Why We Can’t Stop Choosing Sides in TV Show Fandoms: A Case Study in Allegiance
Let’s be honest: the moment a TV show gives us two compelling characters, our brains short-circuit. We don’t just watch—we choose. Rory or Ellis? Rhys or Halston? Selina or Mallory? It’s an instinct as old as storytelling itself, and Ella Rubin’s recent declaration of allegiance in Sterling Point has lit a fire under this eternal debate. But why do we care so much? Why does picking a “team” feel as urgent as the show itself? Let’s unpack this.
The Illusion of Choice: Why Actors Get Sucked Into Fan Wars
When Ella Rubin told Jimmy Fallon she’s firmly Team Rory, my first thought wasn’t about the character—it was about the pressure on actors to become human billboards for fandom politics. Let’s face it: Declaring a team is no longer just a playful fan exercise. It’s a PR move. A way to gin up buzz. But here’s the rub: Actors are real people, not extensions of their characters. So when Rubin leans into her “New York roots” to justify her choice, I can’t help but wonder—does she actually believe this, or is she just giving the algorithm what it wants?
What this reveals isn’t loyalty to a character—it’s the commodification of identity. In 2024, even a casual comment on a talk show becomes fuel for Twitter threads, TikTok polls, and think pieces (like this one). The line between genuine opinion and performance is blurrier than ever.
The Psychology of Team-Building: We Need Sides to Make Sense of Ourselves
Here’s what fascinates me most: Why do audiences need to categorize themselves this way? The answer lies in our tribal wiring. Humans evolved to survive in groups, and now we apply that same primal instinct to fictional universes. Picking a team isn’t just about liking a character—it’s about signaling who we are. Team Rory might mean you value ambition over authenticity; Team Ellis could suggest you’re drawn to chaos. It’s astrology for the streaming era.
What many overlook is that these choices are proxies for self-diagnosis. When a fan says, “I’m Team Lorelai,” they’re not just praising a TV mom—they’re saying, “I see myself in her messy resilience.” It’s therapy through media consumption.
The Dark Side of Allegiance Culture: When Nuance Gets Lost
But let’s not romanticize this. The problem with teams is that they flatten complexity. Real people—and real characters—exist in shades of gray. Yet the internet demands binaries. Sterling Point might have written a nuanced dynamic between Rory and Ellis, but the algorithm thrives on hot takes. So what happens? Nuance dies. We start defending our chosen character’s worst decisions like they’re our own. (Looking at you, Friends fans still justifying Ross’s “how you doin’?” creepiness.)
This raises a bigger question: Are we becoming worse at engaging with ambiguity? When every show becomes a referendum on “who’s right,” we risk losing the ability to sit with discomfort—or to appreciate characters who defy moral simplicity.
The Future of Fandom: Beyond Teams and Into Fluidity
Here’s my prediction: The next wave of storytelling will rebel against this. We’re already seeing it with shows like The Bear or Industry, where alliances shift weekly and moral clarity is a myth. The best characters aren’t “good” or “bad”—they’re mirrors. And maybe, just maybe, fandoms will evolve too. Imagine a world where instead of asking, “Team Rory or Team Ellis?” we ask, “How did these characters reflect your week?” That’s a fandom culture I’d binge.
Final Thought: The Real Winner Is the Algorithm
Let’s end here: Ella Rubin’s choice isn’t the story. The story is us—how we weaponize our preferences, how we turn art into arenas. Every time we click a Team Rory TikTok, we’re feeding a machine that profits from division. And that’s the real twist no one’s talking about.
