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Ingrid Andress’s national anthem was bad. The reactions were

Ingrid Andress’s national anthem was bad. The reactions were


After a poor performance of the national anthem, an uproar breaks out on the Internet, and a crowd of people who have perhaps never stood in front of an audience and done anything in their lives have fun putting down an artist.

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I didn’t see country singer Ingrid Andress sing the national anthem before the MLB Home Run Derby on Monday night. I was with my sons at football practice, the first of the season, an evening too long under a sun too hot, even though the hour stretched from six to seven to eight.

As it turns out, I didn’t need to see it.

You’ve probably heard it before: It wasn’t great. In fact, it was objectively bad. It was the only topic of conversation that resonated with everyone, and it dominated my timeline whenever I logged onto X to catch up on the day. Knowing how these things can go—how quickly mass ridicule can turn into targeted hate—I clicked over to Andress’s X account.

When I got there, she had disabled comments on some of her recent posts, many of which were promoting a new set of singles due out later this month. But the decision came too late. Already dozens of people had congregated in her comments, people who hated her performance so blatantly that they wanted to virtually throw it at her feet.

“Lady, that was the worst national anthem I have ever heard in my life, wtf”

And “we see why you are a singer who has lost a Grammy four times”

And “never sing again”

And “I’m so sorry your career is over”

Taking pleasure in Andress’s misfortune is not human

For these posters, the pleasure seemed to be in the accumulation, as one comment begat another, and many of them racked up hundreds of likes. More than one person noted the electrifying power of Andress’s performance: “In a time of political unrest, you really united us all and showed us how bad this was.”

The claim seems harmless, a tongue-in-cheek remark before everyone moves on to more important matters: schools and jobs and an impending vote between the bombastic, recently martyred former president who lives on exaggerations and blatant lies and the former segregationist who is undergoing cognitive decline.

Unity, of any kind, should feel like a gift, a break from the fickle, violent monotony. But in the case of Ingrid Andress and the national anthem that probably shouldn’t have existed, the “unity” was, to her critics, a reflection of everything that was wrong in our country.

Using email addresses and social media accounts that cloak us in privacy and digital distance, we hurl insults and pour our own fiery remarks onto ongoing debates. The goal is usually not civilized disagreement or corrective discourse. It’s collective hiding and public humiliation.

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As an opinion columnist and social media user, I understand the value of public corrections, which allow me to hold people accountable for hurtful words and actions, especially toward marginalized and vulnerable groups. But I don’t see the point in arguing just for the sake of arguing, or in holding people accountable for decisions that have little far-reaching impact.

If the argument is that Andress should have taken a more traditional approach to the anthem, that’s fine. If others want to use the moment to demand pre-approval for the performance to prevent future anthem blunders, that’s fine too. But gloating over Andress’s misfortune (self-inflicted or not) and wishing her career to be over is neither helpful nor humane.

Do we all really want to leave the world a better place?

Having been a victim of Internet vitriol myself, I admit I am sensitive to these issues. Like many people, I am concerned about the state of our society and what the future holds. I wonder if we have passed a point of no return, or if we can somehow pull ourselves together and really unite – not because we all have the same values ​​or beliefs, but because we are united by a common humanity.

Sometimes I think it’s possible. I think of parents whose kids play sports with me, and even if our political views differ or they wonder why I write so much about issues that affect black people, I know that ultimately we want the same thing. We want to provide for our families, be happy and healthy, and leave this world at least a little bit better for our children.

These shared goals may not “unite” us in the traditional sense, but they do foster a certain civility. In a world filled with inequality and injustice – a world that demands disagreement and discourse – that is more than enough for me. And I am confident that the civility expressed in these personal interactions can grow and spread, affecting every area of ​​our lives.

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But then the internet erupts in anger after a poor performance of the national anthem, and a bunch of people who have perhaps never stood and done anything in their lives have fun tearing down a performer, tearing her to pieces and throwing what’s left of her dignity to a group of anxious, eager spectators.

And then I’m not so sure at all anymore.

Andrea Williams is an opinion columnist for The Tennessean and curator of Black Tennessee Voices.