Is It Okay to Gossip?
For a few weeks now, the viewing public has been able to tune their streaming devices to the fictionalized fall of the once-celebrated writer Truman Capote over eight episodes. In the event that you didn’t know much of the man’s story before this season of Feud debuted, the publicity that has attended the show has surely made you aware of the broad strokes: he enjoyed a beautifully-upholstered residency amongst an equally legendary set of New York women. And then one day, he irrevocably, irredeemably, blew it.
The central irony of Feud is that it’s a really gossipy – as content based on historical figures often is – series about the havoc wrought by gossip. In Capote’s case, the gossip (often described as “salacious”) was mostly constituted of secrets, or at least things meant to be known by only a few (and not the legion of print consumers they ultimately reached). However, gossip can also include character assassination, general indiscretion, or even lies. And by that classification, the series seems to steadily aver that its antihero was far from the only one with unclean hands. But no matter.
Is all gossip bad? Very few will find ourselves in a position to expose other people’s secrets to a vast audience, and I would guess that most of us wouldn’t dream of it. However, the fact is likely that most of us don’t know people who are objectively interesting to others (sorry, friends), or whose exploits are notable enough to merit much retelling to audiences unacquainted with the players. But we’ve all experienced the jolt of excitement that comes from hearing a particularly juicy piece of news (and perhaps also felt a split second later “I can’t wait to tell ______”); we all have that friend (or two or three) with whom we sit down and talk about our other friends. I’ve done it. I do it. You do too. Though after seeing how it spiraled for Truman and the Swans, right now maybe we’re both asking ourselves: it is okay to gossip?
But what qualifies as gossip, anyway? And why does it have such negative connotations when it’s so alluring? The most basic definition is “casual or unconstrained conversation or reports about other people.” Though I can’t think of a time when I or anyone else has replied in the negative to the query “wanna hear some gossip?” you’re sure to get quite a range of answers about what kind of gossip people believe they engage in (some will say “none at all,” but don’t believe it for a second), what crosses the line and how their own participation in the practice ultimately makes them feel. I personally do a lot of what I like to think of as “country gossip” – updates on births and deaths, people recently run into and light inquiries on the status of those not frequently seen – and a lot less of the full-throated performance of the miseries and foibles of others before salivating, captive audiences (as Capote was known to do). So I’m in the clear, right?
Not with the people who argue that anything that doesn’t concern us personally should not be discussed with others – because you know that type. They believe what people are up to (beyond the most neutral biographical details) is no one’s business at all. These folks are of the view that we should always keep our eyes firmly fixed on our own papers (and in the service of steering clear of what I think is one of the uglier parts of gossip – judgment – I won’t share how fun I think such people are to be around). I maintain that there are certainly topics or inquiries that verge on the gauche – how much someone paid for something, what caused a couple to break up, why a person was fired – as long as we don’t intend to use that information to deride or defame them, we can hardly be blamed for our curiosity. Not only is this the way most some people are built, there is a human tendency to want to gather as much data as we can so that we may avoid whatever mishaps and misfortune may be lurking around any endeavor. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that – it’s how the slow process of evolution speaks into the everyday life of a species.
Furthermore, having personal relationships is to (hopefully) be emotionally invested in the lives of those people. This means that we may incline toward inventory and assessment – even in the times when these friends are not sharing all the events and details, and even if we don’t air the opinions we have formulated about their actions and choices. This doesn’t automatically make us disloyal to them, and having some unaffiliated source to whom we can express our views can be a useful valve for any tension or frustration we feel towards our friends (because we all do), as well as help us work through how to tackle any conflict that may yet arise.
We also live in a golden age of gossip production and consumption. Not only are we a culture possessed by the cult of celebrity – an occupation that is by its very nature Minding Other People’s Business (on steroids!) – anyone with a smartphone theoretically has the motive, means and opportunity to share a lot of information about themselves and others on a constant basis. And at its heart, before the topspin or opinions or calculation that goes along with it, gossip is information. Social media has become a constantly whirring engine of content and personal narrative, available to not just be engaged with, but spoken about. And in a peculiar, newfangled way, that becomes gossip too: I am going to bet that if you are on Instagram, the DMs you exchange with your 3 most frequent contacts or message groups are like your own personal TMZ. And while I would be mortified for me or you or any of us to have transcripts of those chats released to the public, I’m actually going to defend them. Because it is quite literally in our natures to trade information and develop understanding based on what we discover. To discuss the lives of others – including people we don’t know, like people who find themselves in the news for their talent or violating norms – is how we refine our own principles and make sense of the place and time in which we live. Gossip – especially the relatively benign type, kept to a small radius and more inherently inquisitive than critical – can strengthen bonds between the people who undertake it because what we’re really talking about is our shared values. It’s not (necessarily) mean-spirited and it’s far from frivolous. It’s how we draft and edit the rules that govern us.
So we’ve established that gossip is more than scandal and secrets…but there is no question that this is usually what makes for the most irresistible kind. It is pretty unrealistic to expect that when something truly cataclysmic happens, people won’t talk about it, and we also might feel helpless to resist the chatter when remarkable or shocking news is delivered. The most important caveat then is to be very careful about what we say, how we say it and to whom, for you may always count on words you have uttered about someone getting back to them eventually. This is not just a policy of insurance, but because it’s often exactly what happens — and its likelihood increases substantially if the thing is not nice. Though it was certainly not the case for Capote, some of those who fall do rise again — and they may be primed to settle the score upon their return.
Divulging the intimate stories of others or repeating an unkind thing happens for a host of non-malicious reasons too: some people are just bad at keeping things to themselves, or (as the series seems to submit) feel fatally inadequate unless they are keeping the more powerful or socially secure entertained. It could even be more innocent than that – many of us have revealed intel that seemed too dated to adversely affect anyone, or let slip something that we thought the other party already knew (or just did it by accident). But what we inevitably learn from these experiences is that you almost never regret keeping your mouth shut, especially if a tale wasn’t yours to tell. So unless something major is at stake, we serve ourselves best when we resist the impulse to disclose everything we know. Even if it’s amusing or would feel good or net us points, giving up a secret is an impossible thing to undo — and nearly as hard to forgive.
The times in which we live have taught us better than to bet what characters and artifacts will always be objects of fascination, but it seems likely that as host of perhaps the 20th century’s most famous party (The Black and White Ball), author of the novella that inspired one of its most iconic movies (Breakfast at Tiffany’s) as well as a sort of pioneer of the modern day public meltdown abetted by drug and drink (just go to YouTube), Capote was always destined for a better-than-average crack at immortality, a person shrewdly voted most likely to be compelling enough to transcend his exile and reemerge many times into the public eye. And so he has. In fact, part of the appeal of the teleplay is not the anticipation of what will finally be revealed, but how viewers will get to experience everything they already know. On this register of familiar scenes, quips and beats is most definitely Capote’s famous line claiming that the private revelations he had converted into copy for Answered Prayers was utterly defensible: “I’m a writer, and I use everything.” People too, it would seem.
In the hands of the wrong person, any tool can be a weapon. Gossip earns the rap it does because of how effective it can be at wounding others, or bringing them to heel – as these characters do again and again. I suspect that by the end of Feud, we will be left wondering who the true friends really were within Capote’s circle, how friendship was defined by each of them, and what can and cannot be said or taken back amongst people who love (or have loved) one another. These things are hard to know for any of us, but for this set, it’s now impossible: every single figure depicted prominently in the series is long dead. However, the real tea it spills seems to be this: there are no sound reasons to devote much time to people who make habit or sport of treating others with contempt — the amusement it brings is usually short-lived, and things can get devastatingly, irretrievably out of control. There’s also the hazard associated with nearly any a back-handed enterprise: someone who will do it with you might one day do it to you – and that, friends, is no fun at all.
Have a wonderful day – remember to keep your friends close and try not to have enemies at all, okay? Paid subscribers can look forward to my post about the strangest Superbowl Halftime Show ever (according to me) in this month’s “How Was That Okay” and in wake of Valentine’s Day, next week’s post will contain a little relationship advice. See you soon!