Just when I thought they couldn’t get worse, something new and insidious surfaced.
Gawker wrote recently about AA’s looks-based hiring policies, leaking internal documents that discuss AA’s “New Standard”: “Classy-Vintage-Chic-Late 80s-Early 90s- Ralph Lauren-Vogue-Nautical-High end brand.” Their employees are the front line of the brand’s new image, and should represent the company accordingly.
So who are they looking for to help represent the new look? The more important question is (and always should be in cases like this), who aren’t they looking for?
“None of those trashy [black girls],” said one e-mail from corporate. “We’re not trying to sell our clothes to them. Try to find some of those classy black girls, with the nice hair, you know?”
Let me just repeat that for you for a second: “some of those classy black girls with the nice hair.”
Women of color have long been victims of a white beauty standard that others them. Black women in particular are generally represented as animalistic and hypersexualized. AA’s policy plays directly into those stereotypes, defining black women as either “trashy” (good) or “classy” (bad) based on outer appearance, as though a woman’s hair reveals all about her personality, politics, and ability to be a fashionable employee.
We’ve blogged about this before, but hair has always been a huge point of cultural contention, especially when it comes to a white-male-defined standard of beauty. Natural black hair has been seen in the past as ugly, lower-class, and even threatening. Other employee comments on Gawker suggest that when AA says “nice hair,” they mean “natural hair”—two employees were told to stop straightening their locks.
I’m sure American Apparel is patting itself on the back for this, like encouraging black women to wear their hair “naturally” is some kind of slap in the face to oppressive beauty standards. But really, all it’s doing is continuing a long history of white men telling black women how to look and act, lest they be deemed undesirable.
Why does anyone still support this cesspool of a company? Yeah, ethical manufacturing and no slave labor, blah blah blah, but at this point it’s clear that anything AA does for workers is coming not from a place of respect, but of pseudo-liberal principles that allow the company to earn cred with upper middle class white youth who think of themselves as so damn progressive.
AA can print “legalize LA” on as many pairs of brightly-covered briefs as they want, but it is becoming increasingly obvious that people of color, women, and especially women of color are nothing to this company but objects to be played with and adorned as the company desires.
P.S. CEO Dov Charney seems to be none too happy about the buzz this news is generating: employees are now bound by a confidentiality agreement regarding the hiring process. Any employee found giving information to media will be sued for—wait for it—ONE MILLION DOLLARS.
Beyoncé’s new video for her track, “Why Don’t You Love Me?” has been a hot topic of debate recently on a bunch of blogs we read.
The clip features Beyoncé as “BB Homemaker,” a character that pokes fun at stereotypical depictions of both the pin-up model and the seemingly-happy-but-secretly-unhappy 1950s/1960s housewife.
Beyoncé prances around in the video doing all the activities a housewife or pin-up model might do. Except, as a housewife she is quite inept. At one point she is doing some dusting in a sexy dress, but when you look closer, you realize she is dusting off a row of gleaming Grammy Awards. Then she’s trying to bake some cookies, but she’s actually just throwing flour around in her underwear. She also burns some kind of roast she’s cooking. And gardening seems to be more about looking fabulous than anything else.
It’s hard to criticize this video. My first instinct is to just enjoy and not analyze. But there are a few interesting issues that arise, whether Beyoncé intended to address them or not.
We're used to seeing white representations of 1960s housewives, such as Betty Draper
Over at Feministing, Ann argues that the video is transgressive because it depicts a black woman in two roles typically associated with white women.
Latoya at Jezebel, who responds to the post, claims Ann’s logic is flawed:
If these images are associated solely with whiteness, it’s because the history of women of color has been systematically erased, deemed unworthy of inclusion in the general framework of ‘the way we were.’ There were upper middle class black women in the 50s and 60s, even entire enclaves like Striver’s Row in Harlem. However, one did not have to be upper class, or even upper middle class, to be a housewife.
Although Latoya has an excellent point, Ann’s argument that a woman of color playing these roles is transgressive is still valid; the history of women of color has been systematically erased to the point that women of color are not typically associated with these roles in the mainstream media, so Beyoncé’s portrayal is therefore still challenging stereotypes. Here’s a black woman poking fun at roles the media has typically shut her out of, and doing it gleefully.
Plus, these are roles for women intended largely to please men, and Beyoncé is mocking the hell out of them. Set against the lyrics, this satire becomes even more meaningful.
Let’s take a look:
Now, now, now, honey
You better sit down and look around
Cause you must’ve bumped yo’ head
And I love you enough to talk some sense back into you, baby
I’d hate to see you come home, me the kids
And the dog is gone
Check my credentials…
I give you everything you want everything you need
Even your friends say I’m a good woman
All I need to know is why?
Why don’t you love me?
Tell me, baby, why don’t you love me
When I make me so damn easy to love?
And why don’t you need me?
Tell me, baby, why don’t you need me
When I make me so damn easy to need?
I got beauty, I got class
I got style, and I got ass
And you don’t even care to care
Looka here
I even put money in the bank account
Don’t have to ask no one to help me out
You don’t even notice that
…
I got beauty, I got heart
Keep my head in them books, I’m sharp
But you don’t care to know I’m smart
Now, now now now now now now
I got moves in your bedroom
Keep you happy with the nasty things I do
But you don’t seem to be in tune
Ooh…
…
There’s nothing not to love about me
No, no, there’s nothing not to love about me
I’m lovely
There’s nothing not to need about me
No, no, there’s nothing not to need about me
Maybe you’re just not the one
Or maybe you’re just plain… DUMB
Beyoncé is saying that she “makes” herself easy to love, but the guy doesn’t love her anyway. In the end however, she realizes she is worth loving for all her qualities—smarts, ass, class, etc., and that he is “dumb” for not loving her. In combination with the video, in which the character of BB Homemaker makes fun of all the things she is supposed to do to make her man happy, the message seems to be that the idea of trying to make yourself lovable for a man’s sake is ridiculous.
Of course, the delivery of the message isn’t perfect. There are some mixed signals in the video and in the lyrics. At times, Beyoncé is playing the role of the pin-up quite straight, gyrating in sexy outfits to prove she is a desirable sex object for other, wiser hetero men. Latoya at Jezebel really gets to the core of the issue when she quotes a post on Beyoncé she previously wrote for Racialicious:
“…the woman Beyoncé portrays always defines herself against a man, and any empowerment she receives is from severing herself from one man and into the arms of another or attracting more male attention.”
This is exactly what’s happening in “Why Don’t You Love Me.” Nevertheless, I have to admit that I loved this video and I think that as long as we watch it without expecting Feminism with a capital “F” from Beyoncé, it’s worth admiring for its comedy, its camp and Beyoncés bomb body. Not to mention, of course, her wicked voice.
A few months ago, comedian Chris Rock released a documentary that investigates the fanatical preoccupation with “good hair” in the black community. It’s a film that takes the viewers from neighborhood salons in Atlanta to rural villages of India, investigating the multibillion-dollar haircare industry. I’m a big fan of any documentary that examines the media and its influence on young women, and “Good Hair” was insightful, provocative and entertaining.
Just as Darryl Roberts’ documentary “America the Beautiful” comically tackled America’s obsession with bodily perfection, Chris Rock’s “Good Hair” comically tackles the black community’s obsession with impeccable locks. Rock talks to a wide variety of people, from celebrities like Raven Symone and Maya Angelou to everyday men, women, and high schoolers—none of whom think twice about getting a thousand-dollar weave or using relaxer in their hair. According to the documentary, worrying incessantly to make your ‘do “less black” is not just common in contemporary African-American culture—it’s expected.
The film focuses its attention on relaxer, the chemical used to make curly hair flawlessly straight. Celebs, like rap duo Salt ‘n Pepa and even the Reverend Al Sharpton, openly admit to using it. Relaxer has so much sodium hydroxide in it that it could potentially burn through one’s scalp, yet people continue to use it to achieve stick-straight hair. The documentary also explores the industry of weaves—wigs made of real hair that cost upwards of several thousands of dollars. These hair pieces, as the film points out, overwhelmingly come from Indian women who sacrifice their hair for religious purposes. The women who admit to wearing weaves show no shame around spending a month’s paycheck (or more) on a vanity item.
What causes this concern for perfect hair, the subjects say, is the desire to “look white.” Comedian Paul Mooney declares in an interview, “When your hair is relaxed, white people are relaxed. If your hair is nappy, they’re not happy.” While seemingly outrageous, this claim is, sadly, probably true.
While I thought “Good Hair” was a fascinating and hilarious look at one aspect of black culture, I wish Rock had more carefully examined this insecurity of looking white. Is it bad? Dangerous? What causes it and how can we stop it? Even toddlers, yearning to have straight hair, get swept up in this physically and emotionally damaging cycle—one girl in the film, just four years old, was getting her hair relaxed. The movie ended up being a comedy that simply rolled its eyes at the issue. The message seemed to be “this is just how it is; you can’t change it.”
When I voiced this concern to an African-American former professor of mine (who rocks the natural ‘do), she told me matter-of-factly that “hair is to black women what weight is to white women.” That analogy is dead on, I thought. Obviously you can’t draw a line strictly down the middle, but just as black celebrities spend thousands on weaves and extensions, white celebrities grace the covers of tabloids after spending thousands on personal trainers and state-of-the-art diets. Both ideas of unachievable perfection trickle down to average women, women who believe this perfection must be the norm.
Have you seen “Good Hair?” What did you think? Are you a black woman, and do you feel an unstoppable necessity to make your hair look like something it’s not? Do you think the comparison between black women and hair and white woman and weight is a legitimate one? Why do black women seemingly desire to have “white” hair? Leave your thoughts in the comments.
I stumbled across the Media That Matters Film Festival web site while randomly searching for documentaries online. After browsing through the taglines of numerous films on the site, one description immediately intrigued me:
“What’s your ethnic make-up?” A young man makes a pass at a beautiful stranger and gets an eye-opening schooling on race and gender.
I was impressed and touched by each of the short films I viewed on the site, but Slip of the Tongue (2005) especially stood out because it hit very close to home.
“What’s your ethnicity?” “What’s your ethnic background?” “Where are your parents from?” “Where are you from?” “What are you?”
If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked these questions, I would not have to worry about paying off my college loans. Believe it or not, these are the questions most people have asked me upon meeting me for my entire life.
I understand that I’m asked out of curiosity, and I often wonder similar things about other people. But I’d like to explain that a question like “What’s your ethnic make-up?” is much more loaded when the person you are asking is a young, brown, American woman.
We may feel very proud of our heritages, but that doesn’t mean we want to be immediately defined by them. That kind of classification, especially for women and especially in the context of being hit on, feels like the all too familiar fetishization of the “exotic” woman: mysteriously beautiful, yet ultimately the strange “other”–a spectacle and a sexualized object.
The girl in the story is not necessarily mixed-race, but she still lies in the spectrum of ethnic ambiguity. Once plagued by the beauty standards that all American women face, made even more unattainable to women of color, she now explains the connections between not only race, but also imperialism, globalization, and capitalism within the conventional beauty ideals.
Like Sophie in the video “Beauty is Not How Skinny You Can Be!”, the girl in “Slip of the Tongue” reminds us that we are unique individuals. We should learn to embrace our natural beauty because our genes carry the rich history of our ancestors.
Beauty standards are simply trends marketed to make money for cosmetic industries. Covering up or altering our natural appearances to fit subjective beauty standards is, in a way, denying our ethnic roots and diverse forms of beauty.
What are your thoughts on the video and the issues it brings up?
What words have we been programmed to use when defining beauty? How about flawless, skinny, model, glamorous, celebrity, or perfection? How about painful? Well, I’m rebelling.
I have a word I would like to include my in my definition of beauty; that word is “real”. “Real” as in something we all possess. “Real” as in every woman in her own uniqueness. “Real” as in the stunning photographs by acclaimed South African photographer Jodi Bieber.
Real Beauty depicts women who live in and near Bieber’s South African community. According to Bieber’s website, she encouraged all of the women she photographed to explore their own personalities and fantasies for their shots.
"Caroline" by Jodi Bieber
The photos are intimate. In some instances, they are so unflinching and personal that they are hard to look at. I felt like a voyeur, yet I wanted to keep looking.
The women in the photographs are proud and dignified. They are black and white and fat and thin. Some of the women are clothed, some are not. Some of them are sensual and some are very matter of fact. Each of them is very real and beautiful.
I dare you not to find at least one that doesn’t make you think “that reminds me of me.”
Bieber’s award-winning Real Beauty collection is an extension of the Dove advertising campaign depicting ordinary women in their underwear advocating real beauty. Bieber’s photos also came out of the reality of an increase in the number of black anorexic women in South Africa. This new trend has western body shapes being more desirable even in cultures that have historically celebrated a more full-figured shape.
"Brenda" by Jodi Bieber
On her web site, Bieber says that while thin women can often be seen as more desirable, in some communities thin and tall women are perceived as being sick (HIV) while full figured women are seen as more healthy. I imagine that in an impoverished nation, being fuller-figured is also a sign of prosperity, as you are obviously eating. It shows that you have a better chance at survival.
Ironically, in the United States we have an over-abundance of everything, yet we are expected to deprive and starve ourselves in order to fit unrealistic body and beauty expectations.
"Tami" by Jodi Bieber
In western culture, beauty is generally held up as an unachievable gold standard—and darn it if we don’t enjoy a good challenge! We pluck, shave, laser, dye, cut, diet, paint, exercise, liposuction, nip and tuck our bodies to fit someone else’s ideal of what we are supposed to look like. And yet, only a select few are ultimately celebrated for having what is deemed perfect skin, perfect hair, and the perfect body.
Look at the photographs Jodi Bieber has gifted to the world and ask yourself “what words would I use to describe beauty?” I like these: dignified, stylish, confident, serene, inclusive, unique, healthy, me, you. Real.
–Jodie
Jodie Maruska is a freelance writer, public speaker and stand-up comic based in Minneapolis.Her popular talk “Belly Laughs” effectively combines humor with the powerful message of body acceptance as Jodie shares her experience and observations of the complicated relationship we have with our bodies.She is a regular contributor to the Minnesota Women’s Press and was a recent finalist in the Flash Fiction competition for MNArtists.org.
A frame from the new Rethink Breast Cancer commercial (full video is on the jump)
Rethink Breast Cancer has released a new ad that they hope will catch the attention of heterosexual men and increase awareness of breast cancer as the leading cause of cancer death in young women ages 20 to 59. But though they may have the best of intentions, this ad is liable to do more harm than good.
We’ve all seen the “pinkified” ads for breast cancer awareness and research. They usually focus on women as mothers and daughters and frequently feature emotional music, pastel colors, and a plea for support. It’s no doubt time for a new approach, but the ad recently created by Rethink Breast Cancer is a big step in the wrong direction.
The video opens with a shot of a pool party, with a crowd of women and men enjoying themselves in the water. Then, to the amazement of all the men, Aliya-Jasmine Sovani (a host for MTV News Canada) walks onto the scene, wearing a small white bikini. The video is slowed down and cropped to showcase Sovani’s breasts, and reveal the motion of her breasts with every step she takes. The men at the party are excited, while the smaller-breasted women surrounding them look on in envy and disapproval. The caption reads, “You know you like them. Now it’s time to save the boobs.”
Apparently, to the makers of this advertisement, the ability to look at breasts is the only reason men care about women. It would be impossible to appeal to them as lovers, fathers, sons of women who are affected by breast cancer. No, best to keep it simple for the dudes: “If they lose their boobs, we can’t ogle them anymore!” (And that’s not even taking into account the other women in the ad; clearly, women with smaller breasts aren’t worth saving.)
This ad not only reinforces the objectification and valuing of women based solely on bodily perfection, but it degrades men as well, portraying them as incapable of seeing beyond their own desires to the concerns of women they care about. Real men care about the women in their lives as full people: minds and spirits, as well as bodies. When a husband loses a wife to breast cancer, it’s not the loss of the breasts that he is mourning, but the loss of a woman.
While getting men concerned about the dangers posed by breast cancer is an important goal, ads like this will only serve to remind women that their value in the eyes of men is determined by the perceived perfection of their bodies.
Dora the Explorer’s new “tween” look has caused quite a stir. The new Dora seems to be telling little girls that looks are, in fact, very important. She is also suggesting that girls should be more interested in styling their hair than in having adventures.
Luckily, the original, adventurous young Dora will live on in her television show. The tween Dora is being marketed as a doll that can hook up to computers to interact with her web site, doralinks.com. The site and doll will officially launch on September 29th, but until then, visitors to the teaser site can watch the Dora links commercial, which you might have seen on television:
The commercial focuses on three main features of tween Dora and doralinks.com: numerous outfit and accessory options, the ability to change Dora’s eye color from brown to blue or green, and the option of making her hair longer.
The commercial mentions that she will now be solving mysteries with her “explorer girls”, but then just goes on to highlight changing Dora’s appearance in order to “disguise” her for investigations. That is a pretty sorry attempt to hold onto any bit of the old Dora’s soul. What’s next, having the option to lighten Dora’s hair and skin? Being able to give her lip injections and breast implants? Maybe they’ll wait for teen Dora for those options.
These marketing points are still standard for girls’ toys, but I really hoped that such a dynamic, groundbreaking character like Dora would not grow up conforming to gender stereotypes and placing so much emphasis on her looks. Cartoon characters and dolls are still role models for girls, and when most play options involve taking care of babies or putting on pretty outfits, we can really see where women and girls still stand in this world.
Judging by my observations of other girls and from my own experiences growing up, girls tend to lose their gusto somewhere between the ages of 6 and 12. Unfortunately, Dora the Explorer is no exception. The Punky Brewsters, Ramona Quimbys, and Eloises of our childhoods are eventually taught that they should be seen and not heard, and that they need to conform to certain standards of beauty and conduct that are appropriate for girls. These standards do not include being bold, rambunctious, or playful.
Why do little girls in this age group lose their spark? Perhaps society is threatened by the power these girls could grow into if allowed to cultivate those characteristics. Meanwhile, boys are encouraged to continue to develop these qualities as they grow older, and they go on to make up the majority of people in power.
I would’ve liked to see the older Dora take on even bigger, more challenging adventures instead of retreating to a stereotypical girly-girl’s world and focusing on her looks. The tween Dora could’ve been an action figure for children, but instead, because of her female gender role, she is assigned the passive role of a doll, focusing on her appearance instead of adventure.
Want to tell Dora’s production companies what you think? Yeah you do. Contact them:
Viacom Inc.
1515 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
(212) 258-6000
or online
Mattel, Inc.
333 Continental Boulevard
El Segundo, CA 90245
(310) 252-2000
A few months ago I was reminiscing about all the TV shows I watched growing up, and I noticed a common theme: a majority of the female lead characters were blonde.
Jem, Sailor Moon, Clarissa, Cher, Lizzie McGuire, Alex Mac, Buffy, and Sabrina
I related to these characters in different ways, depending on my age and their stories, but as both of those factors changed, one factor remained the same throughout all of these shows: the female lead, the character I was to relate to, was always blonde and white, while I remained brunette and brown.
Now, there are plenty of television shows with women who are not blonde on them that I also watched — don’t get me wrong. But I noticed an overwhelming trend toward shows that featured a blonde main lead female character, especially in cases where the show included her inner monologue or narration.
Many of the shows I grew up watching provide just a few examples of the blonde, adolescent protagonist: Jem, Sailor Moon, Clarissa Explains it All, The Secret Life of Alex Mac, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Clueless,Lizzie McGuire, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Shots from Lizzie Mcguire and Buffy
These shows did not all feature characters aimed to attract a male audience sexually — they were mainly shows for girls.
From Lizzie McGuire’s embarrassment and confusion when buying her first bra, to Sabrina’s frequent run-ins with the catty cheerleader Libby Chessler — these characters experienced awkward and challenging situations that girls can often relate to. Many were also admirable, and I looked up to them: I admired Clarissa’s creativity and individuality, as well as Buffy’s courage and strength.
They were likable, and each had her own unique problems on top of adolescence, including pesky little brothers, secret identities, magical powers, radioactivity, and the pressures of saving the universe from demons. But the fact that I related primarily to characters who looked very similar to each other and different from me was problematic.
I think this pattern taught me from a young age that blonde girls and women are the most valued females in our society. They are the most beautiful, special, desirable, and deserving of attention. This sentiment is echoed numerous places in our media environment. I’m not sure how things have changed now, or how they were before my ’90s childhood, but the “blondes are best” experience was mine growing up.
Dora and Kai-Lan bring multi-culturalism and diversity to children's TV
And with television and movies, especially ones aimed toward young girls, there are endless merchandise outlets. I remember owning books, posters, videos, games, and electronic toys related to these shows. But you can also add clothes, backpacks, makeup, dolls, school supplies, and anything else you could imagine to these merchandising options. So not only are these images being seen on TV, but they are also on the shelves and in the possession of their fans. They are everywhere.
I’m starting to see things change a bit now, with more minority females featured as leading characters on kids TV shows such as Dora The Explorer and Ni-Hao Kai-Lan.
But as far as shows for older children and teenagers, my perception is that not much has changed. While ensemble casts may be more ethnically diverse, to me it seems that blondes still dominate the media’s female focus.
Gossip Girl, The Hills, and Heroes
How do you perceive blonde characters vs. characters with darker hair or skin? What kinds of lead female television characters did you look up to when you were growing up? What kinds do you see today or would you like to see today?
As we found out from The Root, Mattel is releasing a new line of Barbie dolls that are getting a lot of attention. The new line, called “So In Style,” or “S.I.S.” are supposed to be African-American and to have more “authentic” facial features. The S.I.S. dolls are sold in pairs, with one adult doll and one young doll, in order to model a mentor relationship.
What makes this new line of black dolls interesting is that each character has a different skin tone, representing the variety of skin tones that black women have. Also, the dolls have straight, wavy, and curly hair. Props to Mattel for including these differences, but while it may be a step forward in representing racial diversity, it is far from far enough.
The S.I.S. dolls are just another example of how America loves to see African-Americans: as white as possible. The women most regarded as beautiful, who likely serve as popular role models for young girls, have light skin, more Anglo features, and, of course, are very thin. Beautiful black women with darker skin, more “ethnic” features, or with curves or muscles get nowhere near as much attention or praise for their beauty. What kind of message does that give to black girls and the rest of society?
In terms of hair, the S.I.S. line includes one adult doll with curly hair and a young doll with afro-puffs (not pictured). The rest of the dolls have long, wavy or straight hair — just like white Barbies.
Of course many black women do have hair like this, but most don’t grow it that way naturally. There are six different dolls — why not six different kinds of hair? To me, this lack of representation just reaffirms the notion that “nappy” or “kinky” hair is bad, while promoting long, sleek hair as the most (or only) beautiful option.
African-American women have a variety of hairstyles, natural and otherwise, that should be represented in this line. How would dolls with dreadlocks or interchangeable hair weaves fly? Would they be marketable? Would they be offensive? I don’t know. But I do think that they would provide some much needed representation for the differences within black women’s hairstyles and practices.
In the range of skin tones for black women, I would say that these dolls come in very light, medium light, and medium skin tones only. The darkest one is actually not so dark at all.
It pretty much goes without saying that Barbie dolls are going to be ridiculously skinny with impossible proportions, but if they must be the supermodels of toys, I’d like to see dolls that look like Alek Wek too.
(Left to right:) Black supermodels Tyra Banks, Iman, Alek Wek, and Kimora Lee Simmons
Seeing more representation of females with dark skin, natural hairstyles, and various facial features and body types on screen, in print, and in toys will not only help African-American girls and women feel more beautiful and appreciated, but will also provide a much needed additions to the set of characteristics our society holds as beautiful.
-Sabrina
Sabrina is a student at the University of California, Santa Cruz, studying Community Studies and Sociology. Her area of focus is cultural politics and she is interning with About-Face for a field study. Sabrina is especially interested in women’s roles and representations in mass media.
From the moment the Obama family moved into the White House, our newest President and his wife became instant American icons. A beautiful and intelligent African-American couple, the Obamas exist under a social microscope with the media reporting on virtually every aspect of their lives.
In the midst of all the Obamamania, one of the most interesting news trends is the increasing interest in Michelle Obama, often subjecting her to a level of attention beyond the normal scrutiny reserved for a first lady.
Michelle Obama has essentially become public domain, with every aspect of her body up for discussion, from her clothing choices to her physical body itself.
The interest in Michelle’s clothing is like most relationships we have with public figures. There is a fun and escapist quality in watching her wardrobe choices. Mrs. Obama has a huge fashion following, often referred to as “the new Jackie O”, she inspires blogs that track her every outfit, and coffee table books celebrating her style. She makes headlines whether she’s wearing designer Narcisco Rodriguez or J. Crew, and even her penchant for sleeveless frocks inspires nationwide controversy.
Like the obsession with her wardrobe, the attention given to Michelle Obama’s body feels inspired by the public’s voyeurism (the press and public often critique the bodies of female celebrities), as well as a desire to be like Mrs. Obama. From Fitness Magazine to Glamour, magazines everywhere are promoting articles on “How to Get Michelle Obama’s Arms!” Very interesting. But what does this say about us?
Is it strange that the press is focusing so much on Mrs. Obama’s clothing and body, and rarely mentioning her other life accomplishments? Or are women simply inspired by an extraordinary first lady who always looks fantastic?
The desire to dress and look like Michelle Obama is understandable, she is a beautiful woman who promotes a healthy body image, which the public is clearly responding favorably to. But here are 4 facts about Mrs. Obama that get a little less press coverage:
Michelle was born and grew up on the South Side of Chicago and graduated from Princeton University and Harvard Law School.
Michelle met Barack Obama when they were working at the same law firm, and she was assigned to mentor him.
She promised Barack that she would support his decision to run for President if he quit smoking.
She is a strong and down-to-earth mother who values her children remaining as normal as possible, keeping them involved in play dates, school, and sports activities.
Mrs. Obama’s body is something to be desired, but I would like to know that as many women are inspired to attend Ivy League schools, go to law school, support their husbands, and become strong mothers because of her example, too. Obviously, Michelle is truly a positive female role model, and the media should treat her as such…with or without those toned arms.
accordingly.
Just as Darryl Roberts’ documentary 
