Cringe as Capital: Class, Comedy, and the Collapse of Miranda Sings

Who do we feel most comfortable laughing at online, and what does that say about who we think deserves power or visibility?

The downfall of American comedian and YouTuber Colleen Ballinger is often dismissed as influencer “cancel culture,” but that explanation is too simple. A Marxist perspective shows that Ballinger and her alter ego, Miranda Sings, did not fall because audiences suddenly became overly sensitive. The brand collapsed because it relied on classed humiliation, unpaid fan labor, and a form of parasocial closeness that ultimately gave Ballinger all the power.

Miranda Sings was always built around laughing at someone who did not “get it.” The bad singing, misplaced confidence, and total lack of self-awareness only work as comedy if the audience agrees Miranda does not belong in elite spaces. That is hegemony in action. Some people are allowed to chase success, while others are mocked for trying. Miranda appears to challenge elitism by putting an unqualified person onstage, but the joke still depends on viewers policing who deserves attention in the first place.

As Miranda Sings grew from a YouTube character into a full brand, the dynamic became harder to ignore. What started as a bit turned into tours, merchandise, Netflix content, and a massive fandom. This is where commodity fetishism becomes visible. The brand began to feel harmless and detached from real-world impact. At the same time, fans were doing unpaid labor. They promoted content, defended Ballinger online, built community, and stayed emotionally invested. This labor was framed as fandom, but it was also what kept the brand profitable.

The controversy surrounding Ballinger shattered that illusion. Allegations of inappropriate interactions with fans, many of them minors, forced attention onto the power imbalance that had always existed. What was once presented as quirky closeness started to look like access without boundaries. This moment revealed a clear site of struggle. Was Miranda Sings harmless satire, or was the brand built on exploitation disguised as humor?

That tension peaked with Ballinger’s response video, Toxic Gossip Train. Instead of addressing boundary violations or harm, Ballinger framed the criticism as exaggerated gossip and online cruelty. In Sellnow’s terms, this response works as a subverted oppositional move. It sounds like a critique of internet culture, but it ultimately protects the creator’s reputation. The ukulele, sarcasm, and tone signaled a lack of accountability. For most viewers, the video felt dismissive rather than reflective.

From a Marxist lens, the response failed because it defended the brand instead of questioning the system that allowed it to grow. The problem was not “haters,” but an influencer economy that monetizes fan interaction while avoiding responsibility when lines are crossed. By centering personal feelings instead of structural power, the contradiction became clear. Miranda Sings was never an underdog. It was a profitable operation that relied on fan loyalty without accountability.

In the end, the downfall of Miranda Sings was not random or exaggerated. The brand unraveled when audiences rejected humiliation as entertainment and withdrew the unpaid labor sustaining it. Toxic Gossip Train did not derail Miranda Sings. It simply showed how the tracks were laid, revealing the structure that had produced the brand.