Insufferable Society
The hidden themes of performative outrage and pressures of trauma survivor-hood underlined in Not Okay
*ATTN: This article contains movie spoilers*
Twitter Fangirls Start a Trend
I saw Dylan O’Brien trending on Twitter. I discovered that he starred in a new Hulu original movie, Not Okay. Sporting blond hair and a Brooklyn-gentrifier aesthetic, fans swooned and posted short video clips of his performance in the film. I clicked on the #NotOkayMovie hashtag and figured out the plot. I automatically thought about the “9/11 Faker”. It’s inconceivable someone would center themselves in a tragic event or infiltrate trauma-survivor spaces. This film is supposed to be a satirical middle finger to influencers and Cancel Culture, but it felt realistically disturbing for my liking.
While some Twitter users made their “fav” a trending topic, others praised the acting chops of Mia Isaac. She played a character — Rowan Aldren — who survived a school shooting, and her older sister died in the same shooting. The unlikable protagonist — Danni Sanders — sought her out in a trauma survivor group after overhearing about her large social media following. Danni’s bottomless void and her need for attention made her shameless in her pursuit of using whatever she could get out of Rowan’s platform — which was the fruit of her arduous labor as an anti-gun activist.
Rowan is reflective of real-life trauma survivors utilizing their energy to make societal changes. Performative citizens refer to this as “using their pain for a purpose”. The passion seen in Rowan stems from the anger and despair of surviving a school shooting and losing her sister. The audience later finds out that Rowan’s mother ran the group and was a school employee who was also present at the school shooting. The traumatized Black mother-daughter duo took on the task of helping Danni navigate survivor-hood. In real life, it’s always the responsibility of Black women/girls to coddle, support, and uplift their white counterparts. In this case, Danni was lying the entire time.
As the film progressed, it became clear that many aspects of Rowan’s activism retraumatized her. Whether it be her pleas to government officials to place restrictions on purchasing firearms being ignored or insensitive 4Chan-esque edgelords throwing firecrackers during an anti-gun rally she helped organize, impacted her mental health — understandably so. Rowan was failed on a societal level. Yet, she was expected to constantly perform her trauma to the masses and provide a form of inspiration porn to those lucky enough not to experience trauma as she had. This was too realistic for how it is in the real world.
Finding out Danni lied about being a survivor of a terrorist attack was the final retraumatizing act. Rowan’s trust in everything was breached. A privileged white woman picked her brain and observed her so she could learn to “survivor”. I felt like ripping my flatscreen television from my wall watching it all unfold. Danni wore Rowan’s trauma like an overpriced used coat listed on Depop.
The Worst of the Worst
At the beginning of the film, I was able to see how those around Danni perceived her. She was employed at a fictional online publication, Depravity. She was overtly unlikable and had zero self-awareness. Desperate for attention from a man she secretly swooned over — Dylan O’Brien’s character — and to be admired by her peers, she concocted a fake Parisian writing retreat.
Danni was holed-up in her gentrified Brooklyn apartment, photoshopping herself in Paris. Unexpectedly, Parisian landmarks were bombed, and she faked a “return home” at the airport, where the press awaited her. Those who wanted nothing to do with her at work had a change of heart after Danni’s newfound internet fame. This highlighted how artificial and fickle people are in her industry.
Danni enlisted Rowan’s intellectual and emotional labor to write an article about her trauma survivor-hood. The article goes viral. The praise from colleagues and superiors was endless. One co-worker — Harper — was seething with jealousy. She often threw shade at Danni and was seen as a star writer at Depravity. The once social pariah was now stealing her shine. Jealousy soon turned into skepticism. She began to secretly doubt Danni’s story. The inevitable happened — Harper confronted Danni and threatened to expose her.
Harper only did her homework to debunk Danni’s lies for the sole purpose of reclaiming her title, “The Queen of the Performative Allyship” at Depravity. Harper let it be known that she never liked Danni. I’m sure Harper viewed herself as a selfless whistleblower who was the only smart one at the publication she worked at to “fact-check”.
Employees of Depravity needed an insufferable scapegoat. Danni’s horrific persona was able to serve as a distraction, and no one will notice that they’re not likable either. Their existence in New York City comes at a cost for lifelong marginalized New Yorkers being pushed out. Having a colleague like Danni allows them to cosplay revolutionary thought or be the good samaritans who champion the downtrodden, while trauma survivors like Rowan do the actual work. As a marginalized lifelong New Yorker, this is a realistic portrayal of how things are in New York City.
The Curtain Call
Danni wrote an article that was filled with empty words and insincere apologies. She went viral again for being exposed as a “faker”. A montage of the public’s performative outrage was utilized as well as a heartbreaking scene of Rowan confronting Danni.
The same public that curated Danni’s public persona orchestrated her fall from grace. In their eyes, what Danni did was “inexcusable”, and they too, capitalized on the virality of the moment for social media engagement. I found it hilarious that Danni ended up in a support group for those who were “shamed online” — do those exist? I digress! One person in the group suggested she make amends with those she hurt. She immediately thought of Rowan. Gosh, didn’t this girl endure enough?!
In a hooded disguise, Danni secretly sat in the audience to hear Rowan’s spoken word performance, which was about Danni’s deception. Danni looked down at her phone, where she had her written apology visible to the viewer. She decides to leave without saying anything. Some summarized this as symbolic of the moment being about Rowan. Danni realized her apology was self-serving and absolving herself of the guilt — performative or sincere, the jury is still out on that one.
I viewed it as Danni perpetuating her exploitation of Rowan’s trauma and violating a trauma survivor’s safe space with her presence. She was misty-eyed through Rowan’s spoken word performance. She consumed the pain she caused Rowan and found the performance inspirational. Even though the scene is a manufactured cinematic presentation, it centers Danni’s so-called revelation and not the harm she caused Rowan.
This film’s only saving grace was the powerhouse performance of Mia Isaac. She brought Rowan to life. Rowan is a realistic portrayal of a young, traumatized Black America. She’s representative of how trauma survivors are expected to save themselves and provide inspiration to others. It’s an exhausting reality. Not Okay was supposed to be provocative and thought-provoking, but it centered on vapidity and white privilege. I felt the film tried to covertly absolve the harm Danni caused. To quote the message of her fictional article: No, I’m not okay.
