Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the Power of the Marginalized Fandom

Hello, my name is Shannon and I was an active part of the humble, but loud Mindy Project fandom.

Our ratings were always a source of stress (some might admit to stress barfs akin to Mindy Lahiri herself) and our expectancy of guaranteed renewal was permanently stationed on the dreaded “bubble.” Still, we were a fervent group of enthusiasts who took no issue with making our adoration known in any way that we could: fan fiction, organized rewatches during hiatus months, hashtags abound, tweeting FOX regularly, even supporting the designers/sponsors of Mindy’s parade of fashions. We were relentless nerds, and we were a community that just wanted to see a woman of color lead her show with dignity.

When the show was renewed for a third season (and boy, was that a super touch-and-go process), both Mindy Kaling and actor Ed Weeks admitted during a Paley Fest panel that the renewal was, in large part, due to fandom outcry via Twitter. While the notion was never confirmed by the network itself, our fiery determination was undeniable. At the slightest hint of the soon-to-come 2015 cancellation by FOX, Mindians (or Mindy Mouses, a moniker that I never adopted willingly) mobilized quickly and launched a campaign geared towards Hulu, who had exclusive streaming rights for the series. When the service agreed to pick up the show, fans experienced a sort of vindication that even the most cynical of TV experts had to acknowledge.

I felt a familiar, overwhelming sense of inspiration as I watched the Brooklyn Nine-Nine fandom immediately launch into action upon the May 10^th news of its cancellation. Even for those of us who hadn’t viewed it by traditional means (like watching the moment the episode aired, because hello, DVRs and streaming services make rigid schedules as outdated as Nielsen ratings) , this move felt so deeply wrong. This was a show that had excellent LGBTQIA representation, unblinkingly centered not one, but two Latina actresses, and battled toxic masculinity with each of its male staples. Brooklyn Nine-Nine led the charge when it came to providing comedy that refused to punch down, hence why so many marginalized fans took the opportunity to fight for the thing they loved…which is familiar territory for us.

With the high-profile likes of Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jen Richards championing the inclusive, spirited ensemble, the rallying call felt so much bigger than your standard Springtime cancellation. In fact, the collective rage and vigor of the fandom contributed to a sense of hope. This, many speculated, was an obstacle, but not the end. And they were right: hours after the ax from FOX, rumors swirled of platforms like Hulu, TBS, NBC, and Netflix rushing towards the chance to save the show. A mere twenty-four hours later, Michael Schur announced via Twitter that Brooklyn Nine-Nine had found a new home at NBC, a move so fitting that it’s a wonder how it ended up with FOX in the first place.

Neither fan campaigns nor the concept of saving a near-dead show are new. In fact, it’s as old as Leave It To Beaver, which ABC rescued from the clutches of CBS back in 1958. The added element of social media, however, makes the possibility far more accessible than, say, shipping bottles of Tabasco sauce and Clear Eyes drops to network studios (tactics that saved Roswell and Friday Night Lights, respectively). The immediate, visceral reaction of distraught fans allows for other networks to quickly identify a potentially new, passionate market. It’s also one of the few ways that the average fan can feel heard and seen with little more than a phone, and app, and unyielding indignation.

Does it always work? Unfortunately not. When the hit WGN America series Underground was canceled in May of 2017 after Sinclair Broadcast Group’s acquisition of the channel, no amount of fan uproar (of which there was plenty) was strong enough to reverse the decision. Additionally, the producers were unable to secure a new home with OWN, Netflix, HBO, or any of the other suggested platforms. It was a substantial moment of heartbreak for fans who took weekly comfort in seeing a predominantly Black cast partake in such rich storytelling. It was especially tragic considering the questionable circumstances – like a highly conservative conglomerate taking over the stomping grounds of such an unapologetically Black show – surrounding its untimely demise.

However; when organized fandom action does work, you get to experience the elation of hearing that Netflix has renewed One Day at a Time and On My Block, both with mostly Latinx casts. You exhale a whoosh of relief upon learning that Sense 8 and Hulu’s East Los High will get the endings they deserve with a special event. You get to watch your favorite Brooklyn precinct of some of the most lovable characters in existence move to a home where they can be appreciated.

Because if there’s one lesson that the vocal fan is ready to administer time and time again, it’s that we work hard as hell. And we get the job done.