“The Death of Caesar,” 1806, by Vincenzo Camuccini (Courtesy of Artvee)
Alexia: Hi! I’m Alexia Bailey, a sophomore here at CU Boulder. While I may just be in my second year, I’m here to share everything I’ve picked up so far, which is a surprising amount of information. “What’s Eating at Alexia” is my unofficial and unfiltered guide to some of the things that being a CU Boulder Buff brings. Think of it as your guide to navigating everything that makes CU Boulder, well, CU Boulder. Whether you’re a freshman finding your footing or a senior with “no body, no crime” level grievances about finals week, I’m here to share my takes, tips and honest observations on everything from the sometimes-unpredictable Buff Bus system to navigating campus protests (or dodging them entirely). College is a wild, unforgettable ride, and “What’s eating at Alexia” is here to make sense of some of it, one opinion at a time.
To be completely honest with you, the rise of cancel culture feels like a rehashing of when Brutus stoned his best friend to death in 44 B.C. Sure, maybe it isn’t a literal stoning every other week, but the spirit is there with betrayal, outrage and a crowd of Romans (in this case, X users) cheering from the sidelines. History repeats itself, except now it has a comment section and likes.
The modern “Et tu, Brute?” doesn’t come from senators, well, except when it does, but from TikTok and Reddit threads dissecting every human flaw with forensic precision. One minute you’re everyone’s favorite creator, professor, or classmate; the next, someone unearths a seven-year-old tweet and suddenly you’re the villain of the internet.
Cancel culture originated as a form of accountability, calling out the powerful for genuine harm. But somewhere between #MeToo and “why did she like that photo from 2014,” we lost the plot. The internet jury doesn’t take recesses, and no one seems to remember that due process exists outside of courtrooms. It’s easier to crucify than to converse. I look over at Blake Lively, star of the 2024 film “It Ends with Us,” a movie centered on domestic violence and breaking the cycle. Lively came under scrutiny for promoting the film in a way that seemed to ignore its heavy themes, telling audiences to “grab your friends and put on your florals” and using press appearances to advertise her hair brand, Blake Brown Beauty. Meanwhile, her co-star Justin Baldoni openly discussed the film’s portrayal of abuse and shared resources for those affected by it. What followed was a digital pile-on: Lively was ruthlessly bullied across the internet. Later, she took Baldoni to court, alleging that he had sexually harassed her during the making of the film and helped fuel the wave of online hate against her. Yet, Lively’s reputation was damaged, and there was no way to revive it.
Here at the University of Colorado Boulder, this dynamic plays out in subtler ways. A friend says the wrong thing in class, and suddenly, no one sits next to them anymore. A club member gets “voted out” for being “problematic,” but no one can explain what that actually means. Professors are being called out on Yik Yak, and suddenly no one takes them seriously anymore. Cancel culture has become less about change and more about exile. We don’t teach, we just delete.
I can’t sit here and pretend that people don’t say or do bad things. Some of those things are, admittedly, unforgivable. But how do we, as a society, decide where the line is? Is a tweet from 2015 really enough to ruin someone’s life? Or is it justice for the groups that person may have hurt when they said it? The problem is, the internet doesn’t do nuance. Once the court of public opinion opens, it doesn’t close for deliberation; it demands a verdict. People love the idea of accountability, but they love a good downfall even more. There’s a difference between holding someone responsible and holding them hostage to their past. Cancel culture thrives on the illusion of moral superiority. It’s not about the “lesson learned” or the apology; it’s about the spectacle. And we all play a part in it. Every retweet, every TikTok stitch, every “I can’t believe they said that” comment keeps the guillotine blade sharp.
Taylor Swift once said she likes her friends canceled. Blake Lively might be proof of this. And honestly, that might be the most 2020s thing anyone’s ever said. I believe that she brings up a good point. We have turned cancellation into a personality trait, proof of moral alignment, a sign that you “get it.” But somewhere in the middle of all the digital finger-pointing, we’ve forgotten that people are supposed to be redeemable.
Maybe Brutus thought he was doing Rome a favor. Maybe we think we’re doing the same, cutting out the bad to protect the good. But after enough stabbings, there’s no one left to hold the empire together. If we really want progress, maybe we need less stoning and more conversation. Accountability without annihilation. Forgiveness without forgetting. Because at the end of the day, none of us wants to be Caesar, but we’d all like to survive the Ides of March.
Contact CU Independent Opinion Editor Alexia Bailey at alexia.bailey@colorado.edu
