Let Bobbi Kristina Brown Live
Ever since reports were released last month that Bobbi Kristina, daughter of Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown, had been rushed to the hospital after a suspected drug overdose, the “updates” have been unceasing. Everyday there seems to be a new angle to this “story.” Some new information is “discovered” or some family member speaks out. But this ludicrous media circus really just has me wondering: why we can’t leave Bobbi Kristina alone?
Speculation erupts daily on Bobbi Kristina’s condition. One minute, she is doing better. The next, she is facing certain death. An investigation of her husband adopted brother
lover significant other remains open from suspicion of foul play. Now, there’s news he got a tattoo in her honor. And updates from “anonymous sources” keep us abreast of the alleged state of her family members. It is almost mind numbing, not to mention eerily creepy, that we have been obsessing over this young woman for weeks now.
Why do we care so much? Why are we so invested in every development in the life of a person we don’t even know personally? What real, tangible difference does this make for us? Really?
I understand celebrity culture and its sometimes instantaneous news cycle. The lives of these public figures are splayed across our screens for our enjoyment, with privacy never considered. The public can’t resist a good story, and we commonly fail to see public figures as actual people. Become famous and you sign up for that attention, right? Perhaps. Where do we draw the line though?
Bobbi Kristina didn’t seek fame. She was born into it. At 21-years-old, she has never had the luxury of living an “average” life. From the recent Lifetime biopic “Whitney,” it’s apparent that there are speculations about the household she grew up in. If anything though, she has led a pretty low profile life given the immense fame of her parents since the 1980s. She never intentionally became a celebrity in her own right. She probably could have injected herself more but, for whatever reason, she never did. Outside of a few minor and fruitless appearances, she stayed away from the public eye. And rightfully so. Just look at the exploitation happening this very moment.
I can’t shake the feeling that she knows exactly what’s going on here. In a hospital bed (coma or otherwise), Bobbi Kristina likely knows what a circus this has all become. She knows that her condition is fodder to sell papers, push supermarket magazines, and pull in clicks. The “normal” person could focus solely on getting better, and it’s not right that she isn’t afforded that same freedom.
I can’t imagine what it feels like to be recovering in a hospital while the world watches. That’s just not an average human experience. But I am sure that during this time, just like at any other sensitive moment, I would want privacy. I wouldn’t want questions of drug abuse, foul play, or rehashes of my mother’s tragic death to be on the tips of everyone’s tongues. At least during this time, I would want to be human.
Can’t we agree to respect Bobbi Kristina’s right to humanity as she works through whatever obstacles she’s facing right now?
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