We (Don’t) Need to Talk About Dan Schneider

CW: discussions of emotional and sexual abuse of children

Dan Schneider needs very little introduction — creator of Nickelodeon shows such as iCarly, Victorious, and Drake & Josh, he is arguably one of the most successful producers of children’s television of all time. However, he is also infamous for the decades-old rumours that he is a sexual predator. Any mention of his name on sites like Reddit and Twitter will inevitably bring up phrases such as the “Harvey Weinstein of children” and nicknames such as ‘Dan “Hold Her Tighter She’s A Fighter” Schneider’.

When Nickelodeon and Schneider suddenly parted ways in March 2018, it signalled to many that Schneider’s reckoning had finally come. In light of the #MeToo movement and departure of other Nickelodeon staff such as Loud House showrunner Chris Savino following accusations of sexual harassment by over a dozen women, it seemed that Schneider was no longer a worthwhile investment for the company. While Deadline reported that the split had come after an argument over studio space, bloated budgets and “well-documented temper issues for years”, as of April 2021 no Ronan Farrow-style expose has been published and no victims have officially come forward.

Dan Schneider appeared to take an extended social media break after his split with Nickelodeon, which included the not-at-all-suspicious move of deleting all his tweets from before 2016. However, he seems to be starting his own “comeback”, becoming more active on Instagram and Twitter, and appearing with former cast members, such as backstage at one of Ariana Grande’s concerts and most recently during the online Victorious cast reunion. He is not currently, or at least publicly, involved in television, including the Paramount Plus reboot of iCarly. While it feels too extreme to say that his shows should never be revisited or continued, a) some transparency on whether he is benefiting financially from these arrangements would be welcome, and b) it is regardless worth interrogating the legacy he has left and is, potentially, still shaping.

For many, questions about Schneider’s conduct are raised upon rewatching his shows. While Schneider shows were always pretty notorious for slipping things under the radar (Victorious has a dedicated page for this on TV Tropes), the “jokes” were considerably better received in the early 2010s. This most likely would have happened anyway due to changing cultural norms and politics that have notoriously dated sitcoms, but it’s also because the kids are grown up — and on TikTok. What was weird as a kid, like an obsession with feet, is now increasingly disturbing evidence of a fetish. Discussed in depth by Allison Driskill in What we don’t talk about when we talk about Nickelodeon, Schneider’s shows are filled with “jokes” and subplots that regularly over-sexualised its young cast members, especially its young actresses and relied on sexist and racist stereotypes. There is also the now-infamous tweet from the official iCarly twitter account that asked its underaged fans to send in photos of their feet.

Furthermore, Driskill highlights Nickelodeon’s broader failure to create a safe environment for its young employees. These include the sexual misconduct allegations against Ren & Stimpy creator John Kricfalusi (which Vanity Fair broke just four days after Nickelodeon and Schneider’s split), the conviction of Brian Peck, who worked as a dialogue coach on Schneider’s All That in 2002 and was later hired by Disney, and charges against production assistant Jason Michael Handy, who sexually exploited multiple children under the age of twelve, including one he met on-set of Schneider’s The Amanda Show.

Some of these people make up “Nickelodeon’s Creep Club”, a graphic that is regularly shared on sites like Twitter when discussions of pedophilia in the industry come up. Notably, it was posted on Instagram by Zoey 101 cast member Alexa Nikolas, who shared her experience of being bullied on-set by co-stars, Schneider, and various Nickelodeon executives in 2019. So far, Alexa Nikolas is the closest any former cast or crew member has gotten to publicly confirming the rumours surrounding Schneider, saying he was “not a good guy at all” and calling the shows themselves “creepy”.

While we currently do not have an expose like those given to Harvey Weinstein or Brian Singer, journalist Rick Ellis from All Your Screens did publish what is currently the most comprehensive investigation into Dan Schneider in May 2020. Interviewing over forty former cast and crew members, Schneider’s character seems to be that of a deeply controlling man, who on at least one occasion screamed at executives “with such force that it left one executive physically shaken”, and whose behaviour Nickelodeon and Viacom were willing to excuse so long as the shows continued to be hits. Others said he was emotionally abusive, vindictive, and continuously pushed his underaged cast members to work long hours more suitable for experienced adults. However, while the consensus seemed to universally be that he was “an asshat”, many were much more reluctant to confirm any rumours of sexual misconduct. That said, some called his behaviour around cast members “unsettling” and it’s thought there were at least two settlements of some kind, though the nature of these is unknown.

Ellis’ article is notably limited by the fact that not a single person he interviewed was willing to go on record. While not everyone’s comments were negative, many did not want to have to explain positive comments if the rumours are ultimately true. Similarly, others, especially young actresses, did not want to be labelled as “difficult” or have Schneider overshadow their careers in the future.

There is a significant difference between the way Rick Ellis approaches the rumours regarding Dan Schneider and the way the online discussions do. For one, he is has done actual rumours. Secondly, at its worst, Twitter and Reddit are filled with Pizzagate-style conspiracy theories, Youtube videos with Illuminati thumbnails, and a sniggering kind of meme-ification of abuse present in things like the “hold her tighter” nicknames.

Mostly, the rumours are presented with the kind of amateur sleuthing that has become pastime with the rise of true crime fans over the past decade. Some compile scenes from Schneider’s shows into Youtube videos such as “Ariana Grande being over-sexualised on Victorious for 2 minutes straight”, which has over nine million views. More extreme examples include people with a questionable knowledge of genetics trying to prove Schneider was behind Jamie Lynn Spears’ teen pregnancy by comparing his face with her daughter’s. (For the record, the Spears’ family has always upheld that Casey Aldridge, Spears’ boyfriend at the time, is the biological father.) Often, these will be made into Twitter threads called things like “Dan Schneider and all the creepy shit he’s done” that can get anywhere between a hundred to thousands of retweets.

For many, true crime content, whether it be podcasts or documentaries, is entertainment (or, in the case of ASMR true crime videos, relaxation). As Alice Bolin points out, these stories are exciting and immersive for the viewer, but the story usually achieves this by distancing itself from the victim. Instead, it is approached from the perspective of a voyeur or “dispassionate observer” who takes joy in the procedure of the investigation and uncovering the truth, but rarely gets wrapped up in the real emotional pain of the victims or their families.

True crime content also tends to emphasise the criminal, rather than the victims. This is most apparent in the romanticisation of serial killers such as Ted Bundy, or the Charles Manson merchandise sold at places like CrimeCon. The fact that the families of victims attend things like CrimeCon to publicise their brother or sister’s story, hoping that attendees will take interest in the story and pressure authorities to continue the investigation, is a testament to the power of thousands of “bored and curious people on the Internet”. But it also highlights how important having an engaging story is, and that simply having experienced tragedy and injustice is not always enough.

This is not to mention conspiracy theory culture’s general lack of regard for victims. The worst examples are those such as Alex Jones’ Sandy Hook conspiracies, which resulted in the harassment of grieving parents. More broadly, the suspicious circumstances surrounding Jeffrey Epstein’s death continue to overshadow the impact it had on his victims. The fact that his victims were left devastated because, “he will never face the consequences of the crimes he committed” is rarely brought up, while you could still find jokes about his alleged suicide on Twitter almost a full year later. To be clear, this is not saying Epstein’s death wasn’t suspicious. It was, and points to widespread corruption that needs to be addressed. But the impact it had on his victims was lost in the excitement and bewilderment it evoked.

Most online discussions about Schneider focus on advancing the story and “exposing” the truth. Many also have a degree of play-at-home activism, like retweeting a thread or resharing a video of a 16-year-old Ariana Grande sucking her toes is a kind of anti-rape activism, or at least enough to assuage the guilt they felt from rewatching the show and having “their childhood ruined”. Indeed, the circulation of these materials itself seems questionable, shared less in disgust than titillation, and with little to no regard for the actresses involved might feel.

At its very worst, there is an eagerness for these rumours to not only be true, but to be as scandalous and sordid as possible. One has to wonder, if someone does come forward and says that Schneider abused them, but only emotionally and never physically, will people be disappointed? The focus on the alleged acts Schneider committed in the “hold her tighter” style nicknaming, the fact that they regularly go to acts of penetration or drugging when most abuse is the manipulation and grooming that comes before that, does not abate these concerns. Because it is the physical acts, rather than the emotional impact, that makes the story thrilling for many. That is what makes it entertainment.

Most discussions about Schneider fail because its rumoured and potential victims are focused on for their ability to advance the story, with little regard to the violence or abuse they would have suffered. Yes, there is outrage over the idea that Schneider was allowed to get away with this abuse by Nickelodeon and Viacom executives for decades, but it often rings hollow.

Most people tend to focus on the most visible cast members as the main potential victims. These cast members are always young, attractive and female, rather than an unknown extra or crew member. (Notably, no one has ever accused Schneider of mistreating a male cast member, who were less sexualised during the shows but were usually still participants in some of the infamous feet scenes.) These young actresses are frequently messaged questions about Schneider and why they “haven’t come forward”.

“The last thing I need is to have every interview for next ten years ask me about Schneider and his show. I respect and appreciate my fans from that era, but I also need to move on. Let those fans remember the show however they want. I’m done.”

Quote from a young actress, taken from Rick Ellis

There are, of course, plenty of reasons why young women mostly still in their 20s wouldn’t want to publicly discuss any abuse they’ve experienced that go beyond just NDAs. As established in Rick Ellis’ article, they might be concerned about jeopardising or overshadowing their careers. They may still be processing what happened to them or are still working through complex emotions that arise in regards to an abuser. As Beza Zenabe illustrates, abusers can spend years building a trusted relationship with their victim, and their behaviour can seem affectionate, rather than abusive. To simplify Schneider’s actions to “get in the van” when he most likely was nice to his victims, to both groom them, foster loyalty and protect himself, ignores these complexities.

The documentary Chosen, which recounts the systemic abuse and subsequent cover-up that occurred as a British private school, also emphasises the influence of the victim’s parents in coming forward, and how many victims will not come forward until their parents have died in an effort to protect them. For others, having children of their own is what causes them to go public, especially when the child turns the same age they were abused. In such cases, it could be decades until anyone is ready to come forward, but they are not obligated to, and certainly not on anyone else’s schedule.

There are also intense difficulties and trauma that occurs when victims do come forward: the interrogation, victim-blaming, character assassination and threat of defamation lawsuits, not to mention a likely slew of rape and death threats. These issues are intensified for people of colour, especially women of colour, who face the additional trauma of racist abuse and are regularly viewed as more aggressive and hypersexual, often resulting in POC being discredited, ignored, or blacklisted from an industry that was barely accessible to them in the first place.

Male victims can also face some unique challenges due to homophobia and notions idealised by toxic masculinity. As Soraya Roberts puts it, “if you are a boy, you should be able to stop it; if you are gay you asked for it; if you become gay, it’s because of it; if you were aroused, it’s because you wanted it; if you were a victim, you will be a perpetrator.”

None of these factors have stopped people from analysing these potential victims’ behaviour. Schneider’s involvement with cast reunions has raised questions about the validity of some of the rumours. After all, would a cast member really meet up with him again if they had been abused? Again, this oversimplifies the complicated dynamics abusive relationships create. Some victims feel protective of their abusers, while others feel too scared to say no or don’t want the attention and drama that avoiding the reunion could bring.

We’ve seen how online speculation constantly reinforces society’s desire for the “perfect” victim and punishes those that are deemed to have “waited too long” and therefore must be making accusations for money and/or clout. While it seems questionable that none of these cast members have publicists wondering whether being photographed with a rumoured sexual predator is a good idea, the fact is we cannot interrogate why any of the cast members still choose to associate with Dan Schneider. We do not know enough. Similarly, we cannot use what they did or did not do in 2021 to denounce them if they come forward in ten years’ time.

Similarly, in ignoring the reasons as to why victims might not come forward, or might come forward decades later, we minimise the experiences and trauma of victims in favour of instant sensationalism and entertainment. It reduces victims to being just victims, from which a tragic story can be extracted over and over. The nuances of cyclical abuse, the fact that victims are also capable of upholding rape culture and of harming other victims, is ignored in favour of a clear, black and white narrative of evil vs innocence.

While we know that most victims do not become abusers, some do. The documentary An Open Secret (2014) explores the abuse inflicted on child and teen actors by managers, agents and publicists, many of whom were former child actors themselves, and all of whom are male. When we discuss Schneider, it is probably worth mentioning that he himself was a child actor. Not to excuse or justify any misconduct, but to avoid ignoring the conditions that continue to enable abuse in Hollywood and to avoid simplifying issues of rape culture.

It is, frankly, easy for the Internet to believe the rumours against Schneider are true at least in part because he looks what the Internet thinks pedophiles should look like: fat, middle-aged and a tendency towards unflattering facial expressions that can be used for zoom-in memes. By having such a slim view of what abusers should look and act like, we ignore the victims who continuously tell us that their abusers are attractive, charismatic, and well-liked, and that is exactly what makes them so dangerous and why these survivors are regularly disbelieved.

The most concrete allegations against Dan Schneider, that he overworks, oversexualises, and is abusive towards young actors, crew, and even executives, should be enough to condemn him. We should not need men to be running literal pedophile rings for abuse to be taken seriously.

In her article about the ethical dilemmas of true crime, Alice Bolin presents two alternatives to the traditional, voyeuristic narrative. The first is a podcast called Ear Hustle, which is produced by the inmates of San Quentin State Prison, whose stories are “mundane, profound and, yes, addictive.” In being created by those inside of the justice system, it automatically humanises those involved, while also discussing the socioeconomic factors that lead to crime and systemic issues like corruption and racism in the justice system. Bolin also advocates for true crime memoirs, which are written by survivors or by family members of the deceased. Bolin argues these do not allow the reader to detach from the story in the same way and that readers are therefore, “finally confronted with the truth of lives upended by violence and grief”.

We do need to talk about Dan Schneider. We need to talk about everyone who has abused their position of authority to emotionally, physically and sexually abuse those around them, especially women and children. But if we are to have these discussions, Bolin’s suggestions are how we should move forward. We need to acknowledge the systemic conditions in Hollywood and wider society that make the widespread abuse of vulnerable parties acceptable. But we also need to centre those who were involved and let them tell their own story, in their own time, and that could be painful for them and for us. Nothing is going to change if it’s not.