Words: Rebekah McCrorie (she/her)
James wasn’t the only one to post a notorious apology video: Laura Lee, Jaclyn Hill, and Shane Dawson, amongst others, have all confessed their sins inside the digital confession booth of YouTube with the public as the priest.
For chronically online people, the 2019 Tati Westbrook and James Charles brawl, christened Sistergeddon, was the modern-day equivalent of the Watergate scandal. No holds barred, no punches pulled, and no prisoners taken. It was a bitter, bloodthirsty, merciless affair; fought on the battleground of social media with screenshotted ammunition. The pair jousted before James uploaded a doleful apology video entitled Tati, a bit like Nixon’s ‘I Am Not a Crook’ speech, but far more melodramatic.
In the shadow of this upload, many of his army were slain (he lost millions of followers), and several follow-up videos ensued, culminating with No More Lies (currently sitting at 58 million views). James wasn’t the only one to post a notorious apology video: Laura Lee, Jaclyn Hill, and Shane Dawson, amongst others, have all confessed their sins inside the digital confession booth of YouTube with the public as the priest. Online purity culture and the threat cancellation – the equivalent of being burned at the stake – means influencers must virtually confess to save their necks.
The thing about the internet, however, is that it’ll always have a few smears, so there’s no point cracking out The Pink Stuff when these stains are embedded in every pixel. This poses the question of whether the humble apology video actually does any good, or if it’s just another way to bag views, attention, and cash from ad monetisation.
If you were on YouTube in the late 2000s – the “Golden Years” – then you’ll be familiar with a certain smudged red lipstick-wearing, gauche, unfashionable figure named Miranda Sings. She was irritating, omnipresent, and inescapable: the brainchild of Colleen Ballinger, she was as prominent as she was pestiferous. Ballinger even scored a Netflix show, Haters Back Off, starring her alter ego, but following allegations of inappropriate interactions with underage fans, her 2023 apology video made people squirm even more than her peculiar persona ever did.
The majority of apology videos are made up of the same ingredients: a “woeful” influencer, heavy breathing, and a neutral location like in front of a plain wall or on a sofa. These are combined into a lachrymose “victim complex” broth, lapped up by viewers hungry for drama and an online cause célèbre. Ballinger’s apology video, however, was a bit different.
Armed with a ukulele, catchy yet questionable lyrics, and a distinct lack of smudged lipstick, her 10-minute-long upload was more of an auditory torment than an apology. Simply titled hi., Ballinger serenades viewers with lines like, ‘All aboard the toxic gossip train’ and, ‘Tie me to the tracks and harass me for my past’, to the soundtrack of wearisome chords. Most of the internet agrees that she should’ve put the uke away and let it gather dust. Perhaps the bizarrest line is when Ballinger croons, ‘The only thing I’ve ever groomed is my 2 Persian cats.’ Her apology video, to many, was the crème de la crème of this particular strain of online content. The impact it had on her career, however, is more nebulous. It tarnished her image, but the video spread like wildfire and became a pop-culture moment in itself: she sacrificed virtue for virality. Apology videos rarely benefit the influencer, but maybe that’s because they rarely apologise for their actions, and instead self-victimise and worm their way out of accountability.
More recently, previously-worshipped Uncle Bob, who rose to fame for his TikTok videos featuring his niece and their tight-knit relationship, found himself in hot water when allegations of him cheating on his partner came to light. His video, uploaded to TikTok rather than YouTube, had all the hallmarks of the classic apology video: deep breaths, a neutral background, and a forced forlorn look in his eyes. His “golden retriever” persona soon morphed into a sly cat bringing a dead mouse to your doorstep. Luckily, he didn’t break into song, but like the lion’s share of apology videos, it only made the situation worse.
So, why do they turn on the waterworks and hit the upload button, when the track record of successful apology videos is so dismal? The answer lies with us – the humble viewer – and our unquenchable thirst for entertainment. Whether we admit it or not, the truth is we love a bit of online drama. We love the fallout of the drama even more. After all, all press is good press, right? Think about online drama, and James Charles will come to mind, screeching, ‘Hi, sisters!’. Think of a bad ukulele tune that’ll get stuck in your head, and Colleen Ballinger’s performance will reverberate around your brain. The internet wasn’t built to be pure, and it never will be, so as long as apology videos keep getting churned out, they’ll satiate our amoral thirst for a slither of drama that’s sensationalist, messy, inherently human, and distinctly digital.
