Holy Bodies and Blue Jeans: Cynthia Erivo, Sydney Sweeney, and the Manufactured Outrage Machine

When Cynthia Erivo stepped onto the stage of the Hollywood Bowl as Jesus Christ in Jesus Christ Superstar, the reactions came fast and loud. Not because she couldn’t sing—she could. Not because she didn’t belong on that stage—she did. But because she dared to embody a figure many Americans still consider off-limits to Black, queer, femme representation.

The backlash was immediate. Religious conservatives called it blasphemous. Progressives praised it as revolutionary. But what’s clear is this: the moment wasn’t about talent or theology. It was about imagination. Or rather, who we still struggle to imagine as sacred.

And yet, this wasn’t some rogue casting stunt. Andrew Lloyd Webber, the creator of the musical itself, gave Cynthia his full blessing, tweeting, “I’m thrilled to see such brilliant reviews for Cynthia Erivo, Adam Lambert, and the entire cast.”So if the man who wrote the show is clapping, who exactly are we booing for?

The answer: no one. Because this isn’t about Jesus. It’s about control.

Which brings us to another battleground in the ongoing culture war: denim.

Just days after Erivo’s casting went viral, American Eagle dropped its new campaign starring Euphoria actress Sydney Sweeney. In it, Sweeney—blonde, blue-eyed, and every inch the all-American beauty archetype—wears a white tank and low-rise jeans. The tagline? “Genes are passed down. My jeans are blue.”

Cute? Maybe. Corny? Absolutely. Dangerous? That’s where things got weird.

Online critics accused the campaign of being eugenics-coded, of evoking Nazi aesthetics, and of intentionally aligning with far-right visual tropes. Some of the backlash was thoughtful. Much of it was pure clickbait. Suddenly, a jeans ad became a referendum on race, legacy, and blonde privilege. American Eagle had to issue a statement. Trump praised the ad. Sweeney’s brother trolled the haters. And the brand’s sales? Spiked.

But if you thought the outrage machine was done, think again—because then came Beyoncé.

Queen Bey, fresh off the success of Cowboy Carter, was announced as a new face of Levi’s. It should’ve been a no-brainer: a Black woman reclaiming American iconography, connecting denim to Black Southern identity, and once again making the corporate world bow to her creativity.

But instead, critics latched onto her blonde hair, accusing her of “wanting to be white,” of abandoning her roots, of appropriating whiteness to sell jeans. Yes—a Black woman wearing a traditionally European hairstyle was now “appropriating” white culture. The irony was so thick you could wrap it in denim and slap a Levi’s tag on it.

So what do Cynthia Erivo, Sydney Sweeney, and Beyoncé all have in common?

They’re artists. Women. Icons. But most importantly, they’ve all become avatars in a culture war that doesn’t care about art or nuance—only visibility and volatility.

Erivo was too queer and too Black to play Jesus.Sweeney was too white and too “fascist-coded” to wear jeans.Beyoncé was too blonde to be Black enough while endorsing Levi’s.

And none of these stories were really about them.

They were about how quickly we project our fears, our insecurities, and our half-baked ideologies onto public figures—especially women—especially when they play with power, style, or sacredness.

This is the new playbook: Take something harmless. Add identity. Stir with outrage. Monetize the attention. And repeat.

But at Icon City, we’re not here to play defense in someone else’s war. We’re here to flip the table.

We believe Cynthia Erivo as Jesus expands what the divine can look like.We believe Sydney Sweeney’s ad was clumsy but harmless.We believe Beyoncé can wear blonde, blue jeans, and a crown—and still be Black excellence incarnate.

So here’s our take:If your God can’t look like Cynthia Erivo, your imagination is too small.If your feminism can’t hold space for Sydney Sweeney’s curves, your movement’s too fragile.And if your Blackness falls apart at Beyoncé’s blonde bundles, maybe whiteness isn’t the only thing you’ve internalized.

Let art be art. Let icons be complex. Let denim be denim.

Because whether in robes, low-rise jeans, or platinum hair—we’re not just watching culture. We’re building it.