This is a thought in two parts. Part 1 came to me in the shower yesterday and part 2 arrived shortly after 8am this morning when I commenced my daily routine of getting showered and dressed to the sounds of the TODAY show on in the background (I live alone, I need the company). They are different parts of a whole that includes even more parts, pages and pages of parts, on a wide variety of subject matter, that all falls under the general category: criticism of an overly-electronic world (Or, the future of the U.S in a post-ipod era).
Part 1
I was in sixth grade when the O.J Simpson verdict was televised nationally. It is one of my most vivid elementary-school memories. I remember what I was wearing, what the room looked like-smelled like, I remember my mom was there (though I don't remember why), and I remember that it was one of those history making moments, those moments that freeze in time the way they do in the movies. It was epic, it was dramatic, it was...
It was a domestic abuse trial. It was a trial about violence. It was a trial about a man who murdered his ex-wife. It was a trial about a man who had gotten away with years and years of battery and assault because of who he was, who we wanted him to be, and now his wife and her friend had paid for it, and the whole world was watching. But at the time of the verdict, I knew none of this. Not because I had been shielded from it, or was too young to understand. Quite the contrary, I was both highly exposed to it (my stay-at-home mom was addicted to the trial coverage) and old enough to absorb and understand everything that was being said about it. I knew that O.J was black. I knew that the LAPD had a history of racial discrimination that was coming back to haunt them in a million, ugly ways. I knew that this was the trial of the century. I knew that an African-American hero was being disgraced and that it was another blow for racial equality. Those are the things that everyone talked about (those things and of course the real, crucial information like Marcia Clark's hairstyle, Kato Kaelin's rise to stardom and some other non-sense I'm thankful to have blocked out. Old habits die hard in the American media, it seems). What we knew of the case, of the trial, of O.J, of Nicole Brown, of Johnny Cochran, of isotoner gloves and louis vuitton luggage, was all told to us by cameras and voice overs, court TV experts and CNN analysts. It was all highly choreographed, planned and executed, and it wasn't until years later that I realized how much they were all leaving out.
About a decade after the Simpson trial ended I stumbled across an article written about it. bell hooks eloquently picked apart the politics behind the media coverage of the trial, identifying issues of gender and class privilege that were ignored by just about everyone. I was shocked. Not because I didn't believe the information in the article but because it occurred to me that all of us had been tactfully deceived. The media had drawn up a sensational, racialized narrative and for months and months we took it in as truth. fact. an absolute. The moment I put down the hooks reading was a defining moment for me. It was the moment that I really became critical of how many fallacies we are unknowingly accepting as a culture. I realized that the degree to and significance of our media exposure has exploded since the late nineties and the O.J media frenzy. "The Trial of the Century" marked only the beginning of the celebrity-obsessed, technology-dependent revolution that followed us into the 21st century.
The truth about O.J came to me in writing. It wasn't written in PDF or translated via someone's MySpace, but a real, tangible, textual document, the good-old fashioned kind you can rip apart, overly-highlight or crumple in the bottom of your backpack. Had I never READ about the trial, I probably would have retained the entire belief system that was generated by the media during the course of that landmark year in American justice. And the more I think about it, many truths of the world that had previously eluded me were revealed through reading. I've learned all sorts of things about women, politics, history and myself. I've learned to be skeptical of what I see and conscious of who is producing it. I've learned that my youthful ideas were shaped by suburban myths and legends that are somehow passed on through generations without anyone stopping to question them and find out the truth for themselves.
So I wonder, in a culture that is increasingly digital and decreasingly diverse in its output (didn't they already make this movie?) what will become of all of us? What will happen if we don't seek to expand our information consumption beyond the confines of network news, CNN.com and what's happening on Dancing with the Stars? What will we really know about anything? My guess is nothing. I anticipate that we'll all be walking, talking incarnations of advertising, reality television and apple electronics products who don't ever stop to analyze or critique themselves or the information around them. I worry about how young people will make crucial choices and exercise their voices when they've spent their entire formative experience in front of a computer monitor/television screen that more or less has told them what to think, wear and how to act. Our collective historical memory of the O.J Simpson trial (as a sensational, race-based, media-driven, national controversy) is a telling example of the social repercussion of our one-dimensional exposure to anything. It reveals our vulnerability and impressionability to the hypnotic imagery and information generated in the visual/technological realm. It suggests the consequences we face if we can't tune out the media and tune into the rest of the thoughtful, provocative, intellectual, expansive world.
Part 2
I don't know why I keep doing it. Every day I turn on the TV to provide a backdrop for my morning routine. 4 days out of 5 I regret it. I rarely catch the Today show visuals as I move from room to room in my house with the vague hum of voices in the background. On this particular morning I was in close hearing range as a segment was introduced: Are Americans getting dumber? Matt Lauer asked in his ever condescending-is that supposed to be endearing-tone. I bit the bait, I couldn't resist. As I watched the introduction to an interview with a woman who has written a "compelling" book about Americans becoming "dumber," I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Image after image of young, thin, attractive, blonde women came on the screen as Matt Lauer shrewdly examined the state of our collective national I.Q. I kept thinking that as the clip continued the images would diversify, but they didn't. They continued. Some of the women were famous, others vaguely familiar, some just random blonde women doing everyday things like grocery shopping and working out. When the segment cut back to the studio, I was so preoccupied with my disbelief about what had transpired, I couldn't even focus on the inane word exchange between the host and his guests. At a loss as to how I was going to articulate the feeling that had come over me to the people in my life that listen (my mom, my best friend, my australian shepherd), I did what any critically conscious viewer would do. I sent the following strongly worded email for the minions at the Today Show to read:
Dear Sir or Madame:
I am outraged. I just saw the segment about Susan Jacoby's new book that posed the question, "Are Americans Getting Dumber?" While I think it is a potentially provocative topic (particularly the way cultural inundation with technology affects the way we learn, spend our leisure time and raise our children), the imagery associated with the segment was astounding. The visual backdrop was exclusively female. The voice of criticism attacking our collective intelligence was read over image after image of young, thin, blonde women. Really? Are you putting such limited effort into production that the end result is a gender-biased, stereotype reinforcing hodgepodge of famous and vaguely recognizable women? I expect more from the number one nationally rated morning news show. I'd expect more from everyone. I understand the social risk that accompanies painting the picture of American stupidity in a particular way, which is why I can't understand why any well-minded, thoughtful producer or editor would send a segment to air that outlined our increasing "dumbness" in a one-dimensional way. Trust me, our culture doesn't need any more representations of stupidity in the form of young, attractive women in the media. Females of all ages and backgrounds are suffering enough from this phenomenon as it is. If I decide to put it on my TV again, I hope the next TODAY show segment I come across gives a broader visual definition of the topic it is addressing. That one was enough to drive me away forever.
Critical theorists and critical academics must have moments like this one all of the time. Watching media critique media while media continues to serve the same value-normative purpose it always does. While the voice of Matt Lauer questions the deterioration of our cultural intellect as a by-product of technological dependency, the images on the screen paint a perfect portrait of the problem the segment appears to address. The real danger of our over-exposure to mass media, especially in the absence of anything else, as a source for all kinds of information, is that it has a clever way of creating narrow definitions and limiting outlines of normalcy, truth and reality. Case in point: You get up in the morning and turn on the Today show to get your local news, weather and a taste of "what's going on in the world." You see a segment about how Americans are "getting dumber" and your visual reference is a bunch of thin, attractive blonde women. Yep, Jessica Simpson is dumb alright, you don't actually know her but you've seen her on TV enough to know what an idiot she is. Another stereotype reinforced, courtesy of the five corporations that own 80% of the U.S. media.
Maybe Jessica Simpson is a moron. And maybe it's important for Matt Lauer to question whether or not "America" is getting dumber. It is my suspicion however that Jessica Simpson (and thin, attractive blonde women everywhere) are dumb because that's how the media has constructed them, not to mention that the very idea of "America" being anything is preposterous. The notion of "America" itself is a product of the media imagination.
The point is two-fold (it's actually about a million-fold but I only have so much patience for this issue in any given sitting): While the O.J Simpson trial provides an example of the type of narratives of falsehood that can be generated and perpetuated by the media, the Today Show segment (under the guise of a provocative critique) illustrates the danger and prevalence of repetitive, discriminatory, reinforcing imagery from one-dimensional perspectives. The combination of these two issues creates an important consideration to take into account if ninety-percent of your daily information-intake is taken directly (or indirectly) from an electronic, mass-media source.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Strong Women(z)
A little over a year ago I was spent some quality time with 10 incredible teenagers at a good-old fashioned family picnic on an unusually coo, Fall day at UCLA. As we caught eachother up on the details of our lives over the past couple of months, we indulged in the finest of Smart and Final bulk-food fare. Among one of the highlights of the meal was the Smart and Final brand sports drink, furnished for our refreshment by the man who made all of the picnic purchases. Smart and Final is selling their overly-sugared version of Gatorade under brilliant marketing; It's called: Tough Guyz, and it features a cartoon white guy with an outrageously muscular build on the bottle. The brief history of this picnic is that it was a reunion of the courageous young people who let me and one of my best friends lead them deep into the Southern California wilderness the summer before, and who had all survived to be a little closer, a little stronger, and a little more conscious about the perils of gender inequity. Really now, what's the value of soaking up the majesty of nature and challenging your emotional and physical limits, if you can't learn a little about social justice on the way?
So as I drank in 200% of my recommended daily sugar value, I suggested to the group that we create a sports drink called Strong Womenz and sell it in all sorts of stores nationwide. Of course, we all enjoyed a good laugh as we tossed around potential advertising slogans and discussed the hilarious irony and cultural significance of our controversial new product. That was one of the most beautiful days of my adulthood (for many reasons) and as it ended that evening, my friend and I coined the phrase, "man I could really go for some strong womenz" for all of those times when our identity was in question (particularly in regards to our experience as women) and we needed a little emotional reinforcement.
In the months since the proverbial unveiling of my new sports drink, I've thirsted for the refreshment of feminine strength and resilience as I've come face to face with what it means to be me in a woman's body. Along the way, I've started to wonder about the unique experience of women, from all ages and backgrounds, who demonstrate the type of characteristics and behaviors that contradict their socially determined destiny. In the midst of a historic presidential campaign, run courageously by a woman who has risen above the gender normative criticism that has plagued her entire political career(not to mention countless other women in power), I wonder how and why the world is still having difficulty coping with women who don't fit the narrow female stereotype outlined in 1950s sitcoms, and how those of us who belong to this category are supposed to situate ourselves in a culture that is not yet prepared to embrace the beauty of strong women(z).
In late November, I met a group of 11 sixth grade girls who had come up on their school retreat to the outdoor education school where I was working. Resigned to leaving my job in a matter of weeks, and more or less burned out on the monotony of my professional routine, I had low expectations going into my week as surrogate mother for eleven and twelve year olds. And while I have been known to provoke a discussion or two with the young people in my life about issues I wish an adult had asked my opinion about when I was growing up, I had no idea what I was getting into with these brilliant young women. We had lengthy conversations about rare and racist representations of minorities in the media. We talked about unrealistic standards of female beauty and the differences in the social and academic expectations of boys and girls at their age and beyond. What emerged most consistently, and most saliently, was a common struggle these young women (who ranged in race, wealth and experience) were facing in their gendered lives: How to be accepted in their homes, their classrooms and among their peers as independent, opinionated, thoughtful females. One of the young women shared her angst and frustration with constantly being reprimanded at school for behaviors that "boys just get away with." I had never heard such a young mind so clearly articulate a personal injustice as when she expressed that, "my teachers don't want me to be loud or opinionated because I'm a girl." There she was, 11 years old, keenly aware of the rules that govern the lives of women in a culture outlined by binary gender definitions. I realized that the conflict associated with being a counter-normative woman was much broader than the adult, affluent, educated, white universe I inhabited.
I'm not even sure what series of observations and analyses led this brave and spirited young woman to her conclusion, but as she revealed anecdote after anecdote of supporting evidence, I realized that she is one of the lucky ones. She, who has the unusual ability to critique authority and to challenge convention with confidence and self-assurance, she who has the privilege to know herself and explore herself, she is unusual in both circumstance and expression. So what of young women, or any women for that matter, who don't have the space or social/emotional/intellectual resources to interpret and understand their plight as females and instead internalize their experiences as a personal shortcoming? My assumption is that those women who don't question or reject the expectations their teachers, employers, parents, friends, etc. have laid out for them (the way my brilliant sixth grader does) resign to them at some point, accept them and adapt to them. And there's no judgement in that from me. It's the way of the world. We do what we think is "right" and we behave the way we "should" behave in the situations we routinely encounter. And in turn, the expectations remain the same, and our reaction to them is predictable and consistent, and the entire cycle is self-sustaining. The truth is, most people (men and women) think of these expectations (and their behavioral counterparts) as naturally occurring phenomena as dependable as gravity and the orbit of the earth.
My point is that those of us (my heroic sixth grader, most of my close female friends, Hillary Clinton, and all of the millions other women on this patriarchal planet) who don't closely resemble the status quo are reliving the same head-on collision with the set of values that dictates gender roles every minute of our lives. What's even worse, the world seems more or less either unaware of, or not concerned with its social implications. I've had boyfriends, bosses and best friends who think I'm crazy, annoying and/or threatening for being opinionated, independent and existing outside of the female framework. Since I was young, I've heard the terms bitch and ball-cutter(referring to the metaphorical removal of a man's testicles, which of course are naturally tied to power and authority) ascribed to women who are assertive decision-makers and heads of their households. I wake up everyday in the wealthiest, most technologically advanced nation in the world, and still can't be taken for anything more than a cultural mutant because of who I am: at work, home, school, in public, etc.
What I'm most concerned about has nothing to do with my own day to day experience or the fact that my mom swears that I'll "never find a man to marry me." My concern is how women can grow to love themselves, appreciate themselves and exercise who they are in a culture that tells them they are abnormal, abrasive, misbehaved or otherwise contrary to what they "should" (there's that word again) be. My concern is that women will never find equality, security, or the presidency as long as they are held back by a restrictive definition of who they should be; one that inhibits the expression of their strength, and limits the way their identity can be displayed. Sure it's ok to be a "strong mother" or even a "strong athlete" or "strong reader" (and even in those we've come a long way), but where is the space for women who are in-your-face confrontational, the type of person who gets noticed, the girl in the classroom who demands to be heard? How do we give women the permission to be who we are when teachers, mothers, role models are guilty of buying into the formula that shapes who females are allowed to be without social objection. Even I'm guilty of it: I ask little boys at my summer camp to show me their muscles as I unconsciously turn to their female counterpart with a compliment about her "pretty shoes." But then I catch myself. I remember that there was a time when I too had pretty shoes, a quiet voice (and a clean mouth), and things were easy for me. Years before my boss rolled his eyes at me and men found me intimidating, my teachers adored me and boys thought I was cute.
I don't mean to suggest that women who portray a particular type of strength are the only women capable of creating change, leading the world or otherwise making an impact on this life as we know it. In fact, I intend to challenge the very idea that being loud, assertive, independent, powerful or any other way should exist on the margins of female identity. I hope to promote a space where all variations of self-expression fall on the spectrum of socially acceptable; the point being to broaden the definition of feminine strength, not narrow it. We will all be better off in a culture of women who are their fullest selves.
And if all of this sounds like nothing more than a pre-menstrual/post fight with my boyfriend rant to you(I assure you I am neither pre-menstrual or in a relationship), I invite you to conduct an experiment of your own. Spend a week recording the following: 1: your personal reactions to different behaviors exhibited by women you encounter in your everyday life, women you know well, women you live with, women you happen to run into in public space, etc. and 2: The portrayal of different women in the media; actual women, fictitious women, the women who represent the new cultural hybrid of real/imaginary (see MTV's "The Hills"). At the end of the week, take an investigative look at the way power and strength function in both the production, and your own understanding, of female identity. Who knows, maybe at the end of it, you'll need to be replenished by your own bottle of Strong Womenz.
So as I drank in 200% of my recommended daily sugar value, I suggested to the group that we create a sports drink called Strong Womenz and sell it in all sorts of stores nationwide. Of course, we all enjoyed a good laugh as we tossed around potential advertising slogans and discussed the hilarious irony and cultural significance of our controversial new product. That was one of the most beautiful days of my adulthood (for many reasons) and as it ended that evening, my friend and I coined the phrase, "man I could really go for some strong womenz" for all of those times when our identity was in question (particularly in regards to our experience as women) and we needed a little emotional reinforcement.
In the months since the proverbial unveiling of my new sports drink, I've thirsted for the refreshment of feminine strength and resilience as I've come face to face with what it means to be me in a woman's body. Along the way, I've started to wonder about the unique experience of women, from all ages and backgrounds, who demonstrate the type of characteristics and behaviors that contradict their socially determined destiny. In the midst of a historic presidential campaign, run courageously by a woman who has risen above the gender normative criticism that has plagued her entire political career(not to mention countless other women in power), I wonder how and why the world is still having difficulty coping with women who don't fit the narrow female stereotype outlined in 1950s sitcoms, and how those of us who belong to this category are supposed to situate ourselves in a culture that is not yet prepared to embrace the beauty of strong women(z).
In late November, I met a group of 11 sixth grade girls who had come up on their school retreat to the outdoor education school where I was working. Resigned to leaving my job in a matter of weeks, and more or less burned out on the monotony of my professional routine, I had low expectations going into my week as surrogate mother for eleven and twelve year olds. And while I have been known to provoke a discussion or two with the young people in my life about issues I wish an adult had asked my opinion about when I was growing up, I had no idea what I was getting into with these brilliant young women. We had lengthy conversations about rare and racist representations of minorities in the media. We talked about unrealistic standards of female beauty and the differences in the social and academic expectations of boys and girls at their age and beyond. What emerged most consistently, and most saliently, was a common struggle these young women (who ranged in race, wealth and experience) were facing in their gendered lives: How to be accepted in their homes, their classrooms and among their peers as independent, opinionated, thoughtful females. One of the young women shared her angst and frustration with constantly being reprimanded at school for behaviors that "boys just get away with." I had never heard such a young mind so clearly articulate a personal injustice as when she expressed that, "my teachers don't want me to be loud or opinionated because I'm a girl." There she was, 11 years old, keenly aware of the rules that govern the lives of women in a culture outlined by binary gender definitions. I realized that the conflict associated with being a counter-normative woman was much broader than the adult, affluent, educated, white universe I inhabited.
I'm not even sure what series of observations and analyses led this brave and spirited young woman to her conclusion, but as she revealed anecdote after anecdote of supporting evidence, I realized that she is one of the lucky ones. She, who has the unusual ability to critique authority and to challenge convention with confidence and self-assurance, she who has the privilege to know herself and explore herself, she is unusual in both circumstance and expression. So what of young women, or any women for that matter, who don't have the space or social/emotional/intellectual resources to interpret and understand their plight as females and instead internalize their experiences as a personal shortcoming? My assumption is that those women who don't question or reject the expectations their teachers, employers, parents, friends, etc. have laid out for them (the way my brilliant sixth grader does) resign to them at some point, accept them and adapt to them. And there's no judgement in that from me. It's the way of the world. We do what we think is "right" and we behave the way we "should" behave in the situations we routinely encounter. And in turn, the expectations remain the same, and our reaction to them is predictable and consistent, and the entire cycle is self-sustaining. The truth is, most people (men and women) think of these expectations (and their behavioral counterparts) as naturally occurring phenomena as dependable as gravity and the orbit of the earth.
My point is that those of us (my heroic sixth grader, most of my close female friends, Hillary Clinton, and all of the millions other women on this patriarchal planet) who don't closely resemble the status quo are reliving the same head-on collision with the set of values that dictates gender roles every minute of our lives. What's even worse, the world seems more or less either unaware of, or not concerned with its social implications. I've had boyfriends, bosses and best friends who think I'm crazy, annoying and/or threatening for being opinionated, independent and existing outside of the female framework. Since I was young, I've heard the terms bitch and ball-cutter(referring to the metaphorical removal of a man's testicles, which of course are naturally tied to power and authority) ascribed to women who are assertive decision-makers and heads of their households. I wake up everyday in the wealthiest, most technologically advanced nation in the world, and still can't be taken for anything more than a cultural mutant because of who I am: at work, home, school, in public, etc.
What I'm most concerned about has nothing to do with my own day to day experience or the fact that my mom swears that I'll "never find a man to marry me." My concern is how women can grow to love themselves, appreciate themselves and exercise who they are in a culture that tells them they are abnormal, abrasive, misbehaved or otherwise contrary to what they "should" (there's that word again) be. My concern is that women will never find equality, security, or the presidency as long as they are held back by a restrictive definition of who they should be; one that inhibits the expression of their strength, and limits the way their identity can be displayed. Sure it's ok to be a "strong mother" or even a "strong athlete" or "strong reader" (and even in those we've come a long way), but where is the space for women who are in-your-face confrontational, the type of person who gets noticed, the girl in the classroom who demands to be heard? How do we give women the permission to be who we are when teachers, mothers, role models are guilty of buying into the formula that shapes who females are allowed to be without social objection. Even I'm guilty of it: I ask little boys at my summer camp to show me their muscles as I unconsciously turn to their female counterpart with a compliment about her "pretty shoes." But then I catch myself. I remember that there was a time when I too had pretty shoes, a quiet voice (and a clean mouth), and things were easy for me. Years before my boss rolled his eyes at me and men found me intimidating, my teachers adored me and boys thought I was cute.
I don't mean to suggest that women who portray a particular type of strength are the only women capable of creating change, leading the world or otherwise making an impact on this life as we know it. In fact, I intend to challenge the very idea that being loud, assertive, independent, powerful or any other way should exist on the margins of female identity. I hope to promote a space where all variations of self-expression fall on the spectrum of socially acceptable; the point being to broaden the definition of feminine strength, not narrow it. We will all be better off in a culture of women who are their fullest selves.
And if all of this sounds like nothing more than a pre-menstrual/post fight with my boyfriend rant to you(I assure you I am neither pre-menstrual or in a relationship), I invite you to conduct an experiment of your own. Spend a week recording the following: 1: your personal reactions to different behaviors exhibited by women you encounter in your everyday life, women you know well, women you live with, women you happen to run into in public space, etc. and 2: The portrayal of different women in the media; actual women, fictitious women, the women who represent the new cultural hybrid of real/imaginary (see MTV's "The Hills"). At the end of the week, take an investigative look at the way power and strength function in both the production, and your own understanding, of female identity. Who knows, maybe at the end of it, you'll need to be replenished by your own bottle of Strong Womenz.
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