A couple summers ago, I was one of the most wretched humans this world has ever seen. I wasted what could have been a great summer by taking out my anxieties about my upcoming my college career on my family. At that time, very few things soothed me. One of those things, though, was music by a singer named Adele, a young British songstress who has risen to stardom internationally over the past few years. “Crazy for You” and “Best for Last” were the songs that got me through Summer 2008. Now, two years later, I continue to adore her music but I’ve always wondered one thing about Adele: why does she sit in almost all of her music videos?
In the videos for “Chasing Pavements,” “Make You Feel My Love,” “Rolling in the Deep,” “Cold Shoulder,” and “Hometown Glory,” Adele is seated in a chair while a story (acted out by other people) unfolds around her. Her music videos all express a type of confinement that seems unnatural given the types of songs she writes. She’s only 22 and she happens to be perfectly able of walking and moving. While not everyone her age enjoys that privilege, she does. It makes little sense for her to sit, then, as if she cannot use both her voice and her body to convey her messages like most other singers do nowadays.
Her songs are definitely not dance songs and I don’t expect Britney’s “I’m a Slave 4 U” moves to pop up on the screen when I’m watching Adele sing “Chasing Pavements.” I guess I just find it interesting that, unlike her counterparts both in age and musical style (think Amy Winehouse, Duffy, etc.), she never has the opportunity to move around in her videos. To me, mobility represents not only a certain type of (physical) freedom but also the capacity to express oneself.
Maybe I’ve been wrongly indoctrinated with the notion that singers must be mobile in their videos in order to fit into the canon of a typical music video and this might be problematic in and of itself. The thing that’s interesting to me about Adele’s case, though, is that even if that standard about motion is inherently wrong, she is still treated particularly problematically within that unfair paradigm. One of the main things that distinguishes her from all of these other women is her weight. At a US size 14-16, she is not the stereotypical size 0-4 singer who is allowed to walk or dance or even stand in her music videos.
While I am sure Adele does what she finds comfortable and may be designing videos this way because it suits her taste, it’s distressing that her videos have the potential to reinforce the notion that being fuller means you are limited in your capacities to express yourself physically. In the same way that she constantly wears big layers of black clothing to cover up her body, she also hides herself allowing actors in the video to communicate her messages on her behalf in her videos. I see her literal confinement to a chair as a sort of figurative confinement of female bodies: if a woman’s body is bigger than the industry standard, it must remain still and as unnoticeable as possible.
Why would a woman with lyrics as powerful as “think of me in the depths of your despair” and "you were just the filler in the space that happened to be free" be confined to a music video life spent in pretty wooden chairs simply because of her "plus-size" frame? Furthermore, why do recent media and advertising endeavors like the Dove “Love Your Body” campaign pretend that there is size acceptance in our society when women with actual curves feel the need to use multiple methods to cover themselves on a regular basis? There’s no need for Adele to rock a string bikini in order to get her messages across but it'd be nice if she could fully participate in her own music videos. My main question, then, is this: why can’t a curvy woman use her body to express herself, too? What’s up with that?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Don't Hate Me 'Cause I'm Beautiful
While I spent the past 72 hours writing a paper about the Native American war effort in the World War II, the only, and I mean ONLY, thing that kept me going was Keri Hilson’s video for her song “Pretty Girl Rock.” I mean that and the fact that I had a deadline. Anyway, I must have watched the video roughly twenty times at this point and given the fact that it’s a little over four minutes long, I’d say I’ve spent approximately 116 minutes (that’s like 2 hours for those who are counting) watching this fabulous clip.
In the video, Keri Hilson embodies famous black female figures over the past century. In the 30’s she’s Josephine Baker, in the 40's she's a Dorothy Dandridge type, in the 50’s she’s a Candy Girl ,in the 60’s she’s Diana Ross with The Supremes, in the 70’s she’s either Dina Ross sans the Supremes or maybe she’s Donna Summer, in the 80’s she’s Janet Jackson in her infamous “Rhythm Nation” video, in the 90’s she’s T-Boz from TLC in their “Creep” video, and in the 00’s she’s herself in a t-shirt and jeans. Now tacky as the concept is, it works for me for some reason. Maybe it’s because she fully inhabits the women she imitates or because I have fun trying to discern which female figure she’s embodying at any given moment. Whatever the reason, it’s definitely my new jam.
Actually, I think I do know the reason I adore this song/video so much: the lyrics fit in with a history of black empowerment and the visuals add a unique twist to that notion. If I could list my top three favorite lines in this song, I’d go with the following: “Don’t hate me cause I’m beautiful” (which can either mean "don't be jealous of my beauty" or "don't hate me and,if you try, I'm confident enough not to worry about it"), “Mad cause I’m cuter than the girl that’s with ya” and “all eyes on me when I walk in, no question that this girl’s a 10.” A close fourth might be the line “I know I’m attractive.” Now, normally arrogance is NOT cute but there’s something a little different about this song.
Here we have an attractive black woman not only affirming that she’s beautiful but reveling in it, laughing at it and mocking the fact she ought not be so boastful about it. Furthermore, she’s not saying she’s the first of her kind: as she shifts from one beautiful black woman to the next, she gives a little history lesson, and reminder that our society has encountered black female beauty before and that it’s done so with relish.
Watching this video over and over again reminded me of a talk I went to earlier this semester about Beyonce and Lady Gaga. Yes, Harvard does have a few fun things to offer me every once in a while. On this particular night, the question of the night was whether these two women represented the new faces of feminism. Students were quick to agree that there was an inner feminist in Lady Gaga. As I’ve mentioned before in an earlier post, they all noted that Lady Gaga was a feminist because of her ability to mess with all the rules of proper lady-like etiquette. With this, I wholeheartedly agree.
They all also agreed that in the “Telephone” and “Video Phone” videos, there was nothing particularly feminist about Beyonce’s performance. My heart almost popped out of my chest: I thought I’d finally found people who dug pop culture and who understand it the way I do but I was wrong. If you’ve ever seen the “Telephone” video in which Beyonce poisons her abusive boyfriend or the “Video Phone” video in which men’s heads are transformed into cameras (i.e. in which they embody the problems of Laura Mulvey’s “female gaze”), you might find at least an inkling of feminism in her performance. If these things aren’t the modern, extremist equivalents of bra-burning, I don’t know what is. I’m not directly saying that women should go out and poison those who treat them wrong or that they should look at men as perpetual objectifiers of women…..but those are options.
In any event, the students’ responses during this event frustrated me because I felt they tried to apply the same standards to black and white women and that simply can’t, I mean CANNOT, be done. Black and white women have two very different legacies in American history. While it’s definitely feminist (read: critical of the gender status quo) of Lady Gaga to defy the logic of how blonde artists ought to behave, we have to recognize that she has the flexibility to be a weirdo (and one I adore) because of the fact that she’s white. White women are already assumed to be attractive in Western society. Black women, on the other hand, are still in the position of trying to get their foot in the door on this front. While Hilson notes several famous examples, not enough people have given black women’s beauty due credit overall. Beyonce’s music and her presence as an undeniable sex symbol represents a sort of feminist progress for black women: she invites everyone to consider that black not only can be beautiful but that it IS beautiful.
This message has been lost on plenty of people,though, black men included. Go to any Harvard party on a Saturday night and you’re sure to see every last white girl at a black party pinned up against some black man whether she’s average-looking, elephantine or busted, rusted and disgusted. Beyonce and Keri Hilson, albeit in a pop, silly fashion, de-constructs the notion that being white and female is the only way someone could do the “Pretty Girl Rock.” What’s sad is that it’s taken so long for this to be a popular message that people can rock out to. Or at least one that I can listen to non-stop during reading period. Why aren’t there more songs about how pretty brown skin is? Have we become complacent about reinterating this message since the Civil Rights era has ended? What’s up with that?
In the video, Keri Hilson embodies famous black female figures over the past century. In the 30’s she’s Josephine Baker, in the 40's she's a Dorothy Dandridge type, in the 50’s she’s a Candy Girl ,in the 60’s she’s Diana Ross with The Supremes, in the 70’s she’s either Dina Ross sans the Supremes or maybe she’s Donna Summer, in the 80’s she’s Janet Jackson in her infamous “Rhythm Nation” video, in the 90’s she’s T-Boz from TLC in their “Creep” video, and in the 00’s she’s herself in a t-shirt and jeans. Now tacky as the concept is, it works for me for some reason. Maybe it’s because she fully inhabits the women she imitates or because I have fun trying to discern which female figure she’s embodying at any given moment. Whatever the reason, it’s definitely my new jam.
Actually, I think I do know the reason I adore this song/video so much: the lyrics fit in with a history of black empowerment and the visuals add a unique twist to that notion. If I could list my top three favorite lines in this song, I’d go with the following: “Don’t hate me cause I’m beautiful” (which can either mean "don't be jealous of my beauty" or "don't hate me and,if you try, I'm confident enough not to worry about it"), “Mad cause I’m cuter than the girl that’s with ya” and “all eyes on me when I walk in, no question that this girl’s a 10.” A close fourth might be the line “I know I’m attractive.” Now, normally arrogance is NOT cute but there’s something a little different about this song.
Here we have an attractive black woman not only affirming that she’s beautiful but reveling in it, laughing at it and mocking the fact she ought not be so boastful about it. Furthermore, she’s not saying she’s the first of her kind: as she shifts from one beautiful black woman to the next, she gives a little history lesson, and reminder that our society has encountered black female beauty before and that it’s done so with relish.
Watching this video over and over again reminded me of a talk I went to earlier this semester about Beyonce and Lady Gaga. Yes, Harvard does have a few fun things to offer me every once in a while. On this particular night, the question of the night was whether these two women represented the new faces of feminism. Students were quick to agree that there was an inner feminist in Lady Gaga. As I’ve mentioned before in an earlier post, they all noted that Lady Gaga was a feminist because of her ability to mess with all the rules of proper lady-like etiquette. With this, I wholeheartedly agree.
They all also agreed that in the “Telephone” and “Video Phone” videos, there was nothing particularly feminist about Beyonce’s performance. My heart almost popped out of my chest: I thought I’d finally found people who dug pop culture and who understand it the way I do but I was wrong. If you’ve ever seen the “Telephone” video in which Beyonce poisons her abusive boyfriend or the “Video Phone” video in which men’s heads are transformed into cameras (i.e. in which they embody the problems of Laura Mulvey’s “female gaze”), you might find at least an inkling of feminism in her performance. If these things aren’t the modern, extremist equivalents of bra-burning, I don’t know what is. I’m not directly saying that women should go out and poison those who treat them wrong or that they should look at men as perpetual objectifiers of women…..but those are options.
In any event, the students’ responses during this event frustrated me because I felt they tried to apply the same standards to black and white women and that simply can’t, I mean CANNOT, be done. Black and white women have two very different legacies in American history. While it’s definitely feminist (read: critical of the gender status quo) of Lady Gaga to defy the logic of how blonde artists ought to behave, we have to recognize that she has the flexibility to be a weirdo (and one I adore) because of the fact that she’s white. White women are already assumed to be attractive in Western society. Black women, on the other hand, are still in the position of trying to get their foot in the door on this front. While Hilson notes several famous examples, not enough people have given black women’s beauty due credit overall. Beyonce’s music and her presence as an undeniable sex symbol represents a sort of feminist progress for black women: she invites everyone to consider that black not only can be beautiful but that it IS beautiful.
This message has been lost on plenty of people,though, black men included. Go to any Harvard party on a Saturday night and you’re sure to see every last white girl at a black party pinned up against some black man whether she’s average-looking, elephantine or busted, rusted and disgusted. Beyonce and Keri Hilson, albeit in a pop, silly fashion, de-constructs the notion that being white and female is the only way someone could do the “Pretty Girl Rock.” What’s sad is that it’s taken so long for this to be a popular message that people can rock out to. Or at least one that I can listen to non-stop during reading period. Why aren’t there more songs about how pretty brown skin is? Have we become complacent about reinterating this message since the Civil Rights era has ended? What’s up with that?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Dog Days Are Over
As I sat, wolfing down stuffing at Thanksgiving dinner, my uncle, a Harvard alum and self-professed Crimson fanatic, turned to me and asked "Susie, when you go abroad, what will you miss the most about Harvard?" My answer? "Nothing." Shocked and appalled, he asked "You're not gonna miss anything?!" I said, "My friends. But beyond that, nothing." Normally, I try to be polite because that's how my parents raised me but at that moment I truly felt honesty was the best policy.
After the semester I've had, I've spent many hours contemplating how disappointed and angry parents would be should I drop out of college, find a husband, have a baby and set up a small but lucrative cookie shop on the boardwalk of Venice Beach in California. The funny thing, though, is that while I've had all these fantasies of escape, I found one particular movie (which is a film adaptation of a best-selling book), Eat Pray Love, completely repulsive.
Well, to be fair, over the holiday I tried to watch it but I only got about 15 minutes in. So I can only safely speak about the quarter hour that I saw and my disdain while watching it. Julia Roberts plays a woman who is bored with her life and so, in her late 30's, she decides to drop everything and spend a year in Italy, India and Bali.
Now, while this part of the film does offer the important feminist message that women shouldn't stay in relationships they aren't happy with, the explanation of her unhappiness seems silly. Her husband tells her that he wants to go back to school for a Master's in Education and poor Julia can't take it. "A man who wants to educate himself to learn how to educate others? How disgusting!" Since this is my blog and I'm allowed to state my opinions I will go ahead a say it: you shouldn't divorce a spouse purely because he or she wants to get a Master's degree.
Luckily enough, the film doesn't entirely suggest that the reason she's mad is because he won't be able to provide financially for her. It doesn't imply, as a film from the 1950's might, that his re-education process would be problematic because she, as a woman, would be forced to be the breadwinner. That is one possible interpretation, though, of the cause of her anger: that she would have to assume a man's role and be a provide while he broke husband got his degree. The film teeters on these perilous lines of gender essentialism and it also plays up racial stereotypes in which brown, third world individuals share their ever-present, ever-exotic wisdom with her. In one review of the film, the critic referred to the original book as "privilege literature" which captures the messages of this movie perfectly.
I say all of this by way of unpacking the reasons why I thought this specific movie problematically explored the nature of personal escape. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm all for taking breaks when you need to. I, for example, am also about to embark on a break while I study at Oxford University for the spring semester. While that sounds like the definition of privilege (and it is), I hope I'm not as not racist and classist about my experience Roberts' character was in that movie. I hope that I can use the time not as a vacation to reward myself but as a reflection period. I hope that it isn't a time I use to avoid boredom or to give myself something new to do. Like Julia, "I want to marvel at something" but I don't wanna do it with the same flat, boring expression that she did. And I don't expect an Indian men to read my palms to tell me what's gonna happen in my future, either.
I guess the biggest reason that I look forward to this break from Harvard is that it will allow me to gain perspective on the things that have happened to me here and that it will allow me to see how else I can exist in the world. After a semester which involved visiting people in hospitals, encountering loved ones' illnesses left and right, moving out of my room and into a another one because of a problematic living situation and losing friends in the process, enduring mistreatment at the hands of multiple men on campus, adding two incredibly stressful and time consuming extra-curriculars to my schedule and taking on an extremely demanding course load, I'm done with Harvard for the time being.
While we can't all be 39-year-old upper middle class white women with the flexibility to travel to multiple countries in search of inner selves, maybe Julia Roberts' character can offer one important bit of advice: we all need to find a way to take pauses in our lives to think about where we've been, where we are and where we hope to go. Whether we study abroad, travel often, write, listen to music, exercise, pray or hang out with loved ones, we need healthy ways to escape our routine and to try to feel whole. Why is it so hard for us to give ourselves these breaks, though, and why do we always make excuses for finding personal stability? What's up with that?
After the semester I've had, I've spent many hours contemplating how disappointed and angry parents would be should I drop out of college, find a husband, have a baby and set up a small but lucrative cookie shop on the boardwalk of Venice Beach in California. The funny thing, though, is that while I've had all these fantasies of escape, I found one particular movie (which is a film adaptation of a best-selling book), Eat Pray Love, completely repulsive.
Well, to be fair, over the holiday I tried to watch it but I only got about 15 minutes in. So I can only safely speak about the quarter hour that I saw and my disdain while watching it. Julia Roberts plays a woman who is bored with her life and so, in her late 30's, she decides to drop everything and spend a year in Italy, India and Bali.
Now, while this part of the film does offer the important feminist message that women shouldn't stay in relationships they aren't happy with, the explanation of her unhappiness seems silly. Her husband tells her that he wants to go back to school for a Master's in Education and poor Julia can't take it. "A man who wants to educate himself to learn how to educate others? How disgusting!" Since this is my blog and I'm allowed to state my opinions I will go ahead a say it: you shouldn't divorce a spouse purely because he or she wants to get a Master's degree.
Luckily enough, the film doesn't entirely suggest that the reason she's mad is because he won't be able to provide financially for her. It doesn't imply, as a film from the 1950's might, that his re-education process would be problematic because she, as a woman, would be forced to be the breadwinner. That is one possible interpretation, though, of the cause of her anger: that she would have to assume a man's role and be a provide while he broke husband got his degree. The film teeters on these perilous lines of gender essentialism and it also plays up racial stereotypes in which brown, third world individuals share their ever-present, ever-exotic wisdom with her. In one review of the film, the critic referred to the original book as "privilege literature" which captures the messages of this movie perfectly.
I say all of this by way of unpacking the reasons why I thought this specific movie problematically explored the nature of personal escape. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm all for taking breaks when you need to. I, for example, am also about to embark on a break while I study at Oxford University for the spring semester. While that sounds like the definition of privilege (and it is), I hope I'm not as not racist and classist about my experience Roberts' character was in that movie. I hope that I can use the time not as a vacation to reward myself but as a reflection period. I hope that it isn't a time I use to avoid boredom or to give myself something new to do. Like Julia, "I want to marvel at something" but I don't wanna do it with the same flat, boring expression that she did. And I don't expect an Indian men to read my palms to tell me what's gonna happen in my future, either.
I guess the biggest reason that I look forward to this break from Harvard is that it will allow me to gain perspective on the things that have happened to me here and that it will allow me to see how else I can exist in the world. After a semester which involved visiting people in hospitals, encountering loved ones' illnesses left and right, moving out of my room and into a another one because of a problematic living situation and losing friends in the process, enduring mistreatment at the hands of multiple men on campus, adding two incredibly stressful and time consuming extra-curriculars to my schedule and taking on an extremely demanding course load, I'm done with Harvard for the time being.
While we can't all be 39-year-old upper middle class white women with the flexibility to travel to multiple countries in search of inner selves, maybe Julia Roberts' character can offer one important bit of advice: we all need to find a way to take pauses in our lives to think about where we've been, where we are and where we hope to go. Whether we study abroad, travel often, write, listen to music, exercise, pray or hang out with loved ones, we need healthy ways to escape our routine and to try to feel whole. Why is it so hard for us to give ourselves these breaks, though, and why do we always make excuses for finding personal stability? What's up with that?
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