Sometimes I don't even know why I bother to watch TV anymore. The other day, I literally sat through an advertisement for a show about dwarfs who run a pitbull rescue organization. The head dwarf's name is Shorty. C'mon, son. It's the summer, though, and because I've been gainfully unemployed since my return from Espana, I've lapsed into turning on the 'set every now and again. I did that this past Sunday to disastrous results. Don't get me wrong. I love attractive, successful black men and I suppose the football player Chad Ochocinco is technically one of those. However, I do require that those same men not speak Ebonics and that they have some grasp on a language with an actual dictionary. Not so with Ochocinco in his new reality dating show, "The Ultimate Catch."
Better yet, I'd prefer if he didn't outsource his dating life to VH1 for a reality show. I mean I get it: how hot would it be to have a collection of hot singles hanging on your every last word? As I continued to watch the show, Heaven knows why, I found a few things interesting. Number 1: I don't buy this "I have no preference for a particular type of woman and anyway, people are too hung up on race" attitude that Ochocinco espouses. Out of 17 young girls, he picked 2 black women to be in his top 16 and the rest are mostly brunette white women. The man clearly has a preference and he should just own up to it. Issue number 2: what separates an attractive girl from her less attractive peers? I mean if we're gonna play this game of reverting back to the good ol' days when women existed merely for the benefit of men, can we at least establish a clear rulebook of how they need to look to do this? I've always been confused about what it is men find sexy. Clearly, the answer is that they like ALL types of women. Perhaps what I should really be asking is what is it that they find definitively unattractive? I've often heard guys talk about that "ugly chick" or that "fat girl" and then assumed that only absolute bombshells will suffice. But then I watch wonderful shows like this where the man picks both unequivocally beautiful girls as well as ones who look like they baked too long in the oven and my head starts spinning. And the real shocker is that he reacted to all of them, the pretties and the not-so-pretties, with the same enthusiasm.
Or maybe I should amend that: he DID show different levels of enthusiasm for each girl. As a matter of fact, he determined the ones he liked in a ranking system similar to one that you'd find in a March Madness bracket. This, to me, is even more tragic than Flavor Flav's show, the Bachelor or any other dreadful TV dating show. Not only are women assessed based on their looks, the number of times they make out with the main protagonist or how many bitch fests they get into with other women in their obligatory mansions. Here, the women are directly given a ranking, starting with 1-16 and paired up with another contestant so that they can be judged comparitively. Speaking of objectification in my prior post, I feel like this must be it. A man evaluating a woman, giving her a number according to his particular preference and then expecting those women to compete for his affection.....not too cute.
And it's really not too cute in 2010. The thing is, the minute I turned away from that show, I landed one of the many channels that routinely plays "Family Guy." I will admit, hands down, that some of the writing on that show is absolutely hilarious and brilliant. But there's definitely an undercurrent of disdain and agression towards women that's popular in a lot of male and/or masculine humor of a show like this. As if it wasn't sad enough to watch these treacherous looking women teeter on their heels as this man looked them up and down on VH1, here I am watching these shows with my mother as Peter says to Meg "You can't give up sex. You're what we call a 'Practice girl.'" Both my mother and I are Harvard educated women sitting in a room in the modern era with a Black President and our kind (aka womenfolk) are still being disparaged left and right.
I'm not such a wet blanket that I believe we should entirely abandon all elements of pop culture just to make sure no one's been offended.It's not enough, however, to simply say "shut off the tv if you don't like it." As long as someone's watching, whether it's me or your cousin Dan or any other random person, those things become filtered into our collective cultural conscience and affect they way we view and interact with one another.I would like to hear a strong argument from people who watch these shows without a critical about whether they'd want their future daughters to grow up with these subtle but omnipresent messages.Why can't I imagine a solid response? What's up with that?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Globalization and Objectification Pt. 2: Morocco
I love the times in life when you're handed lemons and you choose to go to Morocco. One such time came approximately 4 Fridays ago when I decided to participate in a tour of three Moroccan cities named Tanger, Tetuan and Chefchaouen for a weekend. After hours of bus and boat travel, I finally reached Africa. This was my second time in the Motherland. What I came to realize, though, was that this African nation was nothing like South Africa, which I had traveled to three years prior. In fact, the entire weekend I was there, I only saw about 3 other people with black skin. I was also made aware of the rarity of my visit and presence as a black American in Morocco by several people on my trip.
Thankfully, all of their comments and jokes were in good fun and never meant to harm me. But I did find it hilarious that our tour guide and his companion insisted on calling me their "Soul Sister" and that other men in the streets felt comfortable re-naming me "Mama Africa" and "Obama." The irony was priceless: I was being reminded that I'm black more openly in Africa than in any other place I've ever been. No this wasn't the Africa where people had been segregated into different castes with a system of separation and degradation. I wasn't in a post-Apartheid African country. I was just as much (if not more) an anomaly in Spanish-Arabic Morocco as I am living on the Upper West Side of New York City. And yet there was something playful about the black American and Arabic Moroccan dynamic that I encountered in those few days.
I had an extreme connection to them because the African continent is something that we, meaning myself and the Moroccan people, hold close to our hearts. However, we felt that way for very different reasons. For them, it's their homeland but we definitely don't share a racial identity. For me, merely being on African soil had an almost indescribable significance, as if I had returned to sites close to "home."
As I started thinking through my days and my time there, it really dawned on me that there are definitely some values and interests that are shared between Western and non-Western cultures. Morocco and the U.S. had similar, yet vastly different opinions of me: they both agree that I'm black and somehow an "other," but while Morocco celebrates that,the U.S. has yet to make up its mind about me. Similarly, the two countries share a bit of pop culture. My guide insisted that he be called Michael Douglas because he knew in his blessed heart that he was the actor’s doppelganger and said he was looking for his Catherine Zeta-Jones. The weekend was filled with similar antiquated pop culture references that would've been fitting 10 years ago and I was charmed by every last one of them.
It's really creepy and hilarious at the same time to think of two wildly different nations sharing some of the same cultural and racial images. Why is that wherever an American travels, she can't go long without being reminded of some element of U.S. life? Our American tentacles reach all corners of the globe, whether the women in that country are culturally and socially permitted to show their faces in public or not. Sure, they had to try to establish connections to us in order to make us feel comfortable in their environment and so that we'd be more inclined to buy one of their beautiful but overpriced rugs. But it strikes me as odd that in order for us to get on the same page, we harkened back to U.S. idols and delicious U.S. presidents( I do intend to be Mrs. Obama one day....sorry, Michelle) in order to feel each other out rather than Moroccan public figures. At the risk of sounding very naive, I'll ask this: why the hell do they know so much more about intrinsic parts of American culture (our racial schizophrenia, our utter OBSESSION with Michael Douglas, the list goes on....)while our only image of North Africa and of Arabic countries in general is either of war zones, burqas and Aladdin? Furthermore, how is it that no matter whether I travel to North Africa or stay in the U.S., the very fact of my existence is a constant source of curiosity to all those I encounter (as evidenced with silent stares or elated shouts of "Baila, baila, Morena!"= "Dance, dance, Black girl!" in Chef Chaouen)? More importantly, now that I've returned to the States, why should I be deprived of the pleasure of being called Mama Africa every 20 minutes? Life's really just so unfair. What's up with that?
Thankfully, all of their comments and jokes were in good fun and never meant to harm me. But I did find it hilarious that our tour guide and his companion insisted on calling me their "Soul Sister" and that other men in the streets felt comfortable re-naming me "Mama Africa" and "Obama." The irony was priceless: I was being reminded that I'm black more openly in Africa than in any other place I've ever been. No this wasn't the Africa where people had been segregated into different castes with a system of separation and degradation. I wasn't in a post-Apartheid African country. I was just as much (if not more) an anomaly in Spanish-Arabic Morocco as I am living on the Upper West Side of New York City. And yet there was something playful about the black American and Arabic Moroccan dynamic that I encountered in those few days.
I had an extreme connection to them because the African continent is something that we, meaning myself and the Moroccan people, hold close to our hearts. However, we felt that way for very different reasons. For them, it's their homeland but we definitely don't share a racial identity. For me, merely being on African soil had an almost indescribable significance, as if I had returned to sites close to "home."
As I started thinking through my days and my time there, it really dawned on me that there are definitely some values and interests that are shared between Western and non-Western cultures. Morocco and the U.S. had similar, yet vastly different opinions of me: they both agree that I'm black and somehow an "other," but while Morocco celebrates that,the U.S. has yet to make up its mind about me. Similarly, the two countries share a bit of pop culture. My guide insisted that he be called Michael Douglas because he knew in his blessed heart that he was the actor’s doppelganger and said he was looking for his Catherine Zeta-Jones. The weekend was filled with similar antiquated pop culture references that would've been fitting 10 years ago and I was charmed by every last one of them.
It's really creepy and hilarious at the same time to think of two wildly different nations sharing some of the same cultural and racial images. Why is that wherever an American travels, she can't go long without being reminded of some element of U.S. life? Our American tentacles reach all corners of the globe, whether the women in that country are culturally and socially permitted to show their faces in public or not. Sure, they had to try to establish connections to us in order to make us feel comfortable in their environment and so that we'd be more inclined to buy one of their beautiful but overpriced rugs. But it strikes me as odd that in order for us to get on the same page, we harkened back to U.S. idols and delicious U.S. presidents( I do intend to be Mrs. Obama one day....sorry, Michelle) in order to feel each other out rather than Moroccan public figures. At the risk of sounding very naive, I'll ask this: why the hell do they know so much more about intrinsic parts of American culture (our racial schizophrenia, our utter OBSESSION with Michael Douglas, the list goes on....)while our only image of North Africa and of Arabic countries in general is either of war zones, burqas and Aladdin? Furthermore, how is it that no matter whether I travel to North Africa or stay in the U.S., the very fact of my existence is a constant source of curiosity to all those I encounter (as evidenced with silent stares or elated shouts of "Baila, baila, Morena!"= "Dance, dance, Black girl!" in Chef Chaouen)? More importantly, now that I've returned to the States, why should I be deprived of the pleasure of being called Mama Africa every 20 minutes? Life's really just so unfair. What's up with that?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Globalization and Objectification Pt. 1: Spain
Primero: Viva Espana!! So happy that Spain won the World Cup! Now, on to more important matters. If you know me, you know that I’m not big on sports. Sure, I watch Yankees games with my Dad when I’m home, know basic rules to most sports and have played (bench warmer) on a few high school teams but you won’t find me seeking sports out in my day-to-day life. That’s why I find it incredibly funny that the first time I actually cared to know what was going in the sports world was when I spent this past June in Spain studying abroad for part of the summer. Generally, if I have any interest at all in a team or in a game it’s mostly because I want to know more about the players...you know, as people. I’ve generated several theories about these guys, especially one a few years ago about how Melky Cabrera and Robinson Canoe were secret gay lovers. And about how Jason Giambi was manic-depressive. And about why black basketball players only marry white women. But these are stories for another time. My main point is that the only way I’ve been able to get into sports in the past is by envisioning the life stories of those who played them. Not so in this case: I was only in it for pure “objectification” purposes.
What better way to celebrate the diversity of people on this planet then by seeking out the hottest soccer players from 32 teams around the globe? I mean there were dark ones, thin ones, ripped ones, short hair, braided hair, brown eyes, green eyes-- there was really just a lot of beauty to take in at once. Yes, sometimes I did want to know where the players were from and how they got to this point but, more importantly, I just wanted them to take their shirts off every now and again.
Let me take a step back, though. The reason I put the term “objectification” in quotes is because I hesitate to use that word as freely as other people tend to sometimes. Objectification is most definitely a real phenomenon but it doesn’t mean that something bad or dirty has happened every time someone appreciates another person’s body. For example, as I was sitting in a room with a group of Spanish men and American women watching the match between Spain and Honduras a few weeks ago,I looked over to the girls and said “I love objectifying men" with glee as if this was some type of revenge for all the women in the world who’ve been gawked and stared at throughout their lives. At the time I felt I was objectifying them by the very act of watching them run around and insisting in my own head that they were nothing more Adonises. Indeed,in my mind, I had done what men do to women all the time: I had turned them into desirable objects.
But question: isn’t our status as sexual beings a large part of what makes us human (and not inanimate)? We got here because our parents had sex. In fact, besides test tube babies, everyone on the planet who’s ever lived came as a result of sex. It’s not something to shy away from or think of as some nasty part of us. I don’t think that the mere act of appreciating the physical qualities of a man or woman constitutes as "objectification." It just seems like a term that is thrown around to loosely and that it waters down the potency of what it actually means to shape someone into a thing or a tool rather than a being.
To make this distinction a little bit clearer, let me use some real world examples. I spent a month in Spain and had more compliments thrown my way simply walking down the street than I ever have in my 20 years living in the US. Whether it was the the novelty of it or my general excitement to be living in a new place, I never felt as if I’d been turned into an object just because people were reacting to my presence. I was just being me, walking down the street and if someone cared to holler, that didn’t diminish my human value in anyway shape or form.
On the other hand, there are definite times when women (and sometimes men) are looked at purely as objects, and at these moments, objectification becomes a real issue. Video vixens, for example, act as if the only thing they live for is sex and pleasing men. No surprise here: that's their job. I'm not trying to pass a moral judgment on their professions but I am willing to say that they allow themselves to be portrayed as accessories for men's fantasies. None of these rappers seem to value what pleases these women or how they can work to mutually turn each other on. The women, like props, are in the background of the scenes to make the male leads seem extra capable and attractive. Whether the man looks like Rick Ross or Nelly, all women around them are (unrealistically) excited to be in the shot, just to be near a rap star. Whether the sexy scenario makes sense or not, there they are. The video girls in skimpy clothes are just dying to turn around and back that thang up for whoever can get them on TV.
In thinking about this term objectification, there are definitely many loopholes and subtleties that are difficult to discern but if I can try to illuminate it, I think this is it: when I watch teams of beautiful men doing what it is they love the most (i.e. playing soccer), it’s not designed so that I look upon them with lust. If it happens, that’s simply a byproduct. If instead they went out into the field and started flexing particular muscles to an all female and homosexual male crowd, then that’d be a different story. They would then be purposefully acting in a way that demonstrated that they knew how they were supposed to perform in order to excite other people. Likewise, if a man notices and comments on a woman's beauty with a "Que Bonita"without an expectation of her doing anything in return for the compliment,this is not objectification. If, on the other hand, he says, he whistles and says "Hey yo, Ma, can I talk to you for a second?" with an expectation that she walk over to him, that's, again, a different story.
There's room for us as sexual beings to notice and appreciate the beauty of others without looking at them purely as our playthings. Attraction is fun but using someone isn't. These are difficult topics to wrestle with and I wish I could be more clear. Why am I always looking for a clear cut, black and white explanation, though? What's up with that?
What better way to celebrate the diversity of people on this planet then by seeking out the hottest soccer players from 32 teams around the globe? I mean there were dark ones, thin ones, ripped ones, short hair, braided hair, brown eyes, green eyes-- there was really just a lot of beauty to take in at once. Yes, sometimes I did want to know where the players were from and how they got to this point but, more importantly, I just wanted them to take their shirts off every now and again.
Let me take a step back, though. The reason I put the term “objectification” in quotes is because I hesitate to use that word as freely as other people tend to sometimes. Objectification is most definitely a real phenomenon but it doesn’t mean that something bad or dirty has happened every time someone appreciates another person’s body. For example, as I was sitting in a room with a group of Spanish men and American women watching the match between Spain and Honduras a few weeks ago,I looked over to the girls and said “I love objectifying men" with glee as if this was some type of revenge for all the women in the world who’ve been gawked and stared at throughout their lives. At the time I felt I was objectifying them by the very act of watching them run around and insisting in my own head that they were nothing more Adonises. Indeed,in my mind, I had done what men do to women all the time: I had turned them into desirable objects.
But question: isn’t our status as sexual beings a large part of what makes us human (and not inanimate)? We got here because our parents had sex. In fact, besides test tube babies, everyone on the planet who’s ever lived came as a result of sex. It’s not something to shy away from or think of as some nasty part of us. I don’t think that the mere act of appreciating the physical qualities of a man or woman constitutes as "objectification." It just seems like a term that is thrown around to loosely and that it waters down the potency of what it actually means to shape someone into a thing or a tool rather than a being.
To make this distinction a little bit clearer, let me use some real world examples. I spent a month in Spain and had more compliments thrown my way simply walking down the street than I ever have in my 20 years living in the US. Whether it was the the novelty of it or my general excitement to be living in a new place, I never felt as if I’d been turned into an object just because people were reacting to my presence. I was just being me, walking down the street and if someone cared to holler, that didn’t diminish my human value in anyway shape or form.
On the other hand, there are definite times when women (and sometimes men) are looked at purely as objects, and at these moments, objectification becomes a real issue. Video vixens, for example, act as if the only thing they live for is sex and pleasing men. No surprise here: that's their job. I'm not trying to pass a moral judgment on their professions but I am willing to say that they allow themselves to be portrayed as accessories for men's fantasies. None of these rappers seem to value what pleases these women or how they can work to mutually turn each other on. The women, like props, are in the background of the scenes to make the male leads seem extra capable and attractive. Whether the man looks like Rick Ross or Nelly, all women around them are (unrealistically) excited to be in the shot, just to be near a rap star. Whether the sexy scenario makes sense or not, there they are. The video girls in skimpy clothes are just dying to turn around and back that thang up for whoever can get them on TV.
In thinking about this term objectification, there are definitely many loopholes and subtleties that are difficult to discern but if I can try to illuminate it, I think this is it: when I watch teams of beautiful men doing what it is they love the most (i.e. playing soccer), it’s not designed so that I look upon them with lust. If it happens, that’s simply a byproduct. If instead they went out into the field and started flexing particular muscles to an all female and homosexual male crowd, then that’d be a different story. They would then be purposefully acting in a way that demonstrated that they knew how they were supposed to perform in order to excite other people. Likewise, if a man notices and comments on a woman's beauty with a "Que Bonita"without an expectation of her doing anything in return for the compliment,this is not objectification. If, on the other hand, he says, he whistles and says "Hey yo, Ma, can I talk to you for a second?" with an expectation that she walk over to him, that's, again, a different story.
There's room for us as sexual beings to notice and appreciate the beauty of others without looking at them purely as our playthings. Attraction is fun but using someone isn't. These are difficult topics to wrestle with and I wish I could be more clear. Why am I always looking for a clear cut, black and white explanation, though? What's up with that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)