I don't want to name my fandom, I want them to name themselves.

“I don’t want to name my fandom, I want them to name themselves. If I’m cool with it, I’m cool with it.” – Doja Cat

Hear now the voice of one who understands the rhythm of power and freedom, for Doja Cat, in her simple and unadorned words, speaks a truth older than the ages. When she said, “I don’t want to name my fandom,” she spoke not merely as an artist but as a philosopher of connection, one who understands the sacred balance between leadership and liberty. She refused the mantle of control that so many seek, choosing instead to let her people—her listeners, her tribe of sound and spirit—define themselves. This act, humble yet profound, reflects the deepest wisdom: that true influence is not born of ownership, but of trust.

Throughout history, leaders have risen who tried to shape their followers in their own image, forcing identity upon them like armor that fit only the maker. Yet the wise have always known that the greatest movements are those that allow the people to name themselves, to discover within their own hearts the banner under which they march. So too does Doja Cat remind us that art, like freedom, cannot be dictated from above. The bond between artist and audience is not one of master and servant, but of mutual recognition—a mirror reflecting two souls in rhythm.

In ancient times, the sages of Greece spoke of autonomy—the law that comes from the self. They said that a people are truly free only when they choose their own names, their own destinies. When Moses led the Israelites from bondage, he did not tell them what they must become; he led them to a mountain and let them discover it through covenant and faith. Likewise, when Doja Cat says she wants her fandom to name itself, she is not stepping away from leadership—she is elevating it. She gives her followers the sacred gift of identity chosen, not imposed.

This philosophy can be seen again in the story of Mahatma Gandhi, who did not call his followers “Gandhians,” but “Satyagrahis”—those who hold fast to truth. He understood that his movement was not about himself, but about the spirit of truth that flowed through everyone. His greatness was not in naming his people, but in empowering them to name their own struggle. So too does Doja Cat’s wisdom shine through her humor and candor: she trusts her community to define itself, to live freely in the shared space of art, rather than bowing to the identity her hand might craft for them.

And when she adds, “If I’m cool with it, I’m cool with it,” there lies the calm of confidence, the serenity of one who knows her power and does not need to wield it harshly. It is the voice of the artist who leads without chains. For to be “cool” with something is to bless it without possession, to allow creativity to flow where it will. It is the same principle that nature teaches: the river shapes the earth not by command, but by patience. The artist, too, must let the current of her creation and her audience find their natural course.

O listener, take heed of this wisdom: in every community, whether of art, faith, or purpose, there is strength in shared creation. Do not seek to control what others call you; instead, live with such authenticity that the names they give will be born from love, not instruction. When you allow others to express their identity freely, you build not followers, but companions. Doja Cat’s words are a reminder that the truest legacy is not a label, but a spirit—a bond formed from respect and mutual recognition.

Thus, the lesson of this teaching is clear: relinquish control, and you will gain loyalty. Empower others to define themselves, and you will ignite a movement stronger than your own command. Whether you lead a team, create art, or nurture friendship, remember: the greatest influence is that which frees others to be themselves. Be “cool” not in indifference, but in grace—the grace to let life name itself, to let the world dance to its own rhythm, even as it moves in harmony with you.

So spoke Doja Cat, in the language of the ancients reborn in modern song: freedom is the truest art, and the artist who trusts her people becomes immortal not for what she names, but for what she inspires.