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There was a time when not liking something was just… ordinary. You’d watch a show, read a book, try a game, shrug, and move on. It didn’t require a statement of principles. It didn’t demand a counter‑argument. You didn’t have to gather allies or explain why the people who did enjoy it were misguided. You could simply say, “Not for me,” and that was the end of it.
Now it feels like disliking something automatically comes with homework. Instead of a quiet preference, it becomes a mission. Look at the reaction to The Acolyte: plenty of people didn’t enjoy it, which is completely fine, but instead of just saying so, whole pockets of the internet turned it into a referendum on the state of Star Wars, the intentions of the creators, and the moral character of anyone who liked it. It wasn’t enough that they didn’t like it; nobody could be allowed to like it. The same thing is happening with Starfleet Academy. Actually, it began before a single frame had aired. People weren’t just uninterested; they were furious that it existed at all, as if a TV show aimed at a different audience somehow threatened the entire franchise.
It’s not limited to sci‑fi either. The Rings of Power, She‑Hulk, The Last Jedi, Doctor Who, Diablo IV, D&D One… pick almost any modern release and you’ll find the same pattern. A normal, harmless “this didn’t work for me” gets replaced by a crusade to prove the thing is objectively bad, culturally dangerous, or part of some grand plot. And if someone else enjoys it, that becomes a problem to solve rather than a harmless difference in taste. I’ve written on this blog about things I dislike, including some of the things in the list above. I shared my views. I explained what I didn’t like. I didn’t need vitriol. I didn’t need slurs.
My review of the first season of Interview With the Vampire was met not only with a few insulting comments from readers who were seemingly outraged that I spoke positively about it, but also with racist and homophobic comments. None were published, of course. I have no intention of giving these people oxygen. I’m happy to engage in discussion with someone who disagrees with me in a rational way, but why would I entertain ad hominem attacks, slurs, and diatribes?
A lot of this comes from how tightly people tie their identity to the media they consume. It becomes part of who you are, then someone disagreeing seems to feel like a personal attack. Add in algorithms that reward outrage over nuance, and suddenly the loudest, angriest voices drown out the quiet majority who are perfectly capable of saying “eh, not my thing” without needing to burn the world down.
This manufactured outrage is a real problem. You know what I mean; the kind that doesn’t grow naturally out of someone’s own reaction, but out of whatever the internet has decided everyone should be angry about this week. You see it with new shows, with people who haven’t watched a single episode confidently declaring them disasters because a YouTuber said so, or because a Reddit thread framed them as “attacks” on a franchise. It’s not even personal taste at that point; it’s outsourced opinion. Entire comment sections fill up with identical talking points, the same phrases repeated word‑for‑word, as if people are waiting to be told what they’re supposed to think. And once that outrage machine starts turning, it becomes harder for anyone to simply say, “I’ll decide for myself,” or “I don’t care enough to be angry.” It’s amazing how quickly a normal, harmless preference gets swallowed by a collective performance of fury that doesn’t actually belong to most of the people expressing it.
But it really doesn’t have to be this dramatic. It’s still okay to dislike things quietly. It’s still okay to let other people enjoy things you don’t. Please, just shrug and move on without turning your opinion into a campaign. Most of the time, taste isn’t a moral stance or a political position; it’s just taste. And the world gets a lot calmer when we remember that.
