The way that contemporary talent searches and television shows function, particularly in South Africa, has a very dark undertone. What is advertised as "opportunity" frequently feels more like public humiliation under the pretext of accessibility. "Send us a video" is the eye-catching call for auditions that another production firm puts each week. "Upload your video to TikTok." "Tag us." "Make use of this hashtag." And just like that thousands of people participate.
Young people are standing in front of chipped cupboards and fractured walls. Because that is the reality of their homes, they film themselves next to rusty stoves and faded paint. In order to submit a one-minute video, some borrow data. Some people dress in their finest clothing, even if it's nothing special. Some people are so desperate for one chance to change their life that they repeat the same sentence twenty times.
Then the internet shows up not with kindness, not with inspiration but with mockery !
The remarks start to focus more on the surroundings and less on the audition itself: "Look at the kitchen." "That accent?" “No ceiling?” "The two-litre bottle in the distance." "She sounds very rural." "He can't even talk clearly." As if being poor were a moral failing. As if having a township accent is illegal. As if Black South Africans from underprivileged backgrounds should sound and live differently from the circumstances this nation set up for them.
The fact that these production corporations are fully aware of what they are doing is really unsettling. They are aware of the culture of social media. They are aware that shame encourages participation. They are aware that when a video can be laughed at, quoted, made fun of, or turned into a meme, people are more likely to spread it. Every hurtful remark strengthens the algorithm. Visibility rises with each repost. Every viral audition serves as free advertising for the program.
Ordinary people's misery is used as commercial content. Additionally, this is presented in some way as "giving people exposure." However, exposure to what precisely? Public mockery? Is it classism? Cyberbullying? An enduring digital trace of a single vulnerable moment?
Private auditions… what happened to them? What happened to performing in front of professionals, entering a venue, and politely absorbing criticism? Why do people now have to perform their ambitions in front of millions of strangers before they can go past the initial round?
We are told that this makes auditions "more accessible," but for whom? Certainly not for the people who are being psychologically torn apart online. The burden of visibility is always placed on the poor. Middle-class and wealthy people can curate perfection before posting themselves online; they have beautiful bedrooms, good lighting, neutral accents that society associates with intelligence, and the financial freedom to appear "presentable" according to internet standards. However, township youth are expected to present themselves exactly as they are, and then punished for their reality.
The auditioners are typically optimistic, which exacerbates the discomfort. Their desire to become memes is the reason they are not posting on the internet. They are making an effort. Some are pursuing professions that have the potential to significantly improve their families' circumstances. However, vulnerable people are rarely able to maintain their humanity on the internet. Thousands of strangers start talking about her mother's curtains after a young girl posts a singing audition. When a boy uploads an acting monologue, his pronunciation receives more attention than his skill. When someone attempts to talk confidently in English, a language created by unequal educational institutions, they are met with mockery rather than grace.
The psychological effects of this are underestimated. Imagine having the guts to try out in front of an audience only to find out that nobody was really paying attention to your talent. They were researching your poverty. examining your house. I'm laughing at your background. Creating contentment in your life. The worst thing is that these times don't go away. Humiliation is eternally archived on the internet. That video remains popular long after the show concludes. The comments are still there. The screenshots are still available. The humiliation persists.
Production firms gain from this. Social media networks gain from this. The audiences are amused. However, the person is left to bear the emotional fallout. Giving people opportunity and taking advantage of their desperation to engage them are two different things. The latter is becoming more and more prevalent in contemporary audition culture. Not every dream has to be made public before it can be confirmed. Not every optimistic individual should be the subject of a widely shared joke. Furthermore, people shouldn't have to give up their dignity in order to take advantage of every chance.
The accessibility of these online auditions may not be the true question. Maybe the true question is: Why has humiliation come to be seen as a necessary cost of visibility?