of moral outrage are further curtailed by a lack of accessible alternatives to engaging an artist’s music without supporting them monetarily, either through streams or while they tour. Any sustained attempts at “canceling” would require protracted legal challenges, boycotts and organizing against an industry that monopolizes the way we consume entertainment. Challenging the behemoth that is the contemporary streaming industry is limited by its seeming ubiquity, causing stunts of moral outrage to fizzle out before they can be fully realized.

Although we as consumers are never privy to the behind-the-scenes PR machinations that define the contours of celebrity-audience relations, we can use context clues to determine the intentionality of controversy. More specifically, if an artist is making headlines for inflammatory statements or polarizing iconography (for example, Satanic imagery, which has become a go-to for artists seeking to redefine their brand as evidenced by artists like Lil Nas X) and an album/EP/single is released shortly thereafter, it does not take an industry insider to conclude that the controversy was manufactured and intentional.

This was seemingly the case with Scarlet. The leadup to the album’s release on September 22 was riddled with Twitter/X feuds, clashes in Instagram comment sections, and live-streamed rants set over artist-leaked songs from the album. Interestingly, the bulk of these statements were directed against and towards Doja’s own fans — the ones who would, theoretically, be consuming her new music.

Some examples: In response to a fan account requesting that Doja say “I do love you guys” to her fans, she responded, “i don’t though cuz i don’t even know yall.” When another fan replied to remind her that she would be “NOTHING” without them, Doja struck back with “nobody forced you to idk why you’re talking to me like you’re my mother bitch you sound like a crazy person.” When other fan pages asked Doja whether “kittenz” was an appropriate name for her fan base, she scathingly responded “my fans don’t name themselves shit. if you call yourself a ‘kitten’ or fucking ‘kittenz’ that means you need to get off your phone and get a job and help your parents with the house.” When a fan account with the username “@thekittenzweb” asked Doja what they should change their name to, Doja replied, “just delete the entire account and rethink everything it’s never too late.”

Needless to say, her fans were pissed, with some Tweet-replying with screenshots of Ticketmaster refund requests and others posting full-on Notes app statements about Doja’s behavior. One such statement, made by X user @brunoscverse, reads in part:

We've stood with you during every incident you've faced, including the one involving Lorry Hill, Noah Schnapp, the Heard v. Depp trial tiktok, the Paraguay crisis, and the dispute over #that song. We tolerated all that occurred up until recently while protecting, defending, and supporting you… Once more, when you were accused of being racist, we sprang to your defense. We once again defended you when you were accused of being racist and other wrongdoings because of the love partners you chose. For you, we have truly gone through HELL AND BACK. We do this because we truly love you, not because we want to be rewarded. We simply didn't switch up on you when information about your relationship with this new partner surfaced.

The tweet references numerous controversies Doja has been at the center of in recent years, some insignificant — her feud with Stranger Things star Noah Schnapp and her threatening to quit music while in an X fight with Paraguayan fans, for example — and some with deeper implications about her character: Namely, her participation in white supremacist chat rooms and endorsement of alt-right Youtuber Sam Hyde, and her partnership with Twitch streamer J. Cyrus, who has been accused of emotional abuse and manipulation by women in his community.

The entire statement is a deeply uncomfortable read and, quite honestly, provides a compelling post hoc justification of Doja’s callout of her fans. It’s uncomfortable because it is so intensely parasocial: The statements about being in love with Doja, about standing by her through multiple allegations of racism, of going “through HELL AND BACK”, all speak to someone who has cultivated a strong, unilateral bond with someone who has made unambiguously clear that they don’t reciprocate those feelings.

If one looks past the blunt wording and the emotional anguish of being told they don’t mean anything to their favorite celebrity, Doja Cat’s social media retorts make total sense: She doesn’t owe her fans anything, including love and the insinuation that she does is suffocating and not conducive to her artistry. The implication that this one-sided love is all-consuming, to the point of justifying Doja’s condemnable actions, is not only irresponsible, it also does not serve the communities she has harmed in any meaningful way.

In reflection on the album, I can confidently say that the album was not worth the protracted controversy that preceded it. “Attention”, the first single off the album and one of my personal favorite songs on the album, gave me hope for a departure from the “cash-grabs” and “mediocre pop” on Planet Her, Amala and Hot Pink. The chorus from “Paint the Town Red'' quickly dominated my Apple Music recently played, as did “Demons”, a song with a strong beat but incommensurately weak lyrics. When the album dropped, it was clear that many of the songs could’ve easily been on past albums; That’s not to say they are bad, but for an album whose rollout emphasized sonic and visual reinvention, “Gun”, “97” and “Shutcho” blend seamlessly into Doja’s old discography. Ironically, “Agora Hills”, one of the album’s most popular songs and a personal favorite, is essentially a love ballad for J. Cyrus; in “Wet Vagina”, Doja proudly notes how she and her boyfriend have been “making very many people upset,” a not-so-tongue-in-cheek reclamation of the controversy that continues to surround her relationship.

I do feel the need to preface this summation by saying that I have listened to Scarlet on repeat since the day it was released, and went to one of Doja’s shows earlier this year; I am writing from the perspective of a fan who was not personally aggrieved by Doja’s comments, and recognizes them as nothing more than a publicity stunt to distinguish this new era from her old ones. While some tried in vain to resell their tickets after hearing about Doja’s controversy, I made no such attempt — I’ve been through this rodeo before, and have learned that the best way to avoid having your expectations shattered is to not have them in the first place. ♦