Credibility Is the New Clickbait

Hey honeys and hustlers,

Before we jump into today’s article, Monday’s article on Patreon seemed to be a crowd favorite! Thank you all for the responses, comments, and shares.

Now, onto today’s article.

YouTube creators raised me. I started watching YouTube back when production value wasn’t a thing. Just a creator in their high school bedroom, genuinely making jokes that made me laugh. I felt connected to them, and saw how true talent rose to the top of YouTube trending charts and online award competitions. Journalists, similarly, were some of the most trusted names in media. Not because of the production value, but because of the hard work, fact-checking, and balanced quality in reporting they represented. Consumers and creators alike feel disenfranchised from that reality that flourished not that long ago. Once the internet became a place to compete for clicks, rather than the truth, we saw advertising dollars subvert our favorite creators and news media outlets. That’s why integrity—creator integrity, journalist integrity, human integrity—has quietly become the most valuable production value on the web.

YouTube in its prime wasn’t defined by cinematic lighting or fancy sets (though I have no problem with that). It was defined by the kind of entertainment and education that felt like it was produced with high intention. The money was flowing at that time, but the creator economy didn’t have the infrastructure to support online businesses at scale the way it does now. So people weren’t in it for the money; they were making videos, podcasts, and blogs because they were truly interested in it.

And we still crave that now—maybe more than ever.

Oprah (Oprah?!) appeared on Keke Palmer’s podcast recently. Oprah hasn’t had a regularly televised show since 2011, concluding a historic run of 25 seasons and 4,561 episodes. Her show hasn’t aired in 15 years, yet I saw many people on Threads posting about buying the books that she mentioned in the episode. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking, “You get a book! You get a book! You get a book!” That’s not just nostalgia; that’s trust in action. It’s proof that the relationship Oprah had with viewers didn’t end when her final TV episode aired. She has something that every creator and business owner is fighting for today: credibility that carries weight.

Think about how people still tune in to voices like Nancy Grace and Don Lemon when a case gets messy, and the facts feel hard to follow. People want someone to ask the uncomfortable questions out loud, to separate signal from noise, to show their work. And when Don Lemon says the economics of YouTube AdSense and paid subscriptions might out-earn his CNN salary within a few years (on an episode of Mixed Signals by Semafor), it’s not just a flex—it’s a signal that a structural shift has happened for mainstream journalism. Anyone in media who is familiar with the production process and how to build trust with an audience has the opportunity to create an independent media company at scale. And that is attractive to advertisers and brands looking to reach specific audiences. The incentives changed, and the only thing that can keep the work honest is the creator’s spine (aka where they get their money from).

While platforms are starting to realize that they helped build a buffet where the main dish is, unfortunately, slop, it feels like that’s not even the crux of the issue. Substack introduced AI crawlers to limit and reduce AI-reliant written work, and YouTube tightening policies around AI slop channels isn’t some noble undertaking—it’s the cleanup crew. The problem is that “cleanup” is still reactive. Integrity is proactive. It has to be built into how we publish, how we verify, how we cite, and how we show up even when we think people aren’t paying attention.

Which brings me to subscriptions—my new love language and my personal moral dilemma.

I’m still not fully comfortable putting everything I write behind a paywall. I like open doors. I like community. I like the idea that someone can stumble into an essay at the exact right moment and feel less alone, without needing to pull out their credit card. I’ve consumed so many free articles, videos, and podcasts that have helped me along my journey as a creative business owner. But I also keep running into the same stubborn truth: we must pay for the things we want to preserve.

I’m a paid subscriber to Architectural Digest (a whole year and a physical magazine for basically the cost of two fancy coffees and a warm baked good at your local coffee shop), Revenue Rulebreaker by Lex Roman (not just for the content, but for the members-only events), and Hype Yourself by Lucy Werner (where I’ve already met a few future guest contributors and a video podcast collaborator). And I’m eyeing more: Link In Bio, Mountain Gazette, Soundbite on Bloomberg, and Simon Owens’ long-form media reporting on Substack. Maybe even Escape Collective and Feisty Media if I’m feeling frisky and my budget is feeling flexible. I am attending Feisty Media’s Feisty Fest this fall to be in community in real time, so I’m excited about that and am financially supporting them in some way.

None of these are a sympathy purchase. A subscription is a vote. It’s me saying: “I want this to exist in the world tomorrow. I want this creator to have the space to continue this work in the way they envision. I want reporting that isn’t forced to meet a deadline or serve an algorithm.” Because integrity isn’t just a personal value anymore. It’s an economic model.

When we want to make everything free and force creators and journalists to rely solely on ads and brand deals, we quietly make it so that attention becomes the product, outrage becomes the accelerant, and nuance becomes a recipe for disaster or even deplatforming. When we choose subscriptions—or products, services, ticketed events, merch, whatever—we’re funding the slower, sturdier version of the internet. The one where creators can cite sources, create deeper and more informed projects rather than churning out quick content, correct mistakes, decline brand deals that feel misaligned, and still pay their bills. AI can generate infinite content; the only scarce thing left is credibility. Not the kind that shouts from the rooftops in an attempt at virality. The kind that shows up repeatedly, keeps receipts, and doesn’t pretend certainty when it only has questions.

So yes, I’m still figuring out my own paywall comfort level. But I’m increasingly convinced that the future of creator and journalist integrity won’t be preserved by views alone. It will be preserved by the people willing to put money—however small, however imperfect—behind the work they want to keep human, true to their values, and not dependent on companies who crave scale rather than the scarcity of specificity.