The profound beauty & sadness of Steve from Blue's Clues

In 1996, a puppy named Blue needed help from Nickelodeon’s young Nick Jr.’s audience to find things in her house marked with a big blue paw print — Blue’s Clues — to help her finish that day’s activity. One day it might be an apple and sugar so she could bake a pie, or the hands of a clock so she could tell the time. These things were in plain sight in Blue’s 2d cartoon environment, but nevertheless, she could never quite find them on her own. As Blue moved from room to room, viewers were prompted to shout out at her when she was close to whatever it was she was looking for. It was call-and-response viewing that tots and stoners alike found irresistable, accompanied by charming, bright art and the soothing presence of Steve, Blue’s human best friend.

Steve was the host, if not the star, of Blue’s Clues. Part interpreter, part Greek Chorus, Steve reminded the audience what they were looking for, introduced new segments and activities, and did things that required thumbs, like picking stuff up or opening doors. Mostly, though, Steve listened. He’d look straight into the camera and ask questions, then wait for a response. “Where do you think we should look first?” “Do you see something here? Where is it?” It must have felt very silly to film, earnestly staring into the camera in silence, but it made viewers feel like Steve was speaking directly to them.

After 6 years and 100 episodes, Steve left Blue’s Clues to go to college. He continued acting and recording music — he does the theme song for Young Sheldon, in fact — and largely retired from public life. He recorded a video for Blue’s Clues’ 25th anniversary, but for the most part, he was done being everyone’s best friend.

Then he returned to TikTok and started releasing videos like the one below:

@hioutthereitsmesteve @hioutthereitsmesteve ♬ Awakening - SØLYS

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The videos aren’t terribly involved. He asks an open-ended, non-specific question and then just waits. Sometimes he plays his guitar. He’ll occasionally nod. But mostly, he just leaves space for the audience to reply. And reply they do.

Scroll through the comments in one of Steve’s videos, and you’ll see celebrations of life’s victories, like getting a new job or being cancer-free. You’ll see people grieving for the loss of a loved one, or simply saying they’re scared about the future. Many confess that watching these videos makes them cry. They thank him, again and again, for being there. Over and over and over, you’ll see outpourings of emotion without artifice, agenda, or facade. Because once upon a time, he asked them to help him find something for a cartoon puppy.

If you look at not just the kind of responses he gets but the volume of them, it’s clear that he’s tapping into a deep, unspoken need. People are starving for someone to listen to their real thoughts and feelings, and when Blue’s old friend offers, they take him up on it.

The appeal of sharing with Steve lies in its limitations. He’s not offering advice or trying to fix whatever’s wrong. He doesn’t ask you to clarify or repeat yourself or reconsider your perspective. All he’s doing, all he can do, is listen. Steve is also simultaneously friend and stranger. The people watching his videos don’t actually know him, but that suits their needs perfectly; they don’t have to worry about him, because there is no “him” to consider. Steve from Blue’s Clues existed for them, to respond to them, to facilitate adventures for them, and he didn’t ask anything in return. Their fundamental relationship with him has not changed, though they’re probably not telling him to look behind the sofa cushions quite as much.

It’s not just about the listening, though. Many — most, one hopes — of the people leaving Steve heartfelt messages have people in their lives who care about them and who are more than happy to hear whatever they have to say. But because the relationship with Steve is one-sided, it’s also free from judgment or the feeling of inconvenience. How many people in those comments aren’t saying these things to the people in their lives because they don’t want to be a burden? “She has enough going on, I don’t want to add to it.” Or, for those with good news, they don’t want to be seen as a braggart, or a showoff, or insensitive to those who aren’t equally as fortunate. That’s just being a different kind of emotional burden, and so they stay quiet.

So many people have lost our ability to be genuine with the people in our lives, if they ever had it to start with. Whether out of love, guilt, inescurity, or something in between, they don’t feel comfortable answering “How are you?” in any real way. And so they turn in droves to Steve, someone they don’t actually know, but who effectively plays the role of caring confidant.

Cynics may think that what Steve’s videos are a light lift on his part; all he’s doing is recording himself looking at his phone for a few minutes, and getting adoration and attention for it. But if he reads even a fraction of the comments he receives, he’s choosing to bear an enormous emotional weight. I co-founded a mental health charity several years ago, and was its public face for quite a while. As a result, people — complete strangers — would often seek me out at public events to tell me their deepest truths. They felt comfortable opening up to me because this thing I had created made them feel safe, and for a long time, I let them, because that kind of vulnerability is a crucial first step on the road to better mental health. It wasn’t just people telling me they were anxious or depressed or even suicidal; one man looked to me for confirmation that he wasn’t a monster after telling me he hit his wife. Another wanted my reaction after he off-handedly mentioned that he didn’t think he was a predator, but maybe? Eventually, the sheer weight of carrying so much of other people’s angst became too much for me, and I stepped away from the charity.

Steve was a kids’ show host a long time ago, and yet he’s somehow found himself accidentally offering comfort to people on the internet. Why Steve? Perhaps it’s nothing more than simple nostalgia, a tenuous connection to when life was nothing but cartoons and juice boxes. Perhaps it’s because he’s kind, which is something adults aren’t on the receiving end of very much. Whatever the reason, it’s beautiful that he’s willing to do it, but sad that anyone needs him to.