I was trying to say something about the sexualisation of children in this rant. Whether I succeeded or not is a matter for debate.
You may or may not be aware of the UK headlines today. Shevaun Pennington, a 12-year-old girl from Wigan, has run off to France with 31-year-old Toby Studebaker, a former US marine. Apparently the two of them met over the Internet, both pretended that they were in their late teens, and at least one of the two met with the other with thoughts of marriage and children on their minds.
Though it's sorely tempting to comment on the fact that, if a US marine can't tell the difference between a 12 year old girl and a 19 year old woman then what chance have they got distinguishing between an Iraqi civilian and an Iraqi guerilla, I'll leave that subject alone for now. I'll also tactfully avoid mentioning just how disappointed the two 'teenagers' must have been upon first seeing each other in the flesh;
"Gee, you look young for 19"
'Yeah, uh...I'm very petite. Um...you look old for your age. In fact, you look as old as my dad'
"Well...you've seen Dawson’s Creek; all teenagers look at least 21, right?"
'Well...I suppose so...fancy going to Paris?'
Instead I'd rather like to spend a bit of time looking at people's reactions to this story. After all, this is a story that has paedophilia at its centre by pretty much anyone's standards. So whilst the papers are, for once, acting with a certain amount of restraint in that the overwhelming tone of the reports is concern for Shevaun's safety, one would expect the general public to be horrified at this soldier for taking advantage of a naive young girl. One may expect the baying for his blood to begin shortly, and in earnest. One would be wrong.
Maybe it's the "If I don't laugh, I'll cry" defence kicking in, but the main reaction as near as I can tell is "Jesus, look at the STATE of her! I mean, Christ, is he so desperate to get laid that he'll take a statutory rape charge in order to have sex with a kid who looks like she would be improved by having a Siamese twin conjoined to her head?!" Maybe that's a trifle harsh (or maybe my friends and I have just got too vivid and unpleasant an imagination...), but nobody seems to be taking this particularly seriously at all. So why not? How come a man can get beaten up in this country for having the same name as a paedophile, but someone who travels over 3000 miles in order to have sex with a 12-year-old girl becomes the subject of bawdy contempt, if not jocular sympathy?
Well, as the full story of what has happened is not known, there's going to be a certain amount of unsubstantiated guesswork going on here, so bear with me. As I've mentioned, the picture of Shevaun that was released to the media is...well, it's less than flattering. The poor girl is not an oil painting, as many have commented on. Well here's a thing; she's only a child, so why the hell SHOULD she have to have model good looks? I rather though that the point here is that she shouldn't have to worry about whether or not she'll be seen as attractive to a 31 year old, yet we're sniggering and making derogatory comments about someone who is a victim in this situation. I don't get it; I mean, when Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman were abducted and murdered, no-one was going "Yeah well, a couple of blondes in footy shirts...I mean, any man would, wouldn't they?".
She's just a child, and as such she shouldn't be expected to worry about how sexually attractive she is. Yet here she is, running off with a man whom she doubtless intends to have a sexual relationship with. So whose fault is that? Is it hers, for lying to a man and leading him on? Is it his for taking advantage of someone who is clearly just a kid? Or is it something more? Well, here is where the guesswork comes in; I would say it's about 1% the first explanation, 49% the second, and 50% something else entirely. If this girls photo has caused disbelieving mirth among all and sundry, it's doesn't take a great leap of the imagination to accept that she quite probably got an equal amount of grief at school. After all, we were all schoolkids once and I'm sure we can all recall the abuse heaped upon the ugly girl in our class, and all in the name of ensuring that whomever it was getting picked on, if it wasn't us then who cares? I know I never gave the first shit, just so long as my peers weren't laughing at me.
Well, if we can understand that Shevaun was almost certainly on the receiving end of teasing and bullying about, among other things, her looks then why on earth are we so surprised that she's ran off with someone who most likely showered her with compliments and bolstered her ego by telling her how much he liked her? Again I must stress, this is no more than me guessing as to the circumstances, but it doesn't sound so unbelievable does it? Yes, Studebaker is pretty much without doubt a predatory paedophile and as such he richly deserves to have his testes nailed to the inside wall of a Tiger enclosure at the zoo. But what about the fact that she was driven part of the way into his arms? I'm not talking about the specific individuals who teased her, but the fact that (and you all knew this was coming...) society allows it.
Speaking as someone who, if you allow me a moment of uncharacteristic boastfulness, has raised the use of vitriol and bile to something like an art form, it may seems very strange that I'm bemoaning the fact that it was probably teasing that drove Shevaun into this deeply unpleasant situation. And I should clarify, I'm not expecting kids to stop belittling each any time soon; that’s just part of growing up. But I am expecting society as a whole to take a bit more interest in making young people feel valued. There have been enough foaming tabloid rants about what we should do to protect our children from paedophiles. Surely we should start a little closer to home, and try and arm our kids with a greater sense of self worth, so that the honeyed words of a sick bastard won’t tempt them to throw away their childhood in exchange for underage sex and mental scarring.
Tuesday 15 July 2003
Wednesday 9 July 2003
Do ya think I'm sexy?
The play was called Cooking With Elvis, and if you ever get a chance to see it I urge you to do so. It's hilarious and moving in equal measure. And you'll see a man get his cock out. Who could ask for more?
In a couple of month’s time, I will be in a play that will find me onstage and as naked as the day I was born. Naturally, were it not for the fact that I'm so damned sexy, I'd be shitting my pants to the point of overflowing. And predictably enough, everyone whom I've told has asked "Aren't you embarrassed?". To which the answer is "No; should I be? Do I have anything to be embarrassed about? It's my body, I'm rather fond of it, and if other people want to come along and have a look at it...well, more power to 'em!"
But, me being me, all those blushing and giggling questioners did set me off thinking; why do we seem to have such a huge hang up on body image in our society? Especially where women are concerned, but increasingly with men as well. I mean, we live in a time when the NHS farts and collapses every time there is a flu epidemic, but where men can also have operations to implant fake muscles into their chests. I'm a first class pervert, and am the first to admit that I have no problem with silicon breasts. But silicone pecs...is it just me, or does that seem like vanity taken to the point of parody?
Everyone, men and women, seems to feel that they are under increasing pressure to have a certain shaped body, a particular size waist, a specific weight range. Why is this? As far as I can see, it seems to be down to insecurity about ourselves and the way we look. But when did self-centred vanity become the accepted way to express this insecurity? Did we, as a society, inch slowly towards that all by ourselves? Or did we receive a helping hand along the way?
Naturally, when looking for something to blame for a fault in society, we will turn our attention to the media. The media gets a lot of bad press (if you'll pardon the pun) in this regard; I'm sure everyone is familiar with the somewhat schizophrenic approach taken by the print media towards body image. On page 4 we will be told of the anguish caused by the increase in anorexia and bulimia among young women, and what could perhaps be done to stop it. Then page 5 will, in scandalised tones, launch an epic flurry of claws and handbags at whichever celebrity happens to have been snapped with his/her stomach being anything less than washboard flat.
In the past, I've always had the same opinion when it comes to criticising any media for what they do; if you don't like it, don't read or watch it. There's not exactly a dearth of newspapers, lifestyle magazines, TV, or radio programs to choose from, so choose one more to your liking. After all, we're adults and are capable of making our own choices. That is still my opinion, but I have had cause to add a caveat to it; sometimes we have no choice in the matter. Sometimes something permeates so many different parts of the media on so many levels that we're left with little option but to be aware of it. There can't be many people in the UK who remain blissfully unaware of the continuing saga of Victoria Beckham, her appearance, her weight, and her husband (and anyone who has stayed unaware is a lucky, lucky bastard...). However, just because we are all aware of something, doesn't mean we have to actually pay any attention to it, or give it any credence.
(As a side note, I should really confess that I've found myself modifying my opinions of films or albums based on favourable write-ups in magazines. Curiously, I'm not really ashamed to admit that...maybe that's just because I've never read a magazine that's told me I should be)
The thing is though, if it is the media, then why do we go out and buy or watch the image-obsessed dross that is cluttering up newsagents and TV stations? I mean, they wouldn't be successful if we had no interest in them, yet we weekly spend a sum equivalent to the third world national debt on ladmags/'lifestyle' mags (as women insist on calling the froth that fills the pages of Cosmo et al)/scandal rags. It seems odd that the media gets so much of the blame for our growing obsession with body image, when one could build a convincing case that they are merely responding to what the public wants.
Which leads us to the obvious question; why is this what the public want? Why do we want the perfect body, even at the expense of having a remotely enjoyable life. I mean, I've known a few people with eating disorders, and the misery that they caused themselves trying to sculpt their body to someone else’s idea of perfection far outweighed any misery they had felt for being overweight/ugly. To me, it seems bizarre that no-one stops to think "Hang on; I only weigh as much as a packet of crisps now, I have hunger pains all the time, and my body chemistry is completely screwed due to malnutrition. Hmm...yeah, I must be happy with my weight!".
I'm taking the proverbial to an extent there; eating disorders are a mental illness, and expecting someone to think logically about anything when in the throes of mental illness is unreasonable of me. Couldn't we therefore say that society's body image hang up is a widespread form of mental illness? Well...perhaps, but not everyone with an obsession over body image ends up with an eating disorder. So perhaps it is a mistake for me to think of this hang up of society as something to be diagnosed and then treated.
I'm starting to ramble more than usual, so I shall draw things to a close now. And as per usual, I find that I've raised more questions in my own head than have been answered. The one thing I remain sure of, and hope I've gone some way to impressing on you, is that society is spending a disproportionate amount of its time being concerned with what is not much more than petty vanity. Surely we're all better than that.
Aren't we?
In a couple of month’s time, I will be in a play that will find me onstage and as naked as the day I was born. Naturally, were it not for the fact that I'm so damned sexy, I'd be shitting my pants to the point of overflowing. And predictably enough, everyone whom I've told has asked "Aren't you embarrassed?". To which the answer is "No; should I be? Do I have anything to be embarrassed about? It's my body, I'm rather fond of it, and if other people want to come along and have a look at it...well, more power to 'em!"
But, me being me, all those blushing and giggling questioners did set me off thinking; why do we seem to have such a huge hang up on body image in our society? Especially where women are concerned, but increasingly with men as well. I mean, we live in a time when the NHS farts and collapses every time there is a flu epidemic, but where men can also have operations to implant fake muscles into their chests. I'm a first class pervert, and am the first to admit that I have no problem with silicon breasts. But silicone pecs...is it just me, or does that seem like vanity taken to the point of parody?
Everyone, men and women, seems to feel that they are under increasing pressure to have a certain shaped body, a particular size waist, a specific weight range. Why is this? As far as I can see, it seems to be down to insecurity about ourselves and the way we look. But when did self-centred vanity become the accepted way to express this insecurity? Did we, as a society, inch slowly towards that all by ourselves? Or did we receive a helping hand along the way?
Naturally, when looking for something to blame for a fault in society, we will turn our attention to the media. The media gets a lot of bad press (if you'll pardon the pun) in this regard; I'm sure everyone is familiar with the somewhat schizophrenic approach taken by the print media towards body image. On page 4 we will be told of the anguish caused by the increase in anorexia and bulimia among young women, and what could perhaps be done to stop it. Then page 5 will, in scandalised tones, launch an epic flurry of claws and handbags at whichever celebrity happens to have been snapped with his/her stomach being anything less than washboard flat.
In the past, I've always had the same opinion when it comes to criticising any media for what they do; if you don't like it, don't read or watch it. There's not exactly a dearth of newspapers, lifestyle magazines, TV, or radio programs to choose from, so choose one more to your liking. After all, we're adults and are capable of making our own choices. That is still my opinion, but I have had cause to add a caveat to it; sometimes we have no choice in the matter. Sometimes something permeates so many different parts of the media on so many levels that we're left with little option but to be aware of it. There can't be many people in the UK who remain blissfully unaware of the continuing saga of Victoria Beckham, her appearance, her weight, and her husband (and anyone who has stayed unaware is a lucky, lucky bastard...). However, just because we are all aware of something, doesn't mean we have to actually pay any attention to it, or give it any credence.
(As a side note, I should really confess that I've found myself modifying my opinions of films or albums based on favourable write-ups in magazines. Curiously, I'm not really ashamed to admit that...maybe that's just because I've never read a magazine that's told me I should be)
The thing is though, if it is the media, then why do we go out and buy or watch the image-obsessed dross that is cluttering up newsagents and TV stations? I mean, they wouldn't be successful if we had no interest in them, yet we weekly spend a sum equivalent to the third world national debt on ladmags/'lifestyle' mags (as women insist on calling the froth that fills the pages of Cosmo et al)/scandal rags. It seems odd that the media gets so much of the blame for our growing obsession with body image, when one could build a convincing case that they are merely responding to what the public wants.
Which leads us to the obvious question; why is this what the public want? Why do we want the perfect body, even at the expense of having a remotely enjoyable life. I mean, I've known a few people with eating disorders, and the misery that they caused themselves trying to sculpt their body to someone else’s idea of perfection far outweighed any misery they had felt for being overweight/ugly. To me, it seems bizarre that no-one stops to think "Hang on; I only weigh as much as a packet of crisps now, I have hunger pains all the time, and my body chemistry is completely screwed due to malnutrition. Hmm...yeah, I must be happy with my weight!".
I'm taking the proverbial to an extent there; eating disorders are a mental illness, and expecting someone to think logically about anything when in the throes of mental illness is unreasonable of me. Couldn't we therefore say that society's body image hang up is a widespread form of mental illness? Well...perhaps, but not everyone with an obsession over body image ends up with an eating disorder. So perhaps it is a mistake for me to think of this hang up of society as something to be diagnosed and then treated.
I'm starting to ramble more than usual, so I shall draw things to a close now. And as per usual, I find that I've raised more questions in my own head than have been answered. The one thing I remain sure of, and hope I've gone some way to impressing on you, is that society is spending a disproportionate amount of its time being concerned with what is not much more than petty vanity. Surely we're all better than that.
Aren't we?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)