Archive for the 'Mass media' Category

Random Saturday notes on fraternal books, sex scandals, Amish TV, Colombian soccer, cosmic American blues, and one very hot shirt.

Since I wrote two lengthy entries yesterday (both of which took a bit of time), I’m going to keep Saturday’s post brief.

My brilliant younger brother’s first book is out, available for pre-order on Amazon. All those interested in reading about Literature, Nationalism and Memory in Early Modern England and Wales should order at once. It won’t be shipped until October, but I can hardly wait! I am immensely proud.

Thanks to a link from Brian, I’ve been reading up on Willamette Week’s interesting coverage of the Neil Goldschmidt scandal (the former Oregon governor who had a sexual relationship with a 14 year-old girl in the 1970s.) It’s disturbing but compelling reporting; scroll to the bottom of the first story for additional reports.

Despite many protests from the pan-Anabaptist community, the UPN network will debut their ridiculous “Amish in the City” show on July 28. The Center for Rural Strategies is leading the fight to get the show cancelled; their site is here. The show is widely expected to ridicule our Amish brothers and sisters, and cast traditional religious faith in a negative light.

The Copa America soccer tournament is underway. I’ve gotten over the disappointing exit of England from Euro 2004; my gal is over Croatia’s failure to advance. But though my girlfriend is half-Croatian, the other half is Afro-Colombian; thus we are madly rooting for Colombia in the quadrennial South American soccer championship. (And my two favorite teams are Colombia and whoever is playing those blasted Brazilians.) We are off to Colombia on August 6 — our second visit in just over a year.

And tonight, we’re going to see the Gram Parsons tribute concert at the Universal Amphitheatre; Keith Richards, Norah Jones, Lucinda Williams, and my beloved Steve Earle will all play. This kind of music is now called “Americana” or “alt country”, but Parsons called it “Cosmic American Blues”… I can dig that.

When it comes to the whole country-rock thing, I like the clothes too — the lowcut, tight jeans; the boots; and the really cool shirts. I bought this one yesterday just for the occasion. It’s not very Mennonite, but it looked too damn good not to buy.

“Gilligan’s Island” and the seductive call of reality TV

Yesterday afternoon, I got a phone call in my office from a very cheerful man named Craig, representing an outfit called “Next Entertainment”. Craig is in charge of casting the latest reality show — a new version of Gilligan’s Island. Yes, there is a website for prospective competitors. The idea is to find authentic versions of the characters from the original 1960s TV show; they want a “real-life skipper, first mate, millionaire couple, movie star, professor and Kansas farm girl” for what will be a “Survivor-style” show set on a small island in the Pacific. Well, Craig has apparently been put in charge of hunting down “real” Los Angeles-area college professors, and he found me through Rate my Professors and this blog. He urged me to come in to his company’s Sherman Oaks offices for a video interview.

I’ll confess it: I was flattered and tempted. The mere fact that he called to ask me to come in made me happy, though I have absolutely no intention of following up. Craig schmoozed me so well, said such nice and complimentary things, and seemed convinced to the depths of his soul that I might well be the one professor they were looking for; by the end of our chat, I felt as if I were personally letting him down by declining to come in. I have neither the time nor the desire to go through what would no doubt be a truly humbling and unpleasant audition process, and even if I were chosen (I can’t imagine that really happening), I don’t want to be on an island for a month away from my girlfriend, my mountain trails, and my chinchilla! (The superficiality factor was high: Craig asked if the pictures he found on my blog were accurate, how tall I was, and so forth. More sleazily, he asked if I was married, and was pleased when I said no. When I said I had a girlfriend, he said “Well, that’s okay.” One wonders.)

Yet I’d be lying through my teeth if I wrote that I didn’t spend a few delicious moments fantasizing about temporary fame and modest fortune! I don’t watch reality TV (except for two horrific episodes of I Want a Famous Face), but like so many folks in greater L.A., I’ve spent years alternately repelled and fascinated by what is generally called “the industry.” Part of me is curious about what it would be like at my age to go through the process of trying to get on a television show, but the better part of me knows that I ought to keep my distance. Still, for fifteen minutes yesterday afternoon, I mused idly about things I had never fantasized about before.

By all means, if any readers here meet the requirements, do apply and let me know what happens.

The marketplace and the “refusal to be a victim”

More rantage:

I posted Monday on women’s choices and male desire; I appreciate the many thoughtful comments. One aspect of the problem that I did not address was the role of the marketplace in prescribing and preferencing certain “choices” for women.

The fashion, cosmetic surgery and diet industries are multi-billion dollar businesses. Their profitability hinges on women’s “choices” to “consume” their products, be those products diet books or Botox. But given that those choices are usually expensive and frequently painful, women are not “choosing” for pleasure. Rather, they exercise their choices in an atmosphere of insecurity — an insecurity which advertising and popular culture relentlessly reinforce. It hardly bears repeating that our cultural ideal for women is that they be young, thin, and beautiful; it is biologically self-evident that no woman can ever be all three of these things for more than (at most) a fifth of her life-span! If every woman can be made to feel that she is “falling short” of the mark most of the time, then her consumer “choices” will be a major boost to the economy!

Of course, as it becomes more and more obvious that good looks play a critical role in the working world (and, perhaps, in academia), the notion that the pursuit of beauty and desireability is a free choice loses even more of its credibility. Attractiveness becomes as essential as a college degree — and often, over a lifetime, almost as costly! To choose not to play the game is to place oneself in genuine economic jeopardy. And as more and more women plan to be self-supporting over a lifetime (rather than relying on a male partner/husband), their viability as independent agents is contingent upon making the necessary “choices” to remain youthful and attractive.

At this point, some readers are surely saying, “But we’ve heard all this before.” I note that my students, for the most part, are tired of feminist professors who are relentlessly critical of the media and popular culture. By the time they hit college, most of them think of themselves as fairly astute cultural critics, far more “aware” than their aging instructors! My teens have grown up on Oprah and other talk-show mavens who regularly bemoan our cultural obsession with sexual desireability. They also haven’t failed to notice that the very shows and magazines that seek to reassure women that they are “okay just as they are” are sponsored by the beauty, fashion, and cosmetic surgery industries! My brightest students, as a result, tend to be highly cynical; they react to the information shared in class less with outrage than with resignation.

I have a theory about why so many of my students participate in a system that they know perfectly well is oppressive and exploitative. They absolutely loathe the notion of victimhood. The great mistake of Second Wave Feminism of the 1960s and 1970s was its reliance on the language of women’s collective victimhood. There was much in the work of that period that was of terrific value. But I note that most young women today find the idea that they are “victims” of men — or the media — to be tremendously disempowering. Popular culture, cleverly enough, has learned to play upon young women’s reluctance to identify their own exploitation. Instead, our popular culture flatters women with visions of their own independence and autonomy. “You’re not a victim”, the ads seem to say, “You are a strong and capable woman with a mind of her own who knows how to be successful and gorgeous all at the same time!” (Tangentially, one notes that rape crisis workers routinely disdain the word “victim” nowadays, preferring the more empowering “survivor”. That’s a whole other post).

For many of my young women, the word “angry” is almost synonymous with “victim”. They are extraordinarily anxious not to be seen as either of these! To be angry with the media, to be angry with men, is to admit that they have been hurt, and that they are increasingly reluctant to do. Traditionally, women were allowed far greater liberty than men to admit to emotional pain. But as women have moved into traditionally male spheres, I note that many have begun to adopt certain aspects of the male cult of imperviousness and silent endurance. To critique their sexualization and their exploitation is evidence of their own inability to compete successfully in the marketplace. To self-describe as a victim, these women believe, is to give evidence of one’s own failure. But to be an empowered, savvy young woman who is both an object of desire and an independent agent — that and that alone is real success!

What’s the upshot? The upshot is 18 year-olds in my classes in miniskirts, nervously tugging and adjusting themselves, absolutely insistent that their “choice” in attire was freely made, positively indignant when I suggest that they live in a system that is set up to exploit them. The upshot is 22 year-olds proudly sharing their stories of cosmetic surgery in their journals, arguing vociferously that the choice to enhance their breasts was “feminist, because feminism is about making women happy, and I’m happier with bigger breasts.”

And I gotta tell ya, it does make me question my own feminism when I — a 36 year-old man — find myself trying to convince young women half my age that they aren’t as autonomous and independent and liberated as they think they are! Something is wrong with this picture…

“I Want a Famous Face”

I hadn’t heard about the new MTV show “I Want a Famous Face” until Candace at Candied Ginger mentioned it. Last night, I watched a half hour episode of the show that introduces itself as follows:

How far would you go to look like a celebrity? Nose job here? Nip & tuck there? The people you are about to meet went that far and beyond. They have endured painful and sometimes risky reconstructive surgery to look like their favorite celebrity.

The subjects of this documentary series decided on their own to get plastic surgery. MTV then asked to document their journey. MTV did not pay for any surgery performed on these subjects.

(That’s what I love about MTV. Always claiming merely to be “documenting the journey”, rather than being the cultural cartographers who map out desirable destinations for millions of young adolescents. Talk about evading responsibility!)

Anyhow, last night’s episode revolved around a young Floridian named Jennette and her desire to look like her hero, actor Kate Winslet. Jennette (who had already had a gastric bypass operation that helped her lose more than 100 pounds prior to beginning taping) underwent breast implants and a massive tummy tuck in order to move her further towards her goal. The surgery was filmed, and was remarkably graphic. The episode followed Jennette through her post-op recovery period and finished with a scene of her posing as a swimsuit model on a beach.

I was raised on MTV. I was 14 when the network went on the air in 1981, and I can still name all the original VJs. (Yes, I had a crush on Martha Quinn — who didn’t?) I’ve always been struck by the seductiveness of the channel, with its remarkable confidence that it (more than any other media outlet) knows what today’s youth are thinking, fearing, desiring.

“I Want a Famous Face” was, in some sense, gripping. It’s hard not to be moved by what has become such a familiar narrative on MTV and in our society at large: the painful and arduous journey towards self-transformation. Jennette seemed like a sweet girl, and I found her quite sympathetic. But like most young folks on that journey, she repeats an old and familiar lie in this exchange captured on her webpage:

MTV: What would you say to teens reading this who are
thinking about getting elective plastic surgery?

JENNETTE: I do not think you should have plastic surgery unless you have a strong sense of self. You have to be OK with who you are and love yourself regardless of what you look like before you make changes to your body. Plastic surgery only changes the outside…and you will never be happy with the outside unless you love the inside. Plastic surgery is not an answer to happiness but rather a tool to help you achieve a goal.

As a scholar and sometime feminist, I know how dangerous it is to contradict what a woman — especially a young and vulnerable one — says is her “truth”. And yet, though I don’t know much about this gal from the Sunshine State, her words ring false to me. They ring false because I have heards words like them spoken countless times by young women who have done all sorts of terrible things to themselves, always reassuring those around them (and themselves) that they “love” themselves “regardless”, and that this (piercing, tattooing, breast augmentation, stomach stapling, eyelid surgery, collagen injection, botox — I can keep going –) is only “a tool to help reach a goal.” In this looks-obsessed culture, young people rarely have an accurate way of distinguishing their sense of their own worth from the perceptions that others have of them. We are communal creatures, we humans, pack animals all of us. And when we are young, our strongest sense of self-worth will always come from the affirmations of others. I can see my teenagers — both my students and my beloved church youth groupers — earnestly nodding their head as they listen to that astonishing string of cliches from Jennette. This is the contemporary (and nonsensical) cultural gospel: changing yourself in order to make yourself feel better about yourself is acceptable as long as you already love yourself. The sin lies in admitting that you don’t really love yourself; the sin lies in admitting that you aren’t autonomous and self-sufficient and all of those other things our culture tells young women they need to be.

I have no intention of watching another episode, as disturbingly seductive as it was. I worry deeply about how Jennette — whose naked body was on display throughout virtually the entire half hour, with only very small “blurry spots” to cover her nipples and vagina — will feel about this filming of her private journey twenty years from now, when she has (perhaps) a daughter of her own. I dislike the intense feeling of voyeurism I get as I watch shows like this. And of course, I loathe the show’s premise. I am not going to condemn those of my sisters (and brothers) who undergo surgery (I won’t use the overused verb “choose”, because I don’t think it’s accurate). My job as a teacher is to provoke some critical analysis of our cultural values; my job as a youth leader is to love and affirm vulnerable kids unconditionally, not for what they look like but for the precious spirit of life and of God that is found within them.