A defining feature of today’s cultural landscape is the erosion of the monoculture. From YouTube essays on the fall of the Roman Empire to British baking shows and livestreams of Minecraft gameplay, there is a seemingly infinite amount of content to consume on the internet. With such a wealth of content, social media platforms and streamers have turned to curated algorithms to help consumers find content aligned with their interests. This isn’t an inherently bad thing; being able to watch what you want, when you want, can be empowering for the typical person. However, with this ocean of content and data-driven curation comes cultural isolation. Online, you can be immersed in a community of anonymous, like-minded fans who share similar interests. In the real world, it is increasingly rare to find a close friend or family member who’s even heard of a piece of content or a creator you enjoy.
There are rare occasions when a show, movie, influencer, or meme can transcend the algorithm and achieve widespread recognition. These occasions feel significant — a callback to a time when content was limited and cultural touchpoints were shared. When Britney Spears shaved her head and attacked paparazzi in the mid-2000s, nearly every news outlet, tabloid, and online blog talked about the story in depth. The event was even lampooned in an episode of South Park. These types of pop-cultural phenomena were commonplace 15 years ago. Today, there are few celebrities who could garner this type of universal media attention. Maybe Taylor Swift, maybe the President of the United States. It’s a short list. However, the list still exists, and reaching it brings with it a level of fame unfathomable in previous iterations of culture. In today’s world, you can be everywhere all the time.
To be famous in the past, one needed access to an established platform like a broadcast television network or popular magazine. There were simply fewer means of being seen or heard, which meant that only a select few could rise through the ranks to the level of monocultural icon. Further, to be featured on one of these established platforms, one needed to provide some sort of cultural value (talent) that would make their appearance worthwhile. Today, anyone can go on the internet and broadcast themselves directly into the homes and palms of any person with an internet connection. YouTube, Twitch, Instagram, Tik Tok, X — the choices are endless (and non-exclusive). The traditional platforms still exist, too. The interplay between new and old forms of media has created a unique ecosystem where those who rise to fame in the traditional manner can broadcast themselves further on the internet, and those who garner a following online can enter the traditionally gatekept conventional platforms. The rare few who achieve fame through both channels feel inescapable in today’s cultural landscape.
“The Rizzler” is one of the most recent additions to the shortlist of monocultural staples — and one of the youngest. A nine-year-old boy hailing from New Jersey, The Rizzler went viral across social media for his signature “Rizz Face” (an expression where he strokes his chin and purses his lips like a cartoon version of a mobster). He later joined forces with viral sensations “A.J. and Big Justice,” who went viral for shouting “BOOM” in Costco. This may sound absurd to anyone over the age of 40, but this is the nature of fame in 2025. The Rizzler has been on Fallon, done commercials for Fortune 500 companies, and thrown the first pitch at a Mets game. He is a global sensation that has been accepted into the conventional media ecosystem.
What the Rizzler’s fame means for society has been the source of much debate. Helen Holmes, writing for New York Times Magazine, argues that the Rizzler’s fame is a sign that “erudite sophistication and subtle carnalities are out of fashion . . . adults going gaga for the Rizzler cannot be what passes for culture in the interim.” A valid (albeit elitist) argument that completely ignores this country’s fascination with stardom and love of tabloid hysteria. What fascinates me about the Rizzler isn’t what he says about the substance of today’s culture, but what today’s culture might do to someone his age. The Rizzler is the modern internet’s first child star. There have been famous internet kids like the “Charlie Bit My Finger” kids, but they came to fame in an era when the modern influencer apparatus had not yet developed. There was also Matt Ox, who went viral for his song “Overwhelming.” However, Matt Ox became famous mainly through his music, following a more traditional path to stardom like Michael Jackson or Tanya Tucker. The Rizzler is navigating uncharted territory; he has no peers in the modern cultural landscape.
The traditional child star generally followed one of two arcs. They remained famous and continued to work in their respective fields, like Ryan Gosling, Michael Jackson, and Drew Barrymore. Or they fell into obscurity — the fall often coinciding with personal turmoil — like Macaulay Culkin, Corey Feldman, and Amanda Bynes. Both arcs were determined by one factor: whether they retained access to the traditional forms of broadcast. In the case of the latter, they simply fell out of the spotlight and no longer got jobs in films and shows. As a result, they were no longer featured in magazines, talk shows, and popular discourse. Today, access is no longer a determining factor in cultural longevity. The Rizzler got famous online; unless he loses internet access (he is only nine years old), he can remain in the spotlight for the course of his natural life. His presence in the monoculture will be determined solely by his popularity. At the current moment, his popularity stems from the fact that he is a child making a funny face. What happens when he is no longer a child, and the face is no longer funny?
I hope that the Rizzler seizes the moment and gets what he can during his time in the spotlight. One facet of the monoculture that remains constant is the fervent desire for “new,” and the collective teardown of those who have overstayed their welcome. We build ‘em up just to tear them down, as they say. The Rizzler is like a test subject in the modern cultural ecosystem. The first homegrown child star from the internet to cross over into traditional media. I can’t imagine what it would be like as a child to become famous simply for being yourself. What makes the Rizzler so endearing is that he comes across as a genuine child. He is not a media-trained “little adult” who has shocked the world with his maturity. He is simply himself, and we have made him famous for it. My hope is that he remains himself and that he treats his popularity as a take-it-or-leave-it byproduct of being himself. My fear is that he loses himself, conforming to the image that the culture has placed upon him.
The modern media landscape has eroded the monoculture, but for those who have found a way to become and remain relevant among the masses, the monoculture has become accelerated. Those who make the shortlist are more famous than ever before — but with this fame comes the accelerated nature of the demise. People are seemingly canceled or thrown aside overnight; gone are the days of the gradual downfall broadcast over the course of years. How the Rizzler navigates this ecosystem will be informative for those who climb in his wake. Maybe we can take this moment to reevaluate how we treat our celebrities and simply enjoy the fact that there is some cultural connective tissue that gives us all something to talk about. At the end of the day, culture unites us and gives us all a foundation over which we can relate to one another. The Rizzler may not offer much substance, but we can all share a laugh over him making a funny face and yelling “BOOM” after eating a Costco hot dog. Only time will tell how his role in culture will evolve, but I wish him nothing but the best.
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