We have Work It on tv, the new ABC sitcom which has men dressing up like us. And not just us as women, but dressed using the worst, most ridiculous stereotypes of us. And most bizarre, it seems to be implying that it would be easier to be a woman than a white man in business.
We also have The Bachelor on tv (Also ABC as a matter of fact) with girls crying hysterically over losing the love of their life, that they met 15 minutes ago.
You mean you DON’T do that?
And, as a coworker of mine pointed out, our political representation includes “I can see Russia from my house,” and “9/11 widows are harpies.”
It’s really hard sometimes.
So when I saw an article entitled “‘Most runway models meet the BMI criteria for anorexia’, claims plus-size magazine in powerful comment on body image in the fashion industry,” I mentally groaned.
If it’s not one thing, it’s the other.
Looking at the pictures, of an admittedly gorgeous woman, I can’t help but wonder what HER BMI is. In one in particular, where we see her body next to a scarily thin girl (See Below.) I found myself thinking- aren’t we celebrating extreme’s? Isn’t THAT what our culture is guilty of?
The larger woman, is that a healthy weight? Isn’t the above picture illustrating negatives of two kinds- what it means to be to thin, as well as what it means to be too large for ones frame?
And I guess the same goes for my first examples- we are all guilty of it. I’m probably represent the worst, when it comes to consuming those stereotypes- think about my TV addictions! I turn on Real Housewives because hearing women scream at each other is FUN. I like the stupidity, the crazy. And yet, in the same way healthy isn’t found in anorexia or obesity, neither is what it means to be a woman.
Our world could use far more normal: in body, in intelligence, in life. There are super women all over the world- going to school, working, helping others.
So let’s take a minute to celebrate THAT.
P.S. Along those lines, check out this story about the women at Miss America. I still get my share of comments but I think this story accurately portrays why these women are truly pretty super- (I’ll be rooting for the wonderful and incredibly sweet Miss Indiana who happens to be my former roommate!) Tune in Saturday evening, as ABC redeems themselves by showcasing some actually wonderful young women with incredibly wonderful “healthy” bodies. I’ll be tweeting furiously, I’m sure.
Stick with me- this is, at best, a long winded, round about post. (At worst? You’ll be bored and tired by the third paragraph. I’m sorry. I swear I’ll do better tomorrow.)
The theme here is that there are people, whose words will stick with you, well beyond their physical presence in your life.
For me, there were several professors at ISU who I have thought of a lot lately:
1) As a freshman, Darlene Hantzis was a tough and demanding professor whose class I dreaded. She taught my first Communication class and I remember thinking- I can’t do this. Yet by the time I was a senior, I had not only, survived many of her classes but I had changed as a result. She is largely responsible for the maturing of my critical thinking, specifically in regards to race, gender and mass communication.
2) Looking back, I probably had a slight, purely platonic, crush on Jay Clarkson, a teacher I was enamored with from the first time I took his class. He swore like a sailor, openly talked about being gay and hating Sarah Palin and each semester made students cry by bashing Disney and country music. It. Was. Awesome.
He also introduced me to some of the most awesomely ridiculous YouTube videos including Hi, I’m a Tea-Partier (See above), Read a Book and Literal Total Eclipse of the Heart . I always felt he found me irritating, which was probably in large part because, I sort of loved him. He taught me that “My parent says,” is not a valid argument and that more knowledge is to be had from discussion than from all the books in the world. And while his general disdain for Disney has not stopped my love of The Mouse, just this morning I talked with a colleague about the prevalent racism in the portrayal of women and minorities.
3) Deb Worley is probably the professor I worked most closely with as a Public Relations student and her, as well as her husbands, departure from Indiana State is still sad to me. I’ve often thought about writing her- when my first press release was picked up, as I’ve adjusted to agency life and sometimes just to ask advice. Deb was a tough critic, I still have nightmares of her purple inked corrections, but I am a better professional as a result.
4) David Worley, Deb’s husband, was the chairman of the Communication department while I was at ISU and one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He taught several of the Communication classes I most dreaded (I hated research theory with a PASSION.) but he always made them bearable. Yet what made the deepest impression on me, was the wisdom Dr. Worley would dispense about who we were to become as people and throughout my college career, he played many roles in my life including counselor, sounding board and constant cheerleader.
I’ll never forget his “final thoughts” he’d share at the close of class each week.
Dr. Worley had actually been a minister before he began his teaching career and for a relentless cynic like mw, it would have been easy to roll my eyes at his messages. While never overtly religious, they always had a uniquely spiritual undertone. Yet they were shared from such a place of love, with such caring for each of us as students, they’ve left a mark.
Now where did this ode-to-professors come from, on today of all days?
I had a weird morning.
I hit the snooze button on my alarm at least a half a dozen times before I managed to roll out of bed. After a very lazy weekend I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for this early morning wake-up call.
A few hours later, (after a very hurried get-ready) I received an email that took me by surprise. And it struck me, as I read it, how easy it becomes, when the responsibilities of life come into play, to forget where you started and what you had wanted when you began.
I couldn’t help but think how me pushing the snooze button- putting off the inevitable, was a (rather cheesy) metaphor for life.
Which lead to remembering one of Dr. Worley’s end of week thoughts. I can almost hear his voice as he described a vacant house- the dilapidated front, the roof caving in and demolition crews beginning to tear it down. He asked us to think about what the house had been like when it was new, filled with family and joy. How had it gone from a place of such promise to a place beyond repair? And how easily do we let ourselves go- replacing hope with to-do’s, and forgoing an investment in ourselves with have-to’s and need-to’s?
Which I guess led to this-
We don’t often take the chance to reflect. What got us here? Where do we want to be? Are we asking for what we want, what we need, to make ourselves happy? Have we said enough thank-you’s along the way to the people who got us here?
People usually make New Year’s resolutions, that are forgotten before March Madness’ first tip off. So this year, I propose a 2-part holiday resolution.
First, to say thank you, to those that we haven’t taken time to express our gratitude.
and
Second, despite the busy-ness this season demands, to take some time to remember where we have been and where we are going.
You in?
p.s. In the off chance you are one of the 3 professors from ISU who, on rare RARE occasions, peruses my blog- Do not be offended that you are not on the above list. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. If I made a list of all the people at ISU I thoroughly enjoyed, the 7 people who read this blog would either drift off into a coma or run far far away before the list was ever completed. Know that I left ISU incredibly proud to be a Sycamore and thankful for each and every person I encountered during my four years there.
Ok. Almost every person. I’m feeling VERY warm and fuzzy today but I can’t flat out lie. The only contribution a very select few people made to my life was increased patience and a greater ability to count. As in counting down the days until I no longer had to work with them.
Nostalgia and the holiday spirit can only take me so far.
My name is Taylor and I have a problem. It isn’t alcohol or drugs or the newly popular porn addiction. I love bad television, specifically of the reality genre.
Usually the family of addicts look back to the abusers childhood for tell-tell signs and my past would certainly point to this future problem. In elementary school I use to race home in time to watch the last bits of Saved By The Bell, followed by People’s Court. I loved the courtroom drama and was far more invested than a 8 or 9 year old should be. I remember being bitter when one judge retired, and a new took his place. I didn’t like the new one nearly as much. (On the other hand, the current female judge, I love.)
By high school I had moved on to include other televised train wrecks, sometimes alone, sometimes with enablers. I never missed the opportunity to watch mistress drama on Dr. Phil or baby daddy drama on Maury. Mom added to the problem with our Sunday afternoon (after church of course) viewings of Flavor of Love and Rock of Love. We watched the first couple of seasons religiously, before the shows completely dissipated into predictability and strippers.
And then, by the beginning of college, Bravo really found its niche, documenting the lives of the chemically imbalanced millionaires. My incredibly independent and self sufficient mother and I indulged each week, watching spoiled women whine about how tough life was with their various hired help and mani-pedi-botox sessions.
The irony is that as a Communication major, I took several media, pop culture and society classes with professors who thought these shows, in some ways, were the downfall of our culture. I began to watch the shows with a more critical eye, laughing at the stereotypes, the cliches and the societal failures, even being outraged at down right racism and sexism. Yet I kept tuning in.
The question for most is probably why. Friends that know me- the girl who will buy Newsweek over Glamour, who has applications on her phone to track every news headline imaginable, who never misses a Daily Show if she can help it, who dreams of one day being a politician’s Communication Director, and who refuses to acknowledge that election days could be of little importance to anyone, this makes no sense. I’ve never been the girl who talked about celebrities like they were friends, or poured over magazines for the latest gossip. So what is it about these low brow shows that keep me tuning in for more.
Perhaps it is a desire to view the drama I maintain such distance from in my own life. Perhaps it is the quiet reassurance that any familial crazy cannot begin to compare with My-Brother-May-Also-Be-My-Father-Who-Is-Now-Sleeping-With-My-Cat. Or perhaps in a world where Human Rights violations occur every day, where legitimate politicians get booted to page 2, while Sarah Palin is skipping around talking about Paul Revere- arms activist, I enjoy an escape. I enjoy feeling like everyone watching these shows is on the the same page. It’s also probably why I could never embrace shows like The Bachelor where I didn’t feel like the contestants GOT that no one falls in love 20 minutes after meeting. They always seemed to feel that this was a serious mission, and I always felt them to be seriously disturbed. The beauty of my bad reality is that this isn’t anyone’s reality. It’s a world of characters, created to captivate and illustrate the most ridiculous in human nature. And that keeps me watching.
