My name is Nicole Hudson and I read the comments.
The Comment Reader part of my identity codified during my time at the St. Louis Beacon. The Beacon was a non profit online news organization, started by career journalists after retiring from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. As the Beacon’s general manager, there was no way I wasn’t reading the comments.
[I started to describe what it means to read the comments on news articles, and then I realized that that’s one of those things that’s become a shorthand reference into a sea of meaning and understanding. It felt immediately like it would derail this post. So maybe one of you will come up with a pithy description that sums it up for those who might not know. In the comments.]
And then Michael Brown, Jr. was killed by Darren Wilson and the price (? labor? sacrifice? risk? responsibility?) of reading the comments (and the Twitter/Facebook threads) went waaaay up. And I continued to read them.
And this was when I came to understand that Comment Reader is just how I’m built.
I was an early adopter (1993) of the internet and usenet groups and the (text based) world wide web. Searching and tweaking the search and clicking and then remembering how you got to that one thing that one time was a muscle I isolated and exercised. I found the (people who had access to the physical address that led to the) internship that set my career path(s) with those muscles. I connected (with) people who still thank me for those muscles keeping/bringing us together. Those muscles got me my dream job (Cameron Macintosh US/Wasser) and my most challenging job (Ferguson Commission).
But it was the “whatever you do, don’t read the comments” era (which has yet to end) that codified my identity as a Reader of Comments.
[Some folks can explore whether the St. Louis version of this is any different than the general rule. In the comments.]
Reading the comments can expose me to hatred, ignorance, general questioning of my categorization as a human, and so much more. AND, reading the comments can give me an otherwise unattainable view of the patterns, themes, talking points, feelings and experiences I would otherwise never encounter or consider.
Translating messages between constituencies and/or brands and/or ideas has been the throughline of my industry-hopping day-job life. Comment surfing was an edge, then a necessity, now a tool of choice. I said it: choice.
In my work, I have said to folks: “I’m really good at hearing the opposition, the hole-poking, the push-back talking points in my head.” When the goal is for a message to be absorbed and considered, anticipating obstacles and crafting for them is necessary. It wasn’t until writing this that I connected the dots from that now innate instinct back the muscles I honed from being a Reader of Comments.
When The Wiz started previews, someone asked me if I had peeked into the online chatter. I noted that my career had started by being all up in the online chatter of Broadway, it had been a long minute, and that there was probably an opportunity to process some personal and professional stuff by sticking my head in that corner: This essay, you’re welcome, self.
This is a very long way of saying that I have been and will continue to Read the Comments re: The Wiz. Online and in person. I’ve already had some really great exchanges/conversations with some folks. The Comments Gym has already gifted me deeper enjoyment of the nuances of the show, the choices the creative team has made, the audience experience, and my own long relationship with The Wiz.
So yeah, right, critic reviews will come out this week, but the comments y’all. The comments.