By Julie Andersen, Founder, Shark Angels
Every July, the same conversation unfolds, unapologetically, on my social posts. Someone argues that Shark Week reinforces fear and criticizes me for participating. Someone else jumps in saying it is a week focused on sharks. Before long, everyone has chosen a side.
I’ve been having that conversation for more than twenty years. In fact, for a long time I was firmly on one side of it. Spoiler alert: it’s not the side I’m on today.
I’ve wanted to write this article for years. Not because I wasn’t steadfast in my beliefs, but because I knew how easily it made me a target. Shark conservation attracts passionate people; that’s one of the things I love most about this community. We have strong convictions and opinions, which often puts us at odds with one another. But, we all want the same thing: a future where sharks are understood, respected and protected. And many of us question Shark Week fiercely, believing it was doing the opposite.
Somewhere along the way, though, I realized we were asking the wrong question. Instead, the question should be: How do we use the moment we’re given?
I Was Fighting the Wrong Battle
For years, Shark Week drove me crazy. Every July I’d find myself having the same conversations about dramatic music, ominous narration and another season of television built around the smallest, most sensational part of a shark’s life. I wasn’t quietly frustrated by it either. I protested… loudly. I even met with Discovery executives nominated by a group of shark advocates to argue for more science, more conservation and more balance. Eventually I convinced myself that if I wanted something different, I’d have to create it myself.
Protesting Shark Week: Meeting with the Shark Week Executives
With Shark Angels, we created exactly the kind of programming conservationists had been asking for. It was scientifically grounded, hopeful and unapologetically honest. It celebrated sharks for the incredible animals they are, explained why they matter and didn’t shy away from the brutal reality of shark finning as we went undercover to dozens of countries. I honestly thought we’d cracked the code.
Then we started pitching it.
Production company after production company told us the same thing. It was too raw. Too educational. Too depressing. People wouldn’t watch it. At first, I was frustrated. Then I realized they weren’t rejecting sharks. They were telling me something about people.
Julie Andersen, founder of Shark Angels, sifting thru baby shark fins in Indonesia.
Then I Met Luke
At that same time, we were using the footage in conjunction with our joint Fin Free campaign, convincing lawmakers to vote for fin bans. That’s how I met Luke. He was seven years old and obsessed with sharks from the age of three because of Shark Week. Andy Casagrande was his biggest hero. He wasn’t scared of sharks; he was scared of a world without them. In just three days he collected 1,000 signatures supporting a shark fin ban. Then he showed up to every Toronto City Council meeting and testified on behalf of sharks. As I watched him testify in front of the mayor at that final vote with tears in my eyes, I knew his presentation was a monumental part of the outcome: Toronto became the first city to ban shark fin.
Julie with Luke in Toronto.
That moment also gave me the chance to watch the ripple effect of the very thing I’d spent years fighting. Shark Week hadn’t turned Luke into someone who feared sharks. It had introduced him to sharks, and what’s more, ignited a passion. 2.7 million people now lived in a place where shark fin was an illegal substance. Because a boy fell in love with sharks on Shark Week.
Was I looking at the whole issue backwards?
I’d spent years trying to get people to care about sharks. Shark Week had already done that. People were talking about sharks in grocery stores, around dinner tables, at the gym, at work, in classrooms and online. They might have been talking about breaches or attacks, but they were talking. Sharks had captured their imagination. The door was already open.
I’d Been Looking at It Backwards
Suddenly, I wasn’t wasting time contemplating whether Shark Week was helping or hurting conservation anymore. I was asking what we were going to do with all that attention.
Do I wish Shark Week showed more of the incredible diversity of shark behavior? Absolutely. I’d love millions of people to watch an epaulette shark walk across a reef at low tide or learn why female sand tiger sharks aggregate in magnificent, massive numbers to gestate. I’d love it if more time was spent explaining that of the over 500 species of sharks, only a handful of them have been linked to human incidents – and that there are more than bulls, tigers and whites in the deep. Or for every episode to dedicate as much time to how sharks formed our oceans and our planet, keeping our world’s largest ecosystem healthy, as is spent showing bloody predations.
But I also understand something I didn’t understand twenty years ago.
Curiosity Comes First
People rarely become advocates because someone hands them perfect information or the perfect argument. They become advocates because something sparks their curiosity and someone is there to continue the conversation. That’s where Shark Angels come in.
Julie Andersen on Shark Week.
And that’s why I eventually said yes to Shark Week. It wasn’t an easy decision, and I’m still selective about the productions I choose. But I realized that if I wasn’t willing to be part of the conversation, someone else would be. Someone who just wanted to be on camera and never mention conservation or explain why sharks are disappearing. Someone who might not represent the other 90% of the shark’s lives and miss the opportunity entirely.
Unlike me who doesn’t particularly enjoy being on television. It’s stressful, it’s a tremendous amount of work, and every interview carries the responsibility of representing animals that cannot speak for themselves.
Over the years I’ve also had the privilege of working with producers who genuinely care about conservation and have fought for stronger science and better storytelling. Others aren’t the right fit for me, and I simply choose not to work with them. Like most things in life, it isn’t black and white.
Neither is conservation.
The Strategy That Actually Sparked Change
One of the greatest lessons Shark Angels ever taught me was that fighting against something like one of the most watched spectacles on television wasn’t nearly as effective as viewing it as an opportunity.
Instead of spending every July complaining about Shark Week, Shark Angels began building positive momentum around it. We held fundraising auctions while the world’s attention was focused on sharks. We celebrated the little-known sharks in our channels. We created shark adoptions that also educated people about the allegedly dangerous Shark Week stars. We invited journalists into the water to experience sharks for themselves. We lobbied politicians. We went to schools. We corrected misconceptions and continued the conversation long after the credits rolled.
Shark Angel shark adoptions during Shark Week.
It worked far better than I ever imagined.
Every controversy became an invitation to teach. Instead of arguing about Shark Week, we talked about the remarkably low risk of shark bites, why sharks are essential to healthy oceans and why populations are declining so rapidly. Every question became another opportunity to replace fear with understanding. And, pardon the pun, but everyone ate it up, wanting to know everything they could about sharks. Fear turned to fascination and passion into action. Every single time.
Shifting the Narrative
So, instead of asking whether Shark Week is good or bad for sharks, why aren’t we collectively asking how we can use Shark Week to help save them?
Every July, millions of people willingly invite sharks into their living rooms. Some come for the blood. Some come for the mystery. Some simply love a good controversy. Frankly, I don’t really care why they showed up. They’re there, asking questions and paying attention.
We spend the other fifty-one weeks of the year hoping people will care enough to start talking about sharks. Then, for one week, they do.
As divers, we’re in an even more unique position to use this moment because we’ve met the animal the world spends one week talking about. Not elephants. Not snakes. Not bears. Sharks.
The Moments Shark Week Doesn’t Show
I’ll never forget the first time I truly met a shark – a scalloped hammerhead in Hawaii. When I felt a presence on a safety stop and turned to find myself eye to eye with her less than an arm’s length away, I nearly swallowed my regulator. Then, every fear-driven misconception fell away. Because I didn’t see aggression or malice in that eye; instead there was curiosity. And then poof, she was gone. An animal far more graceful and more magnificent than I’d imagined. And far less dangerous.
Julie snout to snout with an Oceanic White Tip Shark.
I came out of the water completely changed. It was on that day I went to work for sharks.
I’ve told that story hundreds of times because people lean in when they hear it. For a few minutes they aren’t watching Shark Week anymore. They’re underwater with me. And then I have them; that’s the moment the conversation changes.
The Story Only You Can Tell
Every diver has one of those stories. I encourage you to share it.
When someone mentions Shark Week, resist the temptation to critique the episode they just watched. Don’t roll your eyes at their misconceptions. Instead, tell them about the dive with a shark you still think about years later. Help them discover why sharks matter and why they’re worth protecting. Tell them about your favorite shark conservation organizations and the issues facing sharks. Better yet, encourage them to meet one for themselves. Because facts are important, but experiences are unforgettable.
As divers, I believe we hold immense power during Shark Week. And that it is both our privilege and responsibility to use it. You don’t have to love Shark Week. You don’t have to hate it either.
Just don’t waste it.
Julie Andersen is a conservationist, entrepreneur, and founder of Shark Angels. A diver since 1996, she has spent more than two decades changing the way people perceive and protect sharks through conservation, storytelling, and advocacy. She has also co-founded Shark Savers, Fin Free, and United Conservationists, and has appeared in 25+ shark-focused documentaries and television shows, including numerous Shark Week productions, believing that every conversation about sharks is an opportunity to protect them.