Mark Ruffalo arrived at the Golden Globes as a nominee for HBO’s Task, but the mood on the red carpet quickly shifted from industry celebration to political confrontation.
In an exchange that spread within hours across social media and entertainment outlets, Ruffalo said he “couldn’t BS” his way through the night so soon after the d3ath of Renee Macklin Good, the Minneapolis woman k!lled during an encounter involving federal immigration enforcement. Ruffalo wore a black pin reading “BE GOOD,” a symbol that other celebrities—including Jean Smart, Natasha Lyonne, and Wanda Sykes—also displayed in coordinated solidarity.
A red carpet that didn’t feel like a party
Ruffalo’s remarks stood out not only for their content but for the bluntness of their delivery. He described Good as “murdered,” challenged officials who defended the sh00ting as self-defense, and accused political leaders of dishonesty about what is happening under immigration enforcement.
He also tied his anger to a broader critique of President Donald Trump—referencing recent headlines about Trump’s claims that his actions on the world stage are limited only by “my own morality.”
Ruffalo’s critics immediately seized on the setting—arguing the Golden Globes are for entertainment, not political messaging. Supporters countered that the point of wearing the pin was precisely to inject public attention into an issue they believe is being minimized or normalized.
Either way, the Globes became a cultural battleground: Hollywood grief and protest on one side, outrage at celebrity activism on the other.
What the “BE GOOD” pin meant—and who organized it
Multiple outlets reported that the “BE GOOD” and “ICE OUT” pins were part of a coordinated effort tied to civil liberties and advocacy groups, including the ACLU, aimed at spotlighting outrage following Good’s d3ath.
According to coverage of the campaign, the pins were intended as a simple, highly visible message: a call to conscience, and in some versions an explicit protest against immigration enforcement practices.
Jean Smart later acknowledged she had delivered pointed remarks on the carpet and said she was speaking not as an actress but as a citizen—underscoring how the evening became a platform for political expression as much as award-season publicity.
The backdrop: the Renee Good case, and why it detonated into a national fight
Good, 37, was identified in reporting as a Minneapolis resident and mother who was fatally sh0t during an ICE-related encounter. Federal officials and supporters of enforcement have argued the agent acted in self-defense; critics argue the public deserves full transparency and independent scrutiny.
The incident has fueled demonstrations and fierce debate over how immigration enforcement is conducted, and how quickly public narratives harden before all facts are known.
That debate became the oxygen for Ruffalo’s Globes appearance: he positioned himself as speaking for “people… who are terrorized and scared,” and framed Good’s d3ath not as a single tragedy but as part of a larger pattern.
White House and Trump-world response: not just disagreement—open contempt
This wasn’t a one-way hit.
Reporting after the Globes indicates the White House communications operation and Trump allies fired back hard at Ruffalo personally, dismissing him as an attention-seeking celebrity and attacking his credibility.
The response matters because it shows how quickly a red-carpet comment can become a political weapon: Ruffalo’s statements were recast by opponents as proof that Hollywood is out of touch and anti-law-enforcement—while supporters saw the White House reaction as an attempt to bully critics into silence.
This dynamic—celebrity condemnation, followed by aggressive political counterpunch—is exactly how the Ruffalo–Trump conflict has worked for years.
The Ruffalo–Trump feud: not new, not subtle, and increasingly personal
Ruffalo has been one of Trump’s most outspoken celebrity critics across multiple election cycles. He has repeatedly warned about authoritarianism, policy agendas tied to conservative governance, and enforcement-driven crackdowns—often in language that leaves little room for polite disagreement.
In 2024, for example, Ruffalo went viral for a social media post attacking Trump and the conservative policy project known as “Project 2025,” casting it as a threat to American democracy.
He has also used social platforms to target prominent voices he sees as enabling Trump’s agenda—most notably criticizing Joe Rogan after Rogan expressed discomfort with immigration raids, accusing him of waking up late to consequences others warned about.
From Trump’s side, the posture has been consistent: treat celebrity critics as elitist propagandists, mock their relevance, and use the conflict to rally supporters against “Hollywood activists.”
In that sense, the Golden Globes moment didn’t create a feud—it simply reactivated one, with a new tragedy as the emotional trigger.
Why this fight keeps expanding beyond Ruffalo
The deeper story here is not just one actor’s outrage, but the collision of two American forces that increasingly cannot coexist in the same cultural space:
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Hollywood’s moral performance (using public visibility to push civic messages)
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versus populist backlash (viewing that performance as elite manipulation and contempt for ordinary voters)
When Ruffalo speaks about ICE, his supporters hear “accountability.”
His critics hear “anti-enforcement propaganda.”
And when the White House responds, supporters hear “standing up to celebrity lies.”
Opponents hear “intimidation and deflection.”
That split is why the controversy keeps growing: it’s never only about the pin, or only about one sh00ting, or only about Trump.
It’s about what side gets to define reality.

Where it goes next
Ruffalo’s comments are unlikely to fade quickly, especially as reporting continues on the Good case and as advocacy groups keep pushing the “Be Good” campaign into high-visibility spaces.
And politically, the incentives are obvious:
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For Ruffalo and allies, the moment is proof that celebrity platforms can force attention onto uncomfortable events.
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For Trump-world, it’s proof that Hollywood remains a useful foil—an elite enemy that can be blamed, mocked, and mobilized against.
Either way, the Golden Globes did what award shows rarely do now: it produced a moment that looked less like publicity and more like America’s culture war spilling straight onto the red carpet.


