Oh Myyy! (11 page)

Such posts are bound to stir the pot, and I’m always ready to be barraged with emails and comments accusing me of perpetuating stereotypes. People forget that stereotypes aren’t bad because they are always untrue. Stereotypes are bad because they are not
always
true. If we allow ourselves to judge another based on a stereotype, we have allowed a gross generalization to replace our own thinking. Therein lies the problem.

But if we fail to acknowledge or, God forbid, laugh at a dubious stereotype, then we do ourselves a disservice. I much prefer to identify and open up the discussion of the stereotype than to pretend it doesn’t exist.

My brand of “trolling” thus has almost the exact opposite intent of a traditional troll. I wish to provoke enlightened and spirited discussion, not shut it down. When I turn over a rock and cause the Internet bugs to wiggle, it is to prevent intellectual laziness from taking hold — the very kind of laziness that gives stereotypes power in the marketplace.

Plus, to be honest, it’s just a lot of fun to turn over those rocks and see what is crawling around underneath.

But Enough About Me. What Do YOU Think of Me?

When most people use Facebook or Twitter, they post about their own lives. They put it out there, hoping that others will find their lives compelling enough to follow. Each small victory or triumph matters; each event becomes a gem of a memory. Otherwise, why create status updates at all?

As I mentioned at the beginning of this book, celebrities talk about their lives too. They, or more likely their handlers, often treat social media as just another way to market themselves, as if it were simply a new kind of broadcast media. Their tweets and updates are often creative agency pre-packaged bits about upcoming appearances, performances and whatnot.

While some fans appreciate this information, this really is not a great way to engage them. Only the most die-hard, dutiful fans will like, comment, or retweet what are essentially commercials. And very few friends of those fans will pay such reposts any heed. They know that all that giddiness is just their friends
“fan boying” or “fan girling” out.

I make no bones about my intentions on Facebook and other platforms. I’ve got some things I’d like to say about the world, particularly in the area of civil rights, and I’d love it if a lot of people got to hear them. I realize that there just aren’t many folks my age reaching out on the Internet, so I understand that my position comes with a certain level of responsibility.

I also want a lot of people to laugh, or even better, to laugh with me. The world is far too grim a place without some daily guffaws. Some of my favorite fan posts come from regular folks who tell me that they were having a bad day, or going through a rough time, but my page made them laugh, and that helped keep them going. I can’t express how grateful that makes me feel in turn, that I can make a difference, however small, in so many people’s daily lives.

But in all honesty, there’s no way millions of fans, particularly millions of young fans, would bother to get to know me unless I talked about something other than myself and my gigs. There are only so many
Star Trek
conventions and symphony narrations that anyone can take. Many of the younger fans probably have never even been to a symphony given the cost of tickets. And honestly, I also worry about people knowing
exactly
where I am or what I’m up to at all hours.

Common sense suggests I shouldn’t tell the world, for example, that I’m out of town with Brad, please come rob our home. Because of this, I’ll usually post any personal pictures well after the fact. It only takes one disturbed “fan” to ruin the party and cost me a lot in lost sleep and added security detail.

So, from the outset, I resisted the urge to fill my page with me, me, me. This wasn’t a hard choice, because much of my life is pretty mundane. I also eschewed attempts to sell copies of my existing book, much to Brad’s initial displeasure.

All kidding aside, it may come as a surprise to many, but peddling a product or service right out of the box doesn’t really work that well as an online strategy. Facebook in particular is a pretty lousy place to sell something, because people really aren’t on Facebook looking to buy. They’re looking to be entertained.

By “entertained” I don’t mean in the traditional sense of television. People on Facebook want to feel connected. In some ways, the experience online is more like live entertainment, akin to being at the theater or in the studio audience of a TV comedy. In addition to the energy you’re taking in from the performer, there’s the unquantifiable connectedness you feel with the audience around you. Facebook is a place, then, not only where you can laugh, wonder or curse at a video or image, but add your own thoughts and share in the thoughts of others immediately, in a kind of collective intelligence.

Yes, I know, it’s hard to say “collective” without thinking of the Borg.

To say simply that content is king when it comes to social media therefore misses half the point. You need content, yes, but it has to reflect the collective sensibilities of the fans, not just the imperatives or tastes of the entertainer. I believe it’s crucial to understand audience aspirations, commonalities and sensitivities, and to deliver the fans what they want. Only then will you have any chance of them giving a rat’s ass about what you have to say.

My Facebook page, you might say then, is basically a place where I post things that my
fans
like. That sounds simple, but many celebrities and brands have a hard time understanding this. Most people simply don’t care about the 10K race you sponsored. Instead, I’d prefer to put up a picture of a kid running it with prosthetic legs, and make that the focal point of a post.

Few of my posts are truly about me or my opinions. In fact, I’ve found that some fans have taken this principle a bit too far to heart. These fans’ feathers get quite ruffled whenever I happen to post something that relates directly to me, or I should say more specifically, my opinions. There are many examples of this. After the first Presidential debate between Obama and Romney, I posted an image of an armed gang of Muppets, furious that Romney had threatened to cancel
Sesame Street
, and openly declaring, “Shit just got real.” I found the picture wickedly funny, not only because Elmo, Grover and Cookie Monster were armed with knives, but also because they were paired with such a colorful caption.

I wasn’t prepared for the backlash from Romney supporters, who were more numerous than I’d assumed existed on what is essentially a liberal page. “Why don’t you C-list celebrities keep your opinions to yourselves?” “I liked this page for its humor, not liking it so much now for its politics.” “Shut up and keep to being funny, Mr. Takei. Don’t be so misinformed.”

Apparently, some fans can’t take a joke if it happens to bash their candidate. But being a person who normally wants to find the common ground beneath our many heels, I was bothered by the comments. There was something highly presumptuous about the criticism. They assumed I was not free to post whatever I wanted to on my own page. For starters, they insisted that it was my job to spend my free time making them laugh, with no thought to my own wants or needs.

I felt the rare need this time to respond, not only to make it clear that I took issue with these presumptions, but also because I knew it would only become worse with what I was about to post. You see, I had been approached earlier by the Obama campaign to record a couple of endorsement videos that encouraged Asian Pacific Islanders and LGBT individuals to get out and vote. I knew that a sizeable and vocal portion of my own fan base held different political beliefs than my own, ranging from Independent to Republican to Libertarian. Many were clearly not fans of the President and were eager to see him defeated. By using my fan page as a bully pulpit, even for a few posts, I was certain to see backlash.

And so I put out a simple and rare personal statement:

I was thrilled to see the response of the fans, with over 147,000 fans clicking like on it and over 10,000 commenting, nearly all positive. The people had spoken: This is George Takei’s page, and he can say whatever he damn well pleases!

But part of the risk of carefully growing a cohesive online community is that the cohesion can prove illusory, giving way quickly in the face of divisive politics or beliefs. Although I was quite proud of them and knew that they could move many viewers to action, my endorsement videos were, shall I say, not welcomed by a certain percentage of my fan base. It didn’t matter that I had prefaced the first post as tactfully as I could imagine: