Would you still support Gaga if she became a billionaire

[LunaUniverse 4,187]

Personally I get why people are skeevy towards billionaires, I feel like if you have a position of financial power and freedom you should be willing to give back

But at the same time it’s not like Gaga isn’t doing anything with the money she earns, we’ve heard as recently as last year that she has given money to various charities that assist in helping abused women, children, and animals, and regularly gives food out to homeless communities whenever she and her team have rehearsals. And allegedly I’ve heard (Don’t remember where I’ve read it) she regularly aids in helping the LA community by renting out warehouses to organize charity drives on the down low. There are things I wish she took an official stand on (The ticket gouging), but nothing is ever black or white, and isn’t just exclusive to one individual or even organization when it comes to certain issues
 

Tbh hearing someone’s contribution to charity be flaunted publicly all the time makes me wary, I prefer hearing rich people helped out in secret. Virtually nobody knew the founder of Little Caesars gave so much to underprivileged communities when he was alive and rich

[4th Time Around 4,902]

Some of you spend too much time online🪦

[elsamars 4,708]

No, I don’t think I would support Gaga in the same way if she became a billionaire, and that answer has less to do with envy or purity tests and more to do with how power, wealth, and art intersect. My support for her has always been grounded not just in her music or performances, but in what she has symbolized culturally and politically over time. Gaga emerged as an artist who positioned herself as an outsider, someone who challenged norms around gender, sexuality, mental health, and fame itself. That positioning matters, because art does not exist in a vacuum; it reflects the material conditions and power structures from which it is created.

Becoming a billionaire would represent a fundamental shift in those conditions. Extreme wealth is not neutral. It is not simply having a lot of money; it is a form of structural power that places someone among a tiny global elite whose interests are often misaligned with the vast majority of people. Billionaires do not just benefit from the system as it exists. They are protected by it, shape it, and frequently profit from its inequalities. Even if an individual billionaire has good intentions or donates generously, their wealth is still accumulated through systems that rely on exploitation, concentration of resources, and uneven access to opportunity. That reality inevitably changes how I relate to an artist and what they represent.

Part of Gaga’s early appeal was that she articulated alienation, marginalization, and resistance in ways that felt genuine. Her advocacy for LGBTQ+ communities, her openness about trauma and mental health, and her critique of rigid beauty standards resonated because they felt grounded in lived vulnerability. When someone reaches billionaire status, that vulnerability becomes complicated. It doesn’t disappear entirely. Wealth does not erase pain or humanity, but it does dramatically buffer someone from the precarity that shapes most people’s lives. At that point, expressions of struggle risk becoming aesthetic rather than experiential.

This doesn’t mean I would suddenly believe she is evil, talentless, or undeserving of respect. I can still acknowledge her artistic achievements, her influence on pop culture, and the positive work she has done in the past. But support is not binary admiration; it’s relational. It’s about alignment. When an artist accumulates that level of wealth, they are no longer just a cultural figure. They become an economic actor with outsized power. That power changes the moral and political context in which their art exists.

There is also the issue of credibility. Much of Gaga’s brand has been built around challenging systems, whether that is the music industry, celebrity culture, or societal norms more broadly. Billionaire status inherently places someone inside the very structures that benefit from maintaining the status quo. It becomes harder to take critiques of capitalism, exploitation, or inequality seriously when they come from someone who materially benefits from those systems on an extreme scale. Even silence becomes a statement at that level of power.

Another reason my support would change is that billionaires have choices that most people do not. Reaching that level of wealth requires either active participation in accumulation beyond necessity or a willingness to let wealth continue compounding rather than being redistributed. While philanthropy is often presented as a counterargument, it does not resolve the underlying issue. Philanthropy still preserves power in the hands of the wealthy by allowing them to decide which problems are worth addressing and how. Structural justice is not the same as charitable giving.

I also think it’s important to interrogate what support actually means. Supporting an artist isn’t just listening to their music. It is contributing to their cultural relevance, economic success, and public legitimacy. When someone becomes a billionaire, they no longer need that kind of support from ordinary people. At that point, continuing to center them as a figure of resistance or representation feels misplaced. There are countless artists, activists, and marginalized voices who are creating meaningful work without access to immense resources or protection, and directing attention toward them feels more ethically aligned.

That said, my answer isn’t rooted in absolutism. If Gaga were to actively use her wealth in genuinely radical ways, such as supporting labor movements, relinquishing control rather than consolidating it, or advocating for systemic change that threatens her own financial interests, that would complicate my position. But historically, that kind of behavior is rare among billionaires precisely because extreme wealth discourages risk and rewards preservation of power. The system does not produce billionaires who dismantle it.

Ultimately, my relationship to art is inseparable from values. I don’t expect artists to be perfect, but I do expect some degree of coherence between what they express and how they exist in the world. Becoming a billionaire would represent a rupture in that coherence for me. I could still appreciate Gaga’s past work, recognize her impact, and acknowledge her talent, but active support, identification, and emotional investment would no longer feel honest.

So no, I wouldn’t support her in the same way. Not because she betrayed fans or because success itself is wrong, but because extreme wealth fundamentally alters the power dynamics between artist and audience. With that shift comes a responsibility that most billionaires, regardless of how creative or charismatic, ultimately fail to meet.