About my post yesterday, In Defense of Jennifer Lawrence:
Who cares, you ask?
Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it makes no difference. Actors and their disciples will come and go, fads will rise and fall, as will the mighty and proud. Dust to dust, and all that.
Closer to home, though, in my little pod, the question has significance.
My protest has two targets. One, the objectification of woman. Second, the sport of finding humour at someone else’s expense.
I’m going to piggyback on an article that came to my reader yesterday. Please read this post by Emily Hauser. The author describes the results of reducing women to objects. An honor killing compelled her to write about a teenage girl who was slain by her brother for the perceived shame brought to the family.
As is often true for oppressed populations, some women support this status quo, serving to perpetuate the very system that hurts them and their sisters — but their involvement doesn’t change the basic fact.
And that basic fact is this: At the end of the day, I cannot be sure that my body is mine. My daughter cannot be sure that her body is hers. Our bodies are free game to whatever man needs to tell the world that he is powerful. Our human right to physical autonomy is not a given.
Women’s bodies are delivery mechanisms for statements about men’s power. Everywhere. Every day.
It was my hope, by writing In Defense of Jennifer Lawrence that I might nudge a few readers, especially young women, toward a realization that we are accomplices. By supporting an industry such as Hollywood, we are partners in crime. You might call that hyperbole. I call it truth.
The second part of my protest, the use of mockery or ridicule as humour? Yeah, not so much. It is just another form of attack. I’ve never been a fan of television programs like Candid Camera, the sort of entertainment that trades on the embarrassment and discomfort of the “victim”.
Of course, at the very root of my response are my personal sore spots. I’ve tripped over my own two feet and have been ridiculed. By my father. The shame from that moment will always resonate, I think.
Back to the cosmic scheme of things: we are all connected, folks. Please play nice.
Photo Credit http://www.dusttoashes.net/
Categories: Personal Growth