Why Are We Worshipping People Who Just... Exist on Red Carpets and behind Camera's?

Let me preface this by saying: I’m not trying to start a war with the Cult of Kardashian or the Swiftian Empire. I’m just a humble observer, standing outside the velvet ropes, squinting at the flashing cameras and wondering—why are we all so obsessed with celebrities?

Seriously. What is it about someone drinking overpriced matcha in L.A. that makes the world collectively lose its mind?

The Celebrity Industrial Complex

There’s a whole ecosystem built around people who are famous for… being famous. They sneeze, and its breaking news. They wear pants—just pants, nothing revolutionary—and suddenly it’s a fashion moment. Meanwhile, I wear pants every day and no one’s writing think pieces about it. (Rude.)

It’s like society decided that if someone has a symmetrical face and a publicist, they must be spiritually superior.

Brain Chemistry or Black Magic?

Maybe it’s our brains. Maybe we’re wired to admire shiny things. Maybe we see celebrities as aspirational avatars—living proof that you can be rich, beautiful, and still somehow confused about how taxes work.

But let’s be real: some of this obsession feels like black magic. People will defend their favourite celebrity like it’s a blood oath. “She didn’t mean to throw that salad at her assistant, she was just having a hard day!” Okay, but if I throw a salad at someone, I’m getting escorted out of the building and possibly banned from the salad bar.

The Illusion of Intimacy

Social media made it worse. Now we know what celebrities eat, what they name their dogs, and how they look when they pretend to be surprised by a candid photo taken by their own team. It creates this illusion that we know them. That we’re friends. That if we bumped into them at a gas station, they’d say, “Oh hey, Tess! Loved your blog post!”

Spoiler: they wouldn’t. They’d probably call security.

The Absurdity of It All

Let’s not forget the absurdity. People cry when they meet celebrities. They faint. They tattoo their faces on their bodies. Imagine explaining that to your future child: “Yes, honey, that’s a permanent drawing of a man who once lip-synced on stage and wore a sparkly jacket.”

I mean, I get being inspired. But full-blown worship? That’s a lot of emotional investment in someone who doesn’t know you exist and probably thinks South Africa is just a safari destination.

Final Thoughts from the Non-Fan Club

I’m not saying we should all become celebrity-hating hermits. Admire talent. Appreciate art. Laugh at memes. But maybe—just maybe—we could dial it down a notch. Let’s save some of that energy for people who actually impact our lives. Like the barista who remembers your order.

So next time someone gasps, “Oh my gosh, did you see what Zendaya wore?” feel free to respond with, “No, but I did read about scientists who managed to deactivate the extra chromosome linked to Down syndrome.”

Let’s bring balance back to the universe. ✨