The Problem With the Inescapable “Hawk Tuah” Girl Phenomenon

Last week, I wrote a story about Haliey Welch, better known as the “Hawk Tuah” girl, who is enjoying a spurt of viral fame thanks to her puerile response to a man-on-the-street YouTube interviewer. (She was asked what she does in bed to make her man “go crazy,” to which Welch replied that she gives him the old hawk tuah—in layman’s terms, she’ll “spit on that thang.”) The meteoric rise of the Hawk Tuah meme then became a useful locus from which to examine the silent majority of low-information social media users—the Barstool clan, the Call Her Daddy fanatics, the men who post their doomed four-leg college football parlays on Twitter. This group has become better known as the “Zynternet” and, taken as a political faction, it represents the Americans who don’t follow political news, who spend a lot of time on the fairly disengaged “Hawk Tuah” internet, and who are overwhelmingly voting for Trump. I merely postulated that the Democrats had wasted a huge opportunity to co-opt her—something the right did in about 60 seconds—and called it a day.

And, really, that’s all there was to say about “Hawk Tuah” girl. We sufficiently bled the discourse dry of all valuable insight, and we’re ready to move on to fresher hells. And yet, for some reason, my brethren in the media have not gotten this message. Yesterday Rolling Stone unveiled a fawning Haliey Welch exclusive that is so overheated in its posture that I almost wonder if it’s satire. Here is the subhead of that piece:

A charming Gen Z Dolly Parton! Lord have mercy. Look, I understand how the game works. Journalists and editors alike are incentivized to gussy up their framing with provocative declarations, and given that all celebrity-focused journalism in the 2020s is a bloodsucking negotiation between various access arbiters and brand interests, I can imagine how the Powers That Be decreed that Welch’s name be invoked adjacent to, you know, one of the most iconic performers to ever walk the earth. But, I swear to God, we cannot keep moving the goalposts this far. Hawk Tuah is a funny meme! I had a nice time thinking about how it reflected an oft-ignored undercurrent in American culture. I even went on NPR to talk about it! And I’m sure Welch enjoyed her brief tour of the Barstool podcast network. But it’s over now, man. Let’s move on before it gets embarrassing.

I’ve been on the internet long enough to remember when there was a universally established life cycle for viral characters. The “Numa Numa” kid uploaded his video to Newgrounds and enjoyed an in-the-know ubiquity among forum dwellers in the early 2000s, without any predatory talent agents harboring fantasies of him splayed out on the cover of Spin. (Others that fall into this category include Tay Zonday, the Star Wars kid, and whoever made the “End of Ze World” Flash cartoon.) But unfortunately, in our modern hypercapitalized digital ecosystem, everyone who has even the faintest whiff of virality is now encouraged to mine that moment for all it’s worth—morphing, say, a cute, profane YouTube clip into the job. Think of the tools currently at your disposal! Cameo, OnlyFans, ersatz Instagram sponcon for poorly defined health drinks, all working in conjunction to ensure that Being Online is permanently tinged with sweaty desperation from all parties. (Apparently Welch is developing a reality show? Jesus.) Everyone wants to be a star, but really, most people who have a viral moment on the internet were meant to only ever be a meme.

But who knows? Maybe I’m wrong and Welch’s career is poised to skyrocket to unfathomable heights. Perhaps she’ll next headline Stagecoach or appear in a forthcoming incarnation of the Fast and Furious franchise, and her fateful blow-job joke will be seen as a strange, divinatory omen of authentic stardom. If so, I will happily eat my words. Until then, if you are lucky (or unlucky) enough to brush against white-hot virality, maybe set your aspirations a smidge lower than Dolly Parton. There is so much grace and dignity in enjoying your 15 minutes of fame before returning to real life.