Who Gets to Be a Critic?

A few days after Beyoncé's latest album, Cowboy Carter, was released, I was scrolling TikTok and saw a video about the album from a creator I follow.

This creator is over-the-top ridiculous, candid, funny, and loud-mouthed. She's also a white woman from Canada (these are relevant details). In her typical, ranting style, she calls the writing "lazy" and says Cowboy Carter is "not good enough to be Album of the Year."

The backlash was swift. While no one denied that this creator is entitled to her opinion, many—including other white women—questioned the validity of her critique and its implicit meanings.

Speaking of "swift," it's hard not to notice how many people considered Taylor Swift's new album, The Tortured Poets Department, a shoo-in for Album of the Year before the first single was released. You don't have to open your eyes very wide to observe differences in the types of criticism people have for Taylor and the harshness with which they question the spaces where she belongs.

That's not to say that Taylor Swift doesn't receive any criticism. She absolutely does, and an unfortunate amount of it is from people who haven't listened to her music beyond the radio singles they remember from high school. I would argue that these people aren't fit to be critics, either.

Speaking of high school, a debate in tenth grade shaped some of my early thoughts about critics (and hypocrites). It took place in one of those trailers that passed as a classroom. I, a zealous atheist at the time, made Sarah [last name redacted] upset when she criticized the idea of same-sex marriage for "religious" reasons.

I reminded her that many people believe her religion doesn't allow her to sleep with her boyfriend, and yet she does. Why would the rest of the country need to follow the rules of her religion (which are not the laws of the land), some of which she didn't even follow? In my teenage mind, she didn't get to be a critic.

I bring up all these examples because I've been thinking about who has the "right" to critique what since I saw the aforementioned TikTok video.

Of course, questions of cultural context, historic levels of harm, and common decency should come into play with certain types of criticism from certain groups of people. But when it comes to matters of Black and white, your beliefs versus mine, or your experience against mine, who gets a vote? Who is allowed to critique?

The answer is, technically, everyone. Everyone gets to be a critic. In our digital age, we have more platforms than ever to consume and criticize, regardless of whether we know the person, whether we're knowledgeable on the topic, and whether we're in or out of our lane.

For me, the question then became: Whose voice should matter?

The criticism criteria for publicly consumed art is often applied to regular people like you and me. We make assumptions based on social media and allow captions and Stories to convince us that we know someone. We screenshot and DM our way into the critic's chair. We let arrogance and religion tell us that we always have the authority to tell other people—other adults!—how we think they should live.

All of this criticism is allowed. But when the critics turn their attention to you, there has to be criteria for accepting or rejecting their critique.

It's easy—yet unwise—to say that your opinion is the only one that matters in your life. Outside perspectives are critical, but not everyone's perspective should count. Maybe my perspective doesn't count, and you should stop reading here!

I'm on a mission to shorten the list of people whose criticism I'll consider. And that consideration isn't equally divided because everyone on that list isn't qualified to speak into everything. The people whose criticism gets consideration are the ones who know me deeply, understand who I'm becoming, have been where I'm coming from, and respect my intelligence enough to acknowledge that my views and decisions are hard-won—even if they disagree.

This could just be my last six months of therapy seeping out, but receiving criticism or ruffling feathers doesn't always mean you've done anything wrong. Even "wrong" can be pretty subjective sometimes.

There are personal transitions and lifestyle shifts that will be wrong to some but that you and your trusted circle know are right for you. There are decisions that you don't have to justify to everyone. Some people won't have the context, insight, or relational equity that would give them the right to vote on your decisions.

But some of your critics will speak as if they have that right. They'll pull you aside to offer an opinion you didn't ask for. They may treat you to lunch just to tell you how right they are. Much like the Redditors and TikTokers with loud, proud, often objectively wrong opinions, they'll proclaim with authority that their way, their take, and their approach should also be yours.

I'm slowly learning to let the noise fade away. The only voices I want to get through are my conscience, my circle, and my God. It's easier said than done.

For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ. (Galatians 1:10, ESV)

In a piece about being a critic, A.O. Scott wrote for the New York Times, "It’s the mission of art to free our minds, and the task of criticism to figure out what to do with that freedom. That everyone is a critic means that we are each capable of thinking against our own prejudices, of balancing skepticism with open-mindedness, of sharpening our dulled and glutted senses and battling the intellectual inertia that surrounds us. We need to put our remarkable minds to use and to pay our own experience the honor of taking it seriously."

There are many ways to be a critic. I want to be critical (and think critically) to make way for creativity, progress, and freedom, not to protect my comfort and enforce conformity. After a few weeks of mulling over criticism's rightful place, I haven't fooled myself into thinking we can prevent those we deem unqualified from being critical of any topic or person. I only know what I want my critique to do.

I get to be critical of the traditions and ideologies that were handed to me at birth.

I'm allowed to be critical of the narrow expectations of womanhood that were placed on me.

I get to be critical of unjust governments and toxic systems and allow that to fuel me in voting, studying, and sassing the patriarchy.

I can be critical of modern mumble rappers while also respecting that some people enjoy listening to them and letting them have that in peace.

Most importantly, I get to critique my own interior life, tearing down what's wrong in me, replacing what doesn't fit, and building my true self.

The great Audre Lorde once said, "If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive." While all critics get their say, we can have them escorted out of our minds before their voices get loud enough to stop the show. After all, Beyoncé and Taylor Swift are laughing all the way to the bank.

It's not what the critics say that matters, but whether what they say matters to you. It's not about who has an opinion but whether their opinion has a place in your life. We can't put a muzzle on anyone who might ever criticize us, but we can decide whose words have influence.

Everyone gets to be a critic, but when it comes to our lives, who's directing this film?

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