I know, I know-- this one's old news. The term "metrosexual", first coined way back in 1994 by journalist Mark Simpson in the UK Independent, had everything to do with the rise of an ostensibly straight man who mimicked all the feminine vanity interests of the "typical" woman-- or gay man. Thanks to the efforts of Simpson, ad whiz/trend spotter Marian Salzman, and the bobblehead media, the term gained momentum. Female trend watchers and consumers of popular media were blanketed with the idea that previously Cro-Magnon men were taking over their hair-care products and bathroom-mirror time with glee. The whole notion reinforced the concept of a future overrun with glossy, stylish, sweet-smelling fellas, who could not only chat away with certitude on subjects of art and style, but who would scold you for wearing sweats to run errands and flush the Chunky Monkey down the toilet when PMS overtook you.
Did this look good to women? Probably not. Well, if you were fed up with your boyfriend drinking out of the milk container and never wanting to see a movie starring Hilary Swank, you might've picked up "The Metrosexual Guide to Style: A Handbook for the Modern Man." You might've hoped to do for your man what the boys at "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" could not. But even then, the notion that it would be a good idea to eradicate male cluelessness in this arena, and replace it with that small feminine vice-- personal vanity-- really wasn't all that smart.
Despite the breathless prose of those cheerleading for it-- or indifferent to it-- insisting that the smooth-chested, eyebrow-groomed dandy was the wave of the future, I just never bought it. Yes, men account for a growing percentage of cosmetic procedures, proving only that human beings are all subject to pressures of vanity. But more likely the trend was and is the result of marketing "push" rather than a groundswell of "pull", a theory set forth by a self-proclaimed Metrosexual named Greg Lindsay, writing on the website theBlackTable.com. He makes the point that the image-making machinery (read "marketers")hopped onto Simpson's and Salzman's bandwagon in an effort to lure men into the same "beauty myth" that harangues females from the time they reach kindergarten. This makes a lot of sense to me, much more than the idea that men and women both are happy to be interchangeable, post-sexual drones. The polarity between the sexes, what makes us tantalizingly different, gives our lives that delicious whiff of spice. While we may like our guys reasonably groomed and capable of enlightened discussion rather than belches, I don't think either sex is ready for the Brave New World. I think Metrosexual Man is dead.
Having become hooked on the endlessly entertaining “Project Runway” my attention has lately turned to another Bravo program, “The Millionaire Matchmaker.”
If you haven’t caught it, the show is about the labors of Patti Stanger, a modern-day matchmaker who specializes in finding dates for wealthy men too busy or too shy to do it themselves. Her company, The Millionaire’s Club, promises long-term committed relationships with the ultimate aim of marriage. After paying a hefty fee these fellows submit to a thorough review and consult with Patti on everything from their hopes and desires for a “dream girl” to their choices in fashion and home décor. Once Patti deems a man sufficiently committed to the process, she takes him on and begins to open his world to the joys of purposeful dating.
At first glance, this looks like a typical exploitative and exhibitionist reality show. But when you start to get to know Patti, you begin to see one very old-fashioned girl under all that lip gloss and high-tech. For one thing, she’s only interested in matchmaking clients with “pure motives”—that is, the ones who really want a wife and a soul mate. Serial daters or men (and women) just looking for a swinging hook-up are summarily dismissed. As Patti hotly points out, “I’m not Heidi Fleiss”.
For proof, just look to her “Dating Commandments”: these ten rules for the ladies read like a primer from Miss Manners. The demands are heavy on things like:
1)Being polite (return calls promptly)
2)Honoring your commitments (follow through on promises)
3)Being ladylike (modest consumption of alcohol; no drugs; polite discourse—no discussion of failed relationships or emotional baggage; no overnight home visits!
4)No gold digging (though it may be argued this is time-honored, if nothing else)
5)No overt gifts, such as any gift purchased for the man in front of him, but plenty of give and take, including a home-cooked meal!
6)No sex, period. Women are admonished to wait until the relationship becomes committed and monogamous.
The kicker? No shacking up! According to Patti, the mystery goes out of a relationship when two people live together before getting wed. On that last issue, Patti argues that “it takes four seasons to get to know a man” and that if he hasn’t proposed by the end of a year, you need to move on.
Before anyone gets red-faced over the rules for the women, please note that the men have even more—15 commandments to the girls’ ten. These cover much the same territory as the rules for the ladies, but in greater detail, with even more emphasis on the importance of treating her like a lady and being a gentleman oneself.
It makes for an interesting discussion. Patti is a self-described “third-generation matchmaker”. Her mother and grandmother were free-lance (and fee-free!) yentas with very successful track records. Patti may have taken the tradition into the 21st century with a high-tech twist—and a profit motive—but her approach and basic morality is not that far afield from the Jewish tradition of making happy and long-lasting matches for singles.
She may be bucking the social tide of casual hook-ups but as evidence of the need for and interest in her services, her show is a hit and her Millionaire’s Club idea is being successfully franchised in other parts of the country as well as abroad.
Happy New Year, dear readers. A little late to report, I apologize, but wanted to share two examples of how a modest approach can mean practical and vital change for the better. Back in November my husband and I returned to my alma mater Fordham University and witnessed a small miracle: more than 200 coeds at a modern, urban college campus showing up, on a Wednesday night and coaxed only a little by free refreshments, to hear about a little idea called modesty.
The event was organized by a senior sociology major named Jenna Felz, who had never met Wendy Shalit but was thoroughly intrigued by her ideas. Jenna jumped through the many and varied hoops that any good college bureaucracy could throw at her, and she pulled it off. Wendy’s relaxed and charming sense of humor scored points and elicited many thoughtful questions and a number of contentious ones. The gaggle of crusty-looking boys (men?) seated behind us murmured a few wisecracks but they stayed. And they asked questions. And they listened. What a revelation. In the modern fog of easy sex and emotional isolation, we all got a bracing, inspiring, invigorating lungful of something different. Brava, ladies.
Another note in the paper caught my eye before Christmas: the alluringly-named Modest Needs Foundation. This charitable group has a mission of helping struggling individuals pay for unwelcome surprises such as emergency medical care and car repairs. Often I feel overwhelmed at the sum of misfortune in the world, and at how much need is left over despite what any of us actually do; I love the idea that help such as I can give might truly matter to someone. This group is doing just that. In its 5+ years in existence, it's given away over $2.5 million dollars, some $500 at a time. Making the point that “modest” doesn’t mean “immaterial”, and that little by little covers a lot of ground. Please look into it if you can, at www.modestneeds.org.
Good ideas are like scattered seeds. A great many fall where they’ll never take root, and some take forever to germinate. But when they do, they make a little garden not only for us but for anyone who follows us. Let’s cultivate it.
(Spoiler Warning: this post mentions a plot detail in the 6th Harry Potter book--not the newest one, but the one before it. If you have not read the sixth book and intend to, you may want to postpone reading this post.)
As surely everyone by now knows, at a forum for young fans of her Harry Potter book series at Carnegie Hall, author JK Rowling revealed that the beloved wizard and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Magic was conceived and written by her as a gay man. This astonishing bit of back-story quickly became the stuff of a tabloid—and mainstream news—wildfire. More than ten years after this entertaining morality tale came to life, and almost 4 months since the final installment was published, why would Rowling choose this time—and such a forum—to make the revelation?
Also, why would she choose to sexualize a character whose literary raison d'etre had absolutely nothing to do with his sexual preferences? The character, so beautifully drawn, is the backbone of the story, in some respects even more important than Harry himself. Dumbledore is aged, and ageless. Like other warriors for good (think Gandalf in Tolkien’s Ring series, or Aslan, the stand-in for Jesus in the allegorical Chronicles of Narnia) he is almost beyond human.
For the first six books in the series, he was the champion of the good, the foe of evil—and possessed the astonishing intelligence and power to ensure that the good prevailed.
His death at the end of the 6th book came as a devastating blow; we readers felt the shock of abandonment along with Harry, as the last of his protectors was demolished.
As a literary device, though, the death was a virtuoso stroke. It robbed us of the comfort of a protector for the hero, and allowed the next and final book to set up, among other things, the fascinating history of how Dumbledore came to be who he was.
None of that back-story, however, required revelations as the nature of his sexual preference, witnessed by the fact that the series was concluded--highly successfully-- without any such.
So why take this classic morality play and bog it down with all the baggage that this hot-button topic will bring? Though set in and around London of the last 20 years, the story always managed a timeless quality. But now, I'm afraid, the story seems pulled down by An Agenda: the NYC forum, the nature of the question (in all the chat rooms and discussions I’ve followed I can’t recall for the life of me anyone interested in Dumbledore’s sex life) and the timing of it seem orchestrated somehow.
For example, Salon.com’s columnist Rebecca Traister notes approvingly that the Carnegie Hall audience received this revelation with a standing ovation. It seems to me that puzzled silence might have been more predictable. She also mentions the gleeful announcement by her 9-year-old friend that “Dumbledore is gay!!” Maybe Traister has very precocious young friends, but most 9-yr-olds I know would be confused by the news, and wouldn't understand it to be cause for celebration.
Traister also lists many quotes from the book in an effort to support the reading of Dumbledore as gay; all of them could be taken just as easily as an old-fashioned description of male friendship. But who of us wants to be old-fashioned?
If Rowling did originally conceive of this hero as a gay man—and I wouldn’t begrudge this talented creator her artistic license--why couldn't we the readers be allowed to interpret that ourselves? If it wasn’t necessary to be explicit during the series itself, why is it necessary now? Didn't the character speak for himself? Would we need to learn, for example, that Prof. McGonagall has a long-lost love child? That bit of sexual history would be just as unnecessary to the workings of the plot. Rowling is a consummate plot-spinner, and while her characters are masterfully drawn, they are also artfully drawn. We hear only as much personal matter as is necessary to inform the plot.
Indeed, the pointless revelation of this character's sexual preference is roaringly uncharacteristic of Rowling's style of exposition.
I can imagine how hard it must be for her to lay to rest this splendid parallel world she created, so maybe it’s just a need to stay in the limelight and delay the end of the long moment.
But I must admit, I'm reluctant to explain all this to my kids.
The dive toward the bottom of the culture barrel struck me the other day when I clicked on the highlighted teaser at the bottom of an email from a dear friend in the UK. Courtesy of her Hotmail account, I was being invited to "Pimp My Live" by, of all people, Bill Gates. Well, not exactly Bill. I'm sure he and Melinda were in the middle of some goodwill tour. Or maybe Bill was looking at his closetful of geeky clothes, and thinking, "Pimp this, baby!!" But some genius at MSN-UK got together all the best marketing talent in that organization, and decided that, since the culture had changed the low and nasty business of sexual procuring into the hip and happening, they should muscle in on the action. To wit:
" 'Pimp My Live' is all about giving Windows Live the personal touch and putting your own stamp on things. We'll show you... customizable features...Plus you can download the latest products and add-ons-- with the chance of winning some fantastic prizes." Followed by:
"Time to Get Pimping!!"
Oh. I thought, with all the cute little "emoticons" that resemble Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, that MSN wanted me to join the ranks of those charming and sympathetic fellows who make their living from the illicit sex trade. My mistake.
The kicker is that the same company that entreats us to distill the hideousness of that word "pimp" into something fresh! something fun! fantastic prizes!! was at a complete loss when I asked the word processor's thesaurus to give me synonyms for "alchemy".
As Alanis would have said-- Isn't it ironic. The mutation of the language only seems to go one way. What does that mean for children unfamiliar with the word "pimp", or for that matter, the uninformed? The seediness of "the life", the violent and nasty business of selling prostitutes, the sheer horror that the word should conjure up-- is neutralized. MTV's "Pimp My Ride" turned "pimping" into jazzing up one's car. The glorification of easy money goes back to the beginning of time. But here the sting of the word-- the very idea of it as beyond civilized society-- is being demolished.
I deeply resent this. Words are power. They not only result from, they shape our thinking. Orwell illustrated this brilliantly when, in the novel "1984", he made the destruction of the varied and robust English language the centerpiece of an encroaching totalitarian regime. In that bleak future state, not only were you robbed of the freedom to express your thoughts-- the thoughts themselves were rendered incapable of being born. There were no words to deliver them.
"Pimp My Live" takes the words right out of my mouth.
My heart broke a little the other day when I read of the death of Anafghat. She was a teen-aged girl from Niger who I never met-- except in the context of a remarkable article by Roger Thurow in the Wall Street Journal, published two years ago, that told her story. I tore out the article and saved it, as one should save important things. Anafghat was important; she was living proof that momentous things may be accomplished by any of us, even in the least hospitable circumstances.
The recent item that noted her unexplained death was not nearly as enlightening as the account of her short life, and its expectation of hope.
Anafghat was married at age 11 to a man twice her age, in a country where poverty and the tradition make this unremarkable. Her dowry was a camel, useful for milk and transport. A bright and promising student, tradition dictated that once Anafghat was married she was not allowed to return to school. She lived at home with her father and sisters until puberty, but became pregnant quickly once she began living with her husband. Her underdeveloped (and likely undernourished) body was unable to handle the punishing demands of four days of at-home labor.
By the time her father was able to get her medical help at a hospital-- over 150 miles away--her infant son was stillborn. Anafghat was left with a fistula, or hole in her bladder, the size of a baseball. She joined the ranks of the estimated one million girls and young women in the region suffering the pain, infection, ostracism that attends this condition. (For more information, please go to the website www.nigerfistula.org.)
But Anafghat had a light in her, an intelligence and a desire to live that persisted beyond reason in such circumstances. She was aided by a team of American doctors (themselves aided by the charitable entreaties of an American couple, the Margolies) and her surgery was successful. Her father was moved by her persistent pleas to return to school; she returned home to do just that. She desperately wanted to follow the example of a Nigerian woman she met while in the hospital, a medical student who impressed Anafghat with fluency in multiple languages, and-- revealing an endearing universality among little girls-- her pretty clothes. Anafghat wanted to be, in her words, "a doctor...an important woman".
Inspired herself, in turn she inspired others, spreading the idea among her family and fellow townsmen that girls would do better to postpone marriage and childbirth, and focus on becoming literate and educated. In a country where less than 15% of women can read and write, this set her squarely against the conventional wisdom. But as the director of the National Hospital, who favors this opportunity for young girls, says: "The impact of an individual can be great".
In a hostile culture, in a harsh land, this may seem like tilting at windmills. And so it is. But she did it, and touched many in her short life. She left a legacy we should note, and honor. R.I.P.
The post about Akon and his "indiscretion" with a 14-year-old minister's daughter during a concert performance gave me an arresting take on the bilge in the culture these days. The April issue of TeenVogue carried a short piece on the same phenomenon-- the trendy style of dancing called "freaking" or "crunking" by kids, many of whom are testing it out at school dances. I guess it's caught a lot of school administrators by surprise, or maybe people in education just shrug it off under the "kid's today" syndrome.
But there appears to be a backlash coming, at least as reported by TeenVogue. (For the record, Vogue is one fashion mag I can count on to minimize the "yikes" factor and emphasize classy, creative fashion. I can't quite call it "high-brow"-- maybe "raised-brow"?-- but its junior version, TeenVogue, strikes me the same way. There's plenty of cool fashion and ads, as well as a liberal dose of decent articles and a generally civilized-- dare I say modest?--tone.)
Some school administrators have decided to cancel dances rather than try to monitor and control the trend. Some are requiring kids and parents to sign a contract to denote their agreement with guidelines on dancing, drugs, alcohol, and appropriate attire. Having lost a common moral code under which to agree on these matters, we are seeing administrators forced to codify and legalize behaviour standards once understood implicitly.
I don't think we should be surprised that simulated sex as dancing has become the trend, even one practiced by 12- and 13-years-olds at their middle school dances. Kids are sponges, and they've been absorbing MTV and VH1 and BET and movies and TV shows that glamourize this stuff for years. They are certainly getting the message: sex is cool, everybody does it, it's just the thing you do. Nothing is sacred; nothing private. How much they understand about the effects, short- and long-term, of cheapening sex in this way is suspect. But what do we adults care, as long as we are moving our products? Sex sells everything from yogurt to phone service, from sneakers to movies, and its hypnotic grasp is powerful. Anyone, especially a highly-emotional, throes-of-puberty kid, is easily manipulated in its charge.
So who is really at fault in the Akon flap-- the rapper, the minister's daughter, her parents, society at large? I say the adults, Akon and the reverend minister included. This is rubbish, and ignominy. We make sex a poison when we dose kids with it. We adults lose the meaning and beauty of our sexuality when we get a kick out of, or shrug our shoulders at, public sex simulation by adolescent children. We need to take the blame-- it's our example, and our disgrace.
"Our job is to teach our girls and to identify what their gifts are, and teach them to identify that for themselves, and use it and celebrate it each and every day that they come here, to show them that we do want to hear what they have to say."
These are the words, and the mission, of a woman named Isis Sapp-Grant. She is the Director of a group called the Youth Empowerment Mission and the Blossom Program for Girls, in New York City. I was thinking about our famously "empowered" Girls Gone Wild when I heard her interviewed on the radio and did a little research. Ms. Sapp-Grant was talking about how she'd changed her life, going from hard-core girl's gang member to college graduate and founder of this important community outreach mission. She attended the highly-respected Fisk University, graduated from Stony Brook University, and ultimately earned a masters degree in social work from NYU. The turnaround in her life was effected with the help of two teachers and a police officer from the gangs unit, and Ms. Sapp-Grant was determined to give the same help and leadership to other girls at risk. You can read her story, in her own words, here.
I don't believe a young woman, or anyone for that matter, is empowered by a complete lack of restraint. The Blossom Program gives real choices to girls who suffer a true lack of power, victims of rape and violence at the hands of male gang members as young as 15 who act as their pimps. And the gangs are too often the girls' escape from worse situations at home.
Paradoxically, that choice and empowerment comes by way of the difficult lessons of self-restraint. The group defines its four critical goals in saving these kids lives:
A sense of competence: being able do to something well
A sense of usefulness: having something to contribute
A sense of belonging: being in a community and having relationships with caring adults
A sense of power: having control over one’s future
Funny how it doesn't say anything about appearing topless in a Joe Francis video.
Surveying the landscape (entertainment media and fashion mags, for the most) I'm getting really worried about the state of the modern woman's face. Publications seem to be overdosing on ads and articles about the many delights of Botox (and Restylane, and Juvederm, and Cosmoplast, and Artefill... and on and on). Not to mention scads of good, old-fashioned cosmetic anti-aging products. We seem to be agreeing that anyone over the age of 21 is ready for the ash heap-- of the cosmetic surgeon's office.
I find this disturbing, and not only because I am well over that particular hill. Sure, I can see the enticement; it's no fun watching lines creep in and skin loosen up where it used to be snug. But when a 26-year-old writes in "W" that she is joined by many young friends in a growing obsession to fight age with heavy armaments? We're not talking about fresh air and a good night's sleep. Girls in their teens and 20's are making an expensive habit of dermal injectables like Botox and collagen--training wheels for a future in cosmetic surgery.
I imagine it's hard to be in the fashion business and not be sensitive to the culture's youth fixation. To be barraged daily with airbrushed visions of perfection makes facing your own that much harder. And that expectation of perfection is seeping into the culture at large, in part because of the power of image and the technology that makes it so hard to avoid. Mainstreaming of porn has a role here too; I think it does much to make even young, attractive women feel they must compete with perfect and always-on sexuality. The result is a constant undertone of inadequacy.
I'm in favor of a certain amount of vanity-- it keeps natural entropy in check and reminds us to do things that also generally improve our health. And--what the heck-- indulgence can be fun. But when those little jaunts to Vanity Fair become longer and more involved relocations, we're getting into trouble. I mean, how will we stand to bear the imperfections of others when we can't stand to bear our own?
It's as if our culture is pressing on us a need to iron out imperfections-- better yet, prevent them--but only the physical ones. I don't see media evidence of a craze to be the best parent, spouse, or neighbor. No one appears hell-bent on making improvements to their immortal souls. But we are dashed if we don't look like bobble-headed, waxed twins of our imagined perfect selves. We're chasing a perfection that doesn't exist, not in this world. Along the way, we may lose sight of everything else about ourselves that's important-- our brains, our courage, our morality. And against all this pitched desire for outward perfection, who's touting the benefits of age? Wisdom, experience, a softening of hard edges, a more forgiving disposition, an ability to take joy in smaller things-- these things are slighted in the mad dash for a physical perfection that's paradoxically impossible to achieve. The pursuit itself crowds out an attention to any other kind of beauty.
Has anyone seen really good plastic surgery anyway? Probably not, because good ones are likely hard to detect. More often, you get "the look"-- the tightly-pulled skin, the improbably poufy lips, the Botox face made incapable of expressing human emotion. This inclination works on the soul as "an ever-increasing craving for an ever-diminishing pleasure". Is the temporary physical boost worth what we're giving up?
Because high definition TV emphasizes both typical flaws of aging and obvious injectable and surgical changes, TV and movie producers are now finding a shortage of familiar faces to cast that looktheir age. While this reality check is welcome, I doubt it will trigger a stampede to go gently into that good wrinkle. And I'm skeptical that, on TV at least, "Brains Are the New Beauty", as an article in Marie Claire would have us believe.
But I do like the attitude of one woman, who, though she's profited greatly from her beauty, chooses not to cling to something so ephemeral. Says Paulina Porizkova at 41: "I hope I'll always see beauty as a gift...Now, it's being taken away, bit by bit. And that's why I'm writing. I'm working on my other gifts now."
New York magazine never disappoints. Whether it promises to entertain with jaw-droppers about the "lifestyles" of salacious and free-wheeling city types, or to confirm every prejudice and lazy misunderstanding of same, they deliver. So of course I never miss an opportunity to check in with them. When today, my dear Fug Girls linked to their online New York column on their Website, I followed. After enjoying the Fugger's take on Madonna as a Maternal Girl, my curiosity was piqued by the following link, "The Waiting Room."
I naturally clicked and was whisked away into the slideshow, complete with explanatory captions, on the magazine's photo "study" of that odd and exotic breed, the "Virgin". The pictures are hilarious: somber, moody, dread-infused. Why are these people so glum?
This feature is followed, funnily enough, by a companion slideshow, this time captioned "What are You Like in Bed?" Now these folks, they are having lots of sex-- all KINDS of sex-- and they are having FUN! The pictures are zany, energetic, eye-catching. Wow-- who wouldn't want to be like them?
New York Mag: saying with pictures what it hasn't already beat you over the head with in words. Priceless.
A friend of mine forwarded this item from a "tween" mag she had reluctantly bought for her 9-year-old daughter. Scattered among the usual, breathless "Star Beauty Tips" (Condition Your Hair! Drink Lots of Water! Don't Mess with that Pimple Till it's Ready!) we note with a pang of joy that:
"It's no secret that Miley Cyrus looks nothing short of amazing when she's out and about! What's her secret to looking totally fabulous? Keeping covered up! 'My mom's motto is-- modest is hottest,' she grins. We couldn't agree with you more, Miley!"
Now, for the over-twelve set, you may not recognize that name. But believe me, this kid is huge. Her Disney-channel show "Hannah Montana" is top-rated, and her soundtrack album outsells most adult pop and rock acts. She is ubiquitous-- not unlike the song her dad, Billy Ray Cyrus, made popular a while back (remember your "Achy Breaky Heart"?)
So this kind of blurb, buried as it may be in the landscape of sexed-up kids and pop-culture sleaze, is radical, a landmark. Maybe more than a little victory.
How's "Modest is Hottest" for a new slogan? And is anyone else picking up on little hints of this sort?
Filtering into my foggy brain the other morning was a news report of a new reality show in development called "Virgin Territory". It is reportedly the brainchild (ahem) of Kevin Blatt, the marketing genius who turned Paris Hilton's homemade sex tape into the smash-hit "One Night in Paris". That video, you'll recall, propelled a fashion-slave socialite into the omnipresent marketing machine she is today.
The aptly-named Kevin Blatt wants to bring us the TV version of JANE magazine's effort to deflower one of their featured readers, though in this case the virgins in question will be men. Blatt has approached both Hilton and Jenna Jameson to "assist" in the filming process. Although no network has yet picked up the show, it can only be a matter of time. Reality shows are cheap and easy to produce, and if they take off, make buckets of money for nearly everyone involved.
I haven't heard much more than that inital report and the little information that Google turned up. Anyone else? Your thoughts?
Here's an update on one pharmaceutical company's effort to rejuvenate its earnings:
Merck-- maker of the Gardasil vaccine against certain types of the cervical cancer-causing Human Papilloma Virus (HPV)-- scored big recently when Texas Governor Rick Perry issued an executive order. That order mandates the administration of Gardasil, a $360 minimum, three-part series of injections, to all Texas schoolgirls entering the sixth grade in the fall of 2008. Thus, a young girl's admittance to public education would hinge on proof of vaccination, just as proof is required of immunization against communicable diseases such as measles, mumps, and polio.
So what's the problem? Well, HPV is a sexually-transmitted disease. Unlike the ailments that require vaccination in order to gain access to schools, it cannot be spread by casual contact-- though the informal observer would hardly get that impression from watching Merck's "One Less" and "Tell Someone" ad campaigns. As I have detailed in previous posts, it poses no threat to non-sexually active youngsters. Merck is, behind the scenes, urging legislators to act by means of an advocacy group comprised of female lawmakers and-- in some cases-- executives from Merck.
According to a Wall Street Journal report dated 2/707, no fewer than twenty statelegislatures are currently considering bills which would mandate the same widespread dissemination of this vaccine to pre-pubescent girls. That's pretty impressive marketing savvy on Merck's part.
As Merck is currently the sole maker of this vaccine, it stands to gain vast profits from any sales; in the last part of 2006 alone revenue from Gardasil amounted to $235M. The power to have states mandate the use of this product, and to have Medicaid cover the costs that private insurers will not, ensures for Merck an enormous revenue bonanza at a time when the company sorely needs it. Defending itself against Vioxx wrongful-death lawsuits must be quite expensive.
So what's wrong with this, if the vaccine does its job and protects women? For starters, despite the imprimatur of the Centers for Disease Control, and FDA approval, Gardasil has not proven itself in widespread use among prepubescent girls-- it's simply too new. Of the 25,000 patients who participated in the safety and efficacy trials, less than 5% were aged 12 or younger. Even for older girls and women, there is no guarantee of long-term safety: many FDA-approved treatments only begin to reveal problems long after they've been in widespread use.Hence the problems experienced by Vioxx painkiller users were not revealed until some time after the drug had been widely prescribed.
There's also no guarantee of long-term efficacy: Merck admits that its own trials proved protection lasted only five years. And (again, please see my previous posts for more detail on both the disease and how the vaccine works) the vaccine alone does not eliminate the need for regular GYN exams and Pap tests. These continue to be required to determine whether the HP virus is present, and whether it presents the risks of mutating into cancerous cells.
I'm all for scientific-- and capitalist-- progress. I'm happy that Merck has developed this vaccine and made it available to women who desire and require such protection as it affords. It remains a fact, however, that there are many ways to avoid this type of cancer, including such simple methods as regular exams, Pap tests, and even an HPV-specific analysis.
Thus I am persuaded, on seeing the progress of Gardasil through the legislatures, that in this instance Merck is hell-bent on revenue growth through legal decree-- and not the marketplace, where consumers benefit from both information and freedom of choice.
Update on the Update: In the week since this post was written, Merck announced that, due to the backlash from parents, physicians, and consumer advocates, it will no longer support efforts to mandate the use of Gardasil through legislation. Good. That leaves them free to do things the old-fashioned way-- and leaves the rest of us free to choose.
As if in answer to Alexandra's plaintive question about the relevance of Valentine's Day in a hook-up culture, here's NYC's reply:
"In celebration of Valentine's Day, which is also National Condom Day, (emphasis mine!) the NYC Health Department will be joined by health advocates to present its newly-developed NYC condom."
Well-- as Dana Carvey's Church Lady used to say-- "Isn't that special!"
Yes, the Health Commissioner, Dr. Thomas Frieden, apparently thinks the way to celebrate an homage to the sacrifices of St. Valentine would be to have a "safe" and happy hook-up. Flowers and candy-- that's on your dime. But the thoughtful folks at the Health Dept. want to make sure you practice your sex safely. And with an all-new wrapper which will allow for tracking of "the effectiveness of the effort"-- meaning not your romantic effort, but the effort by the nosy Health Department to determine whether people are using condoms for sex. Happily for NYC taxpayers, this costs a mere $720K annually.
All sarcasm aside, this effort is clearly aimed at gay men, as the health advocates include the chair of AmFar, and a representative from the Gay Men's Health Crisis. And I do hope it helps the city in its effort to reduce the incidence of AIDS and HIV, a real problem for New York. But, like the hijacking of Valentine's Day by the V-Day crowd (once the realm of the Vagina Monologuists, now more expansively aimed at Violence Against Women), I think it's a shame to do this to poor old St. Valentine. This is all clearly not what was intended, originally, as a celebration of true romantic love. I'm as suspicious as the next gal as to the purpose of all this urging to "show your love" --with a purchase-- but I am resigned to most deeper-meaning holidays being co-opted for any and every commercial and political purpose.
"Tara is a good person. Tara has tried hard. Tara will be given a second chance."
With these few, well-chosen words, and in his trademark mangled diction ("TAW-Ruh is a good person") Mr. Donald Trump renewed my faith in humanity. Or at least in the value of a good publicity stunt taking precedence over any acknowledgment of reality.
The young lady is Tara Elizabeth Conner, the former Miss Kentucky who took the prestigious crown of the Miss USA pageant in April of this past year. Last month she was exposed as an inappropriate role model for this exalted rank, for, among other acts, cocaine and alcohol abuse, and lewd behaviour. For this and other transgressions, the chivalrous Mr. Trump had shown her the door, literally, when she was supposedly made to move out of her Trump Place apartment.
After the rumours flew that she was about to get the boot, and the maximum anticipation wrung from the scandal, she and Mr. Trump joined metaphorical hands in a press conference designed to show:
1) that Donald Trump does NOT have the shriveled heart of the Grinch, ten sizes too small;
2) that this young lady, previously packaged as a Midwestern tomboy who just happens to look like Pet Doctor Barbie, is NOT an unmanageable train wreck with a penchant for fast living; and
3) the old PR trick of the repentant sinner will get 'em every time.
Frankly, I'm not buying. These two held their own in a tango of exquisitely choreographed baloney-throwing that would have made Fred and Ginger jealous.
Then-- mirabile dictu!-- the production values of this little morality play reached heights of perfection hitherto unseen when Rosie O'Donnell recently weighed in with her opinion. As to the Donald's fitness as a morality coach for the nation's young women: subtly she intimated that she was unpersuaded, due to his past behaviour. The Donald then returned fire with a mudslinging frenzy. The unsuspecting public has been assaulted continuously since by news reports of the unsavory acts and attributes of which these two accuse one another. And just yesterday, Madonna stepped into the fray.
While the whole affair results in plenty of publicity for them, it is less than enlightening for the rest of us. Surely this is no way to build a role model for young women today. Maybe the problem lies more with the counterfeit idea of the "beauty pageant", and all the attendant hooey-- for example, the chance to ogle nearly-naked women on a stage, and pass it off as some nod to educational and charitable goodness.
Perhaps surprising to the cynics among us, but rude, crude American comedy may be experiencing a backlash.
The same phenomenon that is fueling the reaction against exhibitionism in the culture may be doing the same favor for comedians. Forty years into the drive for bluer language, and plumbing ever-deeper into creepy behaviour for laughs, a turnaround is afoot. The Wall Street Journal reports that comedy is cleaning up: in a major recent story, the paper’s Weekend Section described the trend. The generation that grew up clicking through a hundred late-night channels and finding no limits to what they might see and hear is simply exhausted. There is no jolt or thrill in hearing filthy language if the joke is not funny. Been there, done that.
A number of "clean" comics are finding their stock on the rise in a market that is rediscovering the value of actual material, shorn of its smutty costume. Comedians who manage to “find the funny” in commonplace things, and don’t require the use of a sailor’s vocabulary (with all due respect to mariners), see that many venues are willing to reward them. Cruise ships once advertised the “uncensored” approach of comics, in the fashion of the originals—guys like Lenny Bruce, who had a legitimate beef with certain societal restrictions, or Richard Pryor, an authentic "ghetto comedian."
But covering a lack of quality material with a torrent of sewage doesn't work, and audiences are tiring of it. According to one manager: “[People would] rather go to the midnight buffet”.
Ouch.
OK, I admit to a certain measure of glee at the prospect of seeing the most explicit comedians dethroned. As long as I live I’ll never be delighted with the stench of manure and the god-awful visuals that stay too long in my imagination, courtesy of some “comedian” greedily slumming for laughs. Of course, even in the midst of this applaudable renaissance, there are comics like Penn Jillette, of the comedy team Penn and Teller, who see it all as simply a philosophical difference, a matter of opinion and taste. To quote him: “It's like an artist saying he doesn't like using blue color in a painting. I respect that. But if someone says people shouldn’t use blue [language] because it’s immoral, then I say @#$#$$$!!!@@.”
How offensive. But then, I never found him funny anyway.
Since I last posted on this subject (1/15/06) the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has approved the use of Gardasil. Gardasil is Merck's vaccine against the transmission of certain strains of the Human Papilloma Virus (HPV), and is intended for use by girls as young as nine and up to age 26. HPV is a viral infection that is transmitted ONLY via sexual activity. It is estimated to cause (between two of its several varieties) upwards of 70% of cases of cervical cancer, which can be deadly. The American Cancer Society (ACS) reports that roughly 9700 women are diagnosed with cervical cancer every year, and of that number, roughly 3,700 will die.
A few facts: Of those women who do contract HPV, 90% or more will clear the infection through natural immune response, requiring no treatment and sustaining no long-term health effects. It is important to note that the vaccine can only prevent infection by HPV (and only two types at that), and NOT treat an existing one. It also can’t protect against other strains of HPV which cause cervical cancer, which the ACS website points out: "It is important to realize that the vaccine doesn't protect against all cancer-causing types of HPV, so Pap tests are still necessary."
Clearly, regardless of what protections the vaccine does offer, monitoring of sexually active women via Pap is still critically necessary: treatment of any precancerous cells found via Pap can stop cervical cancer before it is fully developed.
When I first heard of Merck’s plan for the vaccine, I questioned the advisability of routine and blanket vaccination of very young girls against a virus that can be contracted only through sexual activity. While the FDA approved its use in girls as young as nine, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) advisory panel, perhaps a bit more sensitive (the idea of 9-year-old girls as sexually active might upset parents!) fudged the age closer to puberty and issued its recommendation for girls 11 and up.
In the interim, Merck has been busy creating a new campaign to raise awareness about cervical cancer called "Tell Someone". Coincidentally, after years of stagnation and lack of profits in the vaccine business, drug companies such as Merck are making a major push to expand the adolescent market for vaccines, which pharma companies believe to be an area of tremendous growth opportunity. (Gardasil itself is administered in three doses over a course of six months, at a cost to the patient--or the insurer-- of $360.00, not including doctor's and other fees.) The campaign’s website should be lauded for getting out the word that this virus is connected to cancer. But it is heavy on the fear factor and just a little coy about clarifying that this particular cancer-causing virus can only be contracted through sexual contact. It takes several clicks to uncover that fact. In the meantime, a visitor might think a handshake or a sneeze could spread it.
However, the American Cancer Society is more upfront:
“You can prevent most precancers of the cervix by avoiding exposure to HPV. Delaying having sexual intercourse if you are young can help you avoid HPV. Limiting your number of sexual partners and avoiding sex with people who have had many other sexual partners lower your risk of exposure to HPV. Remember that HPV does not always cause warts or other symptoms, so a person may have the virus and pass it on without knowing it. “
Not only that, the ACS website is clear on the fact that, for the sexually active girl or woman, testing for the virus is not only possible but fairly easy:
“Doctors can now test for the types of HPV that are most likely to cause cervical cancer ("high-risk" types) by looking for pieces of their DNA in cervical cells. The test is done in a similar way to the Pap test in terms of how the sample is collected, and in some cases can even be done on the same sample. “
The CDC website makes a further point— that is, even if you contract HPV and it causes precancerous cells, you are not doomed to succumb to cervical cancer:
“Regular Pap testing and careful medical follow-up, with treatment if necessary, can help ensure that pre-cancerous changes in the cervix caused by HPV infection do not develop into life threatening cervical cancer. “
Well, that’s good news. Someone can easily keep track of their HPV status and make sure it doesn’t progress to anything more serious. So why do we need blanket vaccination? Especially when the vaccine does not prevent every type of potentially cancer-causing HPV?
Not surprisingly, two Michigan lawmakers recently proposed to make this vaccine mandatory in girls 11 and up. This is an important development as Michigan may set a trend for other states to follow, and a government program which sponsors the cost would increase both sales momentum and the “acceptability” factor of vaccinating young girls against an STD.
So I still object stubbornly to this trend, for a number of reasons. First, safety. The imprimatur of FDA and CDC approval does not make this vaccine safe. Only time will tell that, and only after it has been rolled out in a broad manner among prepubescent girls. For anyone who believes that the FDA say-so is all the reassurance they need, I’d point out that the FDA approved Vioxx and Merck had deep market penetration before that drug’s safety issues became obvious. Merck is fighting hard in court venues around the country as former patients and their families claim death and disability resulted from its use.
Second, there are reasonable options. If one can prevent HPV infections by refraining from or being very careful about sexual contact, and if HPV infections can clear up on their own or be verified by testing, and if HPV-related precancerous cells can be treated before turning cancerous, aren’t there many ways to avoid HPV-related cervical cancer without subjecting your daughter to possible side effects of the vaccine?
And finally, I object because I don’t like the social engineering aspect of it. Here's what I mean. If adult women want this protection, they should be welcome to choose it. And pharma companies have a right to want to expand their customer base. But it shouldn't be our priority to enhance their revenue stream by being obliged to buy a product for which the real need is questionable. I don’t like the effect it has on our cultural psychology: It says that to catch ‘em early, before they start having sex, we need to vaccinate at age nine. Or eleven. What happened to childhood? The medical establishment and the legislators are already buying in. When the grownups start taking this notion seriously, the children will too, no matter what sort of defensive spin you put on it. And there’s no way that can be good for children.
A group of young lawyers, eager to please their new boss, gather round an office laptop to view the pornographic home movie of a man and a woman-- and we the audience get an ear- and eyeful. The woman in question has accused the man of rape. The lawyers are the man's new defense team, led by the highly-acclaimed Attorney Stark, subtly nicknamed "Shark". The defense team is preparing to go to any lengths to humiliate and shred the woman's reputation and make the claim that once consensual (and videotaped!) sex has been had, no future encounter can be considered rape. "Justice? That's for God to worry about. We care about winning."
A handsome, whistling blond man prepares himself for the task at hand with the cheerful goodwill of any one of Disney's Seven Dwarfs. But if he were to join that merry band, we'd have to nickname him "Psycho", because his labors are directed at the contract killing of two men on a tropical beach. As he takes perfect aim and drills the two targets like bucks during hunting season, the camera lingers lovingly on the assaulted men, one with bullet head wounds clearly marked, the other in a tidal pool of blood.
A beautiful showgirl comes offstage and the camera follows her, naturally, to the dressing room, where the scene unfolds with the added "benefit" of the maximum T&A of all the half-naked girls in the room.
Thus we are introduced to some of the new protagonists (I'm hard-pressed to call them "heroes") of the new fall TV season. It doesn't even begin to describe the embarrassment of riches of sex and violence that have become standard fare for the small screen. (Did I mention William Shatner, of Boston Legal, discovered having sex-- in an office closet-- with a blow-up doll made to look like a colleague? Even Captain Kirk never got beyond a few kisses-- on the show, anyway.)
I read recently that TV producers are spending more and more on the new shows, coming off the wave of cheaper "reality TV" fare, to make the shows feel more like big-budget movies. That's not all. They are pushing the limits of taste and decency to the lowest I've ever seen on TV. This is the medium that, only a decade ago, was giving us corny but wholesome stuff like "Matlock" and "Murder, She Wrote". Anything that might be reasonable "family" viewing is now relegated to certain stations, while the big networks chase the audience down the sewer.The prohibition on profanity and violence during the eight o'clock "family hour"? Long gone.
In Belgium, apparently they have never had the custom of using traffic stop signs. Anyone approaching an intersection loses the right of way if they hesitate at all before plowing through. The effect is that the cautious driver, slowing down even a little, is handicapped and thus has to wait, while the heedless fool that hits the gas gets the go-ahead. So the careful are punished, and lousy drivers rewarded.
Except that ultimately, everyone loses. The crash rate is such that they are actually considering installing traffic control. Insurance companies have had it. People who live near crosswalks are tired of the car parts and injured piling up on their doorsteps.
We should be too-- fed up with this constant assault on standards in the name of amusement. These shows exhibit a cynicism, and a lack of esteem for human life, that is appalling and astonishing-- whatever their worth as entertainment.
Beauty magazines may be a limited lens with which to view the culture, but they can be, at times, quite revealing. Last month Allure ran a letter from its editor wherein she discussed the ability to flirt and be alluring to the opposite sex. Getting the topic off the ground, she reminisced about that girl in junior high who just KNEW the right way to flip her hair-- the one that most of the girls were dying to imitate.
In order to further her knowledge (to be shared with you, dear reader) of this innate, hair-flipping, allure-ability, the editor and a few of her colleagues decided the thing to do would be to interview strippers-- sorry, exotic dancers-- at a well-known "gentleman's club". Because these gals get paid to turn men on, they figured, they must really know all the right moves. And so they did, joined by a few gents in order to make sure the act really did produce the desired results, and was therefore worthy of imitation. There followed, in the editor's letter, some of the tips the dancers shared.
I found this astonishing and yet terribly dreary. The advice of the women who can enlighten us the least is held up as the gold standard; the sterile, professional's base of knowledge becomes that which we all should emulate. Their approach-- which elicits the predictable, common, purchased response of men in strip clubs-- should be our ideal of how to attract a man. And for what purpose? The editor didn't elaborate.
I don't think she really meant for her readers to step up the ladder to professional tease or, for the really ambitious, prostitute. And while she does sign off with the acknowledgment that this type of seduction is "cartoonish, a collection of mannerisms", I believe this is commonly known as "speaking out of both sides on one's mouth." "True sexiness is innate, guileless, unaffected", she says. Fascinating, yes. But then why make the effort to take not one but twenty colleagues to spend their precious time investigating the strip club technique? Did it really take the interview for them to come to this rather obvious conclusion?
And never mind the indecency of it. Slighted no less than their brains were women's hearts and souls. It was nothing but this shallow, sexual aspect of their lives on exhibit, and held up as praiseworthy. The beauty and depth and mystery of the things that attract men to women were simply ignored. So doesn't this reduce attraction, and consequently all women, to the level of a business transaction?
I know, I know-- it's just a magazine, and a magazine that is dedicated to beauty and fashion tips is hardly the place to look for an in-depth guide to enhancing one's inner beauty, much less the meaning of attraction between the sexes. But must we really reduce the power of a woman to attract and seduce a man to this? To her ability to initiate a Pavlovian physiological response? We should be emphasizing the remarkable power of a woman over a man in this context--power that comprises much more than just the physical.
There's a type of game I'm sure you're all familiar with-- it's usually found in arcades, sometimes supermarkets. It's the one where your money buys you the chance to manipulate a giant claw in order to pick up prizes. Some of them are playable until you "win", meaning you'll get to pick up something from the display, even if it's not the item you wanted. But most of them give you one shot only, and with the exception of my husband (skilled and VERY lucky) I have never seen anyone succeed at it. The game engenders frustration of the first order, and the irony is, the stuff inside is some of the worst junk you can imagine. Stuff you wouldn't pick out of a garbage can. But the psychology of featuring it, of putting it beyond your reach, ramps up your desire until you get a little crazy-- and keep reaching for quarters until you're broke.
This stupid game frustrates the heck out of my kids, even though they know better, even though over the years they've learned their lesson and are reasonably certain they will have their hopes dashed. The game still draws them in, playing on their desire.
That's what our culture is doing to us, all the time. All the powerful images in our very visual society, are constantly stimulating a fruitless desire for a satisfaction that is not truly obtainable. To be thin, sexy, beautiful, rich, cool, famous, hip, "hot" (ugh, that phrase)-- you name it.
C.S. Lewis described it as a demand for constant novelty, which is valuable for ruining hearts in that it "diminishes pleasure while increasing desire...spell{ing} avarice or unhappiness or both."
It's just another reason why we so desperately need the concept of modesty in our lives. Modesty becomes the sensible restraining hand that gives us the distance and rationale to reject the beckoning images, the foolish desire for constant change and immediate gratification. Modesty helps to keep our desires from overrunning us, and to bring us the true satisfaction of contentment. A heart that has modest desires is one that may be deeply and fully satisfied.
I was just wondering about fellow blogger Lily's whereabouts, so I checked in to the website that is covering Lily and her fellow UT students bike trek to Anchorage to benefit cancer patients and research. It sounds like she's doing great--
What are the repercussions of the current explosion in plastic surgery procedures? For the modesty-oriented, what might our philosophy be? On the one hand, knowing and appreciating human nature, we might argue that the ability to rectify perceived problems with your appearance would allow you to become less self-conscious, and more concerned about things of depth and importance.
But with something on the order of 10 million of these procedures taking place annually, perhaps we should admit that there's more going on here. Perhaps our shallow popular culture-- and it's obsession with everything temporal and external-- is causing an epidemic of insecurity, pushing many who don't need it to be "fixed". If that's the case, the availability and relative safety of these procedures is NOT a common good. It may be causing a fundamental shift in our thinking about beauty per se. Can we be beautiful if we are different from the accepted norm? Who gets to define beauty for us? It annoys me that the same types we all remember from high school-- the "opinion leaders" who decided who and what was "cool" for the rest of us-- seem to be the same people who make those calls for the celebrity society we now inhabit. You, you and you-- fabulous. You three-- maybe. The rest of you-- hopeless.
How ridiculous that grown-ups should allow themselves to be manipulated in such a way-- the same as emotionally-fraught teenagers. But we're human, and we all do crave acceptance in some form-- even if it means joining "anti-social" groups, we still seek the safety of group approval.
But the pace of the celebrity society, and the power of its visual images, can easily overwhelm the restraining hand of maturity. The plastic surgery wave seems to affect women in general much more deeply and broadly, as so much of a woman's power can appear to be wrapped up in her physical self. But men are hardly immune. The rise of the "metrosexual" man-- fastidious, feminine, but not gay-- has made this kind of looks-obsessiveness, once comfortably the realm of the female, a place where more and more men find themselves.
Can we benefit from this ability to improve our (physical) selves and not become overwhelmed by it? We've all heard or witnessed a case of surgical improvement gone bad (dangerous or just ugly), but these are most likely the sensationalized, "newsworthy" few. I'm more concerned that the whole obsession takes us away from our ability to judge the good from the beautiful.To understand and appreciate what's important, in the long run. Certainly for some people this ability will be enhanced by the improvement of some perceived imperfection. But our society as a whole?
What are the repercussions of the current explosion in plastic surgery procedures? For the modesty-oriented, what might our philosophy be? On the one hand, knowing and appreciating human nature, we might argue that the ability to rectify perceived problems with your appearance would allow you to become less self-conscious, and more concerned about things of depth and importance.
But with something on the order of 10 million of these procedures taking place annually, perhaps we should admit that there's more going on here. Perhaps our shallow popular culture-- and it's obsession with everything temporal and external-- is causing an epidemic of insecurity, pushing many who don't need it to be "fixed". If that's the case, the availability and relative safety of these procedures is NOT a common good. It may be causing a fundamental shift in our thinking about beauty per se. Can we be beautiful if we are different from the accepted norm? Who gets to define beauty for us? It annoys me that the same types we all remember from high school-- the "opinion leaders" who decided who and what was "cool" for the rest of us-- seem to be the same people who make those calls for the celebrity society we now inhabit. You, you and you-- fabulous. You three-- maybe. The rest of you-- hopeless.
How ridiculous that grown-ups should allow themselves to be manipulated in such a way-- the same as emotionally-fraught teenagers. But we're human, and we all do crave acceptance in some form-- even if it means joining "anti-social" groups, we still seek the safety of group approval.
But the pace of the celebrity society, and the power of its visual images, can easily overwhelm the restraining hand of maturity. The plastic surgery wave seems to affect women in general much more deeply and broadly, as so much of a woman's power can appear to be wrapped up in her physical self. But men are hardly immune. The rise of the "metrosexual" man-- fastidious, feminine, but not gay-- has made this kind of looks-obsessiveness, once comfortably the realm of the female, a place where more and more men find themselves.
Can we benefit from this ability to improve our (physical) selves and not become overwhelmed by it? We've all heard or witnessed a case of surgical improvement gone bad (dangerous or just ugly), but these are most likely the sensationalized, "newsworthy" few. I'm more concerned that the whole obsession takes us away from our ability to judge the good from the beautiful.To understand and appreciate what's important, in the long run. Certainly for some people this ability will be enhanced by the improvement of some perceived imperfection. But our society as a whole?
After getting a glimpse of ugly, elite jock behaviour with the story of the Duke Lacrosse team, I was distressed to have a similar peek at what women’s sports can produce.
Elite women’s athletic teams at thirteen different colleges (including my alma mater) were featured in this website here for their –ahem—highly inappropriate behaviour. When young women get the chance to compete in athletics-- with the same respect and support as the men—why are their hazing rituals prone to becoming as reckless and vulgar as the men’s? I am at a loss here, because I’ve never played a team sport, but I don’t think it’s limited to sports—I suspect it’s a group-think that takes over, and whatever alcohol–fueled idiotic suggestion is received with the enthusiasm of a great idea.
The fight for equality in women’s sports has been long and uphill, and not without some negative impact on the men’s teams. College administrations struggle to produce equal participation, on limited funds, where women may not have native interest in sports at the same rates as men. Female athletes have had to endure the struggle to put their sports on the map, and to gain the respect of the athletic community. This kind of silliness (see here as well) must be even more frustrating to them than it is to alumnae like me. I expect that the University whose diploma hangs on my wall, and which never fails to hit me up for the Annual Fund drive-- supposedly to support the value of that diploma-- would have more of an interest in disciplining the behaviour of their elite jocks. It’s especially revealing when the wiseguys at the Website juxtapose the reality of the team antics with the high-minded University discipline policy.
Sadly, the response I got from my alma mater's Alumni Office was terse to the point of emptiness. Either their embarrassment was so great at being made aware of the incident (and its publication on the Internet) or they couldn’t care less and were annoyed at having to respond—I couldn’t tell.
Is this what we should expect from women athletes? All the bad behaviour, with less testosterone? Again, I didn’t notice any chagrin in the media reports about the specific behaviour of the lacrosse players up to and until there was a rape charge. Other have weighed in (check here and here)--what do you think? Is this the equality we’ve fought for?
In a tip of the hat to Mother's Day, a recent edition of a local magazine ran a cover piece entitled "Celebrating Moms". Accompanied by an eye-catching photo of a lovely woman embracing a smiling child, it promised an examination of the amazing bond between mothers and children.
When you got to the article, though, it turned out to be a celebration of working moms, rather than moms in general. OK, great: although I'm not a career mom myself, I have many friends who do the incredibly difficult task of working and mothering, and do it brilliantly, mustering energy and juggling capabilities that I can only goggle at.
But I thought it was a bit disingenuous when the piece mostly celebrated the glamorous career and not so much the mom part. You see, the jobs involved weren't administrator or nurse or even teacher, jobs that a great number of working moms do. Instead, they featured: the president of a TV consumer products marketing unit, the director of traveling programs for a major museum, a morning broadcast news anchor-- not your average working mother jobs.
Did I take this as an insult to all the "non-working" (or non-glamorous) mothers out here, including me? Heck no. This is a magazine, designed to attract readers, and therefore advertisers, and therefore dollars. The attractive, glamorous career moms profiled here are just the equivalent of a beautiful model selling products: she is more likely to get the job done than an average-looking female. Fact of life, or regrettable hard truth, depending on your point of view.
But if we're going to truly celebrate moms around this national holiday, let's celebrate the "mothering" part. Really, that's the hard part, the part that doesn't come with a regular paycheck or title or feedback from HR.
