One Size Does Not Fit All: Undressing the Performance of Bodies in Popular Culture [1 ed.] 9781793646965, 9781793646972

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One Size Does Not Fit All

Communication Perspectives in Popular Culture Series Editors: Andrew F. Herrmann, East Tennessee State University, and Art Herbig, Purdue University, Fort Wayne Communication Perspectives in Popular Culture examines the integral role that popular culture plays in scholarship and teaching. We use it to critique culture and to exemplify theory. We use it to understand public discourse as well as help us to explain the role that those discourses play in our daily lives. The way popular culture helps construct, define, and impact everyday reality must be taken seriously, specifically because popular culture is, simply, popular. Rather than assuming that popular culture is an unimportant place of fantastical make-believe with no impact beyond the screen, this series studies popular culture and what it can tell us about identity, gender, organizations, power, relationships, and numerous other subjects. The goal of this series is to provide a glimpse into the differing relationships between academic research and a number of popular culture artifacts from a variety of perspectives to create a space for larger discussions.

Recent Titles in This Series One Size Does Not Fit All: Undressing the Performance of Bodies in Popular Culture Edited by Sarah S. LeBlanc and K. Megan Hopper Organizational Communication Approaches to the Works of Joss Whedon By Andrew F. Herrmann Love, Language, Place, and Identity in Popular Culture: Romancing the Other Edited by María Ramos-García and Laura Vivanco Communication in Kink: Understanding the Influence of the Fifty Shades of Grey Phenomenon Edited by Jessica M. W. Kratzer Pop Culture Yoga: A Remix By Kristen Blinne Communicating with Memes: Consequences in Post-truth Civilization By Grant Kien Myth, Fan Culture, and the Popular Appeal of Liminality in the Music of U2: A Love Story By Brian Johnston and Susan Mackey-Kallis

One Size Does Not Fit All Undressing the Performance of Bodies in Popular Culture

Edited by Sarah S. LeBlanc and K. Megan Hopper

LEXINGTON BOOKS

Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www​.rowman​.com 86-90 Paul Street, London EC2A 4NE, United Kingdom Copyright © 2023 by The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: LeBlanc, Sarah S., 1976- editor. | Hopper, K. Megan, 1979- editor. Title: One size does not fit all : undressing the performance of bodies in popular culture / edited by Sarah S. LeBlanc and K. Megan Hopper. Description: Lanham : Lexington Books, [2023] | Series: Communication perspectives in popular culture | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This book explores how popular culture texts represent and focus on the body and how this focus exacerbates the potential for these representations to serve as a crucial social influence on audiences. Contributors examine a diverse set of bodies across the media spectrum and open the door for further research in this area”—Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2022040393 (print) | LCCN 2022040394 (ebook) | ISBN 9781793646965 (cloth) | ISBN 9781793646972 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Human body in popular culture. | Human body in mass media. | Human body—Social aspects. | Human body (Philosophy) | Body image—Social aspects. Classification: LCC HM636 .O5256 2023 (print) | LCC HM636 (ebook) | DDC 128/.6—dc23/eng/20221014 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022040393 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022040394 ∞ ™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Contents

Acknowledgmentsix Prefacexi Sarah S. LeBlanc 1 Introduction 1 Sarah S. LeBlanc, K. Megan Hopper, and Sylvia Rust PART I: LIZZO

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2 Auntie Sam Rocks the Vote! The Embodied Politics of Lizzo in the 2020 U.S. Election Ruth J. Beerman 3 Feelin’ Good as Hell?: The Influence of Cardi B. and Lizzo’s Music Videos on College-Aged Women’s Perceptions of Beauty, Sexism, and Sexualization Amy Crumbaugh, Tamanna Tasmin, and K. Megan Hopper PART II: SOCIAL MEDIA

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4 “This is the Kind of Influencer We Want to See!”: A Study of Body Representation among Instagram Influencers Nora Suren

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5 Accidental Culture Jamming: Celeste Barber and the Juxtaposition between the Real and Ideal Body Erin Cook and Trischa Goodnow

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6 Keeping Up with the Yummy Mummies?: Examining Kim Kardashian’s Mediated Yummy Mummy Images on the Reality Television Program Keeping Up with The Kardashians versus Instagram Posts Suri M. Pourmodheji

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7 (Re)Presentations: Personal Narratives and the Posthuman Body in the #MeToo Movement Amanda Hill

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8 “He’s dragged me here so I can understand”: Race, Gender, and the Performance of Painted Bodies in MTV’s Drag My Dad Wanjiru Mbure and Wendy Chapman Peek

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PART III: TELEVISION 9 “There’s a lot of inches to love”: Expectancy Violations, Fat Identity, Weight Stigma, and Relational Turmoil in TLC’s Hot and Heavy Mary Beth Asbury and Jessica M. W. Kratzer

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10 “Body-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody”: Interrogating Black Bodies in Cable Television Siobhan E. Smith-Jones and Johnny Jones

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11 The One with All the Fat-Shaming: An Examination of Anti-Fat Bias on Friends Adrienne Darrah

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12 Where Power Resides: An Analysis of Female Bodies in Game of Thrones Juliana Russell and Sarah S. LeBlanc

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PART IV: ADVERTISING

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13 “Anti-Racist X-rays?”: Color-Blind Racism and the “Universal” Body Beck Wise

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14 #Realbodies: Exploring the Impact of Women Empowerment Advertisements 249 Ashton Gerding Speno and Jennifer Lewallen Woolf

Contents

15 Eat French Fries and Be Healthy: The Fit Body as a Means of Promoting Fast Food Debbie Danowski 16 Ideal-Body Media and Gay Men’s Self-Discrepancy Irena Acic, Lindsay Roberts, and Laramie D. Taylor

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Index 305 About the Contributors

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Acknowledgments

Writing and editing have always been deep passions of mine and it is with great pleasure that I was able to engage in both of those activities as a coeditor of this book. To be able to collect, write about, and edit others’ analyses of how the body is represented in popular media has only made this project even more gratifying. Thus, I am incredibly thankful to be a part of it and to do so alongside my coeditor, Sarah Symonds LeBlanc, whose significant amount of leadership and work on this book throughout the process has been no less than amazing. In addition, I want to acknowledge my mother, Marilyn Hopper, who has always pushed me to follow through on whatever I set my heart to. Her belief in me is the driving force behind every goal I have accomplished, and I could not have accomplished them without her steadfast love and support. Last, we are indebted to the authors who provided the important work contained in this book. Their contributions speak to the vast amounts and varying types of popular representations of the body and their analyses clearly describe how these representations work in shaping cultural perceptions of the body. Their work is a testament to how important and influential popular representations of the body are and how deserving they are of deeper consideration. —Megan This is the second book I had the honor of editing and contributing to; it’s weird that I find this task enjoyable as I get to see not only what my colleagues are working on but also be able to provide feedback along the way. I want to begin by thanking the series editors, Andrew Herrmann and Art Herbig, for this opportunity ix

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Several months ago, before the idea for this collection was even a blip on the radar, I emailed Megan asking for a copy of an article she published in 2014 for an autoethnography I was writing. When the manuscript was complete and accepted, I sent it to Megan and thanked her. I want to thank Megan for saying “yes” to the crazy idea of doing an edited volume, but also, I want to thank her for being a presence in my life since fall 2007, when we were first assigned as office mates. We still await our dream World Series of Cubs vs. RedSox. My partner, Matt LeBlanc, is my biggest supporter outside of the academy, and much of what I accomplish would not be if he was not my biggest cheerleader. Words cannot express how much his support and the love of our daughters Caroline and Evangeline keep me motivated. Finally, thank you to the authors and their contributions to this work. Reading their chapters taught me so much about popular culture and the diverse ways we see, talk, and represent our bodies through the various pop culture mediums. Thank you for dealing with all the emails and duplicate requests, but most of all, thank you for the opportunity of being able to read your work before anyone else. —Sarah

Preface Sarah S. LeBlanc

The more agency women have for their careers or their presence, the more their agency is questioned. Michelle Konstantinovsky (November 2021) said it best when she wrote: It took six years for Adele to create the masterpiece that is her feverishly anticipated fourth album, 30, which came out last week. It took approximately three seconds for critics to start turning the ocus from her epic achievement to her weight. (para 1)

The accomplishments of many women and non-cigender heterosexual men continue to hide behind the headlines focusing on weight. The pictures and headlines women view in many popular press magazines cause many of these individuals to self-scrutinize their bodies (Hopper & Aubrey, 2015). Rihanna, who gave birth to her first child in May 2022, embraced her pregnant body, even going as far to say that she was scrutinized for having a big tummy as she walked down previous red carpets but having a baby bump silences the criticism (Soteriou, 2022). It is okay to have a little jiggle in the middle, but only when the one sporting it is pregnant. Even as we conclude the editing and writing of this book, the autonomy surrounding women’s bodies is heavily scrutinized thanks to the leak of a June 2022 Supreme Court ruling banning abortion. What is ironic is that our society has been controlling women’s bodies for centuries. Roberts (1997) wrote about how plantation owners would force themselves upon their female slaves because they owned their bodies and the bodies they reproduced. Single-female slaves or even slaves separated from their husbands were assigned sleeping quarters with male slaves so that the male slave would impregnate the female slave. Then during the agrarian society, farmers xi

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would keep their wives home forcing them to hide their menstruating bodies (Delaney et al., 1988). Our society perpetuates the narrative of hiding women’s bodies. Despite the headway made for women empowerment, it is only recently where popular culture started to embrace women’s body topics that are often considered taboo, such as menstruation. The season finale of season 1 of The BabySitter’s Club (Netflix) highlights Kristy experiencing her first menarche at her mother’s wedding. PIxar’s Turning Red brings to light the puberty issues many teenage girls face. Episode 8 of Season 1 of The Wilds (Amazon Prime) captures one of the characters starting her period after being stranded on the island for sixteen days. Finally, Black-ish Seson 4, Episode 6 features Diane starting her first period. The toys and games aisles feature a game designed specifically for menstruation called “The Period Game,” which teaches young girls about periods and the menstruation cycle. Finally, Cards Against Humanity released a pack of cards just on menstruation. While these examples from television and the gaming world focus on menstruation, I hope popular culture continues to introduce techniques to change the narrative about other aspects of women’s bodies. I bear witness to how the rom-com books now feature overweight women as the main character, instead of as the perpe​tuall​y-sin​gle-b​ecaus​e-I’m​-fat-​best-​frien​d. Reality television has started to feature curvier, bigger, beautiful women. For example, Lizzo starred in her own reality show (Amazon Prime 2022) featuring girls competing to be part of her Big Gurrls, Lizzo’s back-up dance team. Each episode Lizzo springs a lesson on self-acceptance and being accepting of one’s body. By the end of the first season, Lizzo hired an overweight trans dancer to join the Gurrls. There are clothing websites devoted to just plussize women so that they can be fashionable and fabulous so they no longer have to resort to elastic waist pants. As you sit down and consume the chapters in this collection, please note that they may read as journal articles; but the message behind these chapters epitomizes what popular culture communicates about bodies and how this communication is changing. We should no longer embrace the silence regarding heterosexual beauty norms. We hope you use this book to spark conversations with others in order to embrace all bodies. One final note, as I would be remiss if I didn’t mention it. The cover for this collection was done by my youngest child in March 2022. As we began brainstorming ideas for a cover, I pulled a pile of papers from her backpack. I flipped through them and when my eyes landed on this piece of art, I thought “now this is our cover.” Hidden beneath the colors is a stick-figure body. You interpret that as you wish. Thank you to Mr. Musser, Miss Paula, and Miss Drea of Whitney Young Early Childhood Center for inspiring your students so that they produce art like this.

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REFERENCES Delaney, J., Lupton, M.J., & Toth, E. (Eds.) (1988). The curse: A cultural history of menstruation. University of Illinois Press. Hopper, K.M., & Aubrey, J.S. (2015). Bodies after babies: The impact of depictions of recently post-partum celebrities on non-pregnant women’s body image. Sex Roles, 74, 24–34. https://doi​.org​/10​.1007​/s11199​-015​-0561​-2. Komnstantinovsky, M. (2021, November 23). How to undermine a woman’s success: Talk about her body. Glamour, online. Roberts, D. (2017). Killing the black body: Race, reproduction, and the meaning of liberty. Vintage Books. Soteriou, S. (2022, March 16). Rhianna admitted she will be an incredibly protective mom who won’t “play” when it comes to her kids after opening up about her changing body in pregnancy. BUzzfeed.News, online. Accessed from: https://www​ .buzzfeednews​.com​/article​/stephaniesoteriou​/rihanna​-changing​-body​-third​-trimester​-challenge

Chapter 1

Introduction Sarah S. LeBlanc, K. Megan Hopper, and Sylvia Rust

Bodies are everywhere. Especially in Western cultures, there is a preoccupation with, and some would even say obsession with, the human body. Is it a fascination with what the body can do? Not quite. The media in particular focus on how the body looks. This is important to examine as a focus on how the body looks and the linkages of how a body looks to an individual’s worth can have a powerful impact on individuals’ perceptions of their bodies, their perceptions of others’ bodies, as well as the relationship between individuals’ bodies and the value society places on them. Investigations into individuals’ images of their bodies began in the 1920s when Paul Schilder took a psychological and sociological approach to body image research (Grogan, 1999). Specifically, Schilder studied the susceptibility of body image to change regarding why many experienced inconsistencies in perceptions of body size, feelings of being thin and fat, and how body image impacted one’s relations with others. Several definitions for what one’s body image consists of have been proposed and employed in research examining an individual’s body image. Building upon Schilder’s original body image research, Grogan defines body image as “a person’s perceptions, thoughts, and feelings about his or her body” (p. 2). Further, Grogan argues for emphasis to be placed on the recognition that body image is subjective and malleable to social influence Research continues to examine both individuals’ experiences with their bodies as well as the cultural context they are immersed in to consider the social construction of body image (LeBlanc, 2020). One cultural variable that impacts body image is the media. As such, Grogan (1999) asserts body image is influenced by the acquisition of the latest information from mass media sources. Media messages not only influence how individuals perceive their bodies but the bodies of others as well. 1

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For quite some time, one pervasive aspect of society that has been argued as an influence on one’s body image is the relentless depiction of the exceptionally thin female body found and idealized in the media. Media that idealize thinness, or thin-ideal-depicting media, are regarded as “those that focus on the thin body shape, to the exclusion of other facets of human character like personality and agency” (Harrison & Fredrickson, 2003, p. 217). In addition, Harrison (2000) argues the media may also advance the thin ideal when fatness is portrayed as being undesirable, which also has been found to have negative impacts on individuals’ body image. Media representations of bodies in our culture can be found across the media spectrum and exposure to these representations start at a very young age. For instance, bodies are portrayed frequently throughout the books targeted at young children. In their analysis of children’s literature, Leon Gonzalez et al. (2020) determined that female characters are often underweight, while male characters are either portrayed as average weight or a bit large. The consequences of these portrayals are long-lasting. Research has found that body dysmorphia, self-objectification, eating disorders, overexercising, among others, are just some of the negative consequences inaccurate portrayals of bodies may have on audiences (Braithwaite & DeAndrea, 2021; Coyne et al., 2018; Dunleavy & Malova, 2019; Hopper & Aubrey, 2013, 2016; Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018; Vangeel et al., 2020). Thus, it is important to examine media portrayals, in particular pop culture, because of the cultural power they exert. Another impact of the portrayal of bodies in popular culture is the potential for these bodies to become sites of social comparison whereby individuals use bodies displayed in the media to compare to their own, as research employing social comparison theory (Festinger, 1954) has indicated. For example, if both women and men see individuals portrayed in the media being primarily valued for their appearance and their bodies, they too may start to value themselves predominately for their appearance and bodies. Thus, the purpose of this book is to explore how popular culture texts represent and focus on the body and the potential for these representations to serve as a crucial social influence. Further, while the bulk of research has focused on media portrayals of the thin ideal body type for women, the chapters within this book explore the emergence and portrayal of other body types. As such, this book examines a diverse set of bodies across the media spectrum and opens the door for further research.

WHAT TO EXPECT The thirteen chapters of this book examine the representation of bodies present in four popular media platforms. We began the book by focusing on

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“real” bodies present in the music and advertising industries. Two chapters within this section center on hip-hop artist Lizzo. First, Beerman focuses on the power embodiment argument. She argues that Lizzo, during the 2020 Billboard Music Awards and her fall 2020 Instagram posts, created an embodiment argument for civic identity and voting. Crumbaugh, Tasmin, and Hopper continue to examine the cultural influence of Lizzo as well as fellow hip-hop artist Cardi B. In their focus groups, Crumbaugh et al. uncovered college-aged women’s perceptions of beauty, sexism, and sexualization and the meaning they derive from these concepts in the music videos of both artists. Part II focuses on the various usages of social media to communicate about the body. This section begins with three chapters looking at various aspects of “Influencers.” Suren starts readers off by examining the cases of two Turkish social influencers, Duygu Ozaslan and Cansu Dengey. Suren describes how Ozaslan’s and Dengey’s fans (and anti-fans, in Ozaslan’s case) construct reality over the representation of women’s bodies, resulting in criticism, anti-fandom, and hate-following in Ozaslan’s case and appreciation, love, and support in Dengey’s case. Cook and Goodnow introduce us to Celeste Barber, an Australian comedian, who posted parody photos and images of celebrities and models in unnatural poses. Cook and Goodnow argue that Barber’s posts took on a cultural jamming function and determined that while Barber’s fans found humor in her posts, the populace is ready for a broader understanding of women’s bodies. Pourmodheji uses select scenes from Keeping Up with the Kardashians and Kim Kardashian’s Instagram posts to examine body image and the “yummy mummy” concept. Pourmodheji argues that Kardashian’s body serves as a representation for postpartum mothers and other women looking to get into shape as an attainable goal. Hill’s chapter moves the reader away from the Influencer and instead looks at the power of the hashtag, #MeToo, and how Twitter highlighted their enacted body through the narratives they shared using #MeToo. Hill concludes that the use of narratives allowed corporeal bodies to become known, making way for the posthuman to arise. Through a Facebook reality show produced by MTV, Mbure and Peek look at how bodies are deconstructed, reconstructed, and transformed. Hosted by Bob the Drag Queen, the show consists of family members nominating a dad, or in one case a mom, to undergo a Drag Queen transformation. Mbure and Peek determined that Bob, the host, must erase ideological barriers that seek to confine drag to expressions of an idealized White middle-class body through an array of strategies. In Part III, the chapters focus on how bodies of differing types are portrayed in popular television texts. To begin, Asbury and Kratzer use expectancy violation theory to examine fat bodies and weight stigma, and the influence these two variables have on romantic relationships. They examine these variables by watching and examining the short-lived TLC show Hot and Heavy. Next,

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Smith-Jones and Jones focus on HBO’s Love Craft Country and Starz’s P-Valley. In their examination of both shows, Smith-Jones and Jones employ the Black gaze, which turns away from Whiteness and instead focuses on the self and the community. Darrah is there for us by examining the highly popular situation comedy Friends and the use of disparaging humor and representation of fat characters, adding to the present fat bias found in television. Darrah considers the use of verbal and non-verbal language and how communication contributed to the stereotyping of Monica when she was overweight in her teens. This section concludes with Russell and LeBlanc’s examination of non-male bodies in Game of Thrones. Specifically, they look at female and eunuch characters’ bodies to uncover how power is communicated. The advertising we see on television, through our social media feeds, and in magazines is the final medium of focus in this text and comprises Part IV. Wise starts us off by examining the lack of bodies in the 2015 Love Has No Labels campaign. Instead of showing real bodies, the series of advertisements use x-ray images to represent a universal human figure. Speno and Lewallen investigate the impact of “real women” lingerie advertisements. Their experiment determined that more women partake in social comparison when viewing “real women” models in lingerie advertisements than not. Danowski explores the use of fast-food advertisements, examining the type of body present within the advertisements. We conclude with Acic, Roberts, and Taylor who examine gay bodies’ self-objection and the small part pop culture plays in contributing to negative thoughts about body image. All in all, we hope this volume serves as a powerful and interesting examination of the abundant representations of the body in influential popular culture texts. REFERENCES Braithwaite, K.N., & DeAndrea, D.C. (2021). BoPopriation: How self-promotion and corporate commodification can undermine the body positivity (BoPo) movement on Instagram. Communication Monographs, 22, 25–46. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​ /03637751​.2021​.1925939. Coyne, S.M., Liechty, T., Collier, K.M., Sharp, A.D., Davis, E.J., & Kroff, S.L. (2018). The effect of media on body image in pregnant and postpartum women. Health Communication, 33(7), 793–799. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/10410236​.2017​ .1314853. Dunleavy, V.O., & Malova, E. (2019). The role of hurtful and healing messages on eating disorder symptomology and recovery. Qualitative Research Reports in Communication 20(1), 58–66. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/17459435​.2019​.1617342. Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7, 117–140.

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Fredrickson, B.L., & Harrison, K. (2003). Women’s sports media, self-objectification, and mental health in black and white adolescent females. Journal of Communication, 53(2), 216–232. https://doi​.org​/10​.1111​/j​.1460​-2466​.2003​.tb02587​.x. Grogan, S. (1999). Body image: Understanding body dissatisfaction in men, women, and children. Routledge. Harrison, K. (2000). The body electric: Thin-ideal and eating disorders in adolescents. Journal of Communication, 50, 119–143. https://doi​.org​/10​.1111​/j​.1460​ -2466​.2000​.tb02856​.x. Hopper, K.M., & Aubrey, J.S. (2013). Examining the impact of celebrity gossip magazine coverage of pregnant celebrities on pregnant women’s selfobjectification. Communication Research, 40, 767–788. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​ /00093650211422062. Hopper, K.M., & Aubrey, J.S. (2016). Bodies after babies: The impact of depictions of recently postpartum celebrities on non-pregnant women’s body image. Sex Roles, 74, 24–34. https://doi​.org​/10​.1007​/s11199​-015​-0561​-2. LeBlanc, S.S. (2020). “The Mommy Body”: A critical examination of the pregnant/ post-pregnant body through Foucault’s Panopticon. Qualitative Research Reports, 25, 3885–3901. https://doi​.org​/10​.46743​/2160​-3715​/2020​.4307.  Leon Gonzalez, M., Infantes Painagua, A., Thornborrow, T., & Contreras Jordan, C. (2020). Associations between media representation of physical, personality, and social attributes by gender. International Journal of Communication, 14, 6026–6048. Mastro, D., & Figueroa-Caballero, A. (2018). Measuring extremes: A quantitative content analysis of prime time tv depictions of body type. Journal of Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 62(2), 320–336. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/08838151​.2018​ .1451853. Mooney, H. (2018). Sad girls and carefree black girls: Affect, race, and (dis)possession, and protest. WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly, 46(3), 175–194. https://www​ .jstor​.org​/10​.2307​/26511338. Vageel, L., Trekels, J., Eggermont, S., & Vandenbosch, L. (2020). Adolescents’ objectification of their same-sex friends: Indirect relationship with media use through self-objectification, rewarded appearance ideals, and online appearance conversations. Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly, 1–25. https://10.11 77/1077699020959723.

Part I

LIZZO

Chapter 2

Auntie Sam Rocks the Vote! The Embodied Politics of Lizzo in the 2020 U.S. Election Ruth J. Beerman

Every four years, Americans elect a president. In modern U.S. history, many organizations and celebrities appeal to the public to vote, such as MTV’s Rock the Vote campaign from the 1990s to the present day. During the summer and fall of 2020, a plethora of celebrities urged voters to vote absentee, vote early, or vote on Election Day. Given the COVID-19 pandemic, many celebrities made their appeals through forms of popular media, such as television specials, magazines, and social media, demonstrating how popular culture exists as “an ever-evolving and changing discourse formation” (Herbig, 2016, p. 102). Melissa Viviane Jefferson, better known as Lizzo, is a Black woman, musician, and celebrity icon. During the 2020 presidential election, Lizzo used her celebrity icon status to engage with her followers and younger audiences, encouraging acts of citizenship and voting, particularly focusing on the Black community. Youth voters, those between eighteen and thirty-five, have traditionally been the least likely to vote; however, they are increasingly voting more and more consistently (Cilluffo & Fry, 2019). And, the Black community hit a record high number of eligible voters, with thirty million eligible voters in 2020 (Wiltz, 2021). In the summer and fall of 2020, Lizzo engaged in multiple efforts to encourage voting, particularly among the Black community and youth. As part of National Black Voter Day, on September 18, Lizzo participated in an Instagram live session with Vice Presidential candidate Kamala Harris, which was covered by Teen Vogue (Ceron, 2020). Lizzo did many interviews and public service announcements, including a feature interview, and appeared on the cover of the October 2020 Vogue (Rankine, 2020). In the Vogue article, she articulated why voter registration matters, along with her role, “My job isn’t to tell you 9

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how to vote. But my job is hopefully to inspire you to vote, to activate you so that you can take your protest to the ballot box” (para. 31). At the end of October, CBS aired a non-partisan election special to get out the vote, entitled “Every Vote Counts.” This hour-long event featured multiple celebrities talking about why voting matters, including Billie Eilish, Alicia Keys, Kerry Washington, Jennifer Lopez, and Lizzo (Liao, 2020). Although Lizzo only spoke for a very short time, she made the case that voting matters as she wanted to “use [her voice] to empower others to discover theirs” (Global Citizen, 2020, 0:17–0:20). Known for her body-positivity, Lizzo frequently displays inclusive fashion. As a Black woman, she noted her choices are political ones (Frey, 2020). Lizzo is a cultural icon; Insider compiled a list of her top iconic outfits for the year 2020 (Bose, 2020). Three of the top ten outfits feature voting, named as an overall fashion trend of vote apparel. Such apparel included the word “vote” on face masks, shoes, necklaces, and T-shirts. Many newspaper and magazine articles examined vote as fashion, with headlines such as: “Why ‘vote’ is the fashion slogan of the season” (Marriott, 2020) and “How Lizzo embraced the political power of fashion” (Romack, 2020). Marko Monroe, Lizzo’s celebrity stylist, discussed the specific choices of dress in an interview with Bustle, stating they designed Lizzo’s outfits based on voting trends and the need to vote (L. Black, 2020). Lizzo argued she used her fashion to inspire voting. Fashionista noted Lizzo used “her time and influence towards a personal campaign to inspire her fans to vote” by specifically using fashion; “she would literally wear clothes that said ‘Vote’ in places and scenarios where maybe people weren’t thinking or talking about voting” (Mau, 2020, para. 6). As such, Lizzo used herself as a celebrity icon to argue for voting, through her words and dress. This chapter analyzes two representative examples, the 2020 Billboard Music Awards ceremony and Lizzo’s Instagram posts and videos from fall 2020 which specifically feature voting; these examples illustrate the power embodied argument. She used her dress, voice, and media platforms to encourage voting in the 2020 presidential election (Barr, 2020; Krause, 2020; Lizzo, 2020a, 2020c; Okwodu, 2020; Wasilak, 2020). Examining how Lizzo used the spaces of Billboard Music Awards and Instagram meets Herrmann and Herbig’s (2016) call to examine popular culture beyond “seeing [private versus public] as either/or relationships” (p. xvi). Also, examining Lizzo’s fashion answers Titton’s (2019) call to unpack the topic of feminist fashion. Drawing upon theories of body argument, dress, icons, and visual ideographs, I argue Lizzo created an embodied argument for civic identity and voting through dress and the Auntie Sam persona, with popular culture being both the platform and the construct for the advocacy.

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DRESSED BODIES AS POLITICAL Although it may appear that clothing and attire are merely functional whereby the social contract states that nudity should be avoided, dress functions in political ways. Indeed, dress can quite literally reshape the body; examples from the seventeenth century to the modern day include the use of padded calf socks, corsets, bras, and underwear to emphasize masculinity and femininity (Bruna, 2015). More modern women’s attire, including shorts, pants, skirts, and dresses, frequently includes no pockets, decorative illusion pockets, or very small pockets. Without (functional) pockets in their clothing, women turn to bags or purses to carry items. The design choices of clothing are not neutral. Instead, societal ideals and expectations intertwine with dress and attire to reinforce each other. Fashion can reinforce the social order, particularly with issues of gender and gender roles. School uniforms and dress codes reinforce ideas of appropriate behavior for students, including policing the shortness of skirts and amount of cleavage or arms showing (Neville-Shepard, 2019). Workplaces use attire requirements to represent their brand; Hooters fired a server Cassie Smith for her weight gain, which meant she failed their aesthetic look for the Hooters brand (Beerman, 2011). Further, the First Ladies Smithsonian exhibit displays dresses of the former First Ladies but does so in ways that place these women in a domestic space, removing them from political power (Keohane, 2017). These examples illustrate the power of fashion to discipline bodies into particular ideologies, reinforcing societal ideals. However, fashion can also be “an expression of protest and dissent” (Titton, 2019, p. 747). Titton locates this focus on political expression and fashion within feminist discourses and a surge since 2017 with one example being the pink pussy hats to protest the 2016 election of President Donald Trump. Another example is tennis player Naomi Osaka’s decision to wear face masks featuring names of seven Black individuals slain by police during the 2020 U.S. Open to protest police brutality and bring global awareness (Frye, 2020; Mansoor, 2020). And yet, fashion functioning as protest and dissent is not such a recent phenomenon. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, woman suffragists used their dress as political statements, during parades, picketing, and a nationwide speaking tour, to argue for women’s right to vote (Kelly, 2011; Palczewski, 2016) as well as to speak in public (Matthews, 1992; Piepmeier, 2004). Dress then operates as a form of visual rhetoric, where the attire makes a particular argument, which can include challenging structures, formulating resistance, and critiquing the social order (Kelly, 2011; Neville-Shepard, 2019; Palczewski, 2016). Visual rhetoric focuses on how the visual itself, such as photographs, videos, and bodies, create arguments (Olson et al.,

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2008; Groarke et al., 2016). A visual is not simply a flag to attract attention, but the way in which the argument is made (DeLuca, 1999) and demonstrates power and ideology (Sturken & Cartwright, 2009). Additionally, bodies function rhetorically, including how we talk about bodies, the rhetoric of bodies, and embodied rhetoric. Although bodies contain matter, such as hair, hips, breasts, among others, bodies come to matter through discourse; our rhetoric provides meaning to those material aspects (Butler, 1993; Shildrick & Price, 1999). Moving from the general understanding of the rhetorical nature of bodies and dress, this chapter now turns to Lizzo’s use of dress and her body that created the argument people should get out and vote. Lizzo did so in two main ways: first, the Vote Dress at the Billboard Music Awards, and second, her use of Instagram and the Auntie Sam persona.

THE VOTE DRESS AT THE BILLBOARD MUSIC AWARDS At the 2020 Billboard Music Awards on October 15, Lizzo won the top sales artist award. She used her appearance as well as her acceptance speech to appeal to voting. Lizzo appeared in a short, asymmetrical off-the-shoulder gown designed by Christian Siriano. This dress, called the Vote dress, was featured as part of his spring 2021 collection. The dress featured the word “vote” appearing multiple times in white capital letters against the black dress, including the word vote across the top of the dress, near Lizzo’s face. Siriano is a pop culture icon in his own right, as a fashion designer, Project Runway winner, and current Project Runway mentor. Siriano dresses celebrities such as Angelina Jolie, Lady Gaga, Janet Jackson, Jennifer Lopez, Oprah Winfrey, and First Lady Michelle Obama. He advocates for body inclusivity and diversity in the fashion industry (Bravo TV, 2021). Lizzo’s dress, and the other vote dresses from Siriano’s Spring 2021 collection, illustrates Titton’s (2019) notion of political fashion. What is unique about this fashion choice is the direct form of address: vote! Titton articulated how fashion designers have typically been vague, ambiguous, and/or use creative techniques to advance their political critiques. However, the Vote dress makes a direct appeal to the viewer, to go out and vote. Wearing the Vote dress and painting her nails black with the word “vote” in white lettering allowed Lizzo to make a direct political appeal, using a rhetoric of display to demonstrate her explicit argument (see Prelli, 2006). The simple black and white color scheme illustrated a clear, simple message: one should vote in the upcoming 2020 presidential election. Many red carpet and award ceremony outfits are over the top, outlandish, and brightly colored. Having a simple black dress as a backdrop for the white letters, the repetitive

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word “vote,” says the choice is as clear cut as something in black/white, a truthful appeal. What a celebrity wears at an award ceremony is a much talked about moment, with magazines advertising how to recreate red carpet looks and television shows such as Entertainment Tonight focusing on best and worst dressed celebrities. Simply put, celebrity fashion choices matter. To emphasize her message displayed on her body, Lizzo used her acceptance speech to again engage the audience directly, this time through her voice. While holding her award, she departed from a typical award acceptance speech, focusing on a broader message, and briefly ended with a quick thank you for her award and one of her signature lines “Bye biiitch” (2020c). During the speech, Lizzo focused on suppression and the need to find one’s power. She began by discussing suppression and gave credit for her success to “the big Black women who refused to have their voices be suppressed” (2020c). Although she does not specifically name any particular individual, Fannie Lou Hamer and Barbara Jordan come to mind, given their work in voting advocacy. Jordan herself used her body as bodily enactment during the 1976 Democratic National Convention; as a Black woman, she stated that her very presence demonstrated progress and change (see Palczewski et al., 2016, p. 77). Continuing her refusal to be suppressed and embodying her argument, Lizzo made a direct appeal to the audience to see themselves in a particular way, to be true to themselves, and to vote: And, I just want to say right now if you’re at home watching this and you are thinking about changing yourself to feel worthy, this is your sign to remain true to who you are. Let me tell y’all something—when people try to suppress something, it’s normally because that thing holds power. They’re afraid of your power. There’s power in who you are. There’s power in your voice. So whether it’s through music, protest, or your right to vote, use your power, use your voice, and refuse to be suppressed. (2020c, n.p.)

Her words connected voting with taking up space, empowering oneself, and resistance to oppression. Given the long history of voter suppression in the United States, including recent efforts in many states, connecting the power of voting with these efforts makes a powerful statement. Lizzo refused to be silenced and used the Billboard Music Award platform as a place to embody her argument. Following the event, Lizzo shared posts on Instagram, featuring her dress and speech. Her all capital letter captions read, “REFUSE TO BE SUPPRESSED” (2020c) and “Im [sic] so excited that we all getting reading to vote! Ima [sic] treat this shit like Halloween and get all dressed up

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to celebrate our right we fought so damn hard for! #iamavoter” (2020d). Instagram enabled a more personal tone and style, with the use of all capital letters, the use of curse words to illustrate emphasis, and the hashtag to connect with a larger conversation of voting. Lizzo’s posts connected her own embodied self of being a voter, through her dress, speech, and hashtag, with a larger overall struggle for voting rights, including women’s suffrage and Civil Rights. Sharing these moments and thoughts to her Instagram followers illustrates how the discourse circulated in another space (Finnegan, 2010), strengthening Lizzo’s argument about the importance of voting. Additionally, news media also covered the event, distributing photographs and videos of the outfit and the speech, serving as a form of reproducing what occurred at the Billboard Music Awards. Reproductions offer important insight into the messaging and culture of the visual images (Finnegan, 2010). Media headlines focused on her dress, nails, and argument: “Lizzo sent a powerful message about voting rights at the Billboard Music Awards” from Vogue; “Lizzo made a statement in a ‘vote’ minidress and matching nails at the Billboard Music Awards” from Insider; “No one is more empowering than Lizzo in this Christian Siriano ‘VOTE’ dress” from PopSugar; and “Lizzo used nail art to encourage her fans to do 1 thing at the Billboards: Vote” from PopSugar (D. Jackson, 2020; Krause, 2020; Okwodu, 2020; Wasilak, 2020). The articles featured photographs and/or video of the event, drawing attention to Lizzo’s embodied arguments through the circulation of her fashion choices (dress and nails) along with her speech. These headlines directly connected Lizzo with power, voting rights, and empowerment, and voting, illustrating the success of wearing the Vote fashion. Reproducing the visual images (photographs and videos) enabled a wider reach, including those who had not seen the Billboard Music Awards, to also see the argument. And, during the event, Lizzo’s appearance in the Vote dress, standing on the stage accepting an award, and speaking out, enabled her to take up literal and figurative space, through her music, her large body, and her voice. And, she continued such embodiment of her call to action through her Auntie Sam persona and voting, shown through her Instagram account. INSTAGRAM POLITICS AND EMBODIED VOTING AS AUNTIE SAM Celebrities often influence their followers, including how media present their stories and life (O’Brien Hallstein, 2015), to how fans feel a form of intimate connection (Fleetwood, 2015), to how celebrities themselves use media to make powerful statements (S. J. Jackson, 2020). Indeed, S. J. Jackson (2020)

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noted the power of celebrities, which both “reflect[s] and shape[s] public ideology,” creating the need “to embrace expansive and inclusive interrogations of visibility and invisibility” (p. 329). Lizzo used the platform of Instagram along with her Auntie Sam persona to embody the need for voting and to showcase those left out of the process, those whose voices are unheard due to lack of voting. Through her embodied advocacy, Lizzo made visible the invisible. Lizzo’s Instagram followers number over 10.5 million (Lizzo, n.d.), enabling a wide reach, particularly given that 500 million use Instagram daily, with 70 percent of users under thirty-five (Iqbal, 2021). Given youth voters (those eighteen to thirty-five) are the least likely to vote, engaging them where they are at (online) offered an additional platform for Lizzo’s arguments. From August 2020 through Election Day on November 3, 2020, Lizzo posted sixty-nine photographs and videos, with around 30 percent of those posts specifically related to voting and the election. Election-related photograph posts ranged from around 450,000 likes (Lizzo, 2020b) to over 500,000 likes (2020e). Election-related video posts garnered more engagement, with views ranging from over 770,000 (2020f), over 1.2 million (2020d), over 1.7 million (2020i), and over 2.3 million (2020a). October reflected the most content related to the upcoming election, with half of those posts being election-related (see representative posts; Lizzo, 2020a, 2020b, 2020d, 2020e, 2020f, 2020g). Many of the October posts used the hashtag #iamavoter; this hashtag ended the post and served as the only hashtag, drawing attention to its importance as the final word (2020a, 2020b, 2020d, 2020e, 2020f). The final two election-related posts began with the words “I voted” (2020g, 2020h), with the second post stating simply “I voted for Biden” (2020h) accompanying a video of Lizzo imagined as a fly atop the head of then Vice President Mike Pence, a nod to the Vice Presidential debate (Villa, 2020). Although Lizzo disclosed how she voted, this Halloween post was mere days before Election Day. Given that many voters by this time in the election cycle had typically already made up their minds about whom to vote for, her post still illustrated the need to vote. Indeed, the over 1.7 million likes on Lizzo’s Election Day post (2020i) demonstrate the continued power of her message. Although all these posts contributed to Lizzo’s call for voting, her creation of the Auntie Sam persona and use of the American flag function as particularly significant. They called on the viewer to go vote while also asking the viewer to reexamine the relationship between citizens and the government. The posts centered Lizzo as a Black woman taking up space, of being a fierce angel (Parks, 2010), and a citizen (Harris-Perry, 2011). Such work is particularly important given the exclusion of Black women from the public sphere and citizenship (Brandzel, 2011; Flores, 2017; Harris-Perry, 2011; Hobson,

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2005; Parks, 2010). Stereotypes of hypersexual Black women have been used to preclude them from being an accepted public figure (Gilman, 1985; Hobson, 2005, 2018; Johnson, 2012). Lizzo’s embrace of her body and sexuality, along with her use of American imagery, demonstrated Lizzo’s embodied argument for herself as a citizen voter, urging others to do the same. Lizzo introduced herself as Auntie Sam on October 13, with a twerking video post followed by a photograph post (2020a, 2020b). Lizzo reproduced the iconic Uncle Sam figure and classic “I want you” poster in a new way, with herself in the role of Auntie Sam. Such use drew upon a visual icon of the Uncle/Auntie Sam figure. Icons represent an ideology, an important rhetorical force (Edwards & Winkler, 1997; Kern, 2013; McGee, 1980; Palczewski, 2005). Uncle Sam exists as one of the most “popular icons of American culture” (Kern, 2013, p. 171). Many versions exist and readings of Sam vary, including more recent appearances of Uncle Sam in comic books as a “demented, tortured, abused, and ignored figure” (p. 183), representing a disillusionment of American politics. That being said, the most known and reproduced version is the 1917 war recruitment poster where Uncle Sam says, “I want you!” (p. 189) This version represents U.S. national identity, from various ideological perspectives, including American values to “valorize and validate national policies” or critique American “social, political, and economic organization” (p. 190; see also, Palczewski, 2005). A viewer’s first experience with the short video is a freeze-frame of Lizzo’s body facing away from the camera with her head tilted toward the camera (Lizzo, 2020a). Dressed in a similar way to the 1917 Uncle Sam war poster, she appears in a blue jacket, white shirt, and felt top hat. Lizzo is bent over a piece of furniture with the word “vote” at the bottom middle of the screen. While the video plays, Lizzo faces the viewer and one now sees a mini crop top of red, white, and blue underneath the white long-sleeved shirt and blue jacket. A male voice-over states, “I need y’all to get out and vote,” while Lizzo runs two fingers across the brim of her top hat and then points at the viewer when the viewer hears the word “vote” (2020a). While the voice-over continues to discuss voting, Lizzo twerks. The history of twerking includes a long history, drawing on Black cultural and musical traditions (Halliday, 2020; Hobson, 2018). Rejecting simple understandings of twerking as solely sexual thrusting of hips, Halliday (2020) defined twerking in this way: “a complex and complicated isolation of butt, hip, and leg muscles especially in a circular, up and down, or both motion” (p. 875). Although twerking may be read as overly sexual, I argue it fits within a cultural tradition of resistance, joy, and embracement of Black sexuality (for more on Black joy connected with resistance and voting, see Wiltz, 2021). Tracing the historical and cultural roots of twerking, Halliday (2020) argued we should look at the embodied knowledge of twerking and within the context of actual Black

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bodies; in this way, twerking offers a way to reclaim the Black female body through popular culture. Lizzo’s dancing emphasizes voting; the first twerk occurs at the same time as the first utterance of the word vote. She continues dancing as the voiceover repeats the call to get out and vote. In the twelve-second video, the word “vote” is uttered nine times, including the ending line of “vote for who you want” (2020a). While twerking, Lizzo smiles, clearly enjoying her dance and embodying Auntie Sam. The accompanying caption states, “Auntie Sam out here doin what she gotta do to get y’all to vote! -Text LIZZOBEVOTING to 26797 to make sure you’re registered to vote, confirm your polling location, and get reminders for all your elections. #iamavoter” (2020a). The caption provided concrete ways for viewers to get involved, through a text which would enable them to vote, including registration, reminders, and locations. The ending hashtag and dance itself break from stately norms, illustrating Auntie Sam as a joyous, voting citizen, urging others to do the same. Twerking Auntie Sam embraced her sexuality, her joy, and her voting. Twerking here drew attention to the issue (voting) as well as resisted the erasure of Black women from a culture based upon hypersexuality. Doing so fits with Halliday’s (2020) argument about the power of twerking: “Twerking may, both, put Black girls’ ‘butts’ on display and provide collectively public ways to disrupt cultural discourses that invisibilize or demonize Black girls’ and women’s bodies” (pp. 881–882). Drawing upon her own celebrity status as well as the iconic nature of Uncle Sam, Auntie Sam offered a fresh take on American values. The still photograph makes the appeal even more direct, mirroring and matching the 1917 Uncle Sam war recruitment poster. Auntie Sam looked directly at the camera, with her right hand in the foreground, finger extended pointing directly at the viewer. The caption emphasized the connection with the viewer: Hey YOU. Have you felt the same disconnect from this country? Have YOU felt like this nation is your house but not your home? It’s because we are on stolen land trying to live within laws written by white men FOR white men in 1787. I see YOU using your power of protest and your freedom of speech. I see YOU unlearning the narrow scope of our history and seeking the truth. ITS TIME TO USE YOUR RIGHT TO VOTE. WE NEED YOU. DID YOU KNOW? -Approximately four in ten (40%) of eligible voters didn’t turn out to vote in 2016 ?? IF YOU WANT TO VOTE BUT DONT KNOW WHERE TO START: Text LIZZOBEVOTING to 26797 to make sure you’re registered to vote, confirm your polling location, and get reminders for all your elections. #iamavoter (2020b, n.p.)

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The word “you” appeared five times, always in capital letters. By starting with “hey you,” Lizzo hailed the reader, directing their attention to keep reading. Lizzo created a particular understanding of the audience through her discourse (E. Black, 1970); this “you” has seen injustice but is also protesting and/or speaking out. Lizzo urged those particular individuals to vote, reminding them many failed to do so previously in 2016. In this way, Auntie Sam asked for viewers’ help to make the United States better, by exercising their right to vote, and the post also offered information on how to get involved. Thus, Lizzo as Auntie Sam set up a problem-solution structure: the problem is lack of voting, given 40 percent of eligible voters fail to do so, with voting as the resolution.

CONCLUSION This chapter serves as an important addition to understanding the private and public nature of popular culture (Hermann & Herbig, 2015) and the political nature of fashion (Titton, 2019). Examining the embodied arguments of Lizzo, it shows the argumentative resources of a celebrity’s body and image. It also shows how popular culture, particularly in the form of dress, contributes to the public argument. Many celebrities used Vote fashion and/ or Instagram as a platform to get out the vote in 2020. Lizzo’s use of Vote fashion and Instagram went further than most campaigns. First, Lizzo did not wear any Vote merchandise as promotional products, trying to sell a particular mask, shirt, and/or dress, as some celebrities did. Second, she focused particularly on the Black community, tailoring her arguments at the Billboard Music Awards and in her Instagram captions on the historical legacy of voting and the power of Black voters (or lack thereof). Finally, she used her own body as an argument in complex ways. By draping herself in the American flag, using colors of red/white/blue, and as Auntie Sam, Lizzo connected with American values. Her captions also reinforced her message that voting matters: she used the hashtag #iamavoter, showed herself dropping her mail-in ballot into the mailbox, thanked people for voting, and stated, “I voted for Biden.” From the summer of 2020 all the way through Election Day, Lizzo focused much of her time and energy on voting advocacy. These strategies show the embodied nature of voting; it is not just a one-time action, but something Lizzo lives—she sustained her advocacy by consistently getting her message out on the platforms she could access: her body and her Instagram. Most importantly, wearing the word Vote on her body (dress and nails) and twerking in the Auntie Sam persona, Lizzo showcased the uninhibited joy one can find in voting. Voting often is seen as a civic duty, or a way

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to establish or maintain the social order and status quo (Schudson, 1998). Duties and order do not connote excitement, enthusiasm, or joy. Rather than reject the government to “play politics alone” (Crenson & Ginsberg, 2002, p. 19), Lizzo invited others to join her in voting. Uncle Sam appears fierce and authoritative; however, Auntie Sam rocks out the vote, expressing personal agency and joy in the process of voting. In this way, twerking provided a way to redefine voting, which began with fashion: just as Lizzo found joy in her art, music, and body, the embodied arguments to get out and vote in the presidential election of 2020 illustrated how much personal and collective joy there can be in voting. By approaching voting as a fun, joyful activity, one Auntie Sam twerks to celebrate, offering a much different relationship to voting than a civic duty, one which may work better to sustain a long-term relationship between government and its citizens.

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Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2020e, October 27). This is a huge deal. 40% of Americans did not vote in 2016! How can this country be 100% that [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CG2tgEVsadP/ Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2020f, October 27). Its been on my mind all day !!!! This is not the time to get comfortable !!! Yes, we’ve had record early [Video]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CG2uN​-bF67M/ Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2020g, October 28). I voted. This is my 3rd time voting in my whole life. When you think about how few and far [Video]. Instagram. https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CG5Vy​-0Bc1S/ Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2020h, October 31). I voted for Biden [Video]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CHBAwnSBJeA/ Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2020i, November 3). When I think of this country I don’t think of its laws I think of its people. I think about [Photograph]. Instagram. https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CHImWPBhTlB/ Marriott, H. (2020, September 19). Why 'vote' is the fashion slogan of the season. The Guardian. https://www​.theguardian​.com​/us​-news​/2020​/sep​/19​/vote​-fashion​-must​ -have​-look​-fall​-season Matthews, G. (1992). The rise of public woman: Woman’s power and woman’s place in the United States 1630–1970. Oxford University Press. Mau, D. (2020, November 16). Lizzo: ‘Putting fashion on big black women like me is where it begins.’ Fashionista. https://fashionista​.com​/2020​/11​/vogue​-forces​-of​ -fashion​-lizzo​-jeremy​-scott McGee, M.C. (1980). The ideograph: A link between rhetoric and ideology. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 66(1), 1–16. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/00335638009383499 Neville-Shepard, M. (2019). Disciplining the female student body: Consequential transference in arguments for school dress codes. Women’s Studies in Communication, 42(1), 1–20. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/07491409​.2019​.1573771 O’Brien Hallstein, L. (2015). Bikini ready moms: Celebrity profiles, motherhood, and the body. SUNY Press. Okwodu, J. (2020, October 15). Lizzo sent a powerful message about voting rights at the Billboard Music Awards. Vogue. https://www​.vogue​.com​/article​/lizzo​-christian​-siriano​-vote​-dress​-billboard​-music​-awards​-2020 Olson, L.C., Finnegan, C.A., & Hope, D.S. (2008). Visual rhetoric in communication: Continuing questions and contemporary issues. In L.C. Olson, C.A. Finnegan, & D.S. Hope (Eds.), Visual rhetoric: A reader in communication and American culture (pp. 1–14). SAGE. Palczewski, C.H. (2005). The male Madonna and the feminine Uncle Sam: Visual argument, icons, and ideographs in 1909 anti-woman suffrage postcards. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 91(4), 365–94. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​ /00335630500488325 Palczewski, C.H. (2016). The 1919 prison special: Constituting white women’s citizenship. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 102(2), 107–132. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​ /00335630​.2016​.1154185 Palczewski, C.H., Ice, R., & Fritch, J. (2016). Rhetoric in civic life (2nd ed.). Strata Publishing.

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Parks, S. (2010). Fierce angels: The strong Black woman in American life and culture. One World Books. Piepmeier, A. (2004). Out in public: Configurations of women’s bodies in nineteenthcentury America. University of North Carolina Press. Prelli, L.J. (2006). Rhetorics of display. In L.J. Prelli (Ed.), Rhetorics of display (pp. 1–38). University of South Carolina Press. Rankine, C. (2020, September 24). Lizzo on hope, justice, and the election. Vogue. https://www​.vogue​.com​/article​/lizzo​-cover​-october​-2020 Romack, C. (2020, November 3). How Lizzo embraced the political power of fashion: The Grammy-winning singer encouraged voters during election with imaginative, moving looks. MTV​.com​. http://www​.mtv​.com​/news​/3171393​/lizzo​-political​-fashion​-election​-day/ Schudson, M. (1998). The good citizen: A history of American civic life. The Free Press. Shildrick, M., & Price, J. (1999). Openings on the body: A critical introduction. In J. Price & M. Shildrick (Eds.), Feminist theory and the body: A reader (pp. 1–14). Routledge. Sturken, M., & Cartwright, L. (2009). Practices of looking: An introduction to visual culture (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. Titton, M. (2019). Afterthought: Fashion, feminism and radical protest. Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body & Culture, 23(6), 747–756. https://doi​.org​/10​ .1080​/1362704X​.2019​.1657273 Villa, L. (2020, October 8). Here’s the buzz on the fly in Mike Pence’s hair at the Vice Presidential debate. Time Magazine. https://time​.com​/5897766​/vp​-debate​-fly/ Wasilak, S. (2020, October 15). No one is more empowering than Lizzo in this Christian Siriano “vote” dress. PopSugar. https://www​.popsugar​.com​/fashion​/lizzo​ -vote​-dress​-billboard​-music​-awards​-2020​-47885269 Wiltz, T. (2021, January 2). 2020: The year Black voters said, ‘hold up.’ Politico. https://www​.politico​.com​/news​/magazine​/2021​/01​/02​/black​-americans​-power​ -2020​-453345

Chapter 3

Feelin’ Good as Hell? The Influence of Cardi B. and Lizzo’s Music Videos on College-Aged Women’s Perceptions of Beauty, Sexism, and Sexualization Amy Crumbaugh, Tamanna Tasmin, and K. Megan Hopper

Growing up, the lessons that girls are taught are vastly different from the ones that boys are taught. Boys wear blue and aspire to be great creators, thinkers, and doers, such as astronauts, architects, and even presidents. Girls wear pink and are supposed to cook and clean and shop in preparation for becoming girlfriends and housewives. Amid all of these skewed and dangerous messages, perhaps the most toxic of all is the one that tells girls that they are only as good as their physical appearance (Cohen et al., 2019). It can take a lifetime to unlearn these types of lessons, especially when society, media, and culture continue to push them forward into every facet of modern life. Adolescent and college-aged women are the most at-risk for being negatively impacted by these messages (Irving, 1990), thus how they view the world and what societal and cultural pressure they feel are important topics to consider. What’s more, in light of media and technology’s ever-evolving roles in the lives of young people, it is important to understand how messages are perceived and what implications media content has in the real world. Cardi B. and Lizzo were two of the most recognizable musical artists of 2019, both taking the top spot on Billboard’s Hot 100 Chart (Liu, 2019). More importantly, both women forged paths for themselves in the traditionally male-dominated hip-hop industry, proudly proclaiming that there is room for more than just one perspective. In utilizing the music videos of Cardi B. and Lizzo, we assessed if artists like these can change the face of both music 25

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and our culture and if they can help to change the ways that women perceive themselves and others. These are all important things to ask and answer in the quest for true equality and representation. BEAUTY STANDARDS Despite standards and ideals that have shifted with time, women’s beauty has been dictated and scrutinized for centuries. The ancient Greeks prized facial symmetry and blond hair, while the streets of Elizabethan England were punctuated with red locks and white faces that echoed the queen’s. In some ways, the quintessential beauty icon of the 1950s, Marilyn Monroe, harkened back to the singular queen with her ruby lips and fair complexion, both of which undoubtedly played some small role in the pale visages of London’s 1980s punk scene (Romm, 1987). Modern expectations are, for many, as wildly unobtainable as the proportions of a Greek statue or the cinched waist of a Hollywood bombshell. Peer pressure, family expectations, and the mass media are responsible for the increasingly unrealistic representations of beauty that now permeate the cultural zeitgeist, with movies, television shows, magazines, and music videos having the largest impact on adolescents and college-aged women (Irving, 1990). These representations are rooted in Eurocentric beauty standards that value white skin, straight hair, blue eyes, and narrow facial features (hooks, 1994; Qasam et al., 2012; Russell-Cole et al., 2013). And perhaps the most damaging measure of American beauty is a persistent obsession with thinness, one that is heightened through dishonest media practices such as airbrushed magazine editorials and both covert and overt advertisements for diet aids. This is largely done in part to enhance the profits of the billion-dollar beauty and health industries: Because advertisers are continuing to change the “bar” or standard of beauty as represented in mediated images, consumers will never be able to reach that bar; thus, health and beauty products continue to be sold at a rapid pace, and women and men’s self-esteem as it relates to their body shape and appearance is in question. (Bissell & Rask, 2010, p. 646)

Due to their excessive daily media exposure, young women are especially susceptible to the negative consequences of rigid and impossible beauty standards. The dress size of the average American woman has steadily increased over time, yet the sizes of models and actresses continue to decrease (Bissell & Rask, 2010). While the standard weight for an American woman in 2019 is 140 pounds, the standard weight for a

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model remains nearly unchanged since the 1970s at 117 pounds (Percy & Lautman, 1994). This sort of endless psychological conditioning of desire for a nearly emaciated body type can have damaging long-term effects on girls and women, including low self-esteem, body dissatisfaction, eating disorders, and depression (Bissell & Rask, 2010; Engeln-Maddox, 2005; Lokken et al., 2004). Fortunately, some forms of media are beginning to cater to the growing demand for realistic and inclusive representation. Major retailers such as Target and CVS have vowed to remove airbrushing from all of their marketing materials, and women’s sleepwear and lingerie brand Aerie’s advertisements often feature models with cellulite, stretch marks, and stomach rolls. The user-generated content of social media sites like Instagram helped turn the tide of beauty expectations, with searches for hashtags #bodypositive and #bodypositivity each resulting in over one million posts (Cohen et al., 2019). Body positivity “aims to challenge the aforementioned narrow appearance ideals and instead represent a diverse array of bodies of different shapes, sizes, colours, features, and abilities, with the presumed aim of fostering body acceptance and appreciation” (Cohen et al., 2019, p. 1548). Through the media’s promotion and celebration of multiple versions of womanhood, girls and women can begin to validate their own beauty and existence, increasing confidence and overall well-being. Beauty standards for women differ across cultures, but the fervor with which these standards are promoted and enforced remains universal. Black women especially have been demonized by the West’s obsession with Eurocentric physical features. “Judging white women by their physical appearance and attractiveness to men objectifies them. But their white skin and straight hair privilege them in a system in which part of the basic definition of whiteness is superiority to blackness” (Collins, 1990, p. 79). Because they exist at the intersection of gender and race, Black women are extra susceptible to the influence of damaging media messages. Persistent comparisons to light-skinned and White women, coupled with the deprecation of African features, can often lead young Black women to question their identities and their values and can produce long-term damage to their body images (Bell et al., 2007; Jones, 2004). In 2006, Black filmmaker Kiri Davis reproduced a famous 1947 experiment in which researchers presented Black children with two baby dolls, one black and one white, and asked them to choose which doll they liked better. The 2006 experiment yielded the same results as the one conducted in 1947: an overwhelming majority of the children chose the white doll. When Davis asked one little girl which of the two dolls looked worse, the girl chose the Black doll, and at first reached for the white doll when asked which doll she most resembled (ABC News, 2006). While dolls may seem a relatively innocuous subject, the perceptions that

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both the outside world and Black women have of themselves can impact everything from job placement to education to health and safety. Further, progress has been slow for Black women to reclaim and redefine their own beauty. “Colorism, or skin tone bias(es), within the African American community fosters an environment in which European physical attributes (i.e., light skin, narrower noses, and thinner lips) are preferred to African physical attributes (i.e., dark skin, wider noses, and thicker lips)” (Maxwell et al., 2016, p. 1489). These biases are especially prevalent in rap and hip-hop music; in a content analysis study of 108 music videos in the genre, 34 percent of the featured women were light-skinned, while only 13 percent of the featured women were dark-skinned (Conard et al., 2009). Another prevalent aspect of rap and hip-hop music intersecting with the notion of beauty is sex, which often leads to sexism.

SEXISM, SEXUALIZATION, AND SELFSEXUALIZATION IN THE MEDIA AND MUSIC VIDEOS The term sexism, first coined by Leet (1965), refers to any event when decisions are being made about an individual’s value based on their (perceived) biological sex. Sexism is especially harmful for women, with repercussions that include stereotyping, prejudice, and devaluation (Shapiro, 1985). Today, the most major form of sexism in the media is sexualization or sexual objectification. According to Fredrickson and Roberts (1997) who created objectification theory to conceptualize this process, sexual objectification is conveyed when the female body is construed primarily as an object to be inspected and evaluated in terms of appearance, a view strongly perpetuated in the visual mass media. Fredrickson and Roberts also argue that women and girls are gradually socialized to internalize an observer’s perspective in which they are sexual objects existing for the pleasure of others and thereby come to view themselves in objectified terms, a process known as self-objectification. In seeing themselves in these ways, women may engage in self-sexualization. Although sexualization in the media suggests that women are being negatively impacted by this, self-sexualization has become popular among female musical artists. Aubrey et  al. (2011) defined the term self-sexualization as voluntarily engaging in one’s own sexualization with the desire and intent to obtain a sexualized gaze from an audience. This intention is especially relevant to female artists who want to present themselves as autonomous, sexually desirable women with a goal in mind. According to Walls (2010), some feminists stand against the notion of self-sexualization, claiming this negatively correlates with the empowerment of women. Yet others have argued that the choice to engage in self-sexualization is a form of sexual

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empowerment in which women shape their own narratives about their appearances and sexuality (Gavey, 2012; Gill, 2012; Aubrey et al., 2017). In a study on the subject, Aubrey and Frisby (2011) found that self-sexualization existed in 91.5 percent of female lead music videos in the form of close-up shots of breasts or hips, provocative touching of intimate body parts, and sensual dance. In other words, there is a clear line between self-sexualization, which indicates one’s own control over their body, and sexualization, in which another entity is in control of how someone else’s body is portrayed. Aubrey et al. (2017) classify this as the difference between feeling “sexy” versus having no agency over one’s own physical attractiveness. Keeping these definitions in mind, we will focus on sexism, sexualization, and self-sexualization in hip-hop music videos. Music videos are an important social stimulus as they are readily available on demand, having an enormous impact on audiences of various backgrounds (Aubrey et al., 2011). Research shows that individuals who are repeatedly exposed to sexualized music videos tend to have raw and graphic attitudes toward gender and sexuality, especially young male viewers who often develop gender stereotypes, sexism toward women, tendencies to sexual harassment, and promiscuity and sexual violence in romantic relationships (Aubrey et al., 2011; Kistler & Lee 2010; Wright & Conteno, 2018). Music of the Rebel: Hip-Hop Hip-hop originated in 1970 in the Bronx area of New York (Trapp, 2005; White, 2013; Stapleton, 1998), when the city was suffering from poverty and the Black community felt alienated by a white-controlled society. Hiphop embraced everyday life exactly as it was while protesting against social injustice (Trapp, 2005), approaching lyrics with a “tell it like it is” mentality. The aim was to reform sociopolitical and socioeconomic injustice through the empowerment of young Black men, giving them an outlet and a voice. Although hip-hop has become a mainstream multimillion-dollar global industry with the help of technological innovation, consumer capitalism, and media and entertainment mergers, the genre is still recreating and reclaiming spaces for various causes (Sharpley-Whiting 2007; White, 2013). During the early years of hip-hop, audiences and artists were predominantly male. Female artists started to enter the industry in the late 1980s with the emergence of MC Lyte and her album “Lyte as A Rock” (O, 2019), but women still remain outnumbered today. In 2019, the majority of hip-hop music videos present Black women as background dancers and props rather than artists with agency over their bodies (Lane, 2011). Female figures in these videos have trophy-like presences, their physical beauty the central focus of the videos as the camera zooms in and out on images of their

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buttocks and breasts (Chung, 2007; Lane, 2011), emphasizing the sexualization and objectification of Black women’s bodies. Cardi B.’s “Money” Since Lauryn Hill in 1998, Cardi B., whose real name is Belcalis Almanzar, has become the first female rapper to reach the number 1 spot on the Billboard Music Charts. In her role as a social media influencer, Cardi B. is very vocal about women’s rights and women’s choices, advocating for sex workers and exotic dancers. William (2017) states that due to her bold and sexual appearances in her music videos, her “overuse” of the f-word, and her controversial social and political views, Cardi B. does not fit the traditional mold of role model or feminist and often faces classist and racist critiques. According to hip-hop feminists, Cardi B. falls under the definition of “bringing wreck,” which refers to rewriting feminism in a way that other feminists may disapprove of. By bringing wreck, Cardi B. is resisting traditional views and reclaiming and recreating social spaces and conversations, boldly continuing her work as a female hip-hop superstar and social media influencer in the face of her detractors. In the song “Money” Cardi B. raps about the enormous amount of wealth she has created for herself, emphasizing the glamorous life her wealth has enabled her to live. Despite her already opulent lifestyle, Cardi B. raps about her need for more money, initial verses of the song referencing that same need during her career as an exotic dancer. “I ride on his dick, in some big tall heels / Big fat checks, big large bills.” In the second verse, she also talks about her daughter Kulture and needing money to feed her: “I got a baby, I need money, yeah / I need cheese for my egg.” The chorus continues the theme with the lyrics, “Diamonds on my neck / I like boardin’ jets, I like mornin’ sex (Woo) / But nothin’ in this world that I like more than checks.” The music video for “Money,” which has garnered over ninety-two million views on YouTube, strongly reflects the song’s lyrics. The opening scene of the music video features a posh estate room where a scantily clad Cardi B. swings from a rope as if it were a stripper pole. In the next scene, she is seen wearing a low-cut black and white designer dress with a high collar that makes her resemble a queen surrounded by beautiful, nearly naked women as her subjects. The majority of the video is shot in a grand bank-like environment where her thin and tall backup dancers are carrying suitcases and acting as tellers. In several scenes, Cardi B. appears as a shiny, untouchable object, donning sparse gold outfits as she twerks and dances inside both a golden bank vault and a large glass case. The latter serves as a display for wealthylooking older men and women, who circle the case and appraise Cardi B. disapprovingly through opera glasses. Stacks of cash, sparkling jewelry, marble,

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and golden accents are displayed prominently throughout the video. As she raps about needing money for her daughter Kulture, the video shows Cardi B. holding a small child (presumably Kulture) to her exposed breast as she attempts to feed the child while simultaneously rapping. Immediately following this scene, a completely nude, calm, and serene Cardi B. sits at a white piano, adding an ethereal touch to the otherwise loud chaos. The video jumps quickly between multiple shots, including various outfit and locale changes for the dancers, who are featured dancing provocatively in the bank as well as on stripper poles and in a strip club where Cardi. B serves as a wealthy and generous patron, drinking champagne and throwing wads of cash at the women on-stage. Lizzo’s “Juice” American hip-hop artist Lizzo, born Melissa Jefferson, landed her first big break when American superstar and musical artist Prince asked her to record a song with him (Liu, 2019). Lizzo is only one of five Black women to have a single reach number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the last decade, joining the ranks of Beyoncé, Rihanna, Janelle Monáe, and Cardi B. (Liu, 2019). Her performances have garnered standing ovations at events such as Coachella, the BET Awards, and the MTV Video Music Awards, and she recently became an ambassador and model for the cosmetics brand Urban Decay. Her self-love anthem “Juice” even appeared on President Obama’s playlist of favorite songs from the summer of 2019 (Liu, 2019). Lizzo’s popularity stems not only from the quality of her music but from the messages she sends in both her lyrics and her self-presentation. As a plus-size Black woman, she exists in the margins of traditional beauty standards, yet proudly creates songs centered around “self-love, empowerment, inclusivity and body positivity” (Liu, 2019). In her song “Juice,” the artist sings, “No, I’m not a snack at all / Look, baby, I’m the whole damn meal.” Her Instagram is equally positive, celebrating Black women and their worth in the captions of many of her posts. On a photo of herself with several of her backup dancers, women who exist outside the typical backup dancer physiques of other music stars, Lizzo writes: “Not only were we taught to believe we didn’t belong in the spotlight, but when we finally get to a place of selfworth the world tries to knock us down” (Lizzo, 2019). Lizzo is reluctant to take on the role of body positive spokeswoman that the media has thrust upon her, but is adamant in her continued goal to celebrate the parts of herself and others that have been marginalized and denigrated for so long: I would watch things on television and I would look at magazines and I would not see myself. When you don’t see yourself, you start to think something’s

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wrong with you. Then you want to look like those things and when you realise it’s a physical impossibility, you start to think, “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I think that took a greater toll on me, psychologically, growing up than what anyone could have said to me. (Adams, 2019)

In the music video for “Juice,” Lizzo appears in multiple settings that reference the 1980s in set design, character attire, and editing filters, with some scenes appearing slightly grainy to make them feel older. As her song plays in the background, the audience sees Lizzo attempting to sell a lotion called “Juice” on a home-shopping TV network; an Afro Sheen-like ad where she and a muscular male model marvel at one another’s shiny hair; a workout video with her as the lead; a TV talk show featuring a white male host; and an intimate home setting where she sits on a couch watching TV with the same model from the hair commercial. Throughout the video, Lizzo is smiling and direct with the camera, centering herself as the main focus despite often being surrounded by others (including two female backup dancers who could be deemed plus size). She wears clothing that is often not associated with women of her size, including revealing lingerie, a tight-fitting pink exercise leotard, and a low-cut gown. She is pointed and playful with the male participants in the video as she sings lyrics such as “Baby, you ain’t bein’ slick / Don’t dare try to cop a feel,” pushing the male model’s hand off of her knee in the couch scene. Her other lyrics serve to remind audiences why she is the queen of body positivity for herself and others, the chorus repeating “If I’m shinin’, everybody gonna shine / I was born like this, don’t even gotta try.” Beauty and Self-Sexualization in FemaleLed Hip-Hop Music Videos With the help of Cardi B. and Lizzo, female hip-hop artists are more popular than maybe ever before. Considering earlier discussions on beauty, selfsexualization, and hip-hop music, it can be argued that female hip-hop artists are redefining and repurposing beauty and self-sexualization as a means to recreate their own spaces in the hip-hop industry. Although scholars argue that female hip-hop artists are popularized based on their self-sexualized images rather than their musical talent (Andsager & Roe, 2003; Keyes, 2000), the artists themselves, as well as their fans, often view these reinterpretations of beauty and sex as mere extensions of the music. This approach can have a profound and lasting impact on young female listeners of the genre, especially as the boundaries of acceptable standards of beauty and sexuality are continuously reworked by influential women in the public eye (Andsager & Roe, 2003; White, 2013).

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Unfortunately, the majority of the research on this topic has centered around male audiences, which is why it’s important to employ feminist media theory here. Feminist media theory is unique because “unconditional focus on analyzing gender as a mechanism that structures material and symbolic worlds and our experiences of them, is hard to find in other theories of the media” (van Zoonen, 1996, p. 31). Feminist criticism recognizes that women are relatively autonomous and thus need to speak of their experiences in their own words. It is widely unknown how college women relate to beauty, sexism, sexualization, and self-sexualization in hip-hop music videos. Thus, this study aims to address this gap in research through the following research questions: How do college women define and perceive beauty, sexism, sexualization, and self-sexualization in their everyday lives? And, how do college women perceive varying portrayals of beauty, sexism, sexualization, and self-sexualization in female-led hip-hop music videos?

METHOD Participants All participants were students at a large, public Midwestern university. Any student, faculty, or staff eighteen years and above were invited to attend the focus group discussions via a departmental research board and a social media invitation. Respondents consisted of fourteen female students, yielding two focus groups. Of the seven participants in the first group, one identified as African American, two identified as Latinx, one identified as a Black international student, and the remaining three identified as white. The ages of the participants ranged from twenty to twenty-four years old. One participant did not show up for the second focus group, reducing the number of participants to six. Of the six participants, one identified as Asian, and the remaining five identified as white. The ages of the participants ranged from nineteen to twenty-two years. Data Collection The first focus group lasted sixty minutes and the second focus group lasted ninety minutes. The semi-structured interview protocol was used in each of the sessions, allowing participants to expand on their responses and form their own conclusions. Questions centering around the topics of beauty, sexism, and sexualization were left purposefully vague and open (e.g., How do

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you define beauty in your everyday life?) to allow for greater group interaction and interpretation. In the first half of each session, participants were asked open-ended questions about personal definitions of beauty, sexism, and sexualization, and their familiarity with Lizzo and Cardi B. Participants were then shown the two music videos, “Juice” and “Money.” In the second half of each session, participants were asked their initial responses to the videos and how the videos were similar and/or different. Participants were also asked to consider their initial definitions of beauty, sexism, and sexualization within the context of the music videos and whether they thought the videos had any influence on societal or cultural definitions of beauty, sexism, and sexualization. To conclude each session, participants were asked about the potential for change to societal and cultural perceptions of beauty, sexism, and sexualization. While discussing each topic, participants were encouraged to use personal examples and anecdotes to help define concepts. This fostered a “share and compare” environment (Morgan, 1998, p. 12) in which participants could connect with and build off of one another. Procedure Both focus groups were held in a secure, private room on the university campus. At the beginning of both sessions, participants were reminded of their voluntary participation, the use of audio and video recording devices, and the overall confidential nature of the session. The researchers presented several ground rules for the participants, such as maintaining a respectful tone, being open to opposing ideas, and ensuring equal participation (Krueger & Casey, 2009). Participants were asked to sign consent forms and fill out demographic sheets that would help the researchers in constructing their study. For the sake of confidentiality, participants were informed that they would be referred to by pseudonyms in the final research paper and were asked to keep the identities of their fellow participants confidential as well. Data Analysis Discussions recorded from both sessions were then transcribed using Otter. Otter is an internet-based transcribing software that claims 80 percent accuracy in its free transcription services. The researchers went through the software-generated transcription for each session and ensured 100 percent accuracy in the final transcription. Each of the transcriptions was then inductively analyzed by developing similar categories, which were analyzed based on similarities and predominant themes (Strauss & Corbin, 1998). Further, in examining the influence of the music videos on our participants,

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we employed Hall’s (1986) articulation model of meaning (AMM), which situates media texts in individuals’ lives and focuses on context. AMM takes into account and helps to explicate the multiple meanings a media text has for an audience as well as how meanings of a text change from one particular time to another as meaning is historically specific. AMM was applicable here considering how both Cardi B. and Lizzo are influential artists and popular culture icons during this particular historical moment in time. Findings After viewing the videos, participants expressed a more positive reaction to the plus-size Lizzo and her body positivity, whereas some of the participants were made uncomfortable by Cardi B.’s overt sexualization and nudity. While the majority of the participants felt confident in the potential for redefining beauty and body image, they were unsure of how to approach the subject of sex, even when portrayed by a woman. The focus groups indicated three emerging themes: individual perceptions of beauty and sexism; Cardi B., Lizzo, and the media’s role; and representations of empowerment in femaleled music videos. These themes produced several subthemes within them, discussed in the following sections, that shed further light on the participants’ articulation of the meaning they derive from these artists’ music and videos. Individual Perceptions of Beauty and Sexism Beauty in Everyday Life vs. the Media Participants indicated that their personal definitions of beauty contrasted with societal definitions of beauty. Moira and others stated that they feel the most beautiful when they are confident in themselves. Participants cited their childhood learning and experiences as shaping their current perceptions of beauty. According to Nila: Something that was instilled in me when I was younger is pretty is as pretty does. So it’s the fact that beauty is a very superficial thing and somebody who’s considered beautiful, that can be taken away very quickly, while your actions are seen as beautiful.

Katy further indicated that her childhood experiences played a major role in defining beauty for her: “Growing up in high school, we all have a different idea of what being beautiful is. Ways people should dress and what’s popular. And that's what people define as beautiful.” Katy’s statement draws attention to societal standards of beauty, while Cora applied those standards to herself:

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“I definitely conform to general beauty standards. I also know that it has a burnout and being able to separate myself from the standards because I don’t check all those boxes.” The notion of “general beauty standards” was widely discussed by the participants in reference to their personal experiences. In Daisy’s and Ana’s opinions, general beauty standards were traditionally “white, slender women, typically blondes.” This reflects what these participants see as the current dominant ideology (Gramsci, 1972), or taken-for-granted truth, regarding beauty in our culture. Ella shared her experience of being an outlier according to these standards: I was always tall, even taller than some of the guys in my high school. Girls would always throw around their weight and it would really get to me and I would think, “Am I not beautiful?” I ended up picking up powerlifting. I hide it still, even though I’m super proud of the way my back is defined or I have big arms. I feel like other people look at me like “She’s a freak” or “She’s not feminine enough.”

Ideology is an important part of everyday life and culture. In the current culture, the thin ideal for adolescent girls and women has become an omnipresent aspect of the dominant ideology of what it means to be attractive and desirable. Participants continuously compared themselves to society’s definition of beauty, although many noted how unrealistic this definition was. Tiana stressed this point, saying, “It’s like media versus real life. What’s beautiful on TV is different than what’s beautiful here on campus.” Although there was a general agreement on the incongruities between personal and societal standards of beauty, participants also acknowledged the changes taking place to redefine such standards. For example, Tiana stated, “With all the inclusive movements and the body positivity movement, that feels like we’re just kind of waking up and being like, ‘Hey, this doesn’t have to be this way.’” Sexism in Everyday Life Unlike the variations in definitions of beauty between participants’ perceptions and society and culture, the definition of sexism appeared to be nearly identical across cultures. Sharing an event at her workplace, Donna said: If there’s a heavy box in the office and I’m sitting right here, but my guy friend is two floors down, and my boss calls my guy friend out instead of asking me to pick up the box and I’m capable of carrying, that’s sexism to me.

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Jennifer added a cultural perspective to the conversation by citing “machismo” in the Latinx community, in which men are traditionally seen as stronger and more capable. This revealed an interesting contrast in her experiences with sexism: “My mom is a little bit more sexist because she will not let me carry anything. She’ll make my brother or my dad do it.” Participants further elaborated on the dichotomy of masculine and feminine by referring to phrases such as “run like a girl” and “throw like a girl,” which are instilled in children from a young age. Ana cited one familiar example: Growing up, in gym class specifically, we’d have things like the pacer test, the pushup test. And they’d always say, “Oh, girls only need to do 10, boys should be doing 50.” So in your head that sort of makes it seems like, “Oh, I can’t aim to do a lot of pushups. I can’t be super athletic.” And that works, it really does split up people that way.

Other group members such as Tiana discussed these physical differences as being injected into collective perceptions since early childhood. “We’re taught it from the day we’re born and thereafter. It’s not just something innate in our humanness.” Ultimately, the general idea of sexism echoed across both sessions was that there is great inequality based on biological sex. CARDI B., LIZZO, AND THE MEDIA’S INFLUENCE After the initial discussions on beauty and sexism, the two music videos, “Money” and “Juice,” were played for the participants. Keeping in mind the previous discussion, participants were asked to share their opinions about the videos. In applying AMM (Hall, 1986), the analysis took into account how participants could derive multiple meanings from the videos as well as how the meanings they derived could be influenced by the pressures these women felt while being in the historical moment of their early twenties and living the college lifestyle. Katy’s response represented a fairly general consensus: “Lizzo’s song is appealing more towards women empowerment, and Cardi’s is more appealing to men. I feel like she’s [Cardi B.] using her assets to get what she wants.” Attempting to offer some clarity, Nila elaborated on the specific imagery in Cardi B’s video in terms of sexism and the sexualization of Black women in the media: A lot of imagery within the video shows stripping. That’s her past and a part of who she is. And another very interesting thing is that oftentimes she was in a glass case or in a museum, or in some type of way that her body was being

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displayed. And that speaks of the fact that in the past, and in the present as well, Black women’s bodies are often policed and oversexualized. There were times when Black women were put in zoos and put on display. There was a scene where we had people walking around with their little monocle and they were looking at her in a glass case. Yes, she is doing this because she chooses to, but also because people are going to do it regardless.

While many participants agreed that Cardi B. was potentially catering to the “male gaze” and the “colonial gaze” for her own profit, Cora and others observed a different message in Lizzo’s music video and how she presented herself: Lizzo is very well known for her body positivity and empowerment. But I also think that kind of plays into the narrative of it’s not about a societal beauty standard, where you still have to do certain things right like you still have to be presented in a specific way. So for me, it’s almost how we fit in society today and how I see beauty as well. There’s no one definition, and you don’t have to have a certain body type to be beautiful.

Still, some group members noticed contrasting messages in Lizzo’s video. Emma stated, “The guy they had in the video was completely ripped and all this kind of stuff, but you never really see guys that aren’t like that in videos.” Jennifer agreed with a general lack of “body positivity for men” in the media and Cora wondered, “So Lizzo says she has juice, but who is it for?” bringing up the question of serving a male audience vs. a female audience. Nila worked to tie together societal expectations of women’s sexuality and the media’s influence in the work of artists like Cardi B.: I think we can see a lot of people looking to music videos when it comes to body types especially because oftentimes videos will display the body type of trend of that time. Cardi said that she got surgery after having her baby and having to work. And that’s a societal pressure right there, to be able to fit within a specific industry and still be appealing to the point where people are going to like you. So that can affect people after repeated exposure.

SELF-SEXUALIZATION, EMPOWERMENT, AND BODY POSITIVITY IN FEMALE-LED MUSIC VIDEOS Participants admired Cardi B. for “owning” her sexuality. They contrasted this representation of self-sexualization with male rappers’ music videos where women are sexualized without any agenda. Daisy states that

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People would say, “Good for Cardi B.” for owning her sexuality and basically turning the tables around on this hip-hop culture that’s usually centered around men. But she kind of took it in her hands and usually the men are featured on her singles. Some people would argue that she’s participating in her own oppression by basically giving the men what they want. But some would say, “Good for her.”

Despite their initial hesitation, most participants agreed with this sentiment and were particularly moved by a scene in Cardi B.’s video in which she is shown breastfeeding her child. Tiana said: “This is the female body. This is what it’s for and this is how I’m using it.” Moira extended Tiana’s observation to incorporate both sides of Cardi B.’s body portrayals: The video desexualizes boobs. It is like saying breasts aren’t just for purposes for men. And kind of showing that “Yeah, my body can be used for money. That’s how I’m gonna make some of my money because why not if I look good? I spent money on my body and might as well make that money back.”

Participants harbored similar feelings about Lizzo presenting a strong body positive message. Specifically, participants discussed the ways in which Lizzo is potentially redefining conversations around body types. Moira summarized what she perceived to be Lizzo’s overarching message: It’s okay to be skinny, too, it's not just like, “Oh, skinny is out.” Like the new thing is being thick, but both are good. Body positivity isn’t about shaming super skinny girls and raising up heavier-weighted women, it’s acknowledging that everyone is still good.

DISCUSSION The current study sought to uncover the pressures college-aged women felt regarding the ideology of beauty as well as the meaning they derive from media portrayals of beauty, sexism, and sexuality and how the intersection of these factors might influence the perceptions they have of these concepts and of themselves. The two focus groups reflected many of the themes discussed in prior research, most notably: individual perceptions of beauty and sexism; the influence that the media and artists such as Cardi B. and Lizzo have on these perceptions; and representations of empowerment within the two music videos shown. Nearly every participant agreed that their personal beauty ideals were more rooted in inner qualities such as confidence and personality yet

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felt immense pressure from society to fit into an unrealistic Eurocentric norm and the current dominant ideology of beauty. Latinx and African American participants felt the pressure even more so, stating that they were already removed from beauty standards because of the color of their skin. This reflects the sentiments expressed by Maxwell et  al. (2016), who noted that European physical attributes are preferred to African attributes. Hall (1986) developed the AMM to better address and appreciate how individuals engage in negotiated readings of media texts and the focus group participants demonstrated such a negotiation as they simultaneously accepted and resisted the ideological messages regarding beauty. Participants also felt that the media was just as responsible for producing beauty and sex standards as society or culture, but many were hopeful about the potential for change. While Lizzo’s video for “Juice” was perceived as being marketed toward women, Cardi B.’s video for “Money” was perceived as being marketed toward men. This is due in large part to the content of the videos, as participants agreed that Lizzo’s was more approachable and upbeat while Cardi B.’s was aggressive and overtly sexual. While none of the participants stated that they felt more empowered in their own sexuality by Cardi B., they did commend her for being able to repurpose hip-hop’s male gaze for her own use through self-sexualization (Aubrey et al., 2011). In general, participants were more influenced by Lizzo, saying that they felt more comfortable in who they were and also in the standards they held for others by watching someone like Lizzo onscreen. As Kylie notes, “Social media portrays her as overweight or being ridiculous and she can’t produce music. Yet she still is producing top hits and still Tweets and tries to give people the confidence that she has.”

CONCLUSION This study uncovered various perceptions and definitions of beauty standards, sexism, and sexuality. College-aged women who participated in this study pointed out the importance of purposive discussion on these underlying issues shaping today’s and future generations’ ideologies of beauty, sexism, and sexualization. It is also evident that popular female hip-hop artists such as Cardi B. and Lizzo are battling the traditional norms by defining themselves on their own terms, both women setting examples of resistance and empowerment. As the participants for this research study are in the primary age group of popular culture consumers, their voices and ideas deserve to be heard in order for a reasonable impact to transpire (Watson, 2019). Feminist criticism recognizes that women are relatively autonomous and thus need to speak of

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their experiences in their own words. McRobbie (1982) argues that in order to have any significance to girls and women who are not part of the feminist movement, feminist researchers need to listen to these individuals and learn about their displeasures and experiences living in a patriarchal society. The college women in this study shared fascinating possibilities for revolution to happen. A holistic drive for change is required according to Daisy, who said, “Twitter hashtags can grow momentum and it starts with movies like ‘Black Panther’ that have really good messages. Change always starts from when people notice these things.” Tiana’s statement about “unlearning” traditional beauty standards reinforces the notion of change. Katy stated that she thought in order for change to be impactful, powerful celebrities like Michelle Obama would have to be affiliated with the cause. Stating that change is a social phenomenon and liberation requires unity and belief, Nila said: It has to be a lot of people doing what they want to do. It’s a matter of people being taught “mind your business and don't look at people in a specific way.” It’s really just about fundamentally a lot of people intrinsically believing “I don’t have to look at another person’s body and tell them what to do with it or look at it.”

Echoing these notions of transformation, Tiana stressed the fact that “this will not happen at the drop of a hat.” Despite the challenges, the observations and ideas these young women brought to this study indicate that change is already in progress.

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Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 55(3), 360–379. https://doi:10.1080/08838151 .2011.597469 Bell, B.T., Lawton, R., & Dittmar, H. (2007). The impact of thin models in music videos on adolescent girls’ body dissatisfaction. Body Image, 4(2), 137–145. Bissell, K., & Rask, A. (2010). Real women on real beauty: Self-discrepancy, interalisation of the thin ideal, and perceptions of attractiveness and thinness in Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty. International Journal of Advertising, 29(4), 643–668. https://doi:10.2501/S0265048710201385 Chung, S.K. (2007). Media/visual literacy art education: Sexism in hip-hop music videos. Art Education, 60(3), 33–38. https://doi:10.1080/00043125.2007.11651642 Cohen, R., Fardouly, J., Newton-John, T., & Slater, A. (2019). #BoPo on Instagram: An experimental investigation of the effects of viewing body positive content on young women’s mood and body image. New Media & Society, 21(7), 1546–1564. https://doi:10.1177/1461444819826530 Collins, P.H. (1990). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness and the politics of empowerment. New York, NY: Routledge. Conrad, K., Dixon, T.L., & Zhang, Y. (2009). Controversial rap themes, gender portrayals and skin tone distortion: A content analysis of rap music videos. Journal of Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 53(1), 134–156. https:// doi:10.1080/08838150802643795 Corbin, J.M., & Strauss, A.L. (1998). Basics of qualitative research: Techniques and procedures for developing grounded theory. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE Publications. Engeln-Maddox, R. (2005) Cognitive responses to idealized media images of women: The relationship of social comparison and critical processing to body image disturbance in college women. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 24(8), 1114–1138. Fredrickson, B.L., & Roberts, T.A. (1997). Objectification theory: Toward understanding women’s lived experiences and mental health risks. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 21(2), 173–206. https://doi:10.1111/j.1471-6402.1997.tb00108.x Gavey, N. (2011). Beyond “empowerment”? Sexuality in a sexist world. Sex Roles, 66(11–12), 718–724. https://doi:10.1007/s11199-011-0069-3 Gill, R. (2012). Media, empowerment and the ‘sexualization of culture’ debates. Sex Roles, 66(11–12), 736–745. https://doi:10.1007/s11199-011-0107-1 Gramsci, A. (1972). Selections from the prison notebooks of Antonio Gramsci. New York, NY: International Publishers. Hall, S. (1986). On postmodernism and articulation: An interview with Stuart Hall. Journal of Communication Inquiry, 10, 45–60. hooks, b. (1994). Outlaw culture: Resisting representations. New York, NY: Routledge. Irving, L.M. (1990). Mirror images: Effects of the standard of beauty on the self- and body-esteem of women exhibiting varying levels of bulimic symptoms. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 9(2), 230–242. Jones, D. (2004). Body image among adolescent girls and boys: A longitudinal study. Developmental Psychology, 40(5), 823–835.

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Keyes, C.L. (2000). Empowering self, making choices, creating spaces: Black female identity via rap music performance. The Journal of American Folklore, 113(449), 255. https://doi:10.2307/542102 Kistler, M.E., & Lee, M.J. (2010). Does exposure to sexual hip-hop music videos influence the sexual attitudes of college students? Mass Communication and Society, 13(1), 67–86. https://doi:10.1080/15205430902865336 Krueger, R.A., & Casey, M.A. (2009). Focus groups: A practical guide for applied research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc. Lane, N. (2011). Black women queering the mic: Missy Elliott disturbing the boundaries of racialized sexuality and gender. Journal of Homosexuality, 58(6–7), 775–792. https://doi:10.1080/00918369.2011.581921 Lindlof, T.R., & Tylor, B.C. (2015). Qualitative communication research methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc. Liu, J. (2019). Lizzo says she almost quit music the day she released her now No. 1 Billboard hit. Retrieved from https://www​.cnbc​.com​/2019​/09​/09​/lizzo​-almost​-quit​ -music​-the​-day​-she​-released​-her​-no​-1​-billboard​-hit​.html Lizzo [@lizzobeeating]. (2019, August 27). [Video of Lizzo and backup dancers performing at the MTV Music Video Awards]. Retrieved from https://www​.instagram​ .com​/p​/B1q2G54hhiR/ Lokken, K.L., Worthy, S.L., & Trautman, J. (2004). Examining the links among magazine preference, levels of awareness and internalization of sociocultural appearance standards, and presence of eating-disordered symptoms in college women. Family & Consumer Sciences Research Journal, 32(4), 361–381. Maxwell, M.L., Abrams, J.A., Belgrave, F.Z. (2016). Redbones and earth mothers: The influence of rap music on African American girls’ perceptions of skin color. Psychology of Music, 44(6), 1488–1499. https://doi:10.1177/0305735616643175 McRobbie, A. (1982). The politics of feminist research: Between talk, text and action. Feminist Review, 12, 46–57. Morgan, D.L. (1998). Planning focus groups. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc. Nelson, A.M.S. (1992). The persistence of ethnicity in African American popular music: A theology of rap music. Explorations in Ethnic Studies, 15(1), 47–57. https://doi:10.1525/ees.1992.15.1.47 O., R., (2019, March 5). Power women: The rise of female rappers. Retrieved from https://blog​.stingray​.com​/power​-women​-rise​-female​-rappers Percy, L., & Lautman, M.R. (1994). Advertising, weight loss, and eating disorders. In E.M. Clark, T.C. Brock, & D.W. Stewart (Eds.), Attention, attitude, and affect in response to advertising (pp. 301–311). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Qasim, K., Hayat, M., & Asmat, U. (2012). Black women and racial stereotypes: A Black feminist reading of Morrison’s Novels. Language in India, 12(5), 211–225. Report of the APA Task Force on the Sexualization of Girls. (2019). Retrieved from https://www​.apa​.org​/pi​/women​/programs​/girls​/report Russell-Cole, K., Wilson, M., & Hall, R. (2013). The color complex: The politics of skin color in a new millennium. New York, NY: Anchor.

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Shapiro, F. (1985). Historical notes on the vocabulary of the women's movement. American Speech, 60(1), 3–16. https://doi:10.2307/454643 Sharpley-Whiting, T.D. (2007). Pimps up, hos down: Hip hop’s hold on young black women. New York, NY: New York University Press. Stapleton, K.R. (1998). From the margins to mainstream: The political power of hip-hop. Media, Culture & Society, 20(2), 219–234. https:// doi:10.1177/016344398020002004 Trapp, E. (2005). The push and pull of hip-hop. American Behavioral Scientist, 48(11), 1482–1495. https://doi:10.1177/0002764205277427 van Zoonen, L. (1996). Feminist perspectives on the media. In J. Curran and M. Gurevitch (Eds.), Political action (pp. 31–52). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press. Wallis, C. (2010). Performing gender: A content analysis of gender display in music videos. Sex Roles, 64(3–4), 160–172. https://doi:10.1007/s11199-010-9814-2 Ward, L.M., Seabrook, R.C., Manago, A., & Reed, L. (2016). Contributions of diverse media to self-sexualization among undergraduate women and men. Sex Roles, 74(1–2), 12–23. https://doi:10.1007/s11199-015-0548-z What Dolls Can Tell Us About Race in America (2006). https://abcnews​.go​.com​/amp​ /GMA​/story​?id​=2553348​&page=1 White, S.B. (2005). Releasing the pursuit of bouncin’ and behavin’ hair: Natural hair as an Afrocentric feminist aesthetic for beauty. International Journal of Media & Cultural Politics, 1(3), 295–308. https://doi:10.1386/macp.1.3.295/1 White, T.R. (2013). Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliott and Nicki Minaj. Journal of Black Studies, 44(6), 607–626. https://doi:10.1177/0021934713497365 Williams, S. (2017). Cardi B: Love & Hip Hop’s unlikely feminist hero. Feminist Media Studies, 17(6), 1114–1117. https://doi:10.1080/14680777.2017.1380431 Wright, C.L., & Centeno, B. (2018). Sexual content in music and its relation to sexual attitudes and behaviors among consumers: A meta-analytic review. Communication Quarterly, 66(4), 423–443. https://doi:10.1080/01463373.2018.1437055

Part II

SOCIAL MEDIA

Chapter 4

“This is the Kind of Influencer We Want to See!” A Study of Body Representation among Instagram Influencers Nora Suren

After the coronavirus lockdown was lifted in Turkey, many social media influencers started going on vacations beginning in June 2020, even though their carefree actions were debatable amid a pandemic (given the high case numbers in Turkey at the time). With the influencers on vacations, bikini pictures along with different discourses about bodies were circulating on Instagram throughout the summer of 2020. My research focuses on audience discourses about body image in the culture of visual social media, reception of presentation of self on Instagram, and the question of what is real and what is not in the eyes of Instagram followers.1 Duygu Ozaslan (a Turkish beauty YouTuber and Internet celebrity with 2M followers on Instagram) is one of the most prominent influencers criticized for her bikini pictures and how she presented her body to the public eye throughout the summer of 2020. I was intrigued when I first saw the patterns in the comments she received and kept receiving for months. One of the patterns includes her followers’ criticism about the unattainable ideal she has constructed with her body image and the false “reality” she has created through her image identity on Instagram. The discourse about reality and the criticism about her pictures not representing her “real body” started around July 2020 when her “candid” photographs at the beach were leaked to the press without her knowledge. Since then, she has been receiving a lot of comments accusing her of being fake as well as discourses mixed with hate speech, misogyny, and class resentment. The main concern of scholars involves the possibility to manipulate Instagram photos by using retouching techniques and, consequently, the 47

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potentially negative influence that these “perfect pictures” may have on the body image of (young) Instagram users (Kleemans et al., 2016). Hence, the influencers normalize an unrealistic body ideal, which is problematic as they serve as role models for girls and young women (Sullivan, 2014). An important question, then, is whether her followers have these concerns and how they socially construct reality through discourses about women’s bodies and the real in the comments. Yet another Turkish influencer, Cansu Dengey with a lower follower base (253K followers) on Instagram, has a different take on body representation. Even though her body is not outside the norm, her account offers a relatively distinct discourse about her body and the real. It should be noted that since we can argue nothing is real on social media, following a popular trend, Cansu Dengey’s account offers more “unfiltered” and “real” content. That is not to say that she is more real or unfiltered, but it points toward the discourse among the comments. Dengey clearly states in her post captions and her responses to messages or comments she receives that she embraces her non-skinny body and feels comfortable posing for cameras from every angle even though she does not look “perfect.” She implies in some of her captions that her purpose in creating this content is to encourage women and create a supportive community by addressing unrealistic ideals about beauty and promoting self-acceptance through her platform. However, these popular feminism trends and their immersion within consumer-capitalist culture need to be acknowledged. Postfeminist descriptions on Instagram commodify feminism and the body positive movement. Since influencers mediate their identities through the images they curate and display on their accounts and commodify the feminine body in an economy of visibility, we should look at how influencers’ followers respond to and negotiate with different discourses about body representation and the real on Instagram. The present study fills in gaps in research that previously left out how followers and audiences respond to different bodily presentations of different influencers on everpopular social media platforms such as Instagram, particularly in the Turkish context. In doing so, it illuminates ways in which two Turkish influencers’ followers perceive and react to discourses about bodies and the reality/realness on Instagram.

VISIBILITY LABOR AND PERSONAL BRANDING Marwick (2015) explores how prolific everyday users perceive Instagram as the “convergence of cultural forces,” for instance, “a mania for digital documentary, the proliferation of celebrity and microcelebrity culture, and conspicuous consumption” (p. 139). Somewhat similar to Marwick,

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Abidin (2016) investigates the visibility labor in which Instagram followers in Singapore engage in advertorials, in an attention economy (Goldhaber, 1997) that has capitalized on creative and exploitative work. Focusing specifically on publicity work in the realm of social media commerce, Abidin (2015) seeks to better understand how influencers utilize different modes of intimacy labor (i.e., commercial, interactive, reciprocal, and disclosure) to create a sense of closeness with their followers, with commercial interests behind the motivation. Abidin (2016) suggests that publicity work should fall under the general umbrella term of “visibility labor”—“the work enacted to flexibly demonstrate gradients of self-conspicuousness in digital or physical spaces depending on intention or circumstance for favorable ends” (p. 90). Influencers enact strategic “visibility labor” when they “curate their self-presentations so as to be noticeable and positively prominent among prospective followers and fans” (Abidin, 2016, p. 90). While investigating how content producers navigate imagined audiences on Twitter, Marwick and Boyd’s (2010) study makes a correlation between some techniques of audience management and the practices of micro-celebrity and personal branding. The strategic use of Twitter to retain followers or to create a personal brand is a big part of using social media effectively for “self-conscious commodification” (Marwick & boyd, 2010, p. 119). Therefore, influencers strategically appeal to their followers in a calculated way, marketing themselves as commodities (Hearn, 2008). As suggested by Hearn (2008), “self-branding involves the self-conscious construction of a meta-narrative and meta-image of self through the use of cultural meanings and images drawn from the narrative and visual codes of the mainstream culture industries” (p. 198). Thus, we can say that influencers carefully construct a “meta-narrative and meta-image of self” (Hearn, 2008) as part of their “ideology of publicity” (Dean, 2002), in which they value whatever grabs the public’s (or their followers’) attention. In this publicity culture, influencers display themselves “in an easily-consumed public way using tropes of consumer culture” (Marwick & boyd, 2010, p. 119). Gender Identity and Self-Presentation Senft (2008) describes micro-celebrity as a communicative strategy that “involves people amping up their popularity over the Web using techniques like video, blogs, and social networking sites” (p. 25). Micro-celebrity implies that these influencers strategically maintain their audience/followers via “ongoing communication and interaction” (Marwick & boyd, 2010, p. 121). Goffman (1959) conceptualizes identity as constant performance. He proposes that meaning is constructed through language, interaction, and interpretation. In other words, self-presentation (of social media influencers)

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is collaborative through techniques like maintaining face or collectively reproducing social norms. Somewhat similar to Goffman, Butler (1990) considers the social arena as a theatrical stage on which we all play our assigned roles. Much like Foucault’s concept of discourse, Butler sees our gender roles as part of a discursive array through which power relations operate. According to Butler, since gendered identity is the result of social construction or constitution mediated through acts, acts can also serve to challenge these social constructions. Similarly, I seek to address such social constructions of gender, (in) authenticity, and reality (real bodies). Seeing identities as performative acts is valuable for my research to understand how Ozaslan’s and Dengey’s fans (or anti-fans in Ozaslan’s case (Click, 2019; Gray, 2019)) discuss and communicate gendered bodies, body image/positivity, and reality construction through Instagram comments. In essence, all forms of identity are performative and defined in social terms, often in opposition to some other identity. I am interested to see how these followers respond to the aforementioned influencers’ performances and body representations on Instagram. Micro-celebrity/Influencer Female Body and Body Positivity Over the years, the body-positive movement has thrived, especially among social media influencers. As suggested by Cwynar-Horta (2016), the main objective of the body positivity movement is “to address unrealistic ideals about beauty, promote self-acceptance, and build self-esteem through improving one’s self-image and learning to love oneself to the fullest” (p. 40). While analyzing the body-positive selfies in her research, Cwynar-Horta (2016) argues that “immersed within consumer capitalist culture, an agency in self-presentation is limited as the construction of an individual’s identity is mediated through our visually ingrained culture and the images that surround us” (p. 43). These images are produced by consumer-capitalist ideologies since the feminine body plays a critical role in influencer labor, attention economy, and monetization, thus “reinforcing the norms of the consumer society which offers the possibilities of a new commodity ‘self’ through consumption” (Kellner, 1995, p. 263). In gendered economies of visibility, women are associated with “the body” more than men, and their value is often reduced to their physical attractiveness. Banet-Weiser (2018) examines how popular feminism and popular misogyny are co-constituted in economies of visibility. She traces popular feminism’s problematic commitment to visibility and its limits. As suggested by Banet-Weiser (2018), economies of visibility both create and validate popular feminism and popular misogyny in an era of advanced capitalism

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and networked media platforms. Banet-Weiser (2018) argues that visibility itself has been absorbed into the economy and these so-called economies of visibility are gendered: “The product in gendered economies of visibility is the body (most often the bodies of heteronormative cis-gendered women). Its value is constantly deliberated over, surveilled, evaluated, judged, and scrutinized” (p. 28). In the current moment of popular feminism, the demand for visibility for women and their bodies is enhanced by social media. In a gendered economy of visibility, women make themselves marketable and therefore acquire status as a form of currency (Marwick, 2013). Both Ozaslan and Dengey monetize their self-care and affective labor, in a way that is sustaining.2 In a neoliberal capitalist context, this emotional labor of femininity involves embodying the “spectacularly feminine” whereby “women are actively engaged in the production of self. That is, it becomes increasingly difficult to function as a female subject without subjecting oneself to those technologies of the self that are constitutive of the spectacularly feminine” (McRobbie, 2009, p. 60). Here, what McRobbie points out is significant for the context of this chapter as within today’s capitalism visibility is treated as the route to personal empowerment, but only if you are feminine enough. Anti-Fandom While “empowering” on one level, the popular feminist discourse on Instagram reproduces the patriarchal concepts of the feminine body on another level, creating anti-fandoms. One of the few studies to systematically theorize anti-fandom was done by Gray (2019). In his study, Gray subdivides and taxonomizes some forms of anti-fandom and different modes of disliking, including competitive anti-fandom, bad objects, and hate-watching. Theories of anti-fandom and hate-watching were developed in relation to television, but I am applying these concepts to social media following in this chapter. Gray (2019) offers the example of several franchises being pitted against each other, such as Star Wars fans and Star Trek fans. Next, Gray turns to bad objects, which abound in anti-fandom. Here, he refers to popular bad objects that are based on a widespread agreement in the media world. As Gray argues, bad object anti-fandoms are coalitional. Lastly, Gray illustrates that while some forms of anti-fandom involve turning off and walking away in disgust, as cultural exhaustion dictates it, in such cases as hate-watching of a TV show or movie, antifandom and exhaustion can require more consumption. Building on Gray, I apply theory of hate-watching to social media as in the prominent case of hate-following.3

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METHOD Research Design This project uses Charmaz’s constructivist approach to grounded theory (GT). The constructivist approach was valuable to my research by allowing me to develop a model that gave me insight into how language/discourse functioned and how meaning was created in the comment sections of the Instagram posts of two influencers. I analyzed the user comments under the Instagram posts of Ozaslan and Dengey during the summer of 2020 for my sample. This study relied on an inductive and qualitative approach to analyze 200 comments in total (100 comments were collected from different posts of each influencer), using a mixture of purposive and random sampling. For my sample, I selected the first twenty-five comments of four different posts of each influencer, which were first compiled into an Excel sheet, then imported to NVivo. For the paper, I translated all the posts and comments myself. This study seeks to answer the following question: How do followers respond to and negotiate with Ozaslan’s and Dengey’s two different discourses about women’s bodies and the real? Of the four approaches to GT (Glaserian, Straussian, Charmazian, and Clarkeian), Charmaz’s (2006) constructivist approach was chosen for this study. The choice of the method is appropriate for the interpretive paradigm I aim to use in this research. Using an interpretive research paradigm helped me avoid attempting to validate an existing hypothesis (Charmaz, 2006). In doing so, I moved away from the objectivist and deterministic approach to research, which argues that there is a single interpretation of reality. With constructivist GT, I demonstrated that in my “humanness,” my values, beliefs, and identity were inevitable parts of the outcome of the research. As a researcher, I have had the opportunity to express and reflect upon my viewpoints. Moreover, I acknowledge that the categories that emerged organically from the data were subject to change throughout the research process. Using the underlying concepts based on the audience discourse, I came up with themes as my data collection and analysis evolved throughout the study (Charmaz, 2006; Glaser & Strauss, 1967) and provided critical examples for my findings and analyses section to represent the data and compare my analysis of comments from two different influencers’ audience group. Ethical Considerations To account for the ethical complexities that might carry, since I could not get author consent, I anonymized the dataset through the removal of usernames of followers. Although there was no immediate risk involving this

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research, I was mindful of users’ privacy by storing the screenshots that I took from the user comments on Instagram on my password-protected computer. I also followed the ethical guidelines set forth by the Association of Internet Researchers (Markham & Buchanan, 2012), since this research is considered Internet research, utilizing the Internet to collect data, studying how people use an online platform, and engaging in data analysis to study Internet-facilitated images and writings. The major consideration in my research would be the not-so-binary concept of public and private. Markham and Buchanan (2012) suggest that “definitions and expectations of privacy are ambiguous, contested, and changing” (p. 6). So, influencers such as Ozaslan and Dengey as well as the commenters of their Instagram posts “may operate in public spaces but maintain strong perceptions or expectations of privacy” (Markham & Buchanan, 2012, p. 6). However, as noted in the AOIR ethics guidelines, the description of “public and private as a clearly recognizable binary no longer holds in everyday practice” (Markham & Buchanan, 2012, p. 7). Since there is not much consensus when researching such dynamic grounds, as a researcher I adopted Nissenbaum’s concept of contextual integrity (2010) even though my research did not involve vulnerable communities or their personal information. I also acknowledge here that the influencers themselves are not anonymous in this study. And I recognize that people would be able to track down the original comments potentially, so there are limitations to the extent to which I can anonymize these comments. I raise the conceptual issue of the public vs. private binary here but do not quite apply it to the specifics of my project since both the influencers and user comments are in a very public online space.

ANALYSIS AND DISCUSSION OF FINDINGS Audience Perception of Reality over the Influencer Female Body One of the most apparent and frequent reactions to Dengey’s comments is her followers’ explicit dislike of influencers whom they perceive as fake, artificial, or plastic, using photo editing tools. There is a comparison aspect to their reactions in the comments, where they constantly pit the ones who they consider as fake and filtered and Dengey against each other. This is most clear when they compare Dengey with Ozaslan as if they are competing against each other as to who is more “real” and genuine in their Instagram posts. This corresponds with Gray’s (2019) competitive anti-fandom, but unlike his argument, for whom it is more targeted at the franchises or imaginary characters

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of television texts or video games, it is rather directed toward an object of hate, a “real” person, an influencer on social media. One photo shows Dengey lying comfortably on the sunbed, with her belly rolls and folds, with the following caption: “Belly folds, awkward sunburns, and photos that are shot from different angles exist. And, believe me, none of them determine our self-worth” (figures 4.1 and 4.2). In Dengey’s caption, the discourse of personal empowerment is dominant and the key to this empowerment is displayed through visibility of feminine bodies. While discourses of visibility are trending in popular culture and social media, in political culture in Turkey (and probably globally), the bodies of girls and women are more and more disciplined through law (or lack thereof), political rhetoric, and public discourse. As Turkey recently withdrew from the Council of Europe Convention on preventing and combating violence against women and domestic violence (the “Istanbul Convention”), women and girls in Turkey continue to face gender-based domestic and sexual violence every day. In 2020, 300 femicides were recorded in Turkey according to the organization called We Will Stop Femicides. The number of unrecorded cases could be higher since 171 women were found dead under suspicious circumstances during that same time as suggested by the organization. Turkey’s withdrawal

Figure 4.1  “Belly folds, awkward sunburns, and photos that are shot from different angles exist. And, believe me none of them determine our self-worth.” Screenshot captured from @cansudengey on Instagram.

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Figure 4.2  Eating peaches on a beach chair. Screenshot captured from @cansudengey on Instagram.

is a direct attack on women, the LGBTQ+ community, as well as victims and survivors of domestic violence. Dengey’s caption embodies the themes of popular feminism, such as gaining body confidence, loving your body, and vague notions of empowerment. Her followers’ reaction to this discourse was extremely positive. The comment section was flooded by Dengey’s followers differentiating between their beloved object, Dengey, and other influencers. “I wish Duygu Shopaslan4 learned from you,” posted a user; “thank you for being real and modest, as we are sick of those fancy ones.” Others expressed their dislike of the “rival” influencers by showing their approval and appreciation for Dengey: “Well, finally an influencer with a normal body, thank God! She is one of us!”; “What a relief! We were sick of those fake Instagram poses. We’re finally seeing a real body, a real woman.”; “Every influencer looks exactly the same these days: same duck lips, a thin face, sharp cheekbones [. . .] But, you’ve made a difference with your naturalness.” As these examples suggest, competition and comparison are especially intense when it comes to fans’ perceptions of realness and naturalness among influencers: “This is the kind of influencers we want to see.” Their reactions to “real” bodies and photoshopped or plastic bodies are very different, as the latter indicates an anti-fandom toward influencers like Ozaslan.

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As Gray (2019) notes, “bad object anti-fandoms unite groups that may otherwise not work together” (p. 29). In the case of Ozaslan perceived as a bad object, for instance, a group may have non-sexist reasons for reviling her in the comments but may find themselves entangled in an anti-fandom that takes a hatefully sexist form. Ozaslan’s anti-fans are united in the comments: “This made me very uncomfortable” remarked a user; “I don’t like your physique at all,” said another. Ozaslan’s body became an object of ridicule: “I’m going to throw up!”; “Isn’t this the Roman god, Hercules?”; “Disgusting.”; “Your legs are as thick as those of Cristiano Ronaldo.”; “You look like a wrestler.”; “Fatso.” These fat-shaming comments imply that Ozaslan has done a bad job editing her photos and that her failed photoshopped body does not look skinny enough as was in her previous posts. The current social, cultural, and economic landscapes promote popular feminism and reproduce misogyny through consuming rather than directly challenging patriarchal systems. The postfeminist ideology treats women as independent agents who are at last free from outdated sexism and patriarchal restrictions. However, this is not always the case in Turkey as “outdated” sexism and patriarchal norms are still intact, which is apparent in Ozaslan’s comments section. By using offensive language including insults and by using emojis with negative effect that expresses sickness and hate or emoji of animals, hegemonic power relations are reproduced. Anti-fandoms, with the case of Ozaslan, demonstrate that hegemonic values are maintained through “coalitional dislikes” (Gray, 2019, p. 29) and derogatory words; in the case of Dengey, however, they are challenged through likes and supportive comments. In a patriarchal society like Turkey, female figures that are targeted at or coded as designed for women may prove easy to default bad objects, as women may find themselves in these anti-fan alliances where they perform their dislike toward their fellow women (Gray, 2019). We also see this in Ozaslan’s female followers’5 responses to her content in which she has been called out for her overuse of photo editing, with users poking fun at her Photoshop skills: “Your leg looks thicker in the second photo, is there a bug in the app?”; “Only the sky is not edited.”; “The grass is warped.”; “Why is your waist crooked?”; “The sunbed is warped because of too much Photoshop.”; “Your belly button seems to be missing from this photo.” One could also say that these users derive pleasure from uncovering photoshopped bodies and from catching influencers using Photoshop, and in doing so, proving themselves to be collectively more tech-savvy and sharp-witted than the influencer herself. For instance, in reaction to two different photos that show Ozaslan in her bikinis (figures 4.3 and 4.4), an anti-fan remarks: “It’s photoshopped, if you’re careful enough you’ll see it.” Another user insinuating that Ozaslan manipulates her face and body in Instagram photos comments, “nice mask!” “Don’t deceive people,” posted another. This antifandom is united in the comments like an online community of people who

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Figure 4.3  Kneeling on a chair by the pool. Screenshot captured from @duyguozaslan on Instagram.

Figure 4.4  “Photographs are still on vacation.” Screenshot captured from @duyguozaslan on Instagram.

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hate on and deride the same influencer. For example, several users even ask their fellow anti-fans’ opinions on photo editing software: “Does anyone know how she gets rid of cellulite on pictures?” Others seek the approval and validation of others, asking rhetorical questions like: “Is anyone else curious about the original/real version of the photo?” Hate-following is also quite common among Ozaslan’s anti-fandom. Some forms of hate-following tell us about expectations followers have of the content hoping it gets better, while other forms mix dislike and pleasure in a way that followers sort of enjoy the revulsion the content brings them. Here, in the case of Ozaslan, it may not be as hopeful hate-following as in cases where the premise of content is enticing enough to get users’ hopes up, it is rather a monitorial hate-following (Gray, 2019), in which the hate-follower feels as though they must follow the influencer. This is common among Ozaslan’s followers, who keep following her and responding to her posts despite their dislike, thereby exhibiting following as duty. One cannot discount the social media effect on the user who feels compelled to stay up-to-date and not miss out on even some content that they dislike. It is apparent from the data that Ozaslan’s followers are up-to-date with her private life, as they know about the leaked photo incident that happened in the summer of 2020. “She is trying to make us believe that she looks better than the paparazzi shots that surfaced,” wrote one user. “Which one is real, the paparazzi shots or this?” asked another. So, these anti-fans are engaged in monitoring hate-following to keep up with what Ozaslan is doing. In addition to monitorial hate-following, Ozaslan’s followers demonstrate a form of visceral hate-following, as posited by Gray (2019) for viewing instead of following. Although these anti-fans know that consumption will make them angry or upset, they still engage in following and reacting to her content. One could also argue that a form of masochism is at work here, and this tells us something about boredom and the social media culture. Social media give us “corporal pleasures, affective jolts,” not just figures or trends to identify with or against (Gray, 2019, p. 38). Visceral hate-following serves here as a certain degree of relish, even if that is triggered by anger, annoyance, disgust, or dislike toward Ozaslan. Another aspect of hate-following is its performativity of it. Instead of following Ozaslan silently, users feel the need to express their dislike and engage in dialogue with their fellow hate-followers. The performativity of hate-following lends itself to being a communal activity in some instances in which a group of strangers unite to respond to something that they feel compelled to monitor and that they feel they must respond to. Ozaslan’s anti-fandom is being constructed communally in the comment section where users like and respond to each other’s comments. While dislike may appear to be a negative emotion, following Bourdieu (1984) and Fiske (1989), media and cultural studies often operate with a default suspicion of dislike “as

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snobbery, as ill-intentioned, and as a cultural weapon” (Gray, 2019, p. 40). This is not to say that Ozaslan’s followers have identical interests, or that those interests are well-intentioned. But one should expect this anti-fandom to at times be dynamic and nuanced, to tell us about followers’ expectations for social media at large. Body representations on Instagram matter to users, as they are fed up with false and unhealthy representations. Although some of the comments are outright hurtful and misogynistic, they are all criticisms for promoting unrealistic body standards that can leave influencers looking almost inhuman. We see this in responses to Ozaslan’s photos, with users demanding a change in body representation and perception of realness. Popular feminism exists in an economy of visibility, of which central logic is hypervisibility as a route to empowerment. Instead of being a means for achieving gender equity, visibility becomes popular feminism’s only purpose in the context of neoliberalism (Banet-Weiser, 2018). Postfeminist ideals of sexualized femininity contribute to reproducing patriarchal discourses, bullying, harassment, and relations of domination instead of being constructive and subverting them. Even though Instagram provides a space for these influencers to represent themselves, it also reproduces hegemonic standards regarding those representations of bodies. Ozaslan is closely and regularly scrutinized and criticized for the sexualized display of her body in what amounts to psychological violence. We can also observe community/ society/ patriarchal pressures that are deeply rooted in Turkish culture in the comments such as: “This account turned into a porn channel, someone calls the authorities.”; “She cannot walk the fine line between loving yourself and exposing yourself.”; “Does displaying your body mean that you have selfrespect?” One major way to contest both patriarchy and postfeminism is to stress solidarity among women. But this is not observed among the comments Ozaslan has received. Above, I have mostly discussed anti-fandom as directed toward Ozaslan as opposed to fandom. In contrast with Ozaslan, Dengey has a very appreciative and loving fandom who knows that the perfect images on social media are often carefully edited and filtered and that it is a skewed version of reality. Therefore, they express their appreciation for this “real” or “unfiltered” body representation that Dengey has been going for as her “meta-narrative and meta-image of self” (Hearn, 2008). One user thanks Dengey for “shattering social taboos and conventional beauty standards” through her platform. Another writes, “everyone should be whatever size they want to be, I hate the societal obsession with size zero.” Others posted: “Everyone must be just themselves.” “Belly folds exist!”; “Not everyone needs to be size zero.” They are tired of being exposed to Instagram content that stereotypes beauty and gendered bodies. They accept and embrace their bodies; in turn, they want to see more representations like themselves, not artificial bodies, on Instagram.

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Dengey’s content appears to lessen the impact those filtered images of plastic bodies have on her followers’ perception of their bodies and reality. For example, notice the following comment by a follower who expresses her love and appreciation for Dengey and her posts: you help me a lot to accept myself as I am. I am not overweight; but since I don’t exercise, I have a tiny belly and cellulite. My skin deteriorates whenever I’m on my period [. . .] but thanks to you, I’ve started not to worry too much. I got my confidence back. You are very loved.

The comment section is filled with gratitude, affection, and support messages for Dengey, as they believe that she does not change herself to conform to society’s standards; instead, she “breaks free from the size zero obsession,” as one user puts it. Her followers make sense of Dengey’s content in a way that there is no one ideal body; there are only real and imperfect bodies, thus learning to accept their bodies as they are and being influenced by her discourse about bodies and the real. As one user writes, “You show us that we are beautiful in every way, I love you.” “Thanks to you, I’ve come a long way with my body. Thank you, and I love you even if we haven’t met, writes another.” Dengey’s content inspires them to love their bodies: “Because of my weight, I’ve been wearing a pair of black sweat pants all summer. But you have been such an inspiration for me. You are loved.” It is apparent from these comments that Dengey’s followers view her both as an inspiration who teaches them self-love and a role model who sets a “great example,” instilling self-confidence in the younger generation. This argument is consistent with that of Cwynar-Horta (2016), which defines the body positivity movement as a way “to address unrealistic ideals about beauty, promote self-acceptance, and build self-esteem through improving one’s self-image and learning to love oneself to the fullest” (p. 40). As one follower describes: what a beautiful woman you are, Cansu. I love you so much. We are not what we eat, but there is always pressure on us. You have paved the way for so many young girls and women with this post. You can’t imagine how many of them said, “I should not be ashamed of my body.” We grew up with these traditional, perfect beauty standards, but we’ve never asked if we are happy with ourselves. Our beauty shouldn’t be defined by how others see us; it is how we see ourselves that matters. I love both my thick legs and my thick arms.

Audience perception of “reality” is a big theme that plays out as one reads the comments. In the comments, audiences grapple with two things. One is the “reality” of what beauty is and what they can love about their bodies in

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their own real lives. The other “reality” is the media reality, or how bodies are represented on Instagram. Then their comments explain how the media reality has been impacting their lived reality, such as: “Influencers like you will end artificiality and photoshopped pictures!”; “Makes me happy when I see people who embrace their reality.”; “I’m grateful for real women!”; “Being real is not a flaw.”; “You are one of the few women who is real in this industry.”; “This is reality. That’s why we love you.”; “A real body, plus a healthy one!” The common perception of reality among the audience is that real and healthy-looking bodies are what we need on Instagram to promote self-acceptance and to stop stereotyping beauty. They demand more “bold,” “genuine,” and “realistic” representations on social media—more influencers like them. Several followers also expressed their relief after seeing a “real” body representation on social media which inspires them to accept their flaws, and their humanness, and makes them feel good about themselves. Others even attempted to define what a real woman, a real body is over Dengey’s bodily presentation on Instagram: “a woman after my own heart.”; “A woman, if anything, should not give any thought to what anyone thinks and be independent.” While followers praise Dengey’s embrace of all body types her body is not exactly outside of the norm. By emphasizing the importance of being looked at and showing her body, she is also reinforcing the significance of the body and beauty for women still, even if it is for a slightly broader range of definitions of body. This system where popular feminism expressions and practices are circulated easily erases marginalized groups of women and body types by only highlighting heteronormative cisgendered, upper-middle-class women who still have aspirational body types like Dengey. While these online performances contribute to the representation and visibility of women, they do not challenge any structural issues, but rather merely encourage the inclusion of women. Even though Dengey’s representation is received as “unfiltered” and celebrated by her audience, no representation, especially a carefully curated one like an Instagram account that is monetized, is ever “unfiltered,” even if it does not use Photoshop. Dengey employs the popular feminist discourse “Love your body” on her Instagram page. While the message is received as “empowering” by her audience, it does not confront the structural issues of sexism, misogyny, and sexual crimes in Turkish society. The discourse her account offers about bodies and the real only focuses on women’s self-esteem and bodily asymmetries and re-emphasizes patriarchal notions of femininity in the context of neoliberalism. While acknowledging that what Dengey does matters to her fandom, we should not ignore the fact that in essence all forms of identity are performative and that authenticity and reality are all social constructions. Dengey carefully

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constructs a personal brand utilizing social media and visual culture trends for preserving her authentic relationship with her fan base, and consistent with the literature, for “self-conscious commodification” (Marwick & boyd, 2010, p. 119). Dengey draws her Instagram narrative from popular culture/social trends since the discourse of body positivity and self-love/body-acceptance is highly popular these days, especially among micro-celebrities and influencers. Thus, Dengey strategically appeals to her followers “through the use of cultural meanings and images drawn from the narrative and visual codes of the mainstream culture industries” (Hearn, 2008, p. 198). Both Ozaslan and Dengey are “immersed within consumer capitalist culture,” where their “agency in self-presentation is limited as the construction of an individual’s identity is mediated through our visually ingrained culture and the images that surround us” (Cwynar-Horta, 2016, p. 43). Though these two influencers’ performances and body representations on Instagram are different, as we have seen from their followers’ responses to their posts, these images are still “reinforcing the norms of the consumer society which offers the possibilities of a new commodity ‘self’ through consumption” (Kellner, 1995, p. 263). Whereas Ozaslan reproduces the norms of the consumer society through misrepresentation of her body, Dengey does it through self-love/ self-acceptance and unfiltered representation of her body.

CONCLUSION The goal of this study was to see how followers of two different Instagram influencers respond to their discourses about bodies and the real. With the “visibility labor” (Abidin, 2016) and the influencer marketing on Instagram is growing, it is important to understand how fans and followers are making sense of the content they encounter on the platform. Research has shown that influencers strategically construct a “meta-narrative and meta-image of self” (Hearn, 2008) within their “ideology of publicity” (Dean, 2002), in which they value whatever grabs their followers’ attention. Given the relevance of the publicity and visual culture (Marwick & boyd, 2010; Abidin, 2015, 2016), it is significant to look at how influencers’ followers understand performances and body representations on Instagram. With the rise of the body positive movement on social media (CwynarHorta, 2016), some influencers focus on addressing unrealistic ideals about beauty and promoting self-acceptance through their platforms. But as Cwynar-Horta (2016) cautions, these trends’ immersion within consumercapitalist culture needs to be acknowledged. Influencers’ identities are mediated through the images that surround them, which are produced by such consumer-capitalist ideologies as influencer labor, attention economy,

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and monetization, thus “reinforcing the norms of the consumer society which offers the possibilities of a new commodity ‘self’ through consumption” (Kellner, 1995, p. 263). This study joins previous cultural studies and audience research on the intersections of pop culture, communication, and body (Abidin 2015, 2016; Cwynar-Horta, 2016; Hearn, 2008; Kellner, 1995; Marwick, 2015; Senft, 2008). Via the 200 user-generated comments analyzed, I demonstrated that Ozaslan’s and Dengey’s fans and followers responded to discourses their accounts offer about bodies and the real, resulting in criticism, anti-fandom, and hate-following (Gray, 2019) in Ozaslan’s case; appreciation, love, and support in Dengey’s case. The present study suggests several directions for future study. First, to gain a deeper understanding of the overarching theme, and the sub-categories identified here, individual or focus group interviews with both Ozaslan and Dengey’s followers could be conducted. Second, in addition to the interviews with fans, interviews with the influencers themselves, as an object of hate/ dislike and as an object of love, could be conducted. Third, a comparison of influencers and their fandom from different cultures could be examined given that I only based my findings on the perceptions of audiences from the same culture. Though this study did not take cultural and societal differences into account, a comparative study can shed more light on how the body is performed and perceived across cultures and social classes. Lastly, because this is preliminary research, the primary source of data comprised 200 comments in total. One could collect and analyze more comments as their source of data to see whether new categories and overarching themes emerge from more corpus. Thus, further research of such avenues would yield important results. My analysis highlights how social media fans/ users are contesting the nature of the real and beauty norms on Instagram, which is so known for promotional/aspirational images, filters, airbrushing, among others. Furthermore, this chapter acknowledges both the agency and the political limitations of these “active audiences.” It also focuses on the intersection of the performance of gender and visibility politics in an understudied national/cultural context. Finally, this research integrates theories of anti-fandom and hate-watching into the social media context.

NOTES 1. Throughout this chapter, I use “user,” “fan,” “follower,” and “audience” interchangeably. 2. Dengey shared her story of quitting her advertising/marketing job at a corporate company to become a full-time Influencer with her followers several times.

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3. Urban Dictionary defines “hate follow” as: “when you can’t help but follow someone on social media, despite how much you despise them and/or what they stand for” (Frank Fulford, 2014). 4. It is a portmanteau of Duygu’s last name and the word Photoshop. Özaslan is a compound word meaning “real/genuine lion.” So, the user changed the first word of her last name from “öz” to “shop” short for photoshop. 5. This observation is arrived at after checking the Instagram account handles, profile pictures, and accounts (the ones that are public) of the commenters. However, this evidence is not enough to further argue, it needs more research to decide whether those comments are women.

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Kleemans, M., Daalmans, S., Carbaat, I., & Anschütz, D. (2018). Picture perfect: The direct effect of manipulated Instagram photos on body image in adolescent girls. Media Psychology, 21(1), 93–110. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/15213269​.2016​ .1257392 Markham, A., & Buchanan, E. (2012). Ethical decision-making and internet research: Version 2.0. recommendations from the AoIR ethics working committee. https:// aoir​.org​/reports​/ethics2​.pdf Marwick, A.E. (2015). Instafame: Luxury selfies in the attention economy. Public Culture, 27(1), 137–160. https://doi​.org​/10​.1215​/08992363​-2798379 Marwick, A.E., & boyd, d. (2010). I tweet honestly, I tweet passionately: Twitter users, context collapse, and the imagined audience. New Media & Society, 13(1). https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1461444810365313 Nissenbaum, H. (2010). Privacy in context: Technology, policy, and the integrity of social life. Stanford University Press. Radway, J. (1984). Reading the romance. University of North Carolina Press. Sender, K. (2015) Reconsidering reflexivity: Audience research and reality television. The Communication Review, 18(1), 37–52. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/10714421​.2015​ .996414 Senft, T. (2008). Camgirls: Celebrity and community in the age of social networks. Peter Lang. Sullivan, R. (2014). Celebrities are using photo manipulation apps to make themselves look thinner. http://www​.news​.com​.au​/lifestyle​/beauty​/celebrities​-are​ -using​-photo​-manipulation​-apps​-to​-make​-themselves​-look​-thinner​/story​-fnjcnzwg​ -1226874550847

Chapter 5

Accidental Culture Jamming Celeste Barber and the Juxtaposition between the Real and Ideal Body Erin Cook and Trischa Goodnow

I never started out for it to be a body-positive thing or be like, “fuck yeah.” It was always like, this is how celebrities get out of the pools [and] I’m like no, this is how you get out of the pool. Even though it’s unintentional, she’s happy for the images to be seen as a comment on sexism in the media. “I totally identify as a feminist, but I’m even more so now without knowing I was one. All of a sudden, I’m like oh yeah, I’ll march and shit, because I’ve got a voice.” (Spring, 2017, paras. 6–7)

In 2015, Australian comedian Celeste Barber began sending her sister photos of herself parodying images of models and celebrities in unnatural poses that help to set contemporary standards of what women’s bodies are supposed to look like. Barber’s attempts to illustrate what real women look like in all of their unkempt, cellulose-ridden, and uncoordinated beauty. After she started sharing her parody photographs on Instagram with the hashtag #celestechallengeaccepted, she has amassed 7.8 million followers. Barber posts the original model/celebrity photo with her parodied image either next to or below the image so that the contrast is stark. In addition to making her followers laugh, her audiences take other messages from her parodies. Body positivity has become synonymous with her parodies. Body Image Movement is a group of advocates who hope to “end the global body-hating epidemic by inspiring people to embrace their bodies” (Body Image Movement, n.d.), and they are clearly fans of Barber. In a Facebook post from January 14, 2018, the group posted on its page, “Celeste is breaking down the veil of photoshopping and toxic media messaging one 67

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meme at a time all while keeping us in stitches of laughter.” Cohen et  al. (2019) suggest that viewing body-positive accounts on social media may improve viewers’ mood, body satisfaction, and body appreciation. Slater et al. (2019) put Barber’s parody accounts to the test in a controlled experiment where women were exposed to Barber’s images. The results showed that participants had greater body satisfaction after viewing her parodies. The authors suggest that this reaction may be in part because participants viewed her body as more similar to their own versus the celebrity or model. While quantitative studies such as the one conducted by Slater et al. (2019), seek to create a causal relationship between image and body perception by the viewer, they do not explore the idea of how these images influence. The answer lies in a rhetorical analysis that can examine the strategies of persuasion that Barber uses to influence their audiences. A fitting lens through which to view Barber’s parodies is that of culture jamming which may be loosely defined as “A range of tactics used to critique, subvert, and otherwise jam the workings of consumer culture” (Delaure & Fink, 2017, p. 6). Culture jamming often uses humor and playful parody to encourage audiences to question the standards and practices of advertising and other social structures that establish social expectations. Featherstone (2010) links consumer culture with body image as consumer culture encourages the transformation of the body to meet media standards of beauty. Consequently, examining Barber’s use of parody as a culture jam is appropriate. As Harold (2007) notes, “it [culture jamming] is an amping up of contradictory rhetorical messages in an effort to engender a qualitative change” (p. 66). Barber’s parodies of celebrity and model photographs juxtapose the consumer culture’s ideal body with her own real body. What is intriguing about Barber’s culture jam is that her intention was to make people laugh not make a feminist statement. As she states in her book, Celeste Barber: Challenge Accepted, I create content with the purpose of making people laugh and to maybe show how ridiculous the culture of celebrity and fame is. I’m happy that what I do sometimes starts conversations, but I don’t then scroll through the comments and respond to what people say or suggest. (p. 233)

Yet, she carries the mantle of culture jamming when she says in the same book: It’s not individual hot people that I’m talking about; it’s our dumb-arse culture, which tries to make us believe that the way we look is the most important thing. A culture that says if you look a certain way, then different things will be available to you and you will be treated differently. (p. 224)

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And, in another breath, she says, “I’m not here to tell anyone what they should think about what I do. I’m just showing you another side, a real side, hopefully, the funny side” (p. 234). These contradictory sentiments imply that Barber was not setting out to jam the culture, just presenting an opposing view. However, her audiences have clearly placed her into the category of culture jammer, as the Body Image Movement cited above illustrates. As a result of Barber’s contradictory statements and her audience’s responses, we propose that Barber’s parodies can be considered accidental culture jamming because her audiences have received the jammed message, whether she intended it or not. To make this argument, we begin by considering the characteristics common to culture jamming. We then look at the specific strategies that Barber uses to jam the culture, knowingly or not. For this analysis, we considered approximately 400 of Barber’s over 1,300 Instagram parody posts, both videos and still images. We then categorized the images and videos according to the central parody point. We discuss the categories that emerged and their implications. We then turn to the fan parodies that she inspires in order to illustrate how Barber’s accidental culture jam reverberates through her audiences. We conclude by considering the implications of this analysis for Barber, her audiences, and culture jamming in general. Understanding how Barber’s parodies send culture jamming messages to her audiences is an important contribution to understanding how body image can be both perpetuated by media and challenged by that same media. CULTURE JAMMING AND ITS CHARACTERISTICS The 1980s and 1990s were a period of cultural awakening for some cultural critics. Eyes opened to the corporatization of American culture, media activists sought to upend the prevailing media landscape by “jamming” (a CB term where one illegally interrupts communications on ham radio) the cultural practices of the corporate culture. As Kalle Lasn, founder of Adbusters, comments: Interrupting the stupefyingly comfortable patterns we’ve fallen into isn’t pleasant or easy. It’s like crawling out of your warm bed in your darkroom one December morning at five A.M. and plunging into a tub of ice water. It shocks the system. but sometimes shock is what a system needs. It’s certainly what our bloated, self-absorbed consumer culture needs. (p. 107)

At its core, culture jamming attempts to shock consumers out of their mindless consumption of goods and ideals presented as “must-haves” by corporate culture.

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DeLaure and Fink (2017) identify six characteristics that help to define culture jamming. First, taking original materials such as signs, billboards, pictures, and so on, culture jamming appropriates by flipping the intended meaning of the materials as a comment on serious issues and thus turning corporate strategies against said corporations. While technically illegal, culture jamming highlights the practices of consumer culture by claiming existing materials, thus violating “laws governing copyright and ownership” (p. 13). Combining wit, culture, and high-quality mediums, culture jamming produces artful parodies in public venues that many times are of comparable or greater quality than the original materials themselves. It is this same wit and use of absurdity that enables culture jammers to highlight serious issues in a more playful manner, something that may be easier for audiences to understand and partake in themselves. “If culture jamming is fun to do, then it is more inviting to participants. If it uses humor and is funny to watch, then it is more engaging and appeals to audiences” (p. 16). This participatory element of culture jamming is a direct result of the highlighted issues being center stage rather than the jammers themselves. Lambert-Beatty (2010) calls this “invitational cultural jamming” as “each of their [jammers] actions create a forum. Invitational culture jamming applies the jammer’s creativity to the task of making space for other people’s inventiveness to be expressed and works against the sly, aggressive, unidirectional, and commercially driven messaging that infuses so much public space” (p.102). Additionally, with the focus on the highlighted issues, culture jamming is often anonymous, which in turn allows interested individuals a chance to engage in causes they care about not only in our consumer culture but also in the political realm as well. In explaining the reasoning behind using anonymity, feminist activists Guerrilla Girls (Gulraiz, 2012) state, “Sometimes you gotta speak out publicly, but sometimes it works even better to speak out anonymously .  .  . you won’t believe what comes out of your mouth while wearing a gorilla mask” (pp. 62–90). With the initial jammer and other participants engaged in this form of activism, culture jamming is often thought of as not a single event but rather a sequence of related incidents which makes it operate serially. What makes culture jamming so unique from other forms of activism is the transgressive nature inherent in breaking through social barriers in a shocking or amusing way. Barber’s parodies of celebrity culture shock viewers with the unashamed exposure of her body with all its flaws. For a consumer culture used to seeing impossibly flawless bodies (often photoshopped to perfection) on their social media feeds, seeing Barber’s parody images shocks the senses since Western cultures have been told that unless your body is perfect, it should be hidden. Certainly, much research has been devoted to examining the negative impacts of media depictions of what bodies should look like by presenting

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celebrities and models through often photoshopped images. Mills, Shannon, and Hogue (2017) summarize the research on media depictions of idealized bodies on consumers, illustrating the range of research that connects media images with negative self-perceptions of consumers. In contradiction to these research findings, Barber refuses to hide. In this way, her viewers have assumed that her parodies are not just funny pictures to laugh at, but rather, a model of how to be unashamed of your body, regardless of its imperfections. While it is clear that Barber’s parody images fit into many of the above characteristics of culture jamming, we examine Barber’s images to uncover three ways in which she challenges the prevailing perceptions of body image: body size and shape, athleticism, and sexuality. With these clear trends in her images, audiences interpret her message as more than just amusing images but rather a way to reinterpret body image standards. In examining the sample images from Barber’s account we categorized each image and what the perceived subject of the parody was. We discerned that the majority of images were about body image (a small portion parodied the notion of celebrity motherhood, lifestyle differences, and the model industry itself but chose to focus on those that dealt with body image). In considering the body image parodies, we found that the points of parody were about body size/shape (how different bodies look in similar clothing or positions), athleticism (positions the body can achieve especially through being physically fit and having flexibility), and sexuality (what real bodies look like in lingerie or with partners). In the sections that follow, we explore these areas and provide an analysis of examples within these categories. Body Size/Shape One of the most common themes present in Barber’s parodies is that of body shape/size. More often than not, while scrolling through Barber’s Instagram feed, a plethora of side-by-side images appear with a striking contrast between the original model and Barber’s own version of the image, highlighting differences in both body shape and size. One set of juxtaposed images includes on the left an image of Instagram model Alexis Ren (Barber, 2017b) sitting in front of a stack of pancakes topped with strawberries and bananas, wearing a white t-shirt with breasts drawn on the front of the shirt that could be described as round, symmetrical, and perky. On the right is an image of Barber, also sitting in front of a pile of food but this time it is just four slices of plain bread. Barber is also wearing a white t-shirt with breasts drawn on the front of the shirt that is long, saggy, and uneven. One viewer commented, “The REAL truth” (Rice, 2018). Responses, such as this one, illustrate that viewers take away more than a laugh from viewing Barber’s images.

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In one video comparison, fitness expert Tammy Hembrow appears in a short tank top and what can only be called thong shorts gazing into the camera and turning to show off her well-developed backside. She twists and turns to show her gluteus maximus from a variety of angles. Barber’s video shows her dressed in a one-shouldered sports bra with knee-length bike shorts adorned with skulls. Barber twists and turns trying to pull up her derriere in an attempt to achieve the same pert, developed rear muscles as Hembrow, with the caption “Gravity is a bitch” (Barber, 2020b). Barber’s hand gestures comically mimic a model’s fluid gestures as if to present her body the same way a model would. In a comparison between Barber and Khloe Kardashian who wears a waist trainer while taking a selfie, the stark contrast in both waist sizes and facial expressions is evident. Kardashian is sitting on her knees, waist trainer accentuating an extreme hourglass figure, with a pouty facial expression all for the purpose of taking a selfie. Barber is seen also sitting on her knees with what appears to be a scarf and a tow rope tied around her waist and a facial expression of being in excruciating pain while also taking a selfie. Barber’s caption for the image is “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but waist trainers will fucking kill me!” (Barber, 2015). Here the message is that taking extreme measures to achieve the ideal body isn’t worth it. Perhaps the contrast between the ideal and real body is no more evident than in a post that Barber uploaded on October 15, 2020. In the contrasting images, Victoria’s Secret model Candice Swanepoel sits in a side view, nude except for a jacket artfully placed to hang off her shoulders and cover her crotch. Her hand covers her breast, though “underboob” is visible. Barber’s image contains the same side view, with a coat also falling off her shoulders. Her hand also covers her breast. The major differences are that there is more breast to cover in Barber’s case and she actually is wearing a G-string. Barber’s face also looks tortured versus the serene expression on Swanpoel’s face (Barber, 2020a). The other big difference? Instagram censored Barber’s picture but not Swanepoel’s. This created a groundswell of complaints from Barber’s fans. Fans could not share the image, getting a message that said, “the content went ‘against our community guidelines on nudity or sexual activity’” (Gillespie, 2020, para 3). After Barber complained, Instagram apologized and said they would be reworking their guidelines. This controversy, however, emphasizes the point that Barber makes in her parodies that we shouldn’t be ashamed of our bodies, whatever their size may be. By taking on Instagram standards, Barber went beyond just posting parodies to speak about the standards that are operational on Instagram and our cultures at large.

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Athleticism Barber comments on body image in the form of athleticism by comparing herself to individuals who are physically fit, muscular, flexible, and skilled. The point of parody here is to illustrate that the athletic images that inundate consumers’ ocular senses reflect bodies that are highly trained to perform physical feats. Average people, even those who are in general good health, haven’t trained their bodies to engage in activities that these models do. Why would or should they? Instead, Barber comforts the viewer by illustrating what average people look like when attempting to contort their bodies into the positions the models exhibit with ease. For example, one image that embodies specifically muscularity and physical fitness is an athletic and muscular model wearing a one-piece swimsuit, casually hanging by her hands from a wall while holding her legs in a 180-degree straddle, her body perfectly aligned with effortless ease (Barber, 2017c). This position emphasizes her toned legs, shoulders, and back. Barber is seen below, also hanging from a wall by her hands in a one-piece swimsuit, though appearing to be holding on for dear life with her legs at more of a 45-degree angle, both her body and legs are bent and uncomfortable looking. Were viewers just see Barber’s photo, they might wonder what she is trying to do. However, the direct juxtaposition is what gives Barber the rhetorical power. Another parody by Barber shows a video (Barber, 2020c) of a slim and flexible woman in a two-piece swimsuit walking on a beach and occasionally, effortlessly completing gymnastic moves such as a cartwheel, back walk-over, and ending in a split, before skipping off to dive gracefully into the ocean. Barber is seen also in a two-piece swimsuit, attempting, unsuccessfully, to execute a variety of gymnastics moves that ultimately end with her rolling around in the sand before belly-flopping into the ocean surf. Here, Barber illustrates that, while some try the athletic moves, one needn’t be an Olympic-level gymnast to enjoy playing on the beach. Barber’s parodies are not limited to just physically fit, muscular, and flexible individuals doing athletic things but also people demonstrating special skills. One video, in particular, is of a muscular and physically fit woman in a bikini executing a variety of moves and skills while jumping rope, such as a kickball change and high knees (Barber 2018b). Barber’s endeavor to jump rope in a bikini involves her first attempt at twirling the rope hitting her in the head, her second attempt getting caught on her foot, and a third attempt that ends with Barber injuring her foot. Besides the absurdity of jumping rope in a bikini, the skills involved require practice and expertise, a time investment unavailable to many people. Yet, Barber is not the only one involved in parodying those “beautiful” people of the world as she enlists the help of her husband. A video of a very

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tan, thin, and physically fit man and woman in swimwear show the couple gyrating, twerking, and salsa dancing in sync with each other on poolside (Barber, 2018a). The video switches back and forth between this skillfully dancing couple and Barber and her husband dancing, also on poolside, though in a mistimed, comedic, and unskilled manner. These examples of Barber’s parodies of athleticism have an underlying message that may be lost on the viewer. The physically fit people that she parodies are most likely paid to have bodies that are muscular, flexible, and strong. Fitness modeling is a grueling job. As one model put it: “People don’t understand that most fitness models are hired because we can physically perform a lot of exercises and have endurance for what is required on shoots,” Alex explains. It’s not just that fitness models look stronger than regular models, they actually are. (Malacoff, 2017)

Consumer culture fails to remind people that the images to which they are comparing themselves are unfair comparisons. Models are paid to have unrealistic bodies; that’s their job. For some people, bodybuilding is a hobby and for others being fit is important to their health. However, there is a difference between a fit, healthy body and a muscular, skilled body. Getting bikini camera-ready may not be a priority for many people. Barber gives viewers permission to embrace their bodies. Sexuality Barber has no problem parodying images where she is scantily clad or nude as a way to discuss and portray her sexuality. Many of the images in this category involve images of celebrities in various states of undress. Two notable parodies mock videos of singer Cardi B. The first video is Cardi B dressed in a Western-inspired pink and blue lingerie set including chaps, a fringed jacket, and a cowgirl hat slowly gyrating against what looks like a bathroom counter in a dressing room (Barber, 2019a). Barber is seen in two different types of layered underwear, a teal blue bra, a white faux fur jacket, a jersey cow print cowgirl hat, and a pair of magenta pants partially pulled down to just above Barber’s knees while she tries to move in a similar way to Cardi B though with much less fluidity to her movements. The second video of Cardi B (Barber, 2021a), in which she is barely covered in what can only be described as beaded curtains that have been cut apart and placed strategically all over Cardi B’s body while she slowly moves her hips back and forth in a belly dancing style. The video switches to Barber covered in gift bows, tinsel, and mardi gras beads jiggling and shaking her body. In these video parodies, Barber questions the idea of what is sexy. Is it

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the movement? Is it the outfit? Is it the combination? Further, she questions the reality of having the means for the outfits and the movements. While the Kardashians are favorite subjects of Barber’s mockery, we focus in this section on one of Barber’s challenges to an Instagram video posted by Kylie Jenner. One video shows Jenner in a Brazilian bikini wearing a gold body chain and spraying tanning oil on herself (Barber, 2021b). Barber is seen in a bikini with the top on backward so her breasts pop out of the bottom, spraying herself with a commercial spray bottle similar to that of a household cleaning product. This video ends a bit differently than some of Barber’s other videos because at the end she is seen making a facial expression and throwing her hands up as if to say “why would anyone do this? This is stupid.” It is rare that Barber makes a direct comment on the subjects of her parodies. However, in this one, the parody itself isn’t enough to get across the message of the futility of celebrity standards and emulation. Additionally, Barber incorporates other body shapes/size comparison images that look at other women’s issues such as having to deal with body hair. In a comparison between Barber and Cara Delevingne both wear a black hooded sweatshirt with writing on it and is nude from the waist down (Barber, 2016b). While Delevingne’s shirt says “Lady Garden” with a gold arrow pointing down toward a pubic area apparently free of hair with just a poppy flower covering it. In the parody image, Barber’s sweatshirt has a handwritten sign taped to her sweatshirt that says “Weeds and All” and points to what looks like a pile of dead leaves and twigs covering Barber below the waist. Another hairless comparison includes an image on the left of a nude Emily Ratajkowski, right hand covering her breasts with a pink Anthurium flower covering between her legs (Barber, 2019b). The parody image on the right of Barber, posed in the same fashion with her right hand covering her breasts with a bouquet of greenery tucked into the front of her underwear with the stems of the foliage sticking out from between her legs in the back. The caption of this photo states, “Caption about feminism and empowering women” (Barber, 2019b). This particular comparison in intriguing as Ratajkowski is known for her feminist views. She stated in an essay that she penned for Harper’s Bazaar, “women can and should be able to wear or represent themselves however they want, whether it’s in a burka or a string bikini” (Ratajkowski, 2019). Ratajkowski, it seems, might not see this as a parody so much as Barber wearing what she wants to wear. The contrast between models with obviously waxed pubic regions covered with delicate flowers and Barber’s all-natural weeds-and-all body hair allusion echoes a debate long-held about pubic waxing. A 2011 article from The Atlantic traces the history of pubic hair and its waxing, culminating in the question: “Is pubic hair removal a symbol of feminine pride, something that Gloria Steinem might be proud of? Or does it signify submission to a

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domineering male agenda?” (Fetters, 201, para 59). While the article reaches the conclusion that women and men wax for a variety of reasons and to each their own, the fact is that the skimpy clothing that models often wear leaves little room for more natural pubic hair. Consequently, the idea that skimpy clothing is sexy also includes the ideal that to wear that clothing one must be hair-free. Barber rejects this notion. Finally, an image of a nude Erika Jayne, singer, actress, and television personality, standing in a doorway wearing heels and star emojis placed to censor her breasts is juxtaposed with an image of Barber, also nude in a doorway, wearing heels, yet Barber’s breasts are censored by a frog emoji and a cheeseburger emoji and her lower half is censored with a tired face emoji with scrunched eyes and an open yet downturned mouth (Barber, 2017a). The model’s pasties speak to the value of what they cover; they are stars! Barber, however, reveals her truth about what the pasties suppress; a tired, less than stellar, according to model standards, body. Barber also parodies not just solo images of celebrities but also images of celebrity couples by again enlisting the help of her husband Api, officially known as #hothusband. There are a few sexualized image parodies of couples together. One includes Kylie Jenner and Tyga, both in a topless embrace while wearing jeans with Kylie sitting on Tyga’s lap (Barber, 2016c). Barber and her husband are posed in a similar manner wearing similar clothing. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen are the focus of another image with Legend sitting in an armchair and Teigen standing nude behind him with her arms covering herself (Barber, 2016a). Barber and her husband are again posed in the same way. The primary difference between these images is the expression on Barber’s husband’s face. In the Jenner/Tyga comparison, #hothusband looks decidedly uncomfortable as Barber’s body seems to overwhelm his slight body. In the Legend/Tiegen opposing image, while Legend has a slight smile and looks at ease, #hothusband looks frightened with his eyes wide with one brow cocked. The message one could take from these comparisons is that what is sexy for one couple may not be sexy for all couples. A more obviously sexualized image is of Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez that looks as if they have been caught at the onset of an intimate moment together with Rodriquez pulling up Lopez’s dress, revealing sparkly underwear (Barber, 2017d). What is interesting about Barber’s comparative image is that she is smiling in the parody and pulling up her own dress, exposing her underwear while her husband is more in the background of the photo and not the focus as both Lopez and Rodriguez are. This seems like Barber is in more of a position of power and in charge of her own sexuality, whereas Jennifer Lopez appears to be more submissive. These images argue for an individualized notion of sexuality without a set standard of what is acceptably sexy.

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Barber’s approach to body image seeks to reveal what real women look like in comparison to models and celebrities in their photoshopped and highly stylized photo shoots. By presenting alternative perspectives on body size and shape, athleticism, and sexuality, Barber gives her viewers permission to accept their bodies as they are, rather than in trying to achieve the unrealistic images promoted by consumer culture. Fan Parodies Barber’s parodies have created a cottage industry of her fans posting their own parody images of other models and celebrity photos. This illustrates the participatory nature of what Barber does. There are several takeaways from these second-generation parodies. There are roughly three types of secondgeneration parodies. First, are the women and men who embrace their imperfect bodies and let it all hang out. These followers attempt to mimic Barber’s mockery. For example, @antoninathaqueena posted a parody image, among many others, with a model with a belly-bearing shirt standing on an ATV, posed with her hands pulling her hair back on the left (Antoninathaqueen, 2021). On the right is the parody image of her standing on a child’s toy ATV, with a belly-bearing shirt, with her hands pulling her hair back. The model is thin and graceful. The parody image shows a woman with her stomach hanging slightly over her pants. She looks awkward. Images such as this are in the vein of Barber’s parodies. The second type of Barber-inspired parodies are images that are marginally parodied. In these images, women imitate the model/celebrity but lack the humor inherent in Barber’s photos. These images are more copying the original photo rather than parodying. For example, @pekyanska posted a photo that shows a model standing on a chair, one foot on the seat and one on the back, wearing a dress with her hands posed artfully around her face (Narciso, 2019). The copied image has a woman standing on a chair, with one foot on the seat and one on the back. The dress she wears is similar to the original and her hands are also artfully posed near her face. Were it not for the #celestechallengeaccepted, one wouldn’t know that this is supposed to be a parody. There are many images like this. While the purpose here is not to provide a psychological analysis, this category of imitation does raise questions about how women perceive themselves. Part of Barber’s point is to let go of the unrealistic standards. Yet, when photos are posted that lack humor, one wonders whether some women are unable to let go and laugh at themselves. This point is extended with the third category, the copycats—literally cats. @everybodyloveschelsea posts parodies of models and celebrities, but instead of using her own body to imitate the poses, she poses her cat. In her “About” information she writes, “A true blue Aussie COPY cat.” Consider

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these examples: @everybodyloveschelsea posts a side by side of Ariana Grande on the left with a headpiece of flowers (Chelsea, 2020). On the right side is a picture of a gray cat also wearing a headpiece of flowers. A second comparison shows on the left Jonathan Van Ness in a black and light blue gown at the Emmys with a large light blue bow on the back of the dress (Chelsea, 2019a). On the right side is the same gray cat wearing a large light blue bow in a similar manner to Van Ness. Finally, on the left side is an image of Rita Ora wearing a jacket made of metallic circles in a chained-together fashion (Chelsea, 2019b). On the right side again is the same gray cat lying on its back with a variety of coins placed on its stomach in a way that creates a similar pattern to Ora’s jacket of metallic circles. While @everybodyloveschelsea is one of the most prolific of Barber’s followers, this account may miss the mark. While the cat photos are cute and funny, they reveal nothing about body positivity. Indeed, it is easy to post photos of a cat; what we don’t see is the actual account owner’s body in these photos. It would seem that the cat images may mock the industry itself but not the harmful messages about women’s bodies that the industry perpetuates. Consequently, we might consider these types of parodies third generation where each succeeding generation gets further removed from the original. In this case, the accidental culture jamming potential is weakened. The fact that so many of her fans post their own parodies attests to the influence of Barber and her original message. However, many of these accounts may miss the point by either not including the humor piece or being so far removed from the female body such that further questioning of the legitimacy of accidental culture jamming arises.

IMPLICATIONS From this analysis, we can draw implications about the audience’s role in interpreting parody as activism, Barber’s rhetoric, and culture jamming as an activist strategy. We begin with the audience’s role. One of the characteristics of culture jamming as DeLaure and Fink (2017) suggest is that it is participatory, claiming, “culture jammers invite imitation .  .  . to empower others to become jammers, too” (p. 17). As illustrated above, many of Barber’s fans have #celestechallengeaccepted and posted their own parodies of unrealistic images and revealed their own imperfect bodies. By participating in their own jams of model culture, her fans have broken free of the body shaming that permeates Western culture. As discussed above when Instagram censored one of Barber’s parodies but not the original image her fans objected. One stated, “Hey @instagram- Why is @angelcandice’s original photo allowed but we can’t share this one with @celestebarber?? #bodyshaming much?!” (Ettinger,

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2020) Clearly, her fans have come to understand that what Barber is parodying amounts to rejecting the body shaming that model culture promotes. Because her fans have adopted her strategies of rejecting the “perfect body” culture of consumerism, Barber’s fans have inferred the accidental culture jam that she inadvertently began. From wanting to make people laugh to encouraging followers to throw off the bonds of body shaming, accidental culture jamming can be effective in making a change in the strict bounds of consumer culture. However, when fans miss the point, as they do in some of their attempts to mimic Barber, the possibility for change is diminished. Further, Barber’s accidental culture jamming does not come without its own inherent criticisms. Culture jamming itself has sustained a variety of criticisms. We focus here on two that are relevant to Barber and her accidental culture jam. First, culture jamming creates we/they binary whereby some practices are seen as “cool.” However, this attitude only supports consumer capitalism (DeLaure & Fink, 2017). This is where Barber’s parodies are problematic as a true culture jam. Before she began her Instagram parodies, she was a television actress on Australian comedy and drama programs. She also is a stand-up comedian. The success of her Instagram account has led to a Showtime special, “Celeste Barber: Challenge Accepted,” a book, Celeste Barber: Challenge Accepted, and a nightclub tour of the United States. So, even as she challenges expected body image, she is cashing in on that same challenge. While she may challenge body image in her parodies, she is taking advantage of those willing to shell out money to see the woman who elicits laughter with her imperfect body. In this case, her body is still the subject of the consumer’s gaze. Consequently, the same culture that shames women’s bodies is lining her pocket with ever-increasing Celeste Barber products. Additionally, it is apparent in more recent posts on Instagram that Barber has lost weight which feels counter to the message from her earlier Instagram posts, as well as evidence of her potentially succumbing to the pressure of being an Internet celebrity and needing to look a certain way. However, we have been unable to verify this weight loss. Perhaps she hasn’t lost weight but has made an effort to appear more “mainstream” with the images she puts out to the public. In either case, it raises questions about the commitment of the accidental culture jammer. How beholden is Barber to keep her less-thanperfect body less than perfect? Some of her fans have noticed the weight loss as well, particularly commenting on a photo she posted on March 7, 2021, in honor of International Women’s day of just her sitting in a chair with a t-shirt bearing the saying, “Sisterhood is global” (Barber, 2021c). Unlike her usual posts, she is relatively makeup free, with hair pulled back off of her face. The 2000-plus comments on the post are revealing with the vast majority commenting on how she looks, such as, “Stunning!” “You are gorgeous!” “You look amazing and

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absolutely stunning!” “Looking good. I see some weight loss. Keep up the good work.” “Skinny skinny!” and “Interesting to see how many comments compliment you on your appearance but not your actions” (Barber, 2021c). A post like this with these types of comments reveals that perhaps her message hasn’t gotten through. Followers commenting on how she looks in this picture seem to imply that this image is somehow better than the usual pictures fans are used to seeing. This contradiction in messaging (both sent and received) coincides with the second critique of culture jamming that it is more stylistic than substantive, that jammers love the resistance but put little effort into real systemic, political change (DeLaure & Fink, 2017). As the comments on the above post indicate, while fans may appreciate her questioning of industry standards for body image, ultimately, they still gravitate to an image of Barber where she is more in line with those standards. Yet, Barber does attempt to vocally push back against those standards. In another controversy, Barber found that a diet company was using some of her parody images as the “before” image in advertisements for a slimming patch. She responded to the company, “Hey @WishShopping what’s this all about? You can’t use my photos especially to sell body-shaming products.m! [sic]” (Barber, 2018). Though this goes beyond her parodies of models and celebrities, Barber is using her platform, not just to stop her image from being used without her consent, but also to speak to what diet products do—body shame. While her image may have been removed from the advertisement, the U.S. diet industry remains a financial juggernaut worth an astounding $72 billion in 2018 (U.S. Weight Loss, 2019). While body positivity is making inroads into the lives of average men and women, the beauty and diet industry continues to overwhelm consumer attention with unrealistic images of what bodies should look like. The small, incremental change that Barber may bring about in her audiences may not be the radical change that culture jamming seeks to provoke. However, something is better than nothing. These competing ideas of body positivity versus beauty standards force questions about Barber’s effectiveness as an accidental culture jammer. While certainly many of her fans have posted their own #celestechallengeaccepted parodies, one has to wonder whether the people posting their own images do so for the likes and reposts or to truly jam the industry standard of the beautiful body. Further, it is difficult to determine whether Barber’s fans are laughing at or with her, the former perpetuating the industry standard with the latter jamming that standard. Accidental culture jamming has the potential to create more grassroots campaigns to create real change. Obviously, something in Barber’s parodies speaks to a large swath of Instagram users. While she may have been playing for laughs, her audience saw more. Many of her fans share their own bodies

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in parodies; this in itself can indicate the power of the accidental culture jam. Further, as culture jamming has traditionally been seen as a strategy that is purposefully used to upend consumer culture, accidental culture jamming puts the power into the hands of the audience, a move that is perhaps the only way to truly reorient cultural consumption. This shift in who holds the power may be the most important contribution to accidental culture jamming as the audience is now responsible for reorienting the specific culture at the heart of the jam. Finally, Barber’s parodies are a step in normalizing seeing bodies in all of their imperfections. Yes, her parodies are hilarious, and, indeed, at times we may be laughing at her ridiculous poses and attempts at mockery. At the same time, however, beyond the comedy, we can look at her body and see that she looks like women look. Ultimately, however, the body is still being objectified as the subject of the audience’s gaze. Body image is such a complex issue that it is difficult to make the argument that humorous parodies can truly impact the role of body image in society and in society’s psyche. Perhaps, though, learning to laugh at ourselves may relieve the pressure to achieve consumer culture’s ideal of what women (and men) should look like. We can only hope. CONCLUSION In this chapter, we have explored Celeste Barber’s accidental culture jam of the media’s imposition of ideal body standards. By considering how Barber uses her parody images of models and celebrities to question notions of body size and shape, athleticism, and sexuality, we have shown that though Barber plays for laughs, her audiences see more. We have also shown that the message received may be more style than substance. Barber’s own words reveal that the feminist rhetorical message is more of an afterthought once audiences proclaimed her message feminist. Accidental culture jamming may help to create more grassroots efforts to push back on consumer culture, but without a fully onboard leader, the message may be fleeting. At any rate, Celeste Barber continues to encourage women to not take industry standards so seriously. This may, then, lead to change for some. REFERENCES Antonina, P. [@antoninaathaqueen]. (2020, May 27). To fast to furious #fyrhjuling #bobbycar #fourwheeler #disert #fashionista #fashion #fashioninspo #nailedit #spoton #motorsport #toy #sunglasses #sunglass #humor #humour [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CAuEhCsnsHD/​?utm​_medium​ =share​_sheet

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Barber, C. (2020). Challenge accepted!: 253 steps to becoming an anti-it girl. HarperCollins Publishers. Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2015, September 2). Sticks and stones may break my bones, but waist trainers will fucking kill me! #celestechallengeaccepted #khloekardashian #nailedit #ropes #funny #ellen [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/7Hu​_4Iw​_A7/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2016a, October 17). Chrissy-Hey babe, ready for the shoot! John- um, where are your clothes? Chrissy- What do you mean? John- I thought [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/ BLp9Ty0j00-/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2016b, November 16). If this isn’t sexy, I don’t know what is. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #caradelevingne #ladygarden @caradelevingne [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​ .com​/p​/BM5xi1XjKH_/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2016c, November 26). Rich privileged #millenials V’s Tired overworked parents PS- Get over and Follow @hothusband as I exploit him #krisjennerstyle #celestechallengeaccepted [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BNTbzo3DOqj/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2017a, April 28). Tequila made me do it. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #theprettymess #erikajayne [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BTdG41LF9Q5/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2017b, May 30). Pancakes and a Sloppy Joe thanks. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #alexisren ( @mrsmillahs ) [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BUtUjMwFdpl/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2017c, August 8). Nothing wrong with a bit of healthy competition. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny ( @mrsmillahs ) [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BXkAiaHlJBT/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2017d, November 9). When you’re in a committed relationship but still need a bit of extra attention. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #jlo #arod #hothusband [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https:// www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BbRL6mlBnvo/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2018a, January 16). When you find the adults only pool. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny @gianlucavacchi @jogiorgiajo @ricky_martin [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​ /p​/Bebv845hye4/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2018b, August 5). Somethings you can’t un see. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BmGlwqeBM7r/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2019a, March 3). Some things you just can’t unsee. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #cardib [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BujqPMWFGeK/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2019b, May 19). Caption about feminism and empowering women. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #emrata [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BxqkJesnEMH/

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Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2020a, October 15). When you finally sit down and your kid asks for a drink. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CGXGDWOHl02/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2020b, December 2). Gravity is a bitch. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​ .instagram​.com​/p​/CISuAjSndDT/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2020c, December 5). When you see 2021 on the horizon. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CIajV5aHDMQ/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2021a, February 7). The gift that keeps on giving. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #cardib [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CK​_MdHBH1yX/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2021b, February 9). BREAKING-Using Jenner/ Kardashian products will not make you look like one. #celestechallengeaccepted #celestebarber #funny #kyliejenner [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​ .instagram​.com​/p​/CLFRs2mn5qC/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber]. (2021c, March 7). In celebration of #InternationalWomensDay I’m joining @donordirectaction an initiative of the Sisterhood is Global Institute to support women’s rights activists [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CMJEqtuHS0K/ Barber, C. [@celestebarber_]. (2018, October 22). Hey @WishShopping what’s this all about? You can’t use my photos especially to sell body-shaming products.m! [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter​.com​/celestebarber_​/status​ /1054296544105525249 Body Image Movement. (2020, August 14). https://bodyimagemovement​.com/. Chelsea [@everybodyloveschelsea]. (2019a, September 15). We both love big bows and we cannot lie @jvn#emmys #emmys2019 #cattitude #twinning [Instagram post]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B2cnKBqJKeY/ Chelsea [@everybodyloveschelsea]. (2019b, December 6). You see small change... @ritaora and I see fashion #twinning #cattitude @fashuncat [Instagram post]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B5v3U6mpbbx/ Chelsea [@everybodyloveschelsea]. (2020, June 27). Oh, @arianagrande ..​.we have so much in common..​.​we wear flowers on our heads..​.bo​th 27..​.bo​th played a Cat. [Instagram post]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/CB9UVPfpisv/ Christine Harold (2004) Pranking rhetoric: “culture jamming” as media activism. Critical Studies in Media Communication, 21(3), 189–211, DOI: 10.1080/0739318042000212693 Cohen, R., Fardouly, J., Newton-John, T., & Slater, A. (2019). #BoPo on Instagram: An experimental investigation of the effects of viewing body positive content on young women’s mood and body image. New Media & Society, 21(7), 1546–1564. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1461444819826530 Cohen, R.A. Slater, and J. Fardouly (2020, June 11). Women can build a positive body image by controlling what they view on social media. The Conversation. https://theconversation​.com​/women​-can​-build​-positive​-body​-image​-by​-controlling​ -what​-they​-view​-on​-social​-media​-113041

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Cole, N.P.D. (n.d.). Culture Jamming for Social Change. ThoughtCo. https://www​ .thoughtco​.com​/culture​-jamming​-3026194 DeLaure, M., & Fink, M. (2017). Culture jamming: Activism and the art of cultural resistance. New York University Press. Featherstone, Mike. (2010). Body, image and affect in consumer culture. Body & Society, 16(1), 193–221. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1357034X09354357 Fetters, A. (2017, August 17). The new full-frontal: Has pubic hair in America gone extinct? The Atlantic. https://www​.theatlantic​.com​/health​/archive​/2011​/12​/the​-new​ -full​-frontal​-has​-pubic​-hair​-in​-america​-gone​-extinct​/249798/ Gillespie, E. (2020, October 20). ‘Fat-shaming’: Instagram censoring Celeste Barber’s parody image reveals ‘double standards’, experts say. The Feed. https:// www​.sbs​.com​.au​/news​/the​-feed​/fat​-shaming​-instagram​-censoring​-celeste​-barber​-s​ -parody​-image​-reveals​-double​-standards​-experts​-say Gulraiz, S. (2012, April). Guerrilla girls: The masked culture jammers of the art world. Art Etc, 0(27). http://www​.artnewsnviews​.com​/view​-article​.php​?article​ =guerrilla​-girls​-the​-masked​-culture​-jammers​-of​-the​-art​-world​&articleid​=925​&iid​ =32 Harold, C. (2017). Pranking rhetoric: “Culture Jamming” as media activism. In M. DeLaure and M. Fink (Eds.), Culture jamming: Activism and the art of cultural resistance (pp. 62–90). New York University Press. Lambert-Beatty, C. (2010). Fill in the blank: Culture jamming and the advertising of agency. New Directions for Youth Development, 2010(125), 99–112. https://doi​ -org​.ezproxy​.proxy​.library​.oregonstate​.edu​/10​.1002​/yd​.341 Lasn, K. (2000). Culture jam: How to reverse America’s suicidal consumer binge, and why we must. Quill. Malacoff, J., & Anonymous. (2017, January 1). How to become a fitness model, according to real fitness models. Shape. https://www​.shape​.com​/fitness​/trends​/how​ -become​-fitness​-model​-according​-real​-fitness​-models Markets, R. (2019, February 27). United States weight loss & diet control market report 2019: 2018 results & 2019–2023 forecasts - top competitors ranking with 30-year revenue analysis. https://www​.prnewswire​.com​/news​-releases​/united​ -states​-weight​-loss-​-diet​-control​-market​-report​-2019​-2018​-results-​-2019​-2023​ -forecasts--​-top​-competitors​-ranking​-with​-30​-year​-revenue​-analysis​-300803186​ .html Mills, J.S., Shannon, A., & Hogue, J. (2017). Beauty, body image, and the media. In Perception of beauty (pp. 145–157). IntechOpen. Narciso. [@pekyanska]. (2019, December 12). Keep balance @synzine #TURMOIL #SYN #synmagazine #copycat #funny #celestechallengeaccepted #trysomethingnew #mygamemychallenge #balance [Instagram caption]. Instagram. https://www​ .instagram​.com​/p​/B5​-Wv5zAKJT/​?utm​_medium​=share​_sheet Ratajkowski, E. (2021, February 17). Emily Ratajkowski explores what it means to be Hyper feminine. Retrieved July 13, 2021, from https://www​.harpersbazaar​.com​ /culture​/features​/a28577727​/emily​-ratajkowski​-sexuality​-essay/ Rice, K. [@tripleamom2004] (21, May 2018). The REAL truth. [Instagram reply] https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/BjDc0​_ihIY1/

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Slater, A., Cole, N., & Fardouly, J. (2019). The effect of exposure to parodies of thinideal images on young women’s body image and mood. Body Image, 29, 82–89. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.bodyim​.2019​.03​.001 Spring, A. (2017, June 30). Celeste Barber: “I get miffed with fashionistas thinking they are better than others.” The Guardian. https://www​.theguardian​.com​/culture​ /2017​/jun​/30​/celeste​-barber​-i​-get​-miffed​-with​-fashionistas​-thinking​-they​-are​-better​-than​-others

Chapter 6

Keeping Up with the Yummy Mummies? Examining Kim Kardashian’s Mediated Yummy Mummy Images on the Reality Television Program Keeping Up with The Kardashians versus Instagram Posts Suri M. Pourmodheji

“Fuck. Like I don’t get it, I don’t look like this!” Kim Kardashian angrily exclaims, in reaction to unflattering paparazzi photos taken of cellulite on her bikini body. Kardashian sulks in dismay on season 14 episode 2, “MILFS Gone Wild,” of Keeping Up as her Instagram account continues to get notifications of unflattering paparazzi photos (Farjam et al., 2017). Kardashian’s dismay at the negative portrayal of her body deems it unattractive in her eyes; the title of the yummy mummy, unofficially given to Kardashian, has been revoked. According to scholars Jermyn (2008) and Littler (2013), the yummy mummy is an attractive woman with economic privilege, whiteness, a slim figure, and in a heteronormative relationship. Fitting most of the definition, Kardashian exemplifies the definition of the yummy mummy as she is a conventionally attractive wealthy White woman. While I identify Kardashian as a figure that fluctuates within the yummy mummy body type, she is unconsciously promoting the concept as no official label exists for Kardashian explicitly stating that she is a yummy mummy. The areas in which Kardashian does not necessarily fit are that she is currently no longer in a heteronormative relationship with Kanye West, she has Armenian heritage that allows her to appear exotic and non-White, and her figure is not the traditional slim style of a yummy mummy, but a hybrid slim-thick new version. By examining Keeping Up episodes and Instagram posts analyzed in reference to Kardashian’s body and her role as a celebrity mother, this chapter poses 87

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the following research questions: How does Kardashian convey the yummy mummy concept referenced by Littler (2013) and Jermyn (2008) throughout Keeping Up and on Instagram? How does Kardashian function as a persona in flux between her appearance on Keeping Up and on Instagram? Further, how does the influx persona play a role in the way she portrays motherhood on Instagram? To conduct the analysis, both contextual and visual analyses were used as well as film analysis (reality television in this case) to explore the relationship between Kardashian, her body, motherhood, and desirability.

DEFINING THE SLIM-THICK BODY TYPE In order to analyze the role Kardashian’s body plays while on display as a yummy mummy, first let’s examine the background of her body type. Specifically, her slim waist, bigger bust, and fuller bottom encompass the contemporary definition of a slim-thick body, a trendy body type depicted in many Instagram posts. Sastre (2013) identifies Kardashian’s body as slim-thick, defining the body type as an exaggerated hourglass figure with an extremely thin waist, large hips, large bottom, and bigger bust. The slim-thick body type, identified by Appleford (2016), provides an alternative to Western slim bodies. The only exception to this is the emphasis on the slim-thick focus on the thinness of the female waist (Appleford, 2016). Kardashian operates in a middle ground between traditionally slim bodies and thicker bodies, as she occupies the space of the slim-thick body type. Particularly, the thick elements of Kardashian’s body help exoticize her body and appear non-White in her Instagram posts. Scholars Ristovski-Slijepcevic, Bell, Champan, and Beagan (201) note that for Black bodies, slim-thick promotes bigger hips, bust, and bottom, all of which are prominent curvaceous features celebrated in the Black community. With bigger hips and bottom, Kardashian channels the curvaceous features of black bodies, allowing her body to fit in a different category than the traditional slim white body type that White women idolize. Kardashian’s curvaceous features combined with her slim waist place her in the slim-thick category where she operates in a middle space between thicker and slim body types. Kardashian’s slim-thick body type makes her yummy mummy body unique. She is able to present an ideal of a thicker body; however, she is still subject to public scrutiny (via Instagram) that polices the attractiveness and authenticity of her body. This chapter identifies Kardashian’s Instagram audience as equating attractiveness and authenticity as mutually exclusive. If Kardashian’s body does not appear authentic and naturally achieved, then it is not considered the most attractive. I elaborate on this concept more in the discussion of Kardashian’s reaction to unflattering paparazzi photos. Lastly, while this chapter touches upon attractiveness and authenticity in reference

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to audience opinion, the scope of this chapter does not cover definitions of attractiveness and authenticity in major detail. This chapter focuses on Kardashian’s presentation of her body as a yummy mummy and her portrayal of motherhood in both select scenes from Keeping Up and Instagram posts.

BODY POLICING OF THE YUMMY MUMMY AND CELEBRITY MOMS Celebrity moms, like Kardashian, are identified as players who perform glamor labor, making their performance and newly morphed fit bodies appear natural and easily attainable (Palmer-Meta & Shuler, 2017). PalmerMehta and Schuler (2017) reference previous scholarship on celebrity moms by Douglas and Michaels (2004) that showcase “the sexy, typically white, heterosexual celebrity moms” (p. 362) who appear to blissfully enjoy motherhood and make their transformations appear as attainable goal for the average women if one just works a little harder or gets up a little earlier to add a workout into her day. The constant monitoring of body image by yummy mummies themselves and by the media puts celebrity moms in the position that makes post-pregnancy bodies a commodity and thus police these bodies, forcing fit mothers into the proverbial box of good mothers (Palmer-Meta & Shuler, 2017). Palmer-Meta and Shuler (2017) equate the definition of a good mother with a mother that puts in work or effort toward maintaining a thin body with visible results. Palmer-Meta and Schuler (2017) reference Hallstein-O’Brien and the terms “bikini-ready moms” and “fit moms” of Instagram who police the body image of other mothers, instead of previous eras in which women celebrated fuller figures (i.e., Marilyn Monroe). Not only are the traditional women in the social Hollywood circle making critical comments, but social media’s critical comments about her body or unexpected unflattering paparazzi photos help propel Kardashian’s extreme body consciousness. Thus, the presentation of bodies is discussed both in the traditional celebrity social circles and by social media audiences. Baade (2019) identifies Beyoncé as a celebrity mother with a unique presentation of motherhood in songs and music videos that celebrates her children, focuses on uplifting the Black experience, and avoids glamorizing an “authentic” presentation. In addition to analyzing the visual elements of Beyoncé’s music videos, Baade analyzes Beyoncé’s presentation of motherhood in her confessional songs and identifies Jermyn’s argument that tropes of disclosure build a celebrity brand based on motherhood. Specifically, Jermyn references the common expression of emotional and personal transformation journeys that mothers experience when considering the love for

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their children (Baade, 2019). She identifies songs, interviews, and photos reassuring the audience of the maternal nature the celebrity mother plays, while at the same time emphasizing the glamor and authenticity factor that celebrity mothers inevitably promote. While supporting Jermyn’s argument, Baade promotes Dyer’s ordinary/extraordinary complex that celebrity mothers face in appearing like ordinary mothers while at the same time maintaining their glamorous motherhood experience as extraordinary. To compare Kardashian’s and Beyoncé’s displays of motherhood brings up the conversation about how each mother uses her children to help strengthen her brand. While Kardashian may not be known for her musical talent, her voice carries weight behind her Instagram posts, especially those praising her children. Additionally, as Kardashian’s children are presented in family settings there is a specific level of glamor and editing used to convey a sense of happiness yet appear natural. In my analysis of Kardashian’s posts, I address production value and how authenticity is crafted. AUTHENTIC PRESENTATION OF THE BODY Presentation of authenticity and the elements of production value are expanded upon by Lagerwey (2017) as she addresses the quality of presentation of celebrity mothers individually on reality television programming. The quality of reality presented is a contradiction according to Lagerwey (2017) and these constructed presentations are quite high in value, including production value, product placement, and initial individual affluence. Further, the characters presented in the high-quality production also perform labor in order to maintain the high level of production quality. Methods such as plastic surgery, diets, and exercise routines revealed by celebrities help convey the comprehensive and high-quality production value while appearing as elements that benefit their brands. These methods are highlighted to audiences both on Keeping up and on Kardashian’s Instagram stories and posts. Specifically, Kardashian’s Instagram presence determines her brand currency as a celebrity and social media influencer. Thus, her personal concerns about her body no longer appearing attractive and sexual on her Instagram posts are relevant to the success of her brand currency. She has graduated from a young socialite’s figure to the body of a celebrity mother. Kardashian’s Corporeality/The Excessive Body While discussing how production value adds to the presentation, Lagerwey (2017) identifies Kardashian’s pregnant body as one that breaks away from

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her authentic brand of a curvaceous and slim-thick body. Lagerwey references Kardashian’s pregnant body as one that is “excessive, unruly, and inappropriately on display that is rooted in her exoticized ethnicity” ( p. 42). Referencing Kardashian’s origin of fame that spurred from her body in a sex tape with Ray-J, Lagerwey (2017) cites Kardashian’s body as a marker of authenticity and implies that her pregnant body pushed her beyond the limits of an acceptable attractive yummy mummy. Further, Lagerwey elaborates on Kardashian’s physical appearance as a celebrity mother, mentioning her butt and connections with the racialized and ethnic fetishization of Baartman and the Venus Hottentot body. Kardashian’s body is identified as excessive by Lagerwey, who connects the excessive body parts being placed on display with Sarah Baartman’s body. While Kardashian’s body is coded as excessive and sexual in ways that push against traditional barriers and boundaries of White identity, as well as social and racial hierarchies, Lagerwey, citing Mary Beltran, discusses how Kardashian occupies a middle ground. Fitting into the boundaries of White identity, Kardashian’s pregnant body is disciplined harshly by tabloids. While identity and ethnicity can operate in many modalities I am choosing to not prioritize the social definition of whiteness, and focus more on the recognition of ethnicity based on the U.S. Census Bureau’s definition of whiteness. To explore Kardashian’s corporeality, I examine Sastre’s (2013) work on Kardashian’s body and the comparison to Baartman. Sastre (2013) explores the way Kardashian’s body occupies spaces of blackness and is displayed as overtly sexual, similar to Sarah Baartman, the original “Hottentot Venus” whose body was displayed at freak shows for White spectators to gawk at. Kardashian’s body, Sastre notes (2013), bears physical similarities to Baartman’s body. However, Kardashian uses her body and Armenian ethnicity, Sastre argues, to position herself as a commodity between both black and white bodies. Sastre approaches Kardashian with a critical lens, focusing on the commodification of her body and how it addresses femininity and race. Further, Sastre argues that Kardashian uses her body as part of her commodified brand in order to market her personality. Context on Kardashian Prior to delving into my analysis of Kardashian, relevant background information on her rise to fame, her career in reality television, and her current role on Instagram is provided. Kardashian started her role on Keeping Up in October of 2007 at age twenty-six and has been on the program for nineteen seasons. Throughout the nineteen seasons of Keeping Up, family members Kris (mother), Kourtney (sister), Kim (sister), Khloe (sister), Rob (brother), Kendall (half-sister), Kylie (half-sister), and Caitlyn (formerly known as

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Bruce Jenner, step-father) have been on display performing both daily tasks and living through relationships, fame, and family time. Discussion of Kardashian’s rise to fame as a socialite sprung from both her role as a fashion stylist for Paris Hilton and her role in a widely circulated sex tape with Ray-J. Kardashian has dominated pop culture news ever since. Particularly, Kardashian has been present in pop culture news for her body which, as some scholars would argue, is the key element to her rise to fame (Sastre, 2013). Notable moments in which Kardashian’s body has been brought to public spectacle consist of her leaked sex tape with rapper Ray-J, the 2014 cover of Paper Magazine, her 2019 Met Gala appearance in a nude-colored Thierry Mugler dress, and the launch of her Skims shapewear line, (Alter, 2014). Additionally, Kardashian’s body has been considered a spectacle as a mother with the press continually commenting on her pregnant body image and weight gain during and after her pregnancies. Avid viewers of Keeping Up know that Kardashian used a surrogate to carry her last two children as she suffered from severe preeclampsia and other pregnancy complications, making the possibility of a future successful pregnancy impossible after her second child. Kardashian’s children have been unable to avoid the paparazzi and the public eye due to their parents’ fame. Their father, Kanye West, a famous rapper, also attracts much attention from the public eye. With two famous parents, Kardashian’s children have a large spotlight on their lives. The children are sometimes featured on Keeping Up. Currently, the latest drama to unfold for Kardashian is her marital problems and impending divorce from Kanye West. As her marital problems are hashed out in the public eye, Kardashian’s role as a mother is placed at the forefront of the tabloids and the debate about a good mother will ensue. While both West and Kardashian’s entire life is placed on display, Kardashian’s followers share the family’s ups and downs as they participate in these affairs through viewership; viewers have watched Kardashian grow up from a woman in her twenties and they continue to follow Kardashian, now in her journey of motherhood continues in the public eye. In order to understand how Kardashian exemplifies the tension of the celebrity mother and the yummy mummy body, I introduced Kardashian’s physical body type, her slim-thick body, while identifying her corporeality or excessive body. I provided background on authentic presentation of the body and shared ideologies of body policing from the community of yummy mummies and celebrity mothers. After considering these elements and the context behind Kardashian’s life as a celebrity, I analyze Kardashian’s portrayal of the yummy mummy in both Keeping Up and several select Instagram posts. In my analysis, I focus on how Kardashian discusses her own corporality and excessive body on Keeping Up, in the context of pregnancy and post-pregnancy. In contrast, I examine how Kardashian takes agency of her image and

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embodies the physical and bodily aspects of the yummy mummy through her Instagram posts. Lastly, I expand on Kardashian’s yummy mummy role and use a critical lens toward her explicit presentations of motherhood (posts with her children) and race. In the following sections, I provide information on my method for analysis of both select episodes from Keeping Up and Instagram posts. Specifically, in my analysis of these posts, I focus on Kardashian’s discussion of her bodily performance on Keeping Up, her portrayal of that performance on Instagram, and finally her portrayal of motherhood with biracial children on Instagram.

METHOD This analysis examines four episodes of Keeping Up that focus on Kardashian’s voiced concerns and observations about body image both during pregnancy and post-pregnancy as a relatively new mother. To analyze Kardashian’s presentation of body image, material from the reality program is evaluated: Season 8: Episode 1 and 18, Season 10: Episode 4, and Season 14, Episode 2. These specific episodes were chosen as they depict strong examples of how Kardashian’s body is discussed as an object of beauty and desirability. Additionally, I analyzed several Instagram posts of Kardashian that reinforce a similar message on her body as an object of desirability/beauty. Specifically, I look at posts from October 1, October 10, November 1, November 15, and November 28 in 2019 and a post from January 8, 2020. These specific posts were particularly analyzed as I wanted to focus on Kardashian’s body postpregnancy. In the analysis, critical race theory and body image with respect to gender as theoretical frameworks are highlighted as they contextualize the findings. The analysis of Keeping Up episodes and several Instagram posts are broken into three separate sections in this chapter addressing motherhood and body image. Section I focuses on the genre of reality television, specifically Keeping Up, where the performance of Kardashian’s body (part of the performance of the yummy mummy) is displayed through moving images. Section II expands upon a different platform, Instagram, and how posed and frozen in time shots project a confident image of Kardashian as a desirable yummy mummy. Section III delves into Kardashian’s presentation of race and gender in relation to motherhood through select Instagram posts. The analysis focuses on how Kardashian serves as an example of a yummy mummy operating as an authentic celebrity navigating her motherhood journey with biracial children. To avoid confusion between the Kardashian sisters on Keeping Up, Kim Kardashian is referred to by her last name and the other sisters by their first names, that is, Khloe and Kourtney.

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KARDASHIAN’S PERFORMANCE OF THE YUMMY MUMMY ON KEEPING UP The first section of the analysis explores how moving images of Kardashian on Keeping Up create a performance of the yummy mummy. Specifically, scenes from season 8, episodes 1 and 18; season 10, episode 4; and season 14, episode 2 are analyzed. Each of these episodes provides a concrete example of how Kardashian’s body performs the yummy mummy standard or how her conversation reinforces that standard. In season 8, episode 1 of Keeping Up titled “We’re Having a Baby,” Kardashian holds back on the Today Show as the newscaster asks her if she is excited to share any news to which Kardashian replies that she is good but does not mention the pregnancy (Farjam et al., 2013). She acknowledges her pregnancy once the newscaster refers to her pregnancy directly in the interview. At this point, Kardashian knows she will be swarmed by the paparazzi the minute she walks off the set and out into the public. Her pregnancy is public news and content for public consumption. For the duration of her pregnancy, the paparazzi scrutinizes her pregnant body: is she getting too fat, looking pudgy lately, among others. Kardashian’s silence may be a strategic move to hide her pregnancy from the public and attempt to keep public scrutiny of her body at bay. Kardashian’s body is scrutinized on all fronts by her Instagram audience, her body is considered overtly sexual as she reveals excessive amounts of skin in her posts. Further, her curvaceous body build is associated with the negative connotations given to women of color with similar body types. No matter what she does, Kardashian’s body is judged and scrutinized for never being enough; Kardashian’s body is never skinny enough for her followers (even while she is pregnant, she is considered too big) and too sexual after pregnancy. Kardashian’s fears about her body while being pregnant are confirmed by her sister, Khloe, as the two discuss Kardashian’s experience days after giving birth to her first child, North. In episode 18, “All Signs Point North,” Khloe discusses with Kardashian the idea of doing a post-pregnancy playboy shoot with the intention of showing off a desirable and attractive postpregnancy body (Farjam et al., 2013). In response to Khloe, Kardashian gestures her middle fingers up and says, “I just like want to come out to the world, naked, and be like: I look so hot. I am back” (Farjam et al., 2013). After giving birth to North, Kardashian feels the pressure to lose the baby weight she has gained; at this moment Kardashian shares her anguish at her body’s current state and looks toward a thinner body for her future. Here Kardashian equates thinness with attractiveness or being “hot.” Kardashian struggles to work within the limits of the thin yummy mummy body. Further,

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Kardashian describes the critical nature of the paparazzi and tabloids and how they described her pregnant body, “You all called me a whale, Shamu, a cow”(Farjam et al., 2013). Clearly, Kardashian shares anger at the paparazzi, and from her previous statement “I just want to come out to the world, naked and be like . . . I am back.” She feels it is necessary to prove to her audience that she can get her body “back” and transform her post-pregnancy body into one of a thin yummy mummy. Again, Kardashian uses phrases such as “l am back” implying that the old body that was left prior to pregnancy can be crafted again through weight loss, and thus, she can have a yummy mummy body after having a baby. Additionally, Kardashian’s words hint at an element of control she aims to have over her body; while her desired body has left her, she expresses an aspiration for her prior desired body. Body transformation and other rhetoric about thinness for mothers are shared by various female celebrity stars. Like other celebrity mothers such as Kyle Richards (from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) or even Kris Jenner (from Keeping Up), Kardashian’s use of glamor and transformation rhetoric on Keeping Up provides the audience with an opportunity to see how Kardashian unconsciously discusses her body’s performance of the yummy mummy standard. Thus, Palmer-Meta and Shuler (2017) imply that in order to be a good mother, a mother must be fit as well. Kardashian’s constant monitoring of her celebrity mother’s body is apparent through her previously referenced language, in addition to the language she uses to address her Kourtney’s, pregnant body. In season 10, episode 4 “No Retreat,” Kardashian gives her pregnant sister, Kourtney, some secrets to transforming and maintaining the attractive post-pregnancy body (Farjam et al., 2015). While sitting together at Kris Jenner’s house, Kardashian proudly exclaims to Kourtney, “but I am saying the key to no stretch marks and a flat stomach after you have a baby, is a waist cincher. I told it to everyone. I have people thanking me” (Farjam et al., 2015). Kardashian’s story emphasizes how she was able to beat the post-partum weight gain, a common experience for many new mothers. According to Kardashian’s statement, by using a waist cincher, a woman post-pregnancy would be able to achieve a thinner waistline and potentially be able to flatten out her stomach. Kardashian’s statement stands as an attractive idea for mothers who are facing societal expectations to get their old body back. Further, Kardashian stands as a physical model for a body transformation post-pregnancy, and through these mediated depictions, the audience of Keeping Up sees that the waist cincher is working for Kardashian and that they should apply it to their bodies. However, Kardashian does not share how diet, exercise, personal trainers, and dieticians helped her lose the post-partum weight; these are affordances that the average American woman could not afford to hire. Thus, the waist cincher appears as an easy alternative

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and quick solution to slim one’s post-partum body down. Thus, Kardashian performs glamor labor. Wissinger’s definition of glamor labor includes the act of monitoring one’s appearance by keeping a close eye on one’s diet, exercising, and thus performing the task of self-surveillance (Palmer-Meta & Shuler, 2017). The use of glamor labor on Keeping Up is identified in the language that the sisters use to discuss and monitor their bodies, as well as each other’s bodies. Specifically, the use of the particular tool, the waist cincher, helps keep Kardashian fit and helps her maintain a yummy mummy body. However, while Kardashian shares that celebratory tidbit with Kourtney, she also scrutinizes Kourtney’s stomach and finds a stretch mark on her sister’s stomach. Kardashian expresses anxiousness after looking at Kourtney’s stretch mark and exclaims, “Kourtney I’m going to cry for you. This is my biggest fear of life” (Farjam et al., 2015). Kourtney denies her accusation about the visibility of the stretch mark and the two continue to chat. While Kardashian expressed confidence in her method for obtaining an ideal postpregnancy body, she chastises Kourtney for having a stretch mark on her stomach, a normal result of pregnancy (Farjam et al., 2015). Here a double standard is given to a very pregnant Kourtney; Kardashian points out her bodily flaws, implying that a stretch mark is a marker of unattractiveness and therefore that a blemish on her stomach is a fear to have. Yet, again, Kardashian’s words toward her sister’s body identify her self-regulation extrapolated to her sister. Kardashian’s language identifies a concern over removing stretch marks, a procedure part of glamor labor, and essentially a concern in maintaining a yummy mummy figure. Kardashian’s critical tone on body image switches from her sister’s body toward herself in Season 14, episode two, “MILFS Gone Wild,” when Kardashian panics after finding out that a paparazzi took an unflattering bikini picture of her at Kourtney’s birthday party getaway vacation in Mexico (Farjam et al., 2017). As Kardashian sits with Kourtney and several friends, tanning on some pool chairs, she reacts negatively after discovering unflattering leaked photos of her bikini body while she walks with the other women on the beach in their bikinis. These photos have the potential to destroy everything Kardashian has worked for because if she is not seen in the eyes of her audience as attractive, then she is no longer a celebrity yummy mummy. Her entire crafted persona is based upon her desirable body as an achievable goal; if the audience doesn’t see her goal, Kardashian’s body becomes a fallacy to them. In her confessional, blended into the episode, Kardashian says: It’s like just the scrutiny that we get all the time, we try to avoid that, so I thought. Okay, I’ll go on a private vacation, not posting. I’m doing all the

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steps to stay as private and discreet as possible, and then you take pictures and if they’re not, like, perfect, people just like, body shame you and criticize you and like for people to just think that’s okay is so frustrating. (Farjam et al., 2017)

Kardashian’s irritation is clear and part of the reason she feels the necessity to maintain her bikini-ready body image is that the paparazzi and the public are always viewing it as an object to either praise or criticize; in this case, her body is heavily scrutinized (Farjam et al., 2017). The program switches back to Kardashian on vacation. She gets up and runs from the chair, exclaiming, “I need to go start untagging. I’m literally gonna go inside and just start untagging” (Farjam et al., 2017). Kardashian’s obvious anxiety over the consistent tagging of her account in many unflattering bikini pictures unsettles her. Kardashian’s attractive body and her persona meld as one on her Instagram profile; how her body—thin, tanned, wealthy, and White—appears in her crafted profile is a visual representation of the yummy mummy figure. The tagging of the photos represents the audience’s control over Kardashian’s body, and thus reinforces the celebrity yummy mummy mantra inside Kardashian’s head. Further, the tagging displays the lack of control Kardashian has to mediate her own body and present her body as the yummy mummy. No matter how much Kardashian does not want to be tagged in these unflattering photos, she is unable to stop the audience from changing her online presence and the participatory nature of Instagram as a platform. The audience has the ability to decide whether Kardashian’s body appears authentic as they comment on and compare her photos themselves. Further, Kardashian decides to not partake in a jet-skiing activity that the rest of the group goes on in fear of paparazzi getting more unflattering photos. Kardashian continues to fester in her frustration and anxiety as she speaks on the phone with a friend, Like, it’s just wild, because I . . . there’s other pics where I look so good, and it’s just from a different angle. It’s like, literally giving me, like body dysmorphia. I’m getting crazy. If the pictures were flawless, they would still say something. I think people think I’m so confident and I’m so secure, and I’m so this, and I’m not. Like I’m so insecure. I just can’t take it. This is so frustrating. (Farjam et al., 2017)

In her confessional interview reflecting on the episode, Kardashian regretfully says that she just wanted to go on a vacation and have a good time, but that was impossible. It is evident from Kardashian’s tone of voice in the Mexico scene, and in the confessional, that she is upset about her mediated persona

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online being ruined by a photo “taken at a bad angle” (Farjam et al., 2017). One bit of cellulite from the photo taken has ruined her status as attractive, according to Kardashian, and she no longer fits into the yummy mummy category. In addition to kicking Kardashian out of the yummy mummy category, the negative imagery poses a reality check for her followers and critics (Parker, 2017). Kardashian’s Instagram functions as the main place where she advertises her body, especially for her shapewear brand, Skims. Audience members may view Kardashian’s body as inauthentic after seeing the non-edited paparazzi photos versus the perfectly airbrushed photos on Kardashian’s Instagram; this dissonance could reduce her followers’ believability in both Kardashian and her brand. Overall, as evidenced in this scene, maintaining one’s body to appear desirable is a constant struggle that bears additional financial implications for Kardashian’s do-it-all lifestyle and yummy mummy body. Kardashian’s concern on how others view her body does not come out of thin air. Her fears about public scrutiny are not just limited to the fit moms and bikini-ready moms. They are further brought to life after her longtime friend Jonathan Cheban shares some of her largest insecurities about her body. Kardashian discusses the photo incident with Cheban and expresses frustration at her lack of control over her online image and persona. Cheban confronts her about the image and questions, “What was . . . what was wrong with those pictures? First of all, I’ve seen you on the beach. I’ve been on the beach with you like a thousand times. I know your body doesn’t look like that” (Farjam et al., 2017). Kardashian confides to Cheban, acknowledging her cellulite, “I always have cellulite on my thigh, on my one thigh and I always cover it” (Farjam et al., 2017). Cheban exclaims, No, I know you have cellulite, but it doesn’t look like it looked in those pics. That was like “Rocky Mountain High . . . I swear to God, I was like what is that, cause that’s not your ass. I saw . . . I think I saw Abe Lincoln on your ass. I don’t know what was going on.” (Farjam et al., 2017)

While Cheban uses hyperbole to discuss the image, his words also function as a stand-in for the language and scrutiny from the public on Kardashian’s body. Kardashian anxiously responds in denial, “It literally didn’t make sense. I was so upset. Cause I was like that’s just not what I look like” (Farjam et al., 2017). As Kardashian denies the photo, it is apparent that her anguish may come from the fact that the image is out of her control; there is no way for her to release the bikini photo first and airbrush out the cellulite on her bottom, as it has already been shared by paparazzi, cellulite and all included in the photo. Clearly, the inability to control her persona via the circulated image is jarring for Kardashian, as her reputation is on the line. A damaging photo has ruined

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Kardashian’s controlled body image as a yummy mummy, as a desirable woman, and has lost her 100,000 followers on Instagram, a platform crucial to conveying her desirability (Parker, 2017). Her obsessive thoughts continued in a confessional interview toward the end of the episode, in which she asks, “Am I gonna look skinny?” when considering a future appearance she will make at the MET ball (Farjam et al., 2017). Her psyche has been seemingly permanently damaged after an unflattering photo of her body had been posted without her control. Additionally, Kardashian’s ability to control her image has been damaged as the paparazzi snagged and released an unedited photo before Kardashian could share it. Kardashian’s obsession to control her image on social media during her vacation conveys her lack of agency and highlights her inability to maintain the yummy mummy figure. KARDASHIAN’S CONFIDENT CRAFTED BODY PRESENTATION ON INSTAGRAM While Kardashian obsesses over the ways her image is taken and reproduced without her permission in ways that appear unflattering, she does have agency in mediating her image through photos she posts on Instagram. Kardashian is able to construct her body to appear as attractive, desirable, and easy to achieve on her Instagram page. I analyze Kardashian’s posts from October 1, 2019; November 1 and November 15 ; and January 8, 2020, each presenting her body as attractive and navigating presentations of motherhood. Littler (2013) defines the standard of attractiveness as one that is focused on sexuality, ultrafeminine, being “well-groomed, wearing good fashionable clothes, and being very slim” (p. 230). It also involves the extension of a fashion and beauty complex to the pregnant and post-pregnant body. In an October 1, 2019, post, Kardashian is featured in an onyx bra and underwear set for her shapewear line Skims (Kardashian, 2019). She stands in front of the camera, not making eye contact looking toward the bottom left of the screen. Her skin is extremely tanned, and she is modeling her product. Kardashian is able to use her body to promote and sell her products and push the idea to her audience that Skims can solve their individual problems of controlling their bodies. Thus, through the purchase of her product, Skims, the audience too, can look like Kardashian. Further, she is able to effortlessly look beautiful, appearing like there is no one behind the scenes. By purchasing the Skims products, audiences can morph their bodies to appear like Kardashian, effortlessly beautiful, and do so in a self-made way. The concept of effortless achievements as a characteristic inherent to women on reality television stems from Klein’s work on Can-Do Girls (Klein, 2021). Kardashian appears without a glam and hair team to craft her appearance, but viewers do

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not think of this at first when they see the photo. Kardashian appearing solely in the photo helps build the image to her audience that she is self-made, she does not need a team to craft her beauty, and she is effortlessly beautiful. Her lack of clothing also connotes a nakedness and naturalness. Lastly, the caption of her photo “Fits Everyone Collection Skims​.c​om Vanessa Beecroft for @skims,” can imply that Kardashian’s bodily proportions are achievable to any woman if they purchase Skims (Kardashian, 2019). As the product molds Kardashian’s body into a smooth figure, Skims can also do the same for the audience, smoothing their bodies to look similar to Kardashian’s. Thus, anyone can look like a Kardashian through merchandise. The ideal of selfmaking and mediating one’s attractiveness without performance labor such as surgeries and trendy holistic treatments evokes ideas of achievability, as referenced by Weber (2014) and Lagerwey (2017). Both Weber and Lagerwey note that for women who use performance labor, the idea of treatments and surgeries and other methods, like Skims, are solutions to alter undesirable body parts. These methods are considered realistic and are used to achieve the desirable body that women want. Notably, Kardashian’s audience members are able to view Skims as a solution to smooth out unwanted cellulite and as a product to help them achieve their ideal desirable body. Thus, Kardashian caters to her audience’s sense of achievability with her Skims, marketed as a product solution to smooth away fat and unwanted bulges, instead of a more traditional route like liposuction, tummy tuck, or butt lift. In contrast to the scene, I described in the introduction to Keeping Up, Kardashian’s Instagram post from November 1, 2019 projects the pinnacle of what she wants public photos of her to look like. In it, she wears an itsy bitsy, teeny weenie, sparkly pink bikini, posing as Elle Woods for a Halloweenthemed Instagram post. Her caption, a famous line from the movie, Legally Blonde reads, “Harvard Law. . . . What? Like it’s hard???” (Kardashian, 2019) Here, Kardashian exudes confidence and sexuality, while alluding to her future legal career. Currently, she is studying to become a lawyer in California, while continuing her other business endeavors (BBC, 2019). In order to create a glamorized post like Kardashian’s November 1 post, a lot of behind-thescenes work goes into crafting the desired image; hair stylists, makeup artists, professional photographers, and a lot of post-production editing all help craft the desired image (Meyers, 2020). Much of the behind-the-scenes work can be seen by audience members who have seen multiple seasons of Keeping Up. The juxtaposing of these two examples reflects the constant mediation she engages in to present the yummy mummy body to her audience. Kardashian’s role as a celebrity mother places her persona and body on public display for scrutiny. As a yummy mummy, Kardashian portrays her manicured body as an important part of motherhood in her daily life. According to Palmer-Mehta and Shuler (2017), mothers perform three shifts

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of work, the first being paid work, the second being housework or childcare, and the last being bodywork, which consists of the “time-consuming labor of sculpting and reworking their bodies to achieve a bikini-ready figure” (p. 360). On Instagram particularly, Kardashian performs the attractive version of motherhood, portraying herself in only flattering images that emphasize her physical beauty and body as desirable. I am using Littler’s definition of desirable within the context of a yummy mummy. Littler defines the term as, an aspirational figure, with the ability to emulate a glamorous lifestyle. Another example of Kardashian portraying her body as an object of the commodity to be desired by her followers comes from a post from November 15, 2019 in which Kardashian advertises her Skims shapewear original “Solutionwear” (Kardashian, 2019). Here Kardashian poses by hovering above the ground in “V” shape, with her arms supporting her full body weight as she uses her tiptoes to hold up the little bodyweight she has left. Again, Kardashian’s body in this post evokes the idea that women can look just like her if they purchase the Skims Solutionwear product. Her physical body serves as the perfect visual and evidence for an attainable body suited to her Skims Solutionwear. The photo emphasizes proportions by highlighting the large bust to the thin waist to the large bottom ratio. These proportions are identified by Ristoviski-Slijepcevic et  al. (2010) as an attractive beauty standard in African American communities by scholars. This photo appeals to women of a variety of ethnicities as Kardashian’s exoticized body appears dressed in underwear to relate to her consumers or followers. Kardashian’s body is displayed in a sexual manner in the photo, her positioning accentuates her bust and bottom, while her makeup emphasizes darker facial features, creating a look on her face that appears non-White. Kardashian, known for her Armenian ethnicity, uses it to her advantage in this post, exoticizing her proportions as a commodity, deemed easily attainable with a Skims Solutionwear purchase. In this post, Kardashian appears to her audience as a non-White other and the label of inclusivity may ring truer to audience members not aware of her ethnic status. In short, Kardashian presents herself as non-White and this allows her to jump on the racial inclusivity and body inclusivity trains, when in reality, her Skims products are not all that inclusive; given the purpose of the Skims Solutionwear shorts, which are to smooth away fat and hide cellulite, shaping thicker bodies into slimmer, thinner ones. While Kardashian’s Skims might actually function as a product that shapes the body’s skin and fat around, redistributing it from one area to another, the product will not change one’s proportions to match Kardashian’s. To add to the conversation on the commodification of yummy mummies like Kardashian, Lagerwey (2017) discusses the elements of celebrity motherhood and how they meld with brand culture. Particularly, Lagerwey identifies how White privilege places White wealthy women and their performance of

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motherhood at the forefront of brand culture (around motherhood). To identify this brand culture, Lagerwey notes that the brand identity created must attempt to reflect the real individual behind the brand, thus creating an image of authenticity within the brand. For those celebrities on reality television, reflecting this authentic brand is essential in order to establish a consumer base and emotional connection with the viewers. In a sense, Lagerwey (2017) argues that celebrity mothers perform a form of labor as they continuously are “on” for the camera, always presenting the authentic brand that they promote. For Kardashian, her Skims Solutionwear as evidenced in a November 15, 2019 post, helped promote her body as a part of the Skims brand. The product reinforces her body as a clear example of how the brand is authentic, and an easily attainable solution to maintain an attractive body. Further evidence of Kardashian using both her body and the Skims she wears on her body as part of her self-made brand are identifiable in another Skims photo post. The last photo from January 8, 2020 portrays Kardashian standing and gazing into the camera, dressed in a nude bra and underwear set selling her yummy mummy image and body as a commodity (Kardashian, 2020). Followers are unable to see past Kardashian’s knees, but it doesn’t matter, as her bust-to-waist-to bottom ratio is the main focus in the photo; this Instagram photo conceals how her body image is produced. All one can see here is her chiseled and airbrushed body up for display. Additionally, the audience can see her bikini area is waxed and clearly hairless. Kardashian’s clean bikini line reinforces beauty standards identified by Labre (2002) as qualities of attractiveness and desirable qualities for women. However, another element of this photo strikes a chord, revealing a seemingly easily attainable and “natural” body figure that Kardashian portrays. In the top right corner, one can see a photographer taking a photo of Kardashian mid-flash. The photographer in the photo indicates that while Kardashian appears to look flawless and can sell that image, there are other elements involved to create the perfected image she portrays on Instagram. Posts like Kardashian’s rarely reveal the resources and processes that celebrities go through to attain a look like hers. Other elements of crafting an Instagram post that Kardashian has access to as a wealthy celebrity, include hair stylists, clothing stylists, makeup artists, professional photographers, various light boards, and lighting equipment to help reflect light on to certain parts of the skin and brighten up shadows. Additionally, she has an editor who is able to airbrush blemishes, photoshop certain elements, and emphasize various elements with programming tools to enhance Kardashian’s look. None of the methods mentioned by Lagerwey are introduced or are even portrayed in Kardashian’s post. The previously listed affordances are not realistic investments for the budgets of the average American woman. While we can see the photographer, the rest of the behindthe-scenes affordances are not displayed in the photo, thus Kardashian’s

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body reinforces the yummy mummy trope. The image appears to convey that Kardashian is just naturally this beautiful. There are no production elements, besides the photographer, that enable her to radiate sexual desirability and attractiveness. The idea of effortless beauty can be extrapolated not just on the January 8, 2020 post that I have analyzed but on all of Kardashian’s posts in which production elements are not featured. RACIALIZATION AND THE PRESENTATION OF CHILDREN AS A PART OF MOTHERHOOD In addition to presenting herself as an attractive woman, Kardashian posts several photos with her children that convey her devotion as a mother. Kardashian’s mediated presentation of motherhood on Instagram paints the illusion that she spends plenty of time with her children illustrating her ideal of motherhood. On October 10, 2019, Kardashian posted a set of two photos at the Vatican of the Armenian Apostolic Church, an Armenian Cathedral with her daughter, North (Kardashian, 2019). Generally, these photos have religious undertones of purity and holiness as Kardashian wears a religious head covering (Sastre, 2013). The first photo depicts Kardashian and her daughter, North, facing with their backs to the camera walking toward a set of candles on an elevated table. The caption of the photo reads, Thank you Armenia for such a memorable trip. So blessed to have been baptized along with my babies at Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin, Armenia’s main cathedral that is sometimes referred to as the Vatican of the Armenian Apostolic Church. This church was built in 303 AD. @jackie_nickerson. (Kardashian, 2019)

In the photo, Kardashian’s bottom is emphasized although her dress is lengthy, and she wears a head covering. Even in a place of worship that is deemed holy, Kardashian’s photo presents a sexualization of her mother role. Furthermore, this photo helps reinforce the sexualized Other body. While Kardashian isn’t posing as she did on her Paper Magazine cover to break the Internet, Kardashian evokes the ideology of othered bodies in a sexual tone as Sastre (2013) suggests. While Kardashian is Armenian, the way her body is portrayed as excessive is similar to other bodies. She has not explicitly selfidentified herself racially but has proclaimed her Armenian heritage (Kelly, 2021). Her body is an example of a White celebrity body that can occupy the space of othering without suffering the negative consequences many women of color have been subjected to. Kardashian foregrounds her Armenian heritage in her second photo in which she poses for the camera with North as they make eye contact with

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the camera. Positioned to the right of North, Kardashian’s skin appears to be a dark tan shade, she has long dark hair—the top covered by a head covering—and her eye makeup is dark, playing up Kardashian’s facial features that embody Armenian physical bone structure. Additionally, Kardashian’s skin tone and enhanced facial features with makeup situate her skin-tone closer to that of North. Here, Kardashian occupies the space of Othering, while using her daughter as a scapegoat to align herself with the Other (non-White) position. Both Kardashian’s skin tone and North’s skin tone eerily appear a similar shade. Additionally, followers could see the display of North in this photo as an element of post-racial religious harmony, an idea previously reference by both Baade (2019) and Lagerwey (2017). Overall, these photos sit in a place that helps Kardashian almost appear like a woman of color, situating her body in a position where she fits into the other group of non-skinny women (Appleford, 2016; Sastre, 2013). Kardashian exploits her ethnicity to appear more like a woman of color, while she benefits from the social privileges that come with whiteness and being a White mother. Specifically, Kardashian has economic and class privileges that allow her to provide for her children in a way that many mothers generally cannot. Additionally, Kardashian will not be judged for having too many children as many mothers of color are. However, when it comes to being judged as a good mother, Kardashian is placed in the category of White and as a woman that does not endure the traditional tropes that are assigned to women of color. As Kardashian exploits her Armenian heritage, appearing to present herself like a mother of color, the presentation of her still photo of her family does not provide any content about the relationship with her children other than one image of what viewers can see in a still photo. The last photo from Kardashian’s Instagram explores motherhood and racialization in relation to Kardashian’s biracial children. Kardashian’s post from November 28, 2019 depicts her with three of her children, pictured as a typical happy family (Kardashian, 2019). Kardashian holds Chicago on her lap to the left and holds Saint to the right. North stands behind her. In the image, Kardashian’s smile appears strained while posing with her three young children. Besides Kardashian’s smile, one noticeable element about her in the photo is how similar her skin tone is to her children. Here Kardashian, a White woman whose skin is relatively dark appears similar to her biracial children. Here Kardashian’s Armenian heritage and look are used to match the skin tones of her children. Again, Kardashian’s skin tone aligns her closely with the space of non-White mothers, while she does not have to endure the struggle that mothers of color face. Kardashian’s photo evokes an ideal of a post-racial American understanding of a White mother with several biracial children. The skin tones of both the children and Kardashian are all within a closer range of each other; Kardashian’s skin tone in this post is not

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portrayed as White. On the contrary her body is portrayed as closer to White in posts where her skin tone appears much lighter. Her overall appearance looks tan, exotic, and ethnic, furthering the post-racial narrative visually. In this post, Kardashian’s children are used as symbols to convey a blended post-racial family, without addressing any of the struggles that biracial children deal with. Instead, everyone is smiling and happy. Visually, Kardashian conveys her body and her motherhood through Instagram photos, and her body functions as an object that fits into the yummy mummy trope. Kardashian navigates between attaining and maintaining her bikini body as a mother. Additionally, in these posts, her body and skin tone pose as an ethnic facade as she plays up her ethnicity to situate herself as a mother in a post-racial society with biracial children.

CONCLUSION Throughout my analysis, Kardashian and the role her body plays in displaying attractiveness and motherhood has been examined. The analysis of the select Keeping Up episodes and Instagram posts argues that Kardashian portrays the celebrity yummy mummy look through Instagram as she advertises her body as an attainable goal for mothers. By providing her body as an example of the yummy mummy on both Keeping Up and on Instagram, Kardashian situates herself in the public eye as ideal, yet authentic. The public eye acts as a judge of Kardashian’s authenticity. If she portrays a real body, then her audience will be more likely to see her as a credible yummy mummy. Kardashian’s highly self-critical scrutiny shown on Keeping Up provides evidence for why she keeps up the appearance of an authentic image. Additionally, Kardashian’s body is crafted to present a version of motherhood that occupies a post-racial world. Kardashian’s Instagram and reality television persona as an attractive, ethnic, exotic mother conveys a link between her and her biracial children in a way that ignores and sweeps issues of racial conflict and representation under the rug. As Kardashian presents herself as a mother unfatigued by her children, she feeds into the idea that her image is an extremely desirable one, yet unattainable through the actual process of maintaining her yummy mummy body. While her image is unrealistic, Kardashian is still able to harness her ethnic ambiguity and appeal to mothers from different audiences. While Kardashian presents herself as an unfatigued mother with her children, her corporeal presentation through Instagram provides the audience with an idealized and unrealistic version of the ideal yummy mummy body, achieved only through a screen. Regardless of Kardashian’s trainers, diet, and post-production/photoshop editing work, the audiences do not see

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these elements reflected blatantly in her Instagram posts. Instead, a cheap, simple, easy alternative to various Skims products is provided for audiences to reinforce the notion of achievability of Kardashian’s body, a celebrity body, and a yummy mummy body. An easy solution like Skims commodifies Kardashian’s body image as a product, alluding to an attainable ideal through purchase consumption behaviors. While Kardashian provides Skims as a quick solution for her audience to mold their bodies to meet her physical fitness, she occupies a policing role of her own body, in fear of her audience. As she appears to exert agency to control her body’s size and shape through Skims, Kardashian cannot control what her audience says about her and their critique on her physical body. No matter what she does, she faces both criticism and praise for her body shape; she will never purely be applauded for her bodily physique. As a celebrity yummy mummy, Kardashian faces constant scrutiny and thus must continue to prove to her audience her physical prowess as the slim-thick unfatigued mother, doing-it-all by herself. Even though Kardashian appears as a self-made woman, lacking the display of all the assistance needed to craft her yummy mummy persona at times, she is still a woman crafted behind the camera lens. REFERENCES Allen, K., Mendick, H., Harvey, L., & Ahmad, A. (2015) Welfare queens, thrift housewives, and do-it-all mums. Feminist Media Studies, 15(6), 907–925. https:// doi​.org​/10​.1080​/14680777​.2015​.1062992. Alter, C. (2014, Nov 14). What does it mean to break the ‘internet’?. Time. https:// time​.com​/3580977​/kim​-kardashian​-break​-the​-internet​-butt/. Appleford, K (2016). ‘This big bum has taken over the world’: Considering black women’s changing views on body image and the role of celebrity. Critical Studies in Fashion & Beauty, 7(2), 193–214. https://doi​.org​/10​.1386​/csfb​.7​.2​ .193​_1. Baade, C. (2019). A complicated transformation: BEYONCE, “Blue,” and the politics of black motherhood. Popular Music and Society, 42(1), 42–60. https://doi​.org​/10​ .1080​/03007766​.2019​.1555887. BBC News. (2019, April 11). Kim Kardashian hopes to become lawyer in 2022 after four-year apprenticeship. BBC News. https://www​.bbc​.com​/news​/newsbeat​ -47892822. Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Cannon, T. (Segment Producer), Gholtoghian, F. (Senior Producer), Gottlieb, G. (Post-Producer), Leota, S. (Senior Supervising Producer), Neal, R.M. (Story Producer), Taylor L.M. (Line Producer), Weinstein, A. (Co-executive Producer) & Ybarra, J. (Associate Producer). (2017, July 17). Milfs Gone Wild (Season 14, Episode 3) [TV series episode]. In Farjam,

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F. (Executive Producer), Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Ryan Seacrest Productions; Bunim/Murray Productions. Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Goldschein, G. (Executive Producer), Hardnen, J. (Supervising Story Producer), Jenkins, J. (Executive Producer), Jenner, K. (Executive Producer), Kardashian, K.A. (Executive Producer), Kardashian, K.N. (Executive Producer), Kardashian, K.M., Lane, J. (Post Producer), Metz, A. (Co-executive Producer), Murray, J. (Executive Producer), Seacrest, R. (Executive Producer). (2016, APril 5). No Retreat (Season 10, Episode 4) [TV series episode]. In Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Ryan Seacrest Productions; Bunim/Murray Productions. Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Blais, N. (Senior Segment Producer), Goldschein, G. (Executive Producer),), Jenkins, J. (Executive Producer), Jenner, K. (Executive Producer), Metz, A. (Co-producer), Murray, J. (Executive Producer), Schowalenberg, K. (Supervising Story Producer) & Seacrest, R. (Executive Producer). (2013, June 2). We’re Having a Baby (Season 8, Episode 1) [TV series episode]. In Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Ryan Seacrest Productions; Bunim/Murray Productions. Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Blais, N. (Senior Segment Producer), Goldschein, G. (Executive Producer),), Jenkins, J. (Executive Producer), Jenner, K. (Executive Producer), Metz, A. (Co-producer), Murray, J. (Executive Producer), Schowalenberg, K. (Supervising Story Producer) & Seacrest, R. (Executive Producer). (2013, October 27). All Signs Point to North (Season 8, Episode 18) [TV series episode]. In Farjam, F. (Executive Producer), Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Ryan Seacrest Productions; Bunim/Murray Productions. Jermyn, D. (2008). Still something besides a mother? Negotiating celebrity motherhood in Sarah Jessica Parker’s star story. Social Semiotics, 18(2), 163–176. https:// doi​.org​/10​.1080​/10350330802002218. Kardashian, K. (2019a). Fits everyone collection Skims​.c​om Vanessa Beecroft for @skims [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B3FvOEnA1aI/. Kardashian, K. (2019b). Harvard law.... What? Like it’s hard??? [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B4T1E6RAja0/. Kardashian, K. (2019c). I know it feels like we’ve been out of stock for a long time but I am so excited .  .  . [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/ B45QJaHgrWI/. Kardashian, K. (2019d). So thankful for all of my babies [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B5a84R​_gKlN/. Kardashian, K. (2019e). Thank you, Armenia for such a memorable trip. So blessed to have been baptized along with my babies at Mother...[Photograph]. Instagram. https://www​.instagram​.com​/p​/B3cuEsDgFj9/. Kelly, S. (2021, April 25). Kim Kardashian West thanks Biden for calling the killing of Armenian’s “genocide.” LA Times. https://www​.latimes​.com​/entertainment​-arts​ /story​/2021​-04​-25​/kim​-kardashian​-west​-1915​-armenian​-genocide. Klein, A.A. (2021). Millennials killed the video star. Duke University Press. https:// doi​.org​/10​.2307​/j​.ctv1d82hkc.

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Klein, A.A. (2021). Millennials killed the video star: MTV’s transition to reality programing. Duke University Press. Labre, M.P. (2002). The Brazilian wax: New hairlessness norm for women?, Journal of Communication Inquiry, 26(113), 113–132. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​ /0196859902026002001. Lagerwey, J. (2017). Postfeminist celebrity and motherhood: Brand mom. Routledge. https://doi​.org​/10​.4324​/9781315636665. List of Keeping Up with the Kardashians episodes. (2021, March 30). Wikipedia. https://en​ . wikipedia​ . org​ / wiki​ / List​ _ of​ _ Keeping​ _ Up​ _ with​ _ the​ _ Kardashians​ _episodes. Littler, J. (2013). The Rise of the “yummy mummy”: Popular conservatism and the neoliberal maternal in contemporary British culture. Communication, Culture & Critique 6(2), 227–243. https://doi​.org​/10​.1111​/cccr​.12010. Meyers, E.A. (2020). Extraordinarily ordinary: Us weekly and the rise of reality television celebrity. Rutgers University Press. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/15405702​ .2021​.1939876. Mirror. “Kim Kardashian crushed by THOSE cellulite pictures? She deserves total scrutiny.” Last modified March 13, 2019. https://www​.mirror​.co​.uk​/3am​/celebrity​ -news​/kim​-kardashian​-crushed​-those​-cellulite​-10299340. Palmer-Mehta, V & Shuler, S. (2017). Rising against the third shift: Reclaiming the postpartum body in “a beautiful body project.” Women’s Studies in Communication, 4(4), 359–378. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/07491409​.2017​.1368055. Parker, H. (2017, October 5). “I DON’T look like this!’: Bikini-clad Kim Kardashian is horrified when she sees THOSE unflattering backside images from Mexico in new KUWTK teaser. Daily Mail UK. https://www​.dailymail​.co​.uk​/tvshowbiz​/ article​-4949352​/Kim​-Kardashian​-horrified​-unflattering​-bikini​-images​.html. Ristovski-Slijepcevic, S., Bell, S., Champan, G.E., & Beagan, B.L. (2010). Being “thick” indicates you are eating, you are healthy, and you have an attractive body shape: Perspectives on fatness and food choice amongst black and white men and women in Canada. Health and Sociology Review, 19(3), 317–329. https://doi​.org​ /10​.5172​/hesr​.2010​.19​.3​.317. Sastre, A. (2013). Hottentot in the age of reality TV: Sexuality, race, and Kim Kardashian’s visible body. Celebrity Studies, 5(1–2), 123–137. https://doi​.org​/10​ .1080​/19392397​.2013​.810838. United States Census Bureau. (2020, October 16). About Race. United States Census Bureau. https://www​.census​.gov​/topics​/population​/race​/about​.html. Weber, B. (2014). Trash talk: Gender as analytic on reality television. In B. Weber (Ed.), Reality gendervision: Sexuality & gender on transatlantic teality television (pp. 1–34). Duke Press. https://doi​.org​/10​.2307​/j​.ctv123x62m.

Chapter 7

(Re)Presentations Personal Narratives and the Posthuman Body in the #MeToo Movement Amanda Hill

Social media greatly impacts and enhances communication structures and the spread of information, which, in turn, affects the landscape of activism. Because social media allows users to communicate instantaneously, it affords activists the ability to mobilize at faster rates than ever before. The use of hashtags within social media user posts has been influential in increasing the spread of information as well as the mobilization of action. One such hashtag that went viral was #MeToo. The #MeToo movement is a fight against sexual abuse and harassment and gained international attention in 2017 when the phrase was used by actress Alyssa Milano in a tweet. Milano’s tweet inspired countless others to share their personal experiences and promoted an avenue for those voices to be heard through a non-institutionalized channel of communication that moves individual voices across a vast digital network and into collective and connective action. The #MeToo movement gained significant usage on the Twitter platform and it was the largest hashtag movement seen on the platform in 2017 (Sini, 2017a). Because of the vast research on the #MeToo movement as well as analyses of specific social media posts, the #MeToo movement proves a significant resource for addressing how hashtag movements begin, gain momentum, create longevity, and are maintained or not maintained. This chapter addresses how the body is enacted and represented in personal narratives within tweets using #MeToo by investigating these tweets through the lens of the posthuman. For Twitter users, their bodies are both corporeal and technological, which plays an especially important role when considering that #MeToo asked Twitter users to respond regarding events that involved their corporeal bodies. This invites an analysis of Katherine Hayles’s (1999) 109

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posthuman. If we consider the personal narratives within #MeToo tweets as having embodied, corporeal realities, we begin to connect the process of writing these tweets as a remediation of the body as a written image, enabling an understanding of these bodies as posthuman. Following Hayles’s theory, this chapter undertakes an examination of how personal narratives in #MeToo tweets act as mediated posthuman bodies. It investigates what such tweets say about the enacted and represented body in social media and how these bodies serve activist agendas.

THE #METOO MOVEMENT In October 2017, in response to the growing outrage over accusations of sexual assault and propositioning perpetrated by Harvey Weinstein by actresses such as Rose McGowan and Ashley Judd, Alyssa Milano asked her Twitter followers to reply using the phrase “me too” to her tweet if they had been “sexually harassed or assaulted.” The tweet was attached to an image that read, “Me too. Suggested by a friend: ‘If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote “Me too.” as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.’” Milano’s tweet gave rise to a flurry of replies from both everyday and high-profile users and was not limited to replies from women alone, despite Milano’s original language. One savvy user saw the potential for the movement immediately following Milano’s tweet, writing: “K it’s been 7 minutes is ‘me too’ trending yet? Cuz YEAH. Farrrr too many of us. #metoo” (sic., Razi, 2017, n.p.). In the line of replies directly to Milano’s tweet, this appears to be the first use of #MeToo. By the end of the day on a Sunday, the hashtag was trending, having been used over 200,000 times within the first 24 hours (Sini, 2017b, n.p.) and by the end of Monday, Twitter said there had been over 500,000 uses of the hashtag (Respers France, 2017, n.p.). In 48 hours, Twitter’s use of the hashtag approached 1 million uses, while Facebook had over 12 million interactions with the hashtag in the first 24 hours (“More than 12M,” 2017, n.p.). Facebook additionally acknowledged that 45 percent of its users were friends with at least one person who used the hashtag during those first 24 hours (Ibid.). The movement created a broad sense of the scope of sexual harassment, assault, and abuse by identifying digital voices representing physical bodies around the world (Park, 2017, n.p.). It is important to acknowledge that the #MeToo movement began before Milano’s tweet with the work of Tarana Burke a decade prior. The #MeToo movement that went viral in 2017 is vastly different from the one started by Tarana Burke in 2006. Burke’s program began as a way to help women of color who had experienced sexual harassment, assault, and abuse. That this

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movement gained momentum through celebrity tweets, however, is important in itself. As Marwick and Boyd (2011) remind us, “celebrity images are culturally pervasive; they have become part of our day-to-day lives (Turner, 2004, p. 17) and part of the raw material through which we construct identities and engage in public discourse (Feasey, 2008; Gamson, 1994)” (p. 141). In their analysis of Twitter interactions between celebrities and fans and the performance of celebrity on social media, Marwick and Boyd (2008) suggest this is due to a “context collapse”: “Like much social media, Twitter creates a ‘context collapse’ (Boyd) in which multiple audiences, usually thought of as separate, co-exist in a single social context” (p. 145). The #MeToo movement characterizes such a collapse, as seen by the multitude of responses by both non-celebrity followers and celebrity followers of Milano. Marwick and Boyd continue, “Fans @reply to famous people not only in the hope of receiving a reply but to display a relationship, whether positive or negative” (p. 145). As these authors suggest, replies to Milano’s #MeToo tweet were meant to display relationships based on similar experiences, not to receive replies from Milano. Milano’s tweet doesn’t explicitly ask for people to share narratives of their experiences, rather, she asks them to share that they have experienced similar events, as a way of marking connections and relationships. This rhetorical call is different, yet it doesn’t stop responders from providing personal narratives of trauma in their replies; although, many Twitter users simply replied with “Me too,” indicating that they have experienced similar trauma in their lives. Additionally, social media intertwines among different platforms, and while Milano’s call went out on Twitter, it did not remain on Twitter. Considering that Twitter limits the number of characters users can employ in a tweet creates bounds around the ways in which users can share such stories. For instance, a user on Facebook, who is not bound by such limitations would be able to relay personal narratives in a less restricted way than users on Twitter. Some celebrities even had the ability to reach beyond social media to give voice to their narratives of trauma (see, for example, Molly Ringwald’s article for The New Yorker titled, “All the Other Harvey Weinsteins” or the four-part mini-series Allen v. Farrow detailing Dylan Farrow’s narrative of trauma). Additionally, there are many smaller movements with a specific focus on addressing violence against women, including #WhyIStayed, #BeenRapedNeverReported, #SatefyTipsForLadies, and #YesAllWomen, which are useful to larger conversations about how the body is conveyed, portrayed, examined, and treated within the social media landscape. However, for the purposes of this chapter, I strictly rely on narratives from the first 24 hours posted to Twitter in response to Milano’s original tweet as this will allow for comparable limitations on the scope of selected narratives. Further research into other ways in which celebrities have presented their narratives

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and these smaller social media movements would be prudent to identify how bodies continue to navigate social media and posthuman boundaries as well as to identify how these works further the efforts of feminism and activism.

THE POSTHUMAN AND BODIES IN SOCIAL MEDIA While embodiment allows for the texts in the #MeToo movement to be seen as bodies, not all bodies, voices, and texts were as visible, as amplified, and as valued as others. Some scholars have acknowledged that anti-rape campaigns such as #MeToo, #BeenRapedNeverReported, and #YesAllWomen have the ability to provide a wide diversity of people to address rape culture in terms of age, race, gender, ability, and so on (Mendes et al., 2018); yet the #MeToo movement has been criticized for its narrow focus on White women and women of means, especially White women within celebrity culture (Leung and Williams, 2019; Onwuachi-Willig, 2018–2019; Solomon, 2018). Milano acknowledged Burke’s work in a tweet the day after posting her original call for people to share “Me Too”: “I was just made aware of an earlier #MeToo movement, and the origin story is equal parts heartbreaking and inspiring” (Milano, October 16, 2017, n.p.) Milano seemingly wasn’t aware of Burke’s decade-long work around the tagline “Me Too” at the time of making her initial post. For Burke, social media was not her intention and raised both enthusiasm and concerns. In an interview with CNN, Burke noted, “I think the viral moment is great but the amplification of that—I worry about disclosing their status as survivors en masse on social media and not having space to process. I worry about survivors coming on to social media and being bombarded with messages of ‘me too’’” (Santiago & Criss, 2017, n.p.). Burke’s fears express a concern for the direct link from digital bodies to physical ones that can be understood as a manifestation of embodiment and Katherine Hayles’s posthuman. First, the use of digital media to narrate their personal experiences makes vulnerable the physical bodies of the users. Butler (2004) writes, “we are, from the start, . . . by virtue of our embodiment, given over to an other: this makes us vulnerable to violence, but also to another range of touch, a range that includes the eradication of our being at the one end and the physical support for our lives, at the other” (p. 23). Butler explains that our bodies are simultaneously ours and not ours; that as an embodied entity given over to an other, we are “beyond ourselves” and “implicated in lives that are not our own” (p. 22). In a survey of Twitter users and analysis of anti-rape tweets, Mendes et  al. found that “despite the risk and hostility on Twitter, the digital sphere was still largely understood as a relatively safer and easier space to engage in feminist discussions than in participants’ offline contexts” (p. 243). This safety is understood in relation

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to the physical, emotional, and mental response and retaliation social media users face when confronting these issues in their offline world, and resulted in increased persistence in these conversations on digital platforms (Ibid.). However, Mendes et al. found that anxiety and fear, that is, embodied emotions, still play a part in the reading and writing of anti-rape tweets; there still exists a fear of being trolled or attacked in the digital space for beliefs and confessions posted online (Ibid.) as well as the “emotional ‘tax’” taken in reading and engaging with others’ stories of abuse (Ibid., p. 239). Each of these could be considered pain experienced by the posthuman body within the digital landscape, and can manifest as physical pain within the user’s corporeal body. Yet Twitter users still come together in anti-rape campaigns for the positive aspects of social media: the ability to connect with others with similar experiences, gain support for their own beliefs, create community, and address sexual violence (Ibid., p. 244). The research conducted by Mendes et al. highlights the spectrum Butler identified as our relationship to bodies and others. Butler’s ideas are further important when considering how bodies extend into the virtual world through the posthuman. Hayles (1999) identifies four characteristics of the posthuman body: 1. Privileges informational pattern over material instantiation; 2. Considers consciousness . . . as an epiphenomenon; 3. Thinks of the body as the original prosthesis; and 4. Configures human beings so that it can be seamlessly articulated with intelligent machines (pp. 2–3). These characteristics play out within the tweets of the #MeToo movement. Here we see the enacted body as separated from the corporeal body, with information coming across as “a pattern rather than a presence” (Ibid., pp. 25). Hayles’s (2000) work explores how our everyday interactions with computers and machines are pushing us rapidly toward the posthuman body, for as she states, “it is not a question of whether the posthuman will arrive but what form it will take when it does” (p. 50). The body within a digital story is divided into two entities, the enacted and represented bodies, and Hayles (1999) suggests it is during the creation process where the enacted and represented bodies connect (p. xiii). Hayles distinguishes the enacted body from the represented body by defining the enacted body as that which is “present in the flesh on one side of the computer screen,” and the represented body as that which is “produced through the verbal and semiotic markers constituting it in an electronic environment” (Ibid.). By taking into consideration the creation process of the tweets as well as the prevailing collection of these tweets as texts, it is possible to explore the performance of mediatized identities and embodiment as it relates to the posthumans. Using Hayles as a theoretical

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lens, tweets can be viewed as a work that ultimately creates a posthuman version of self that exists as an extension of the body. Of important interest are the boundaries of mediatization and the posthuman. These boundaries speak to the prospect of extending an embodied identity into the virtual, digital stories such as those created on Twitter that make use of the #MeToo hashtag. The digital landscape is enmeshed in extensions of the body. Carah (2017) writes, “What we variously call digital, online, social, mobile or interactive media might be more productively approached as a series of interrelated processes by which media become social and participatory, mobile and locative, entangled with our bodies, and data-driven, experimental and algorithmic” (p. 115). Understanding how social media is entangled with our bodies is imperative to understanding how tweets from the #MeToo movement act as products of the posthuman body. Carah’s article addresses the ways in which alcohol corporations use social media to target real-world bodies. He suggests, “media platforms can be understood as live catalogs of available bodies that promos can access and guide towards their venues to consume alcohol” (p. 126). Hayles (1999) questions the place and meaning of the body within the posthuman and argues it is important to find a way to hold onto embodiment within the posthuman, indicating a transition from the user’s physical body to the virtual body of the posthuman. Hayles exploration of embodiment within technology extends to cover all human interactions with new media where subjective creation occurs and acts as a process of mediatization. Hayles speaks to the process of creating using digital media, but she approaches it from the perspective of embodiment, which she defines in relation to the body as “other and elsewhere, at once excessive and deficient in its infinite variations, particularities, and abnormalities,” within that creation (p. 196). For Hayles, “in the posthuman, there are no essential differences or absolute demarcations between bodily existence and computer simulation, cybernetic mechanism and biological organism, robot technology, and human goals” (Ibid., p. 3). Hayles identifies the difference between the body and embodiment by suggesting that the body is something seen from the outside while an embodiment is the internal arena of effect. The #MeToo tweets capture this delineation in that the physical body in the written narratives is removed from the enacted body and thus inevitably seen from the outside. The switching of physical bodies as the focus of the represented body within the context of the single digital story additionally speaks to Hayles’s argument that “representations . . . stand in for bodies in general,” as there is no specific physical body, but multiple bodies are shown, thereby creating an atmosphere of the general. Ultimately, Hayles (1999) defines embodiment as, “other and elsewhere, at once excessive and deficient in its infinite variations, particularities, and abnormalities” (pp. 196–197), a

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very useful definition by which to consider a relationship to technology by an enacted body. Her main argument takes a distinct turn when she distinguishes the difference between body and embodiment. Although she suggests these two can never be separated, Hayles considers her particular interest to be in an embodiment, which she suggests is “inherently performative, subject to individual enactments, and therefore always to some extent improvisational” (p. 197). In the case of personal narrative posts using #MeToo on Twitter, this improvisation takes the form of writing the body into the text. Writing the Body in the #MeToo Movement Some of Hayles’s (1999) previous literature speaks to enacted and represented bodies straddling the boundary of the virtual world, for instance, considering virtual reality and video games as sources of simulation, representation, and action for the extended body. Yet the discussion of the represented body’s creation in these instances is a similar process to the construction of identity in personal narratives like those created for social media, although the enacted and represented bodies often have more time to interact and develop within the virtual world of a video game. Still, both processes can be seen as processes of mediatization, where users enact and create stories within a virtual landscape, and both processes enable the user to become authors of a represented self. Personal narratives such as those written by Twitter users in response to the #MeToo movement are examples of such mediatization of the body. An analysis conducted over the first week of the use of the hashtag on Twitter found that “11% of novel English language tweets with the words ‘MeToo’ revealed details about the poster’s experience of sexual assault or abuse and 5.8% revealed early life experiences of such events” (Modrek & Chakalov, 2019, n.p.). While the Modrek and Chakalov (2019) study found that posts containing personal narratives decreased from 11.4 percent on the first day to 5.8 percent by the last day analyzed, a study conducted by the Pew Research Center found that over the course of 2017–2018, 14 percent of tweets contained personal narratives, what Pew defines as “contain[ing] discussion of harassment or assault that is explicitly about the user” (Anderson & Toor, 2018, n.p.; Pew Research Center, 2018, p. 2). In the 2018 study, the Pew Research Center conducted an in-depth analysis of 692,149 original tweets tagged with #MeToo. These tweets were accumulated using Twitter’s Gnip API during five different time periods during 2017 and 2018 associated with key real-life corresponding events that impacted and were impacted by the #MeToo movement: Harvey Weinstein’s resignation (Oct. 16–21, 2017); #MeToo movement named Time persons of the year (Dec. 6–13, 2017); the 75th annual Golden Globes Awards (Jan. 8–13, 2018); International Women’s

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Day (Mar. 9–14, 2018); and the resignation of three members of the Swedish Academy (April 7–12, 2018) (Anderson & Toor, n.p.). Like Modrek and Chakalov’s study, all of the tweets utilized in the Pew study were written in English. Modrek and Chakalov (2019) conclude that the volume of personal narratives made public through the use of the hashtag and the movement led to the widespread reach across the Twitter platform ( n.p.). Hayles questions the place and importance of the body within the posthuman. While she admits there appears to be a lack of interest in maintaining the body from scholars such as Baudriallard, Hayles (2000) argues it is important to find a way to hold onto embodiment within the posthuman and suggests the means to achieve this is by “[working] at the borderline between text and image” (p. 51). While tweets from the #MeToo Movement do not generally appear with images of the physical bodies of their authors, uses of language that depicts acts of violence and/or narrates bodies in a physical space, as personal narrative accounts do, invite the viewer to imagine such imagery at this borderline. Additionally, the use of photographs as profile pictures or throughout a person’s previous Twitter usage, adds to the development of the mental imagery needed to envision this person as a physical body existing in time and space. For Twitter users, their bodies are both corporeal and technological. Hayles (1999) writes, “technologies of the inscription are media when they are perceived as mediating, inserting themselves into the chain of textual production” (p. 26). The computer mediates the process of the word becoming an image. If we consider the #MeToo tweets of personal narratives of sexual harassment, assault, and abuse as writings concerned with corporeal realities, then we might understand the process of writing these tweets as a remediation of the body as a written image, and these bodies as posthuman. Hayles (1999) argues that “writing is a way to extend the author’s body into the exterior world; in this sense, it functions as a technological aid so intimately bound up with his thinking and neural circuits that it acts like a prosthesis” (p. 126). Further, by constructing a representational body using the assets of the enacted body-mind, voice, and physical body—users’ personal narratives are revealed to reflect embodied, mediatized, performed identities that reflect the author’s agency and subjectivity, thus adding another layer of embodiment to the textual writings. The act of writing creates an “integrated circuit” through which the physical body of the text and the bodies represented within the text evolve together toward a posthuman, post typographic future in which human and intelligent machine are spliced together in an integrated circuit, subjectivity is dispersed, vocalization is non-localized, bodies of print are punctuated with prostheses, and boundaries of many kinds are destabilized. (Hayles, 1999, p. 130)

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This circuit is aided by the constraints of Twitter’s posting platform. The pattern of information within Twitter is bound by the coded design of the website as well as by a 280-character limit, which was doubled from a 140-character limit in November 2017. Hayles (1999) suggests, “The emphasis on spatially fixed and geometrically arranged letters is significant, for it points to the physicality of the processes involved” (p. 26). Thus, when users write within the constraints of Twitter’s boundaries, they are again working to create an embodied text. Additionally, the creation of such embodied works serves as a performance of self. For Hayles (1999), “embodiment is inherently performative” and “subject to individual enactments” (p. 197). In this sense, the act of construction can be equated to that of a rehearsal in preparation for the final performance. In this rehearsal atmosphere, users synthesize their texts into a personal narrative fit for publication on Twitter, a process that is enacted through the use of digital media and a cognitive process of arranging the narrative to meet the constraints of the Twitter platform. The users then are both the author and performer of their identities since this process allows them to identify the aspects of their identities they would like to use before solidifying it within the performed, represented body. Once the personal narratives are produced for an audience, the connection between the enacted, physical self and the mediatized, represented body separately creates a performance and a prosthetic as Hayles suggests. Users’ enacted bodies, their corporal bodies, enabled them to make use of the keyboards, mice, and trackpads in front of the computer or mobile device in order to input information into the computer to achieve the desired result. Additionally, their cognitive abilities allowed them to navigate through the virtual landscape of the computer. In this way, the prosthesis extended from a user’s brain, down their arm, into their hand, through their fingers, into the computer, and into the virtual landscape accessed through the computer. Ultimately Hayles suggests this embodiment can travel from the enacted body and into the represented body, and along the journey, in the process of the creation of the represented body, the enacted body, and represented bodies work together. In this collaboration, a cyborg is created that, as Hayles (1999) acknowledges, is indebted to the possibilities created by the prosthesis, physical and digital extensions of the body that allow for the free flow of information between the two (p. 2). Hayles believes the construction of the body in technology necessitates the creation of a cyborg because “the enacted and represented bodies are brought into conjunction through the technology that connects them” (Ibid., p. xiii). She also alludes to a larger theme of construction, indicating that the “historically specific construction called the human is giving way to a different construction called the posthuman” (Ibid., p. 2). For Hayles, while the enacted and represented bodies interact

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in a technological landscape—by creating personal narratives making use of physical, bodily encounters—they create a cybernetic organism capable of transgressing the physical bounds of the corporeal body. In this sense, any author of a mediatized story that is created using digital media engages in the creation process as a cyborg. As the users engaged in a technological construction of identity, the enacted bodies maneuvered the landscape of the technology of the computer and Internet to create a represented body. In so doing, the users became cyborgs mirroring philosopher Andy Clark’s pronunciation of “human-technology symbiots” complete with an “extended mind” connecting both the physical and digital worlds (Hayles, 2002, p. 302). Hayles argues cyborgs serve as identifiers of the posthuman but cautions against the over-use of the idea. She suggests it is important to understand that the mere technological contributions of the cybernetic organism do not create the posthuman. Hayles (1999) addresses this topic by arguing the posthuman “[involves] the construction of subjectivity, not the presence of the non-biological components” (p. 4). While the interplay of the enacted body and the represented body within a process of mediatization creates the identity of the cyborg, the embodiment of the posthuman is not fundamentally linked to the technology, but rather to the subjectivity fostered during the creation process. It is not enough to only consider that the youth’s interaction with technology as they created their digital stories necessitated the posthuman. The users needed to engage reflexively so as to enforce a cognitive subjectivity that influenced their movement and actions within the technological landscape. Hayles (2002) suggests the user’s creation process serves as a reading that ultimately changes when the user chooses one path over another, altering all subsequent readings of the text as well (p. 318). It is possible to imagine the enacted body engaged in a cognitive, reflexive process before and during the creation of the represented body in the creation of personal narratives for social media platforms like Twitter. The enacted and represented bodies here interact in the creation process, which becomes a process of subjectivity and editing. The user’s reflexive subjectivity is a leading factor in identifying how their narratives can be viewed as examples of represented selves and indicators of the posthuman. Vint (2008) addresses Hayles’s thoughts on this construction process and the linked relationship between the two bodies across the boundary between the physical and virtual world to create a “hybrid entity” that combines and is of both worlds through interaction with tangible artifacts surrounding the body. Hayes suggests these objects include “the chair I am sitting on, the keyboard I tap, and the yellow legal pad on which I scribble notes as I peer at the screen” (Vint, 2008, p. 125). The chair, keyboard, and legal pad of Hayles’s writing become examples of the fundamental objects that form the link between the two worlds,

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enabling the fusion of entities. Hayles (1999) suggests these artifacts become quasi-artificial limbs that can extend into the external world, and in the case of objects such as the keyboard, into the virtual world, creating the posthuman. She argues, “the posthuman view thinks of the body as the original prosthesis we all learn to manipulate so that extending or replacing the body with other prostheses becomes a continuation of a process that began before we were born” (p. 3). Ultimately, the process of reflexivity in which the users engage is critical for constructing the represented body and ensuring a sense of embodiment within the digital text. Layering the assets of the story and rebuilding the assets of the corporal body—that is, identifying a body or body parts in time and space, as users did within their personal narratives—in a process of reconstruction merges the enacted and represented bodies. Hayles further indicates the enacted and the represented bodies are intrinsically linked during the construction process, but that in the transition between the two landscapes, it is important to maintain a sense of embodiment. Hayles (2000) suggests one way to achieve this is by “[working] at the borderline between text and image” (p. 51). If we consider text and image as key assets for maintaining embodiment, it is easy to see these as indicative of the assets of the enacted body mentioned above. Text alone can invite connections with the voice, mind, and body of the Twitter users’ corporeal body in an interactive process that speaks to Hayles’s “process of becoming.” Hayles suggests that the intersection between the enacted body, represented body, and the technological landscape erases all divisions. She writes, “We are the medium, and the medium is us” (Ibid., p. 54). Vint identifies this theory as crucial to Hayles’s works. She notes Hayles’s “emphasis on the mutual co-evolution of humans and machines: we engineer machines but our interactions with them simultaneously re-engineer what it means to be human” (p. 115). It is in this redefinition that we start to see examples of the posthuman. Moving #MeToo from the Digital to the Physical An era of virtuality has enabled the posthuman to exist; people construct their identities within digital landscapes and exist as information beings in the digital and physical world. In posting personal narratives in connection with the #MeToo movement, we come to a place of vulnerability and this vulnerability leaves us open “to violence, but also to another range of touch, a range that includes the eradication of our being at the one end, and the physical support for our lives, at the other” (Butler, 2004, p. 23). This spectrum of vulnerability speaks well to the #MeToo movement, whose speakers have experienced being vulnerable to violence as well as making themselves vulnerable to receive support and acknowledgment and sharing their embodied

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stories as a way to spark political change. As Butler argues, “our very survival can be determined by those who do not know and over whom there is no final control” (Ibid.), and the #MeToo movement exemplifies how people we have never met have the capacity to affect change within our own lives, be it social, moral, or political change. #MeToo certainly created changes within the physical world and it seemed as though the Western world was ready to begin creating change. Milano’s tweet came a week after the Weinstein Company fired Harvey Weinstein over allegations of sexual harassment and misconduct (Twohey, 2017, n.p.). It was ushered in by an era of changing expectations and understandings about sexual harassment, assault, and abuse. As MacKinnon (2019) writes, “The legal breakthrough that defined sexual harassment as sex discrimination, a human rights violation, was a crucial precondition for #MeToo, despite the inadequacies of law that the movement has highlighted . . . The movement is surpassing the law in changing norms and providing relief that the law did not” (n.p.) Tippet (2018) summarizes several real-world responses at play in the aftermath of the #MeToo Movement: A number of states, including New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and California are considering legislation banning certain types of non-disclosure agreements. Congress is working on changes to its process for handling harassment complaints by congressional employees. Legislators have also introduced bills restricting the use of arbitration agreements in harassment disputes, and separately require employers to disclose settlements of harassment and discrimination claims. (p. 235)

Additionally, the allegations of sexual harassment, assault, and abuse have led to “the resignations, suspensions, or discharges of public officials, including judges, senators, and representatives, as well as newscasters, actors, and other celebrities” (Herbert, 2018, p. 335). Ultimately, how the #MeToo movement will continue to affect the landscape of the corporeal world remains to be seen. Yet, it seems reasonable to assume that the movement has created a lasting effect on the cultural understanding of sexual harassment, assault, and abuse, and will likely affect the future of policy-making for related issues. The use of the #MeToo hashtag greatly assisted in the spread of information that enhanced a global understanding of how widespread sexual abuse is. The use of personal narratives, as Modrek and Chakalov found, is crucial to the spread of the hashtag and the movement, especially across Twitter. The use of these tweets as prosthetics of corporeal bodies made way for the posthuman to arise, and a connection with this sort of humanity helped enable the movement’s spread.

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REFERENCES Anderson, M., & Toor, S. (2018, October 11). How social media users have discussed sexual harassment since #MeToo went viral. Pew Research Center. https://www​ .pewresearch​.org​/fact​-tank​/2018​/10​/11​/how​-social​-media​-users​-have​-discussed​ -sexual​-harassment​-since​-metoo​-went​-viral/ Butler, J. (2004). Beside oneself: On the limits of sexual autonomy. In Undoing gender (pp. 17–56). Routledge. Cannon, M.E. (2020). Beyond hashtag activism: Comprehensive justice in a comprehensive age. InterVarsity Press. Carah, N. (2017). Alcohol corporations and marketing in social media. In A.C. Lyons, T. McCreanor, I. Goodwin, & H. Moewaka Barnes (Eds.), Youth drinking cultures in a digital world: Alcohol, social media and cultures of intoxication (pp. 115–131). Routledge. Hayles, K. (1999). How we became posthuman: Virtual bodies in cybernetics, literature, and informatics. The University of Chicago Press. Hayles, K. (2000). Visualizing the posthuman. Art Journal, 59(3), 50–54. http://doi​ .org​/10​.1080​/00043249​.2000​.10792011 Hayles, K. (2002). Flesh and metal: Reconfiguring the mindbody in virtual environments. Configurations, 10(2), 297–320. https://doi​.org​/10​.1353​/con​.2003​.0015 Hebert, L. (2018). Is “MeToo” only social movement or a legal movement too? Employee Rights and Employment Policy Journal, 22(2), 321–336. Leung, R., & Williams, R. (2019). #MeToo and intersectionality: An examination of the #MeToo movement through the R. Kelly scandal. Journal of Communication Inquiry, 43(4), 349–371. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/0196859919874138 MacKinnon, C.A. (2019, March 24). Where #MeToo came from, and where it’s going. The Atlantic. https://www​.theatlantic​.com​/ideas​/archive​/2019​/03​/catharine​ -mackinnon​-what​-metoo​-has​-changed​/585313/ Marwick, A., & boyd, d. (2011). To see and be seen: Celebrity practice on Twitter. Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies, 17(2), 139–158. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1354856510394539 Mendes, K., Ringrose, J., & Keller, J. (2018). #MeToo and the promise and pitfalls of challenging rape culture through digital feminist activism. European Journal of Women’s Studies, 25(2), 236–246. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1350506818765318 Milano, A. [@Alyssa_Milano]. (2017, October 15). If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted write ‘me too’ as a reply to this tweet [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter​ .com​/Alyssa​_Milano​/status​/919659438700670976 Milano, A. [@Alyssa_Milano]. (2017, October 16). I was just made aware of an earlier #MeToo movement, and the origin story is equal parts heartbreaking and inspiring [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter​.com​/Alyssa​_Milano​/status​ /920067975016624128 Modrek, S., & Chakalov, B. (2019). The #MeToo movement in the United States: Text analysis of early Twitter conversations. Journal of Medical Internet Research, 21(9), e13837 https://doi​.org​/10​.2196​/13837

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More than 12M “Me Too” Facebook posts, comments, reactions in 24 hours. (2017, October 17). CBS News. https://www​.cbsnews​.com​/news​/metoo​-more​-than​-12​ -million​-facebook​-posts​-comments​-reactions​-24​-hours/ Park, A. (2017, October 24). #MeToo reaches 85 countries with 1.7M tweets. CBS News. https://www​.cbsnews​.com​/news​/metoo​-reaches​-85​-countries​-with​-1​-7​-million​-tweets/ Pew Research Center. (2018, October 11). MeToo methodology. Pew Research Center. https://www​.pewresearch​.org​/wp​-content​/uploads​/2018​/10​/FT​_18​.10​.11​ _MeToo​_MethodsTopline​_final​.pdf Onwuachi-Willig, A. (2018–2019). What about #ustoo: The invisibility of race in the #metoo movement. Yale Law Journal Forum, 128, 105–120. Razi, E. (2017, October 15). K it’s been 7 minutes is “me too” trending yet? Cuz YEAH. Farrrr too many of us. #metoo [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter​.com​/youcanspellthis​/status​/919661602823028736 Respers France, L. (2017, October 16). #MeToo: Social media flooded with personal stories of assault. CNN. https://www​.cnn​.com​/2017​/10​/15​/entertainment​/me​-too​ -twitter​-alyssa​-milano​/index​.html Ringwald, M. (2017, October 17). All the other Harvey Weinsteins. The New Yorker. https://www​.newyorker​.com​/culture​/cultural​-comment​/all​-the​-other​-harveys Santiago, C., & Criss, D. (2017, October 17). An activist, a little girl and the heartbreaking origin of ‘Me too’. CNN. https://www​.cnn​.com​/2017​/10​/17​/us​/me​-too​ -tarana​-burke​-origin​-trnd​/index​.html Sini, R. (2017a). How ‘MeToo’ is exposing the scale of sexual abuse. BBC. https:// www​.bbc​.com​/news​/blogs​-trending​-41633857 Sini, R. (2017b). #MeToo, #TakeAKnee and #Covfefe: Hashtags that dominated in 2017. BBC. https://www​.bbc​.com​/news​/world​-42251490 Solomon, E. (2018). Boys erased and the trouble with coaching: Confronting malemale sexual violence in the age of #MeToo. South: A Scholarly Journal, 51(1), 135–155. Tippett, E.C. (2018). The legal implications of the metoo movement. Minnesota Law Review, 103(1), 229–302. Tufekci, Z. (2017). Twitter and tear gas: The power and fragility of networked protest. Yale University Press. Twohey, M. (2017, October 8). Harvey Weinstein is fired after sexual harassment reports. New York Times. https://www​.nytimes​.com​/2017​/10​/08​/business​/harvey​ -weinstein​-fired​.html Vint, S. (2008). Embodied texts, embodied subjects: An overview of N. Katherine Hayles. Science Fiction Film and Television, 1(1), 115–126. https://doi​.org​/10​ .3828​/sfftv​.1​.1.9

Chapter 8

“He’s dragged me here so I can understand” Race, Gender, and the Performance of Painted Bodies in MTV’s Drag My Dad Wanjiru Mbure and Wendy Chapman Peek

Drag culture is having a moment. In the last decade, drag culture migrated from the periphery of the social media space to the mainstream, a vivid participant in an increasing number of media platforms. RuPaul’s Drag Race (RPDR; 2009–) and Instagram, in particular, are cited as strongly influential forces in the increasing visibility of drag culture (Guerrero, 2020), and their success has led to new reality shows featuring Drag Race alumnae such as Dragnificent! (TLC, 2019–), We’re Here (HBO, 2020–) as well as the fictional television program POSE (FX, 2018–2022). The reality-based programs among these tend to fall into two distinct categories: competition/performance or make-over/relationship “Lifestyle programming” (Hill, 2005), unified by reliance on relationship-driven emotional and affective visibility of participants (Skeggs, 2009). Yet drag culture has not left its marginal origins behind completely, as new shows, particularly in the reality genre, continue to develop in peripheral media spaces. The Boulet Brothers Dragula (2016–), another reality competition show, premiered on the YouTube channel Hey Qween! before being picked up and re-packaged by OutTV. Since then it has found its way to distribution on multiple streaming platforms, including Netflix and Amazon Prime. In this chapter, we examine another recent entry to the drag make-over reality show sub-genre, Drag My Dad, a nine-episode show hosted by Bob the Drag Queen (winner of season eight of RPDR), and which premiered in June 2019 on MTV Facebook Watch.1 This show belongs to the drag makeover/relationship sub-genre, as it features fathers (with the single exception of one mom), their daughters and sons, and a set of siblings who seek to restore 123

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and enhance their relationships through the development of a drag persona.2 Though DMD hews to the reliable “ordinary” character-driven formula of its predecessors (Bignell, 2014), it also brings together reality television and drag culture to leverage their strengths as generators of emotional performance. Fascinating in the rituals constructed by the show is the centrality of bodies, which must be transformed, re-gendered, and even rendered temporarily unrecognizable in order for the desired familial connections to be enhanced. For emotions to be revealed, bodies must be concealed. The show thus relies on drag’s transformative potency to re-shape family dynamics. Yet the challenge the show has set for itself is outsized compared to the brevity of the episodes, for the bodies that pass through the intimate spaces that compose Bob’s set must navigate queerness, heteronormativity, whiteness, and blackness as they navigate the show’s primary transformative arenas: “Paint” and “Look,” “Drag Challenge,” and “The Big Reveal.” Within this space on the margins of mainstream media—the show literally seems to take place in a large closet—DMD allows for the interrogation of gender and race through the exploration of the bodies present in DMD: the before-bodies and afterbodies of the made-over participants, those of their families, and the body of host Bob himself. The central questions of this chapter are: First, how do painted, racialized, and gendered bodies on DMD perform the work and Werk! of relationship restoration? Second, how is queer emotional labor operationalized to effect the transformation of bodies and relationships? And third, how is drag specifically established as an authoritative agent in this process?

THE PLATFORM IS THE MESSAGE Despite (or because of) the obscurity of its platform, DMD audaciously locates itself at the crossroads of multiple powerfully charged discourses with a bodily performance at the heart of all of them: gender; drag, race, and reality television. Analysis of DMD depends on an understanding of its position as a new type of streaming entertainment, its debt to and departure from reality television, and its fundamental but also revisionist relationship with traditional drag culture. In its press release, Viacom, MTV’s parent company, promoted DMD as “a makeover show with a heart [that] showcases dads who choose to get closer to their children by, believe it or not, turning themselves into fabulous divas” (Viacom, 2019, para. 7). Except for one episode, DMD’s short-form episodes (average length is fourteen minutes) followed a weekly release schedule since the pilot. MTV pioneered the modern reality genre on American television in 1992 with the debut of The Real World. In 2017, the network wrapped up The

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Real World but entered a partnership with Bunim/Murray Productions and Facebook to launch a reboot on the social network’s brand-new streaming service Facebook Watch. Beyond the digital reboot of the Real World, like other media conglomerates, ViacomCBS uses its most iconic cable network brands (e.g., Nickelodeon, BET, Comedy Central) to pivot to social media audiences. The choice of Bob the Drag Queen (birth name Christopher Caldwell, she/her and he/his pronouns, Twitter: @thatonequeen Instagram: @bobthedragqueen) as host was thus a canny bit of casting, building on the expanding reach of Bob across a variety of media platforms. Most recently, Bob is a co-host on HBO’s We’re Here (2020–). Other current and previous television credits include minor television roles on USA Network’s Playing House (2014–2017), HBO’s A Black Lady Sketch Show (2019–), and as the voice of Remy in USA Network’s Heads Will Roll (2020–). His other credits include director on the USA network web series Betsies (2018–), writer (Bob the Drag Queen: Suspiciously Large Woman, 2017), producer (A Queen for the People, 2018), and podcast co-host (Sibling Rivalry) with Monét X Change. Since 2013, Bob has maintained a popular eponymous YouTube channel (404k followers, 26.7 million total views) (Bob The Drag Queen, n.d.). What makes Bob an unusual choice as host is his work as a Black queer activist, who has not shied away from engaging in political organizing, bringing together Black and queer issues in his work. He partnered with OutFront Minnesota, an LGBTQ advocacy group, and MTV to host a multi-day voter mobilization event dubbed “Drag Out The Vote” in 2018. In the summer of 2020, at the height of national protests following the murder of George Floyd, Bob teamed up with another RPDR alumnus, Peppermint, to host a three-day virtual Black Queer Town Hall (BQTH), which featured performances and roundtables with notable queer and straight Black activists including Laverne Cox, Nicole Hill, and Dr. Angela Davis. His attentiveness to race, gender, and queerness shape DMD into a show that does more than simply recapitulate the conventions of reality programming. In the next section, we outline the show’s engagement with and departure from these conventions in its representations of bodies, emotions, and families. REALITY TELEVISION, DRAG, AND QUEER EMOTIONAL LABOR Though DMD will forge its own path in the genre, initially the show signals its affiliation with reality television in the opening of each episode, which Bob introduces via a voiceover that states the show’s project to “take your typical macho, goofy dad and help them transform into the ultimate drag fantasy, while helping

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to bring families together along the way.” During each episode, tropes familiar to reality programming abound: confessional cams; flash cuts to eye rolls; and narrative sequences walked through with ritualistic regularity, thus providing a consistency amidst the variety of participants that populate the show. Similar to reality-based content on other new media platforms, DMD engages in performances of emotional labor, but with a difference. Culturally a femininized form of work, emotional labor, which sociologist Arlie Hochschild (2012) defines as labor that “requires one to induce or suppress feeling in order to sustain the outward countenance that produces the proper state of mind in others,” has undergone a transformation with the advent of digital economies driven by social media (p. 20). With opportunities made possible by new media venues, traditional emotional labor has been transformed into “relational labor” whereby digital entrepreneurs blur the line between “personal relationships and professional labor” (Baym, 2015, p. 5). The digital economy ascribes the financial value of the content through the algorithmic metrics that compel content producers to “balance self-promotion with displaying their humanity” (Baym, 2015, p. 5). Bob, too, seeks the mean between self-promotion and authentic expression, in part by playing several essential roles: offering expertise in drag performance; eliciting emotions from participants; softening reality television’s tendency toward humiliation with humor; and directing participants’ movement through the spaces of the set and the processes of the show. In addition to introducing himself in the opening segment by referring to his win on RPDR, Bob playfully greets participant twins Sean and Sherrod by describing himself as an “internet personality, famous person,” a description that both asserts his brand while simultaneously mocking that same self-promoting behavior. Although DMD adheres to the subgenre’s traditions, which are anchored in bodies that need to be transformed, it departs from its reality peers in other significant and transformative ways. As many critics have noted, make-over shows often rely on shame to spur on the participants’ desire for change, plotting a participant journey, as characterized by Lepselter (2015) “from abjection to redemption” (p. 271). While DMD depends to some degree on television’s familiar depiction of the heterosexual body as inept (that opening patter about “goofy dads”), it resists the pathologizing depictions of gay bodies (DuttaAhmed, 1998; Vargas, 2010) and black bodies that mark them as deviant or diseased (Ferguson, 2005; Sewell, 2013). In a departure from the norms of make-over programs, which transform bodies as a means to target the intersectional identities of participants (Rennels, 2015), body alterations in DMD are framed as necessary for the realization of parental and relational capacities. In another mark of DMD’s difference from conventional make-over shows, particularly those that feature clearly branded products, DMD displaces the

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material tools of transformation with a focus on emotional tools that enhance relational connection. Unlike other make-over shows whose “main premise . . . is that consumption is the route to self-improvement” (Vargas, 2010, p. 18), DMD foregoes product placement in favor of what one might call “people placement,” showcasing the work of other drag queens, such as Jasmine Rice LaBeija (@jasminericenyc) or Pinwheel Pinwheel (@pinwhweelpinwheel), who serve as makeup artists and costume designers for the dads. Though Bob and the other drag queens may engage in the low-wattage shade (e.g., “I’m going to leave you in the remotely capable hands of Jasmine Rice LaBeija”), Bob foregoes direct competition with other drag queens to instead extend the largesse of his media visibility. Here, the marginalized and precarious digital presence and expertise of other drag queens are reimagined as essential, and second, their presence is reinforced as important within Facebook, the “center” of social media visibility. In a gesture one might call “reinplacement,” the commercial authority of brand-name products (hair gel, makeup brands) is set aside in favor of the expertise of other drag artists whose work also abets relational goals. Through this gesture, DMD draws on the legacy of drag performers as members of vital and supportive creative communities. By its own admission, DMD relies on long-standing representations of televised families that foreground the abreactive power of “familial unity,” which, when combined with “a little bit of soap and water [suggest that] anything can be cleansed; any problem solved” (DuttaAhmed, 1998, p. 161). The show offers drag as the reparative (and neoliberal) cleanser by inviting participants to partake in an individualized drag fantasy. At the same time, family scrutiny offers viewers an alternative assessment of straight parenting. Jacobs (2014), through analysis of comedies Ugly Betty and Glee, argues that televised narratives of straight parenting portray it as, “complete in and of itself and requires no modification, supplementing, queering, or rethinking” (p. 325). DMD, however, through the agency afforded to children on the show—who in all except one episode ask the parents to take part in the show and are the directors of the drag fantasy—“permit[s] queer kids to shatter the normative family portrait, calling into question heterosexual parents’ ability to meet the needs of children” (Jacobs, 2014, p. 325). DMD’s confrontation with narratives of straight parenting thus capitalizes on the power of drag, through its transformative nature but also through its connection with queer culture and activism, to challenge straight, cisgendered parents to do better with their children. Building upon Revisionist Drag In his 1996 book The Drag Queens of New York, Julian Fleisher worries about the increased popularity of drag, asking, “If so much of the energy of

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drag is generated by its outsider status, what will fuel it if it finds acceptance, even absorption, into the mainstream?” (qtd Doonan p. 7) That fuel, it turns out, is the re-imagination of drag as a kind of emotional repair practice, an emergent form of emotional labor that has become visible through the twelveyear run of RPDR, with its signature tagline, “If you don’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?” This attitude signals a dramatic shift in drag from old formulations of drag as “tragic,” an art form that, as Halperin (2012) writes, sits between beauty and abjection, in which “gay male culture . . . sees itself, its own plight, in the distorted mirror of a devalued femininity” (p. 182, italics in original), to new styles of drag: some mainstream-ish, all defiantly post-tragic, still playful, but also modified and commodified by reality TV’s focus on character, authenticity, and performances of emotional—rather than cross-gender—“realness.” A number of critics have noted the movement of drag culture away from a focus on artifice to expressions of emotional vulnerability and personal empowerment. RuPaul’s Master Class series of lectures, for example, touts not his expertise in drag performance, but rather in “self-expression and authenticity” (masterclass​.c​om). Even comedy drag, once the bailiwick of often vicious parodies of adult women, is, in the words of drag historian Doonan (2019), “morphing into something more subtle and emotionally real. . . . The new gender-inclusive generation response to . . . realness and emotional vulnerability” (p. 158). This change in the significance of drag arguably occurred around the turn of the twenty-first century. Within the drag community, the work of Lady Bunny is regarded as pivotal in this cultural shift, specifically her creation of Wigstock, an annual celebration of drag performers in New York City that ran from 1984 to 2005. As Guerrero (2020) writes, “Wigstock created a paradigm shift in drag queen performance and drag queen culture. Drag queens moved beyond female impersonation . . . into a realm of self-expressionism, activism, and resistance through performance” (70). The influence of Lady Bunny’s festival spreads further through the theatrical release of the documentary Wigstock: The Movie (1995). Academia, too, enlarged its vision of drag. Butler in Undoing Gender (2004) responded to critiques of her earlier writings (in Gender Trouble) to offer a re-assessment of drag, as not simply a form of gender parody, but also as a culture capable of the “resignification of social bonds that gender minorities within communities of color can and do forge” (p. 216). This “cultural life of fantasy . . . produce[s] sustaining bonds of community where recognition becomes possible, and which works as well to ward off violence, racism, homophobia, and transphobia” (p. 216). In this turn of focus, drag changed from being understood primarily as a performance of a gender illusion (often by heterosexual men) to an expression of personal authenticity by queer

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people, as well as a mark of collective identity for those from marginalized racial and sexual communities. Following this framing of drag as self-expression, drag has also been reevaluated as a therapeutic practice. Knutson and Koch (2018) suggest, for example, that drag can “buffer negative affect and/or may counteract .  .  . feelings of gender dysphoria” (p. 4). Similarly, a drag performance may free an individual from “judgments and opinions of others and of society in general” (2018, p. 42). Furthermore, Knutson et al. (2018) insist that the protective emotional benefit of drag is inseparable from the non-threatening “communal, creative, and empowering spaces” where it is actualized (p. 35). When drag performers recruit family and friends to share in their success, they draw upon the emotional dividends of their own journeys from amateur to performer and engage in what Stone (2021) has theorized as a distinctive form of “comfort-work.” In comfort work, drag performers take on the emotional work to ensure that parents, for example, feel at ease in balls and are well-versed in public aspects of drag in order to produce parental support and relational restoration. Thus, newer conceptions of drag focus on both external and internal transformation. The paint, the nails, the tucking all of which is now seen as the exterior manifestation of interior expression. The Drag Process When “gender is built or dismantled” through drag, this process is mapped on the physical body, which must first be dismembered for it to achieve the emancipatory spaces upon which deconstruction and reconstruction occur. Anchored by the belief that drag after bodies function as the gateway to inner authentic emotional awareness, dismemberment facilitates the removal of inefficacious “signifiers enunciated by the natural body” in order to “communicate an ‘authentic self’” (Weber, 2009, p. 4). Embodied body performances in DMD move through five phases: partial drag body; imagined drag body; corporeal drag body; affirmed drag body; and lastly, the performative drag body. This bodily dismemberment is paired with a fragmented process of relationship (re)building involving various conversational stages and their corresponding interlocutors. Partial Drag Body as Mask The drag makeover in DMD begins in the equivalent of a beauty salon, complete with sequined decorative pillows, colorful mannequin heads, and an armory of makeup, under the guard of “consultants” or “experts,” such as drag queens Khiza Carr (The Bearded Bitch), Chris (Jasmine Rice LaBeija), Laguna Blu, and Iris Spectre. Bob and the parents attain three relationship goals: establishment of a loose relational timeline; determination of the current

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health status of the relationship; and acknowledgment of the relationship goals from the perspective of the parent/sibling. Among the straight parent/gay child dyads, a recurring key event is a coming-out narrative and the impact it had on the familial relationship. Bob’s own story as a gay person invites parents to develop empathy for their children by disclosing, for example, his necessary caution in displaying public affection for his partner. In the episode with Beth Ann, he reveals, “Like when I’m on the streets, if I want to hold my partner’s hand first, I have to look over my shoulder, and then look in front of me, and then look behind me,” to which she responds, “Well, I’m understanding it more by talking to you guys, just wonderful.” For other dyads, the relationship timeline explores parental expectations and childhood memories. For all, this transformation of the unadorned face initiates the journey to relational confidence as Weber (2014) describes in which “unadorned faces mark the alienation and bereft status of the ‘before’ body in need of change” (p.113). With the dragged male body, however, this process is disrupted, since the dads are not achieving a visual gender ideal that matches their gender identity. Instead, relational confidence must be co-achieved by the parent and child through the child’s positive reaction to the partially dragged body. Imagined Drag Body as a Canvas A parallel “private” discussion with the child in Bob’s dressing room/drag craft room comes next. Here, the imagined drag body emerges as a canvas upon which various apparatuses of drag artifice (created by Bob and the child), for example, acrylic nails, a girdle, homemade glitter lotion, and stuffed bras, will be applied. (Bob is actually known in the drag world as a crafter, as expressed in his video for the song “Purse First.”) Two relational goals guide this space: the establishment of relational efficacy and confidence; and the elimination of uncertainty regarding parental commitment to foster a nurturing relationship. After allowing the child to share their perspective, Bob proffers his interpretation of the conversation with a parent from the first conversational stage and invites the child to take on the relational risk of having a meaningful conversation with their parent. Two primary forms of uncertainty emerge from our analysis. The first is anxiety about having the actual conversation and the second is anxiety about how the parent will react to their drag queen transformation. Bob masterfully resolves the latter with humor. In this stage, the audience is invited to make an assessment of the relationship through confession cam Bob-isms, “you have to talk to each other” (Scott and Keith); “I think that Fig wants to be able to be heard by her father” (Don and Fig). By resolving both forms of uncertainty for the children, Bob enables the imagined body to transform from a canvas to a magic carpet, elevating the child into a state of relational audacity.

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Corporeal Drag Body as Humor The difficulty of the conversations that DMD engages in necessitates the employment of humor, rather than humiliation, to repair emotional bonds. Comic relief typically occurs in three parts of the drag process: at the initial meet and greet with Bob; during the revelation of “drag secrets” (e.g., tucking) and the crafting of drag accessories; and especially during the partial drag body as a mask. The reveal of the partial drag body occurs in DMD’s open costume room space and initiates the next steps toward transformation: affectionate relational repair; the preview of the affirmed drag body; and the big reveal. Although each conversational process and space presents a unique relational goal, there is overlap. In the first two segments of the partial drag body, Bob and the family members are the interlocutors, while in the third segment, affectionate relationship repair, only the family members are present. The enhanced incongruous visibility of a drag face on a biological male/female body and the parents’ realization of the extent of their facial transformation result in hyperbolic reactions from family members. This visibility intensifies the show’s mid-point drama and also generates rapturous humor which paves the way for the “golden moment” in the third segment when the parent and child discuss and affirm their relationship. Preview of Affirmed Drag Body In the fourth part of the drag body’s metamorphosis, Bob and the now fully transformed drag queen stand in front of the costume room mirror together. This conversational stage only lasts a few seconds but is equally as important as the others, as the collaborative nature of drag culture is present in this conversational stage. Bob and the made-over drag queen stand in front of a full-length mirror, although to amplify the reveal, only Bob is shown in focus as he affirms the full transformation, asking Julio, for example, “Do you even recognize yourself?” (Julio and Gabi) This suspenseful presentation of the drag body in the preview “stage” echoes the drag convention of the delayed reveal, the expected “play with anachronism, ungainly or exaggerated gesture, off-beat timing, and peek-a-boo suspense” (Freeman, 2019, p. 161). The Performative Drag After-Body In the fifth and final conversational stage, the performative drag body, Bob (in full drag), introduces the made-over drag queen to family and friends in a segment christened “The Big Reveal.” In this segment, Bob presents the drag queens by referencing their previous identities, now discarded, and

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introducing them by their new drag names. The performance occurs in a presentation area (though not an actual stage) with couches just big enough to fit a small audience, typically composed of a handful of friends and family. This setup reproduces a generic-mediated intimacy, one that “comes from [reality television’s] focus on character, social interaction, and emotion” (Bignell, 2014, p. 114), a combination that speaks to the central aim of the show. In this final scene, the parents offer the performative drag body as their ultimate commitment to both the drag fantasy and ideal relationship with their children. Opening Up . . . in Drag A central question about this process remains, however: Why, alliterative play aside, must the dads be dragged? And does this near-exclusive focus on fatherhood and invocation of the child as a near-universal “vision of futurity,” contravene its progressive potential (Edelman, 1998, p. 24)? In part, the focus on fathers arises out of necessity from the show’s premise: this is about drag queens, not drag kings. Although that format might have worked as well, it is not Bob’s area of expertise. In the case of Queer Eye as Torres (2005) notes, the show’s premise relies on a constellation of women (mothers, wives, girlfriends) who have failed or given up on the pedagogical project that is their straight son/partner. In pursuing its own transformations, DMD likewise removes mothers from the dynamic (in all but one case), replacing women with men as the preferred shamans enabling straight competence. DMD deviates from Queer Eye in part, by relegating mothers to complete invisibility, with just one mom appearing in the audience at the “Final Reveal,” though she is never introduced to the viewers. Thus, the women’s role in the family dynamic is reduced to that of spectators. Not far removed from the practices of body surveillance in make-over programming is the notion of opening up bodies. Palmer offers the term “necessary openness” to highlight the obligatory aspects of display and invasion, that is, bodies “opened out for discussion” for the sake of the individual (p. 312). Indeed, the rhetoric of openness pervades the series. The word is used in the opening title sequence, where Bob speaks of drag as “allowing people to open up in a way they never have before.”3 The requirement that participants “open up,” evokes classical constructions of female bodies as those that “expose or expend what should be kept in,” in the analysis of Carson (1995). One of Scott’s four places to look for gender as a “field of force” (Foucault, 1980, p. 234), this “culturally available symbol” of gender associates female bodies with violation of socially sanctioned boundaries (Scott, 1986, p. 1067). Carson writes, “Woman is that creature who puts the inside on the outside” (p. 129).

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It is worth investigating the connection between femininity and “opening up” to appreciate why drag, specifically female drag, serves as the catalyst for emotional repair. In her monograph on gender in horror films, Men, Women, and Chain Saws, Clover (1992) dedicates a chapter to a discussion of what she terms “the ‘opening story’” (p. 68), a narrative type that depends on two gendered roles: typically, a woman who serves as portal (for a demon, perhaps) and a man who refuses to acknowledge the presence of the supernatural. Even when a portal is an inanimate object, like the car in Christine, its gender is feminine. As Clover notes, “the word vulva itself is related to valve—gate or entry to the body” (p. 76). In her analysis, Clover finds that this “archetypal horror story . . . turns on bodily orifices, holes—natural passages in inner space—[so that] it would appear to be a story built around the female body” (p. 80). Within a cisgender (and trans) framework, Hansbury (2017) extends Clover’s gendered embodiment of opening up with an immaterial equivalent of the vagina. He proposes, instead, the “Vaginal” which he defines “as a corresponding space in the mind” whereby, similar to the vagina, “spreading, opening, tunneling into darkness, connecting to deeper reaches of the body” occur. To apply Hansbury’s conceptualization to drag, we consider that “in fantasy, for bodies with or without a material vagina, the Vaginal may offer an access point to interiority, receptivity, openness, and expressiveness” (p. 1010). Drag offers, instead of a biologically female body, a performed body of female-ness. The goal of this performance in DMD is not, however, a perfect illusion of womanhood, as one finds in traditional glamor drag. Instead, the aim of “realness” is replaced with “openness,” the creation of an emotional portal, gendered feminine, to allow these parents to make a deeper emotional connection with their children. Thus the participants invite Bob’s assistance to temporarily open them up to new and deeper types of engagement. Although gendered normative values, aesthetics, and stereotypes serve, to varying degrees, the goal of emotional connection, DMD also offers opportunities to build masculine empathy for women. In the two episodes featuring dad/daughter dyads, the consequential appreciation of women by soccer dad Julio, “I have a totally newfound respect for women” and that of selfprofessed conservative, Don, “It does give me an appreciation of what a lot of women who have to dress each day” emerges from the focus on Gabby’s makeup loving soccer-rejecting hyperfeminity, “today, I’m bringing him into my world,” and Fig’s identity as an unapologetic New York liberal. Unlike Gabby, who demonstrates a keen interest in makeup, with Fig, the show relies more on a concept of femininity which she herself does not perform (she appears without makeup and dressed down). What is created through the drag transformation is not, as Muñoz (1997) notes, a woman, but “a public disidentification with a woman” (p. 92). In

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Muñoz’s conception of drag, this gesture of disidentification signals resistance to the “interpellating call of ideology that fixes a subject within the state power apparatus” (p. 83). While counter-identification is a gesture of resistance that “reinstates the same [dominant] discourse,” disidentification enables marginalized peoples to re-imagine and re-engineer identity to make a space for themselves. In discussing the performer Vaginal Cream Davis and her simultaneous critique of White privilege and the homophobia she founds in the Black Power movement, for example, Muñoz writes that “Davis used parody and pastiche to remake Black Power, opening it up via disidentification to a self that it simultaneously black and queer” (p. 84; italics added). In inviting parents to occupy a space of disidentification with their children—even though these parents are not marginalized by their gender identity or sexual orientation—Bob leverages the power of drag to, in the words of F. Guattari, “make bodies, all bodies, break away from the representations and restraint on the ‘social body’” (Guattari, 2008, p. 225). This is an instrumental use of drag: creating a temporary misrecognition of self, a displacement of the privilege of being straight and cisgendered, to produce recognition of what it feels like to perform an identity that does not feel authentic. Although some participants revert to hegemonic notions of feminized emotionality through references to their “feminine side,” the structure of the show encourages a democratized drag experience for both straight and gay individuals. In this way, the drag body in DMD is used to resist hegemonic retreatism to conventional notions of gender and emotion. While DMD erases women’s emotional labor, deploying feminine drag to enable fathers to overcome their emotional inefficacy through modeling a feminized body, it also functions as a space of potential counter-hegemonic masculine expression. Intersectional Drag Bodies Make-over programming relies on fantastic identities that promise participants freedom from one or more aspects of their lives. Building on Gray’s (1995) work on hegemonic “white middle-class subjectivity” in televised realities, Weber (2009) argues that female bodies traverse the make-over reality genre to emerge in “a postfeminist egalitarian utopia where sexual, racial, and ethnic differences between women” are expunged (p. 129). This erasure of difference occurs across the media landscape, as the representation of white bodies as normative and those of people of color as deviant Other reproduces racial hierarchies. Although reality television, as Kim (2004) notes, “proffers racially integrated casts,” these casts are limited in their visibility and challenge the genre’s “regime of truth only to the extent that they adhere to dominant ideas about race, class, gender, sexuality, and physical ability” (Springer, 2007, p. 266). Kim suggests that the color-blind ideology

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present in reality shows allows “Americans [to] take comfort knowing (and seeing) that in Reality TVland, if not in real life, race is of no consequence with regard to possessing such skills and achieving such goals” (Kim, 2004). The working-class body, too, is marked as Other in much reality programming (Palmer, 2013). As Rennels (2015) demonstrates in Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, the neoliberal function of experts is to upgrade the working-class family to television’s middle-class sensibility. To achieve that goal, humiliation and surveillance are deployed as the bodies and body functions such as farting and belching are chastised as inappropriate, thereby priming them for expert-driven adjustment and hope for admission into the middle class. In queer reality television, these hierarchies can persist, as Berila and Choudhuri (2005) note, and work in concert with gendered hierarchies to limit the declarative “progressiveness” of the shows. In their analysis of Queer Eye, the authors argue that in the erasure of structural forces that shape queer experiences, exoticization, tokenism, and exploitation of the “cultural labor” of men of color, the show renders as white the “face of queerness” (Berila & Choudhuri, 2005). In drag culture, as well, the “cult of true womanhood” is a racialized project which produces distinct associations to White and minoritized drag subcultures (Phillips & Stewart 2008, p. 390). In reference to class and race, DMD also subsumes—to an extent—these categories in the drag fantasy after-body, as all the families emerge as virtuous units devoid of the limitations previously placed upon them: first, by heterosexual bodies, and second, by the broader socio-economic domains within which they operate. Most clear in the closing portion of the show, the performative culmination of the fantasy, the drag after-body embodies “universalized normative expectations” similar to those of the female made-over body, “commanding the gaze, controlling one’s body” and, by extension, the family (Weber, 2009, p. 130). It is here, though, that DMD offers a fusion of the drag body as both make-overs and masquerade; the drag after-body is a performative embodiment of both the death of a former self and rebirth as a competent parent. In DMD, the body is not “that which has to be escaped from” as Palmer (2014) suggests, instead it is that which has to be escaped into (p. 308). Interestingly, however, while DMD minimalizes discussion of race, class, geography, and other aspects of identity, Bob himself keeps these in focus through references to his own body as an intersectional site. Throughout his drag career, Bob has drawn attention to aspects of his physicality and the contexts in which they are read. Just as his nom de drag is comic in its obviousness, Bob’s performance speaks directly to the most visible parts of his identity, as in the title of his performance movie, Suspiciously Large Woman. Accordingly, Bob makes jokes throughout DMD about his size (“I’m a big lady” [Dan and Sam]) and his race (when Scott reveals that he is colorblind,

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Bob quips, “For reference, I’m black.”). As Ross (2005) writes: “race, not homosexuality, becomes in Foucault’s discourse the transparent closet, the secret identity that always gives itself away because it is dis/closed within the anatomy itself” (p. 168). Visibility alone, however, is not the end goal. For Black queer bodies, the end goal is visible “survivance” (Vizenor, 1994). Not just to become visible, but to survive (as a neoliberal cultural worker) in ways that acknowledge the conditions of peripheral survival. Considering, for example, the visibility of black bodies in White-dominated beauty competition shows Weber (2014) posits that the black body “serves as a signal for the unknown, the threatening, and the chaotic” (p. 286). Queer Black bodies must enter a space of intersectional authenticity—one that requires more than a reliance on racialized codes, but a recognition of and resistance using the same against whiteness. Here, Bob relies on “afro-fabulations” or communicative resistance strategies which draw on “black feminist and queer repository of counter-conduct” to achieve intersectional authentic survivance (Nyong’o, p. 4). In relation to gender, Turner et al. (2004) refer to these strategies as “tactical repertoires” (p. 115). These strategies, when considered in the context of blackness, underscore the importance of racialized civility as their public display is intended to reduce discomfort which may undermine the likelihood of White participation in the show. We read the negotiation of blackness and its commercial utility on DMD through Lazzarato’s (1996) notion of “immaterial labor” in which the “subjectivity” of the worker becomes intertwined with his economic utility to produce “the informational and cultural content of the commodity” (p. 132). Lazzarato (1996) suggests that workers’ expectations within this new dynamic of labor include a “capacity to activate and manage productive cooperation” (p. x). The reproduction of a non-threatening Black subjectivity is at the core of Bob’s work. In his analysis of the video game Resident Evil 5 (RE5), Brock (2011) suggests that the game’s African-inspired lead female Sheva achieves a palatable Black subjectivity as a sidekick to the game’s White male hero using layered codes of “visual affinity with Africa” (p. 438). Similarly, Bob relies on hyper-African cues to construct a non-threatening Black subjectivity. This is most markedly achieved by Bob through the near-universal symbol of Afro-allegiance, the Kente cloth among other African-inspired outfits only worn when he is meeting the participants. In the American imagination, this is an acceptable and non-threatening expression of Blackness. Through his “micro-activism” Bob undoes ideological barriers that try to confine drag (and reality TV) to expressions of an idealized White middleclass body. Compared to the participants, then, Bob’s work is complex. He must navigate the emotional contours of drag authority and authenticity while

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also engaging with participants’ resistance and negotiating Blackness. Like other queer beauty experts, Bob relies on a plethora of strategies to “survive marginalization” within contemporary beauty and media regimes (Homant & Sender, 2019). The expectations of subjective productivity go well beyond what is normative for queer immaterial labor. Building on Moore (2018) on the nature of werk, Homant and Sender conclude that “Queers and people of color create excess, innovation, and relay to differentiate queer immaterial labor from its dominant forms” (p. 5399). We suggest that on DMD part of werk is embodied and part of it is emotional. Bob himself walks the increasingly thin line between subjectivity from within and that which produced and reproduced for a well-known economic utility.

CONCLUSION In this chapter, we sought to examine, first, how painted, racialized, and gendered bodies on DMD perform the work (and werk!) of relationship restoration. Our analysis revealed that through his “micro-activism” Bob undoes ideological barriers that seek to confine drag (and reality television) to expressions of an idealized White middle-class body. Compared to the participants, then, Bob’s work is complex. He must navigate the emotional contours of drag authority and authenticity while also negotiating blackness and participants’ resistance both to him and the process. Like other queer beauty experts, Bob relies on a plethora of strategies to “survive marginalization” within contemporary beauty and media regimes (Homant & Sender, 2019). The expectations of subjective productivity go well beyond what is normative for queer immaterial labor. Second, we investigated the extent to which queer emotional labor is employed to bring about the transformation of bodies and relationships, and drag’s role as an authoritative agent in this process. On DMD, part of werk is embodied (both the physical transformation of participants and Bob’s negotiation of his body) and part of it is emotional (the work necessary for safe passage through the space of relational metamorphosis). Unlike its reality peers, DMD succeeds in engaging families in difficult conversations through the employment of humor, rather than humiliation, to repair emotional bonds. The utility of humor in DMD is maximized by Bob’s personality and by the use of reality genre techniques which allow DMD to meet the hybrid challenge of transforming bodies for and with social media audiences while staying true to drag’s activist roots. Although some participants revert to hegemonic notions of feminized emotionality through references to their “feminine side,” the structure of the show encourages a democratized drag experience for both straight and gay individuals. While DMD erases women’s

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emotional labor, deploying feminine drag to enable fathers to overcome emotional inefficacy through modeling a feminized body, it also functions as a space of potential counter-hegemonic masculine expression. Yet as drag evolves on its journey from margins to the mainstream, it nevertheless leans hard on marginalized queer subjectivities to expand its influence. In the tussle between retreatism and progressivism, it will be interesting to see whether the aspirational activism of DMD—the transformation of bodies, emotions, families, and television itself—will be achieved in the future. NOTES 1. Although the Facebook site has a clip from the pilot with Bret and Amanda and they appear in the official trailer for the show, this ninth episode is unavailable. 2. As all but one of the pairs of participants on DMD comprise parent/child dyads, our primary focus will be on those relationships, rather than the sibling pair. 3. This bit of patter is not on the YouTube versions of the show, only on MTV Facebook.

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Part III

TELEVISION

Chapter 9

“There’s a lot of inches to love” Expectancy Violations, Fat Identity, Weight Stigma, and Relational Turmoil in TLC’s Hot and Heavy Mary Beth Asbury and Jessica M. W. Kratzer

In 2019, the cable channel TLC debuted a television show called Hot & Heavy, with the premise of documenting committed, heterosexual relationships where the man has a thin or medium frame, but the woman is obese (i.e., mixed weight couples). In a press release for the show, TLC stated: Men who love plus-sized women don’t have a fetish, they have a preference, just like some men prefer blondes, others want more to love. But, it doesn’t come so easily. This new docu-series follows three men who defend the honor of their significant others and face judgment due to their mixed-weight relationships. (Discovery, Inc., 2019)

Due to the controversy surrounding the nature of the program, it was canceled after three episodes (Furdyk, 2021). Before the program even aired in 2020, the preview released by TLC caused an immediate backlash on social media as well as on morning shows (Furdyk, 2021). Thus, TLC decided to only run three episodes. However, we propose that its premise has made a lasting mark in terms of weight stigmatization in romantic relationships and in television. Television has frequently examined mixed-weight, heterosexual couples. However, most of those occur with the man as overweight and the woman as thin (Walsh et al., 2008). Recent examples include the television shows The King of Queens and The Sopranos as well as cartoons, including Family Guy and The Simpsons (Walsh et al., 2008; Williams, 2020). Older examples include Family Matters, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire, and All in the Family, as well as the cartoon The Flintstones (Williams, 2020). The exceptions to 143

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this pattern are the shows Mike and Molly and This is Us, which feature both partners as overweight, and weight is a central issue in the show. Because the norm is to see overweight men with thin women, TLC’s Hot & Heavy caused strong reactions. For some, the show was viewed as fatphobic, indicating in the title that one cannot be hot while being overweight simultaneously (Cloyd, 2020; France, 2019). Others used the show to enhance their own fatphobia, calling the show “glorifying obesity” and “encouraging unhealthy lifestyles” (Gerhardt, n.d.; Taylor, 2019). Previous shows featuring mixed-weight couples in which the male character is overweight have not had such a strong backlash. Thus, the question that needs to be explored is, “Why?” Therefore, the purpose of this chapter is to explore Hot & Heavy. Using expectancy violations theory (Burgoon, 1978; Affifi & Burgoon, 2000) as a guide, we examine themes present in the show regarding fat as well as relational issues. POSITIONALITY STATEMENTS Prior to discussing the literature, we feel it is necessary to present our standpoints. I, Mary Beth, identify as an overweight female. In addition, my work primarily focuses on weight stigma in interpersonal settings. As a selfidentifying fat woman, I will disclose that watching this show was a difficult experience that entailed a lot of emotional labor. Particularly, the first episode brought forth a lot of negative emotions about my size and took a long time to watch than the other episodes. Thus, I wanted to identify my potential biases based on my background, experiences, and research agenda. Jessica identifies as, what Hot & Heavy calls, a conventional-sized woman. My physical conformity to the cultural norm means that I do not understand what it is like to be overweight, and therefore approach this study from a different standpoint than my co-author. My primary research focuses on the communication people use in their sexual relationships. So far, my research in the sex and communication field has not focused on weight as a factor. SUMMARY OF THE SHOW Hot & Heavy centers around three mixed-weight couples where the woman is classified as obese and the male is classified as normal weight, according to BMI. The first couple, Joy, twenty-eight, and Chris, twenty-five, have been dating for three years and live together in Sacramento, CA. They met on a dating app for people who like plus-sized people. At the end of the first episode, Chris proposes to Joy, and she accepts. However, there is a conflict with

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Chris’s family and friends regarding the engagement with Joy because she is fat. With Chris and Joy, the plot primarily focuses on the planning of the wedding, with specific emphasis on interactions between Chris and his family and friends regarding their objections to the marriage because of Joy’s size. The second couple, Kristin, thirty-five, and Rusty, thirty-nine, have been married for two years and live in Orlando, FL. They met at Disney World, and in episode 1, Rusty describes it as, “[It is the] classic story—prince checks out princess’ backside, and here we are. Happily, ever after” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 08:47). Their plotline focuses on how they have been trying to get pregnant and have been unable to conceive. As such, Kristin’s aunt, who has had gastric bypass surgery, convinces Kristen that she needs to get gastric bypass surgery to assist with conception. Kristin visits a bariatric surgeon and decides it is the right path for her. However, there is a conflict between Kristin and Rusty because Rusty adamantly objects to the surgery and wants to keep Kristin big. Their interactions are primarily driven by this conflict as Kristin prepares for the surgery by exercising and changing her eating habits as well as both Kristin and Rusty going to couples therapy to talk through these issues. The third couple, Adrianna, twenty-three, and Ricardo, twenty-three, are partners who live together and have a baby. They live in Newfoundland, Canada. They met by Ricardo finding Adrianna on Facebook and commenting on her pictures. They were strangers at the time and dated long-distance before Adrianna moved to Ricardo’s location. Then, they learned they were pregnant with their child two weeks later. The plot with Adrianna and Ricardo primarily focuses on their interactions regarding Adrianna’s insecurities about being fat. Adrianna notes that she is very self-conscious about her size, and Ricardo is helping her overcome that through encouraging communication, encouraging her to try new things, and confronting her former bullies.

EXPECTANCY VIOLATIONS THEORY Because seeing mixed-weight couples where the woman is fat, but the man is thin, is not often portrayed in the media, we used expectancy violations theory as a guide for analyzing the show. Expectancy violations theory (EVT) began as a theory about personal space (Burgoon, 1978) but has developed into a theory about the expectations we have of others and how we assign value to our expectations when they are violated. An expectation is what people predict will happen in a situation, and not what they want to happen in that situation. Expectancies can be applied to a specific person, relationships, and context (Burgoon, 1993). For example, we may have expectations about how a person in a public office should behave that we would not apply to

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others. Similarly, we may expect our romantic partners to act in certain ways that differ from our friends. Afifi and Burgoon (2000) note that individuals have a bandwidth, or range, of behaviors they find acceptable before a violation occurs. They also note that an individual does not need to be fully aware of why a violation occurred to consider an action as a violation. This means that a person’s expectation may be violated but they may not know the reason it was violated. When our expectation has been violated, either positively or negatively, we assign a valence, or value, to it. If we assign a positive valence to an expectancy violation, then we may be pleased with it or find it to be a good violation of our expectations. However, if we assign a negative valence then we may be displeased or find the violation to be worse than our expectations. According to Burgoon and Hale (1988), “positive violations produce more favorable communication outcomes than conformity to expectations, while negative violations produce less favorable ones, and that reward characteristics of the communicator mediate the interpretation and evaluation of violations” (p. 58). Violations are frequent in relationships (Affifi & Metts, 1998) and are connected with emotional and relational outcomes (Bennet et al., 2020). We chose to use EVT as a guide for this research for several reasons. In Western countries, particularly in the United States, being overweight is a negative-valence violation. This is especially apparent in romantic attraction, for overweight women are viewed as less attractive and as non-viable romantic partners (Aruguete et al., 2009; Puhl & Huer, 2009). Body Weight Because fatness is associated with negative violations in terms of attraction, it is necessary to understand differences in size and weight categories. Medically, a person is considered underweight when they possess a Body Mass Index (BMI; ratio of weight over height) of 18.5 or below; a person is considered normal weight if their BMI is between 18.5 and 24.9; a person is considered overweight if they have a Body Mass Index between 25 and 29, and a person with a BMI of 30 or higher is obese (CDC, 2020). While there are other measures that can more accurately determine one’s weight range, such as body fat percentage and waist circumference, most medical professionals still use BMI as a means of diagnosing and treating obesity (CDC, 2020). Currently, 40 percent of the U.S. population is considered obese according to BMI standards (Hales et al., 2020). Weight Stigma Despite the prevalence of obesity in the United States, the constant emphasis on the thin ideal perpetuates and reinforces the narrative that thin is best

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(Arroyo & Harwood, 2014), contributing to weight stigma. Stigma is defined as characteristics that create shame in an individual (Goffman, 1963). Thus, in Western culture where ideal female bodies are supposed to be thin, those who do not fit into that mold are shamed by others, resulting in weight stigma, or shame for being overweight. Weight stigma, specifically obesity stigma, is viewed as an acceptable stigma (Puhl & Brownell, 2001, 2003) because the condition is believed to be controllable (Ebneter et al., 2011; Katz, 2014; Tomiyama et al., 2015). While other weight groups, such as those who are underweight, can also experience weight stigma, the stigma associated with being overweight is more severe (Andreyeva et al., 2008). For example, while eating disorders, such as anorexia-nervosa and bulimia-nervosa, are viewed negatively, those who have eating disorders are often admired because being thin is valuable in Western society (Anderson, 2013; Mond, et al., 2006; Roehrig & McLean, 2010). Some argue that obesity stigma is positive because it can motivate individuals to make healthier choices. However, this is incorrect. First, this argument assumes that if one is overweight or obese, one is automatically unhealthy, and therefore stigmatizing that person can only help. Research (e.g., Goldberg & Puhl, 2013; Muennig, 2008; Puhl & Heuer, 2010) has indicated that weight is not the most effective indicator of overall health. For example, thin individuals can be unhealthy, just as fat individuals can be healthy. Thus, stigmatizing a person simply based on one’s weight is not going to help if that person may already be living a healthy lifestyle. In addition, research has indicated that unless one is at extreme levels of weight (i.e., severely underweight, or severely obese), overweight and obese individuals live as long as those with a normal body weight (normal, meaning being in the normal weight category of the Body Mass Index; Berrington de Gonzalez et al., 2010; Flegal et al., 2005, 2008). Thus, the assumptions that underlie the argument that obesity stigma is needed to serve a preventative function are incorrect and therefore make the argument invalid. Second, stigmatizing fat people has the opposite effect of its intention of encouraging weight loss, causing overweight and obese people to engage in identity-protecting behaviors, such as overeating or disengaging from the social sphere (Puhl & Brownell, 2006). Studies have shown that weight stigma, not body weight itself, is the main contributor to illness (Puhl & Suh, 2015; Vartanian & Novak, 2011), as it contributes to weight gain (Hunger, et al., 2015; Sutin & Terracciano, 2013; Tomiyama, 2014), metabolic disorders (Pearl et al., 2017), lack of exercise (Puhl & Suh, 2015; Vartanian & Novak, 2011), psychological disorders (Major et al., 2012; Robinson et al., 2017), and mortality (Sutin et al., 2015, 2016). Thus, weight stigma is more dangerous than carrying extra weight. Because of this, weight stigma should be eliminated.

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Fat Identity Because individuals who are overweight and obese face persistent stigma, overweight and obese individuals often develop a fat identity (Degher & Hughes, 1999; Jaffe, 2008). One must be considered fat to have a fat identity, but this fatness is subjective (Jaffee, 2008). For example, a person may have a normal weight according to their BMI, but because others perceive them as fat and have told them they are fat, they can develop a fat identity. Our identities are often based on the judgments of others (see Cooley, [1902] 1964), and when people are consistently told they are fat, they will begin to believe it (Jaffe, 2008). Similarly, a person who suffers from an eating disorder may exhibit a fat identity because they perceived themselves to be fat, and a person who is overweight or obese may not perceive themselves as fat. These processes indicate that a fat identity is subjective and is dependent upon communication one hears and observes about their body. Because being fat is considered unattractive and not ideal, when a person develops a fat identity, they may seek out coping strategies to deal with an identity that is spoiled (Goffman, 1963). Degher and Hughes (1999) note five coping strategies individuals use when developing a fat identity: avoidance, reaction formation, compensation, compliance, and accounts. The strategy of avoidance is the most commonly used and entails fat individuals avoiding contexts where their fatness would be problematic. For example, a fat person may avoid going zip-lining with friends for fear of the line not being able to hold their weight. The second coping strategy of reaction formation consists of “rejection and even a reversal of societal definitions of appropriate behavior” (Degher & Hughes, 1999, p. 20). This could entail eating more when someone points out a fat person’s size or eating habits. The third coping strategy is compensation, which occurs when “the individual attempts to offset negative consequences of being fat by overachieving in other areas” (Degher & Hughes, 1999, p. 21). Those who use compensation as a strategy may seek to succeed and earn awards at school, sports, or work, for they believe achieving success will provide more social acceptance. The fourth coping strategy of compliance consists of two concepts: stereotype and face compliance. With stereotype compliance, a fat person will try to comply with common stereotypes about a size to maximize acceptance, such as being funny, or the “jolly” fat person. With face compliance, the individual agrees to change their body size, such as engaging in diet and exercise, to offset negative stereotypes. However, this person does not follow through with those plans and merely uses it as a way for people to stop commenting on their weight. The final coping strategy is accounts, which also consists of two types: fat stories and eating stories. With fat stories, individuals explain why they became fat, and with eating stories, individuals

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focus on why they continue to overeat. For example, a person may say in their fat story that their weight is due to recently having a baby or a hormonal issue. Similarly, a person’s eating story may focus on this being a stressful time, and they need food to cope with the problem right now. It is important to note that “These accounts are neither excuses nor justifications. In these accounts, the speakers assert that they should not be punished for their eating behavior because eating is itself the punishment” (Degher & Hughes, 1999, p. 24). Ultimately, developing or having a fat identity is based on the stigma associated with being overweight or obese in Western society, and this stigma is not only reinforced in interpersonal communication but also in mediated communication. INFLUENCE OF WEIGHT ON ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS Messages in U.S. media and in relationships associate thinness with attractiveness (Swami et al., 2007; Thompson & Stice, 2001). In general, overweight people are not seen as viable romantic partners (Puhl & Huer, 2009), and women experience more weight stigma than men (Côté & Bégin, 2020; Crossrow et al., 2001; Sobal, 2005). For example, obese women are viewed as less attractive to potential dating partners than obese men (Aruguete et al., 2009; Barelds-Dijkstra & Barelds, 2008; Chen & Brown, 2005). In general, when looking for a partner, men tend to emphasize physical attractiveness, and females place more value on personality factors (Buss, 1989; Schwarz & Hassebrauck, 2012), which means that men are more likely to seek out partners who fit the thin image. Similarly, women are less likely to view their partners negatively based on their weight status than men (Aruguete et al., 2009; Chen & Brown, 2005), and couples in which both partners are overweight experience more satisfaction than mixed-weight couples. For example, when partners are both overweight, they feel enhanced commonality and closeness (Ledyard & Morrison, 2008). In contrast, other research (e.g., Kolotkin et al., 2012, 2006) has found the opposite effect, where if both partners are trying to lose weight, they may experience emotional difficulties, specifically around sexual intimacy. In addition to having couples with matching weights, mixed-weight couples, where one partner is overweight or obese and the other is normal weight, exist. However, mixed-weight couples often receive more discrimination and prejudice than couples who have similar weights (Côté & Bégin, 2020; Collison et al., 2016), but they do not often perceive the extra stigma (Collison & Rusbasan, 2016). Collison and colleagues (2016) note that mixed-weight couples may experience more discrimination because

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they are atypical, and people, in general, are more likely to support the status quo. Similarly, they found that mixed-weight couples may experience prejudice like interracial and large age gap couples. However, couples may experience less satisfaction based on health behaviors related to weight (Ledyard & Morrison, 2008; Meltzer et al., 2011) and perceptions of one partner as overweight (Hochgraf & McHale, 2019). These socio-emotional influences (e.g., conflict, relational satisfaction, and arguing) are especially prevalent when partners are mixed-weight couples with overweight women and normal-weight men (Burke et al., 2012; Meltzer et al., 2011, 2013; Reed, 2015). Weight in the Media Mixed-weight couples are often portrayed on television, but most of these couples portray a fat man with a thin woman (Walsh et al., 2008). For example, beginning with shows such as The Honeymooners and The Flintstones to today’s The King of Queens and Family Guy, the norm is for the female partner to be thin with the male partner overweight (Williams, 2020). These portrayals contribute to weight bias (Ata & Thompson, 2010). Televised and print media have consistently contributed to women’s internalized body dissatisfaction and weight stigma, for they emphasize that men only desire thin women (Grabe et al., 2008; Meltzer & McNulty, 2014). Both reality and fiction television contribute to weight stigma (Domoff et al., 2012; Eisenberg et al., 2015; Frederick et al., 2016a,b), especially with regard to women. For example, research (e.g., Bissell & Zhou, 2004; Chang et al., 2013; Puhl, 2013) has shown that women who consume more media report higher body dissatisfaction and higher internalization of thinner being more attractive in Western society. Weight stigmatizing media can have severe effects on the population. Exposure to such media can change behaviors regarding eating and exercise intention (Pearl et al., 2015) as well as increase negative attitudes toward the obese (Pearl et al., 2012). While some may argue that increasing exercise motivation is a positive thing, these effects are not just limited to the obese. For example, a person who is severely underweight may decide to exercise more based on these media portrayals, and that would be a detriment to their health, and Bissell and Zhou (2004) found that exposure to such media significantly increased disordered eating in adolescent women while Slevec and Tiggemann (2011) found those same effects in middle-aged women as well. Moreover, weight stigmatization in the media is also related to gender and racial differences. Puhl et al.’s (2013) study noted that participants tend to associate higher levels of dislike for obese African American females. Thus, weight stigmatizing television has adverse impacts beyond body image.

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However, the media can remedy this situation, by showing and talking about overweight and obese people in non-stigmatizing ways that can lessen general weight bias (Bochu et al., 2014; Pearl et al., 2012). For example, studies regarding advertisements featuring normal- and plus-size-weight people show that they can be used effectively in advertising as opposed to advertisements only showing ultra-thin women (Halliwell & Ditmer, 2004; Halliwell et al., 2005). In addition, telling women that they are desirable to men if they are bigger increases body satisfaction (Meltzer & McNulty, 2014). However, despite the prevalence of overweight and obese bodies in America, there is little representation of fat individuals on television (Giovanelli & Ostertag, 2009; Greenberg et al., 2003; Taylor & Gailey, 2019); and when fat people are represented in the media they have their fatness pathologized and are portrayed to fulfill certain archetypes (Kyrölä, 2016), such as transformative narratives (e.g., The Biggest Loser and Celebrity Fit Club), comedic relief (e.g., Mike and Molly, Roseanne, and Bridget Jones’ Diary), and gluttonous (e.g., My 600-lb Life). In these tropes, fat individuals are not seen as more than their bodies (Taylor & Gailey, 2019). Yet, rarely are fat individuals, specifically fat females portrayed in ways that show that they are normal and have experiences with love and sex, and when people of size are shown to live normal, fulfilling lives, there is backlash (Gailey, 2012). For example, in 2010, the sitcom Mike and Molly, about two obese individuals dating, showed the two main characters kissing. In reaction to that, then Maire Claire writer Maura Kelly wrote, “I think I’d be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other . . . because I’d be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything.”

THE PRESENT STUDY With the stigma associated with being overweight, the lack of fat females shown in relationships in the media, and the influence of media on perceptions of bodies, we felt that analyzing Hot & Heavy provided an opportunity to examine these phenomena. Using EVT as a guide, we seek to explore how American cultural norms impact the three couples. Methodology Data Source and Procedures We analyzed the entire season of Hot & Heavy because it only consisted of three, forty-three-minute episodes. Using inductive analysis, we developed themes by what emerged in the show rather than pre-existing strategies

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(Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Lindlof & Taylor, 2017). This type of analysis was chosen over other forms of analysis, such as content analysis, for the textual data was more informative if viewed in a narrative format rather than line by line. The constant comparative method (Strauss & Corbin, 1990) was used to analyze the data. This method has three phases of coding: open, axial, and selective. Open coding is the first phase and consisted of each author viewing the three episodes of Hot & Heavy holistically while making notes of salient information. Each author watched the three episodes a second time and conducted axial coding. In this form of coding, the authors created categories of emergent themes and gave them in vivo codes (short descriptors). The third phase of analysis is selective coding. The authors reorganized the emergent themes by codes to create the major themes and subthemes. For qualitative research, verification is an indication of quality (Creswell, 1997; Dougherty, 2001) and two forms of validation are suggested by Creswell and Creswell (2018). First, each author clarifies the bias they bring to the research by reflecting on our experiences and how they have influenced us, and therefore the research we conduct (Creswell & Creswell, 2018). Second, we provide rich, thick descriptions of dominant themes and examples from the show to highlight our findings (Creswell & Creswell, 2018). RESULTS AND ANALYSIS The analysis yielded four major themes: fat identity, the value of thinness, relational turmoil, and expressions of love and attraction. Fat Identity The first theme, fat identity, is particularly prevalent, for the show often focuses on the women identifying as fat and how that affects the way they feel about themselves and the way that others feel about them. Identity is ingrained into our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. The women of Hot & Heavy are self-identified fat women, yet their weight affects each of them differently. This theme has two subthemes that include their own self-confidence and the self-confidence that others think they should have. Personal Self-Confidence The first subtheme is demonstrated by Kristin (age thirty-five) and Joy (age twenty-eight), for they are depicted as confident women. Kristin owned a

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very successful bridal gown company in New York City, sold it, and retired in Florida before thirty-five. She never comments about not liking the way she looks and is presented as a confident, self-assured woman. When she is being interviewed with her husband, Rusty, they have the following exchange in episode 1: Rusty: The majority of the women I’ve dated have been bigger, bigger, full-figured women. Kristin: I hate that term. “Full-figured.” It reminds me of like a grandma. Rusty: Ok what do you want me to say? Kristin: Big, curvy, plus size, fat. I don’t even care. Rusty: P-H-A-T—Pretty Hot And Tempting. Kristin: No, I hate when he says that. I hate it. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 08:50)

When Kristin decides to begin her journey toward getting bariatric surgery, she makes comments twice about getting “hot” but those are the only mentions of possibly not liking being fat. After having a consultation with a bariatric surgeon, Kristin talks about how her dad was sick for so long with diabetes and heart problems related to his weight. She says in episode 1, “He [her dad] just accepted his fate, and I won’t do that” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 24:35). Kristin’s main goal with the surgery is to be able to get pregnant, not focusing on changing her appearance. Joy is depicted as a confident woman and never mentions not liking the ways she looks. At one point in the show, she says that she finally likes the person she sees in the mirror. In episode 1, she states, “it took me a long time to get to a place where I could look in the mirror and like myself” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 00:07). In the same episode, she also says, “Some people are fat. Some people aren’t fat, but there’s no reason that looking a certain way should stop you from enjoying your life and making the best of it” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 06:17). The only time she mentions wanting to change is to improve her mobility so she can be more active with Chris, her fiancé. Otherwise, the only people who talk about her weight being problematic are Chris’s friends and family. Joy’s and Kristin’s fat identity suggests an expectancy violation. They live in a society that consistently tries to sell the message that thinner is better (Arroyo & Harwood, 2014), but they still have confidence in themselves. For example, Joy says, “My mom told me that it would be difficult to find love if I was heavy” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 00:00). They do not see themselves as less deserving in terms of love and in terms of what they want in life because of their size. Thus, society’s expectation that fat people should constantly feel shame for their size is violated. Adrianna (age twenty-three) is the youngest member of the cast and struggles with being fat. In the first episode, she says, “I always

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had this idea that I didn’t deserve love because of what I looked like” (Chamberlain et al., 2020,00:07). She is self-conscious about her body and worries about what other people think of her relationship with Ricardo, her partner. Ricardo talks on the phone with his ex-girlfriend, Natalia, and Adrianna worries that he will want to get back with her. She states that Natalia is a bigger girl but smaller than she is, which makes her worry that Ricardo will not think she is as attractive. Unlike Joy and Kristin, Adrianna does not violate expectations about her appearance. She often feels shameful about how she looks and whether she is good enough for Ricardo. Self-Confidence Determined by Others In addition to personal confidence, women’s confidence is influenced by others. For example, Adrianna’s lack of self-confidence is negatively affected when other people make her feel bad about herself. She makes a comment in the grocery store that people are staring, and she is faced with a situation where she is harassed for being fat and eating ice cream in public, further depleting her self-confidence. In the first episode, while she is eating ice cream and walking in a park with Ricardo, who is also eating ice cream, a man drives by while Adrianna is eating ice cream with Ricardo and shouts, “Lay off the ice cream, you cow! Mooooo!” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 29:35) Additionally, she was bullied by a classmate in high school, Nick, and states that his negative comments were the start of her feeling bad about herself at a young age. She continues to be concerned with what others think about her and the way she looks. As noted previously with the experiences of personal self-confidence, Adrianna does not violate expectations about being fat. Rather, she experiences internalized weight bias, which is a negative weight stigma that is directed toward oneself (Durso & Latner, 2008). Internalized weight bias is demonstrated when individuals feel they deserve to be stigmatized because of their weight. However, Kristin’s and Joy’s experiences are different from Adrianna’s. While they do mention that they notice other people looking at them in public with their thin partners, they do not state that these situations negatively affect their self-confidence. Instead, the people around seek to make Kristin and Joy feel bad about the way they look and encourage them to change their bodies. Specifically, Chris’s mother, Lori, makes many comments throughout the series that she thinks Joy should lose weight. She talks about her own experience with bariatric surgery and therefore, sees herself as an authority on what equates health and happiness for other fat-identifying women.

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For example, in the first episode, Lori says: I think Joy is a genuine person. That she speaks from her heart, and her actions are pure. But I worry about Joy .  .  . for her future and her health. I have had health issues. It’s very easy to eat your pain away, and I relate to that. I recently had gastric bypass surgery—my heaviest was 250lbs, and I’ve lost 90 lbs. I’m off medications, feel better, and have energy. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 26:02)

Throughout the series, Lori tells Chris and Joy’s friend that she worries about Joy’s weight because of her own experiences. While wedding dress shopping with Joy in episode 2, the following exchange takes place: Lori (to camera): At my heaviest, I was 250 lbs, and I’ve lost almost 90 lbs. Producer: That’s like carrying an extra 100 lbs everywhere you go, and then Joy is 500. Lori: I didn’t know that. We wondered, but I never knew. Oh my goodness. That worries me, it worries me for her and for Christopher. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 24:27)

Similarly, Chris’s friend Mike states that he does not understand why Chris wants to be with Joy because she is fat. He thinks Chris should be embarrassed to be with Joy and that Joy should change to keep Chris in her life. Mike tells the camera in episode 2, “Chris doesn’t necessarily like big girls, he just likes big boobs, and whatever comes along with it, comes along with it. It blows my mind because he could have any girl he wants, but he ends up being with Joy” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 15:06). Both Lori and Mike state that Joy will not be able to keep up with the active lifestyle Chris enjoys. Chris’s family and friends do not understand that Joy is confident in her body, and Chris likes her as she is. Kristin also deals with pressure from family and friends. Kristin’s aunt, Janet, talks about her own bariatric surgery and how she thinks Kristin should also get it. Janet says to the camera in the first episode that she “had bariatric surgery two years ago and lost about 130 lbs. My stomach is now 8 oz” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 10:44). Kristin says her aunt is on her father’s side of the family, and they have “awful genes” on that side (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 11:01). Again, we see Janet acting as an authority on the surgery and what is best for her fat-identifying niece. Kristin’s friend, John, also supports Kristin’s plan of weight-loss and bariatric surgery because he is concerned for her health. He tells Rusty that Kristin is getting “hot” looking for him by losing weight. This emphasizes the idea that thin equates to attractiveness.

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The Value of Thinness Another theme prevalent in the show is the value of thinness. The inception of this show alone reflects the cultural idea that being fat equates to being less worthy of love, respect, and kindness. Several situations occur during the show that highlights the idea that being thin is a much more valuable attribute than being fat. Two subthemes emerged: thinness equates to health and thinness equates to attractiveness. Thinness Equates Health Joy and Kristin are both confronted with discussions about their health in relation to their weight. Oddly enough, Adrianna does not have any conversations around this issue. The focus of Kristin’s story is that she chooses to start her journey to get bariatric surgery. In the first episode, Kristin’s aunt talks about her experience with bariatric surgery and encourages Kristin to consider the surgery. Her aunt, Janet says: She’s [Kristin is] severely overweight, and I have been telling her for a long time that there’s a lot of things she can’t do b/c of her weight, and she wants her to get there—I want her to be healthy and happy. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 22:33)

Kristin has been unable to get pregnant and believes that the surgery will help her lose weight quickly to get pregnant. Not being able to get pregnant due to being obese is one of two major health concerns discussed by Kristin throughout the series. She also recently developed diabetes and is scared that she will die young. These two major health concerns are the focus of Kristin and Rusty’s story. Joy does not talk about her health issues unless she is prompted to do so by someone else. For example, Chris’s (Joy’s fiancé) mother, Lori, makes her concerns very clear to both Chris and Joy’s friend Tifani that she is concerned about Joy’s health. Lori had bariatric surgery four months prior to the start of the show and thinks Joy should consider the surgery, although she never says this directly to Joy. After Chris tells his family that he is going to propose to Joy in episode 1, Lori tells Chris: To be healthy, you have to face your issues. And when you use food to deal with your issues instead of just dealing with them, that’s a difficult thing, and that’s only her choice. She [Joy] has to make that choice. But I worry about Chris overeating too, especially when their life revolves around food so much. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 33:10)

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In episode 2, Lori and Tifani, Joy’s friend, have the following exchange while Joy is trying on wedding dresses regarding why Lori thinks Chris and Joy should wait to get married: Well, um, I just thought they should get some more time together, and I know Joy has some health issues, and I hope that she could get those taken care of. I want her to be healthy, and I want him to be happy. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 22:40)

When Joy confronts Lori about her concerns, Lori focuses on her concern for Joy’s health and makes it clear that Joy will not be able to do the activities that Chris likes to do because she is not healthy enough. Thinness Equates Attractiveness The purpose of Hot & Heavy is to show thin men with fat women, which further accentuates the cultural norm that thin men should be in relationships with thin women, and fat men should be in relationships with fat women. Therefore, a prominent subtheme centers on the idea that thinness equals attractiveness. The cultural norm allows for fat men to be in relationships with thin women and these relationships are not framed as odd or TV-worthy. In fact, many sitcoms show fat men with thin women as a relational norm in families (e.g., King of Queens, Still Standing, According to Jim). Yet, fat women in romantic relationships with thin men is so taboo that it was worthy of a TLC show. There are several examples of how this plays out in each relationship. Thus, the entire premise of the show is essentially an expectancy violation. Adrianna and Ricardo are shown in a few different scenarios where Adrianna feels uncomfortable about being overweight with Ricardo. In episode 1, the couple is shown grocery shopping with their infant, Eli. Adrianna states that she can feel people staring at them because they notice the difference in size between the couple. Moreover, there are several instances that people in Chris’s life state that they do not understand why Chris chooses to be with Joy when he can have any beautiful, conventional-size woman he wants. This shows that his friends and family think Joy is unattractive because she is fat and therefore unworthy of the romantic attention of a thin, attractive man. Another example occurs on their wedding day when Lori visits Joy before the wedding. Lori says that she is proud of her kids for loving someone for who they are on the inside and not what they look like on the outside. Joy is offended by this because Lori is basically saying that Chris loves Joy but does not find her attractive because she is fat. In episode 3, while Joy is getting ready for the wedding,

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she asks to speak with Lori because she has heard what Lori has been saying about her weight. Joy: I’ve been like a little bit worried because I-I guess I heard a couple of things, like from Chris and Tifani that maybe, like, you had some reservations, and like it was too soon, and like I wasn’t like going to be able to keep up with Chris, you know? [starts crying] Lori: The thing is—it was just all of a sudden. I love that we raised our kids and— they see the value of somebody not by their appearance, not by their looks, but by who they are. Joy: It’s definitely not something like he likes me in spite of this, you know? Joy to the camera: When she says that, it feels like an insult. I don’t think she gets it. He’s not loving me in spite of my size. We are in love with each other and very attracted to each other as is. Lori: I-I do get concerned because you know, Christopher is very busy, and he wants to travel and do exciting things, and . . . I mean, will you be able to, to keep up and do those things, too, or is that your guys’ plans? Joy: [clears throat] I mean, I definitely—like, the goal is to keep up with Chris. But if Chris wanted a partner like that, he very easily could have found someone like that, you know? But, like, he chose me. Like, I’m like, you know, the woman he wants to marry. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 23:18)

Kristin’s experience is a little unique because her husband does not want her to lose weight. However, Kristin equates thinness with attractiveness a few times in the show. She talks with Rusty about getting thin and being “hot,” while he argues that she is already hot. For example, while working out with her fitness trainer, they start talking about how long she and Rusty have been married, Kristin says, “Long enough to know what your partner is comfortable and uncomfortable with. You know, he’s not happy right now. He just wants me to stay the size that I am” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 12:08). Similarly, Kristin’s friend, John, tells Rusty that she is getting the surgery so she can have a baby, and she will be “hot” looking for him. In episode 3, while Kristin, John, and Rusty eat together, they have a confrontation over whether John is being supportive by offering Kristin chips. Rusty: [offers Kristin some potato chips] John: Why are you offering her chips at this time? Rusty: Like some chips are going to hurt you? Come on. Kristin: Yeah! The chips hurt! Chips do hurt! Rusty: You’ve been watching what you eat all week. Like, even a bun wouldn’t kill you.

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Kristin: Look at how quickly now it’s [the weight] coming off. In like another month, maybe this will go down (puts hands on belly). I’ll have more of a waist. It’s gonna look good. John: It’ll look hot for you. Rusty: Why are you worried about looking hotter or whatever? Like, I don’t understand. Kristin: [to camera] Honestly, every time I’m eating around Rusty, it becomes a situation. I mean, it’s almost more difficult to deal with that than . . . to actually change my eating habits. (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 17:13)

Again, Rusty thinks she is attractive as she is, and he alludes to the idea that he may be less attracted to Kristin if she loses weight. All the male partners in this show violate expectations regarding who they find attractive. Research shows that fat men and women are viewed as less attractive, with the effects being particularly strong for fat women (Aruguete et al., 2009; Chen & Brown, 2005). These men view their fat partners as attractive with no need to lose weight. This goes beyond conventional rules of attraction for U.S. society. RELATIONAL TURMOIL Beyond the issues surrounding fatness, a good reality show would not be complete without conflict and Hot and Heavy offers conflict and relational turmoil throughout the three episodes. The relational turmoil is caused by both outsiders such as family and friends and by couples. There were three subthemes where relational turmoil occurred including turmoil caused by or between friends, family, and within the couples. Friends Chris’s friends and family were shown as having the most negative things to say about his relationship with Joy. Chris’s friend, Mike, does not like that he is dating Joy because he thinks that Chris could have any woman he wanted and does not understand why he wants Joy. He takes Chris out for his bachelor party and hires conventionally sized female strippers. Chris gets very upset about this and stops the strippers’ performance. This causes turmoil between him and Mike and continues turmoil between Mike and Joy. When Joy finds out about the strippers, she stresses that she does not trust Mike and questions Chris on why he wants to remain friends with Mike. Additionally, Chris’s work friends are very surprised when they meet Joy and do not understand why he is dating someone so fat. Turmoil between Chris and his

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coworkers is not apparent in the show but based on the things the friends said in the producer interviews, it could have caused turmoil later. Most of the turmoil between Kristin and Rusty stays within their relationship but there is one specific incident where it affects a friendship. Kristin’s friend, John, comes for a visit and is upset that Rusty is not supporting Kristin’s choice to lose weight. Kristin and Rusty get into an argument about food at dinner with John. When John makes a few comments in support of Kristin, Rusty gets angry and kicks John out of the house. Adrianna gets angry with Ricardo after he talks with his ex-girlfriend. His curiosity causes conflict between the couples and makes Adrianna feel less confident in their relationship and in herself. Adrianna’s mother gets upset too because she does not want her daughter to get hurt but doesn’t make her opinion known to Ricardo. Another example occurs when Adrianna confronts her high school bully, Nick. Adrianna states that Nick’s bullying has negatively affected her confidence and her willingness to spend time with her friends because Nick is part of that friend group. Upon their discussion, Nick mentions that he and Adrianna used to hook up in high school. Ricardo notices Adrianna’s body language is more flirtatious and asks Adrianna what she has not told him. The series ends and we are not given the chance to see what happens when Adrianna tells Ricardo about her former physical relationship with Nick, but some form of conflict is expected. Family There is also family relational turbulence. Kristin’s family is shown briefly in the first episode with her and Rusty having a beach picnic with her aunt. Kristin’s aunt, Janet, talks with them about her bariatric surgery and how Kristin should consider it so she can increase her chances of getting pregnant. Rusty gets irritated during this conversation because he does not want Kristin to get the surgery. Kristin interrupts the small dispute by saying that she will decide on her own and will let everyone know. Chris’s mother, Lori, causes a great deal of turmoil in her relationship with both Chris and Joy, as well as between the couples. Lori makes several declarations about her concern for Joy’s health and that she will hold Chris back from doing the many physical things he wants to do like backpack through Europe. She tells Chris of her concerns when he tells his family that he’s going to propose to Joy. She tells Joy’s friend, Tifani, of her concerns when Joy is trying on wedding gowns; she even tells the producers several times and even tells Joy when Joy confronts her on her wedding day. She pulls Chris aside at his wedding reception to further make her point. Chris tells the producers that his mother likes to meddle but that he does not want her to.

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Adrianna’s mother, Pam, does not cause any turmoil but gets upset when she learns that Ricardo was talking with his ex-girlfriend. She tells Adrianna that she needs to give Ricardo an ultimatum, either her or his ex. Adrianna does not want to lose Ricardo, and Pam likes him but does not want her daughter to get hurt. Couple Chris and Joy are not shown getting into arguments, but they discuss keeping secrets when Chris says that he was not going to tell Joy about the strippers at his bachelor party. Joy asks Chris if Mike is the reason they have secrets. She does not trust Mike and questions why Chris would want a friend who was willing to trick him and try to get him to like someone other than Joy. Chris does not want to give up his friendship with Mike but says that he will if Mike continues to not respect his choice to be with Joy. Rusty and Kristin have a great deal of relational turmoil when Kristin decides to get bariatric surgery without consulting her husband. Rusty is upset that she went to the doctor without him and made the decision to get surgery without him. For the rest of the series, Rusty does not support Kristin’s choice to lose weight to qualify for the surgery and, at times, tries to persuade her to make poor food choices. Specifically, he offers her chips at dinner one night and says that it cannot hurt to have some junk food. He also makes his body into a sundae with whipped cream and chocolate sauce to persuade Kristin to enjoy the toppings on his body. Both situations make Kristin angry, and the couple argues. Eventually, Kristin and Rusty attend a marital counseling session where Rusty reveals that he’s afraid their relationship will keep changing, and he does not like how it has changed to that point. Kristin states that she is doing this so she can have a baby and asks Rusty if he still wants a baby. Rusty reveals that he is no longer sure that he wants a baby because he already has three kids and does not like how their relationship has changed. The season ends with this conflict unresolved leading us to believe that the relationship has a great deal of turmoil. EXPRESSIONS OF LOVE AND ATTRACTION The final theme, expressions of love and attraction, is also prevalent. The couples are shown sharing expressions of love and attraction. Each couple talks about their love for each other often but also stresses the physical attraction toward each other. Two subthemes include love and romance, and physical and sexual attraction.

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Love and Romance The couples are depicted as being in love and caring for each other deeply. Kristin and Rusty are married, Joy and Chris get engaged and married on the show, and Adrianna and Ricardo have a child together. Their connections with each other are outwardly strong and displays of love and romance are seen regularly. Ricardo talks often about how much he loves Adrianna and calls her the “apple of his eye” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 30:36) in episode 1. His constant declarations of love show how much he cares for and wants to be with her. To enhance the romance in their relationship, Ricardo buys Adrianna a new dress and asks her to meet him at a hotel for a romantic evening together. During their time at the hotel, they talk about their relationship and want to do more romantic things together. Both Chris and Joy talk about loving each other throughout the show by stating their love for each other and talk about their love during the interviews with the producers. Chris’s expressions of love and romance culminate in a romantic evening at a nice restaurant. Chris gets down on one knee and proposes to Joy. As they prepare for the wedding, they both talk about being excited to see each other on the wedding day and how they look forward to spending their lives together. Kristin and Rusty talk about their love for each other and mention how great their wedding was since they have only been married for a few years. Kristin talks about being lucky to find Rusty when she was not sure she would ever find a partner. Rusty says he loves Kristin when talking with the producers, and they tell each other they love each other, especially when they again see each other after being away from one another. Rusty’s comments focus more on his physical attraction to Kristin more than his love for her. Physical and Sexual Attraction While romance and love are often in alignment with physical and sexual attraction, they are in separate subthemes to show how they playout for the couples. Rusty has more comments about physical and sexual attraction than the other members of the cast. For example, in episode 1, Rusty says that he thinks Kristin is very attractive as she is and would not mind if she was a little bigger (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 11:48). He mentions their sex life a few times. When Kristin talks about working out in episode 2, Rusty asks her what they did the night before she did not exercise, alluding to them having sex the previous night. He calls their sexual activity “sexercise” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 06:55), and tries to get Kristin’s attention by turning himself into

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a human sundae. Rusty makes it clear throughout the show that he does not want Kristin to get bariatric surgery because he does not like surgery, and he does not want her to lose weight. Kristin says that she has a “hot husband” a few times throughout the show as well. Their physical attraction to each other is undeniable. During their romantic evening at the hotel, Adrianna gives Ricardo sexy photos of herself to show that she is trying to love herself more. She recognizes that Ricardo loves her as she is and finds her physically and sexually attractive. He says that as she becomes more confident with herself that she will probably be more willing to try new things in the bedroom. Ricardo also talks about thinking that Adrianna is beautiful and sexy several times throughout the show. At the opening of the show in episode 1, Chris says, “I love every inch of Joy. And there are a lot of inches to love” (Chamberlain et al., 2020, 00:35). He does not discuss his attraction to her often but does discuss his general attraction to heavy women. He makes this clear when he sees the plus-sized burlesque dancer at his bachelor party. He does say that he is attracted to Joy during interviews with producers while talking about the pushback he was receiving from his family and friends.

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION The findings of this study provide insight into the dynamic relationships of the people on Hot & Heavy as well as the struggles they face as mixedweight couples. The analysis revealed four major themes: fat identity, the value of thinness, relational turmoil, and expressions of love and attraction. Expectancy violations theory (EVT) can be applied as a lens to view these themes and the lived experiences of these couples. When exploring the women’s lives as fat-identified people, we see EVT play an important role in how the public is expected to view fat women. With Adrianna, our expectations are fulfilled because, culturally speaking, we expect fat women to be self-conscious and have low self-esteem with the idea that these negative feelings about themselves will motivate them to lose weight. However, both Joy and Kristin exhibit self-confidence that is culturally unexpected of fat women. While we would hope that a positive valence would be attached to their self-confidence, we see that some of the people in their lives wish to assign a negative valence by trying to persuade them to lose weight. We see this with Kristin’s aunt Janet and Joy’s mother-in-law Lori. Both women do not accept that Kristin and Joy are happy as they are and try to persuade them to lose weight. When it comes to the value of thinness, we see EVT in the interactions that occur on the show. The American cultural script is that being fat equates

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to being unhealthy while being thin equates to health. When Kristin decides to begin her journey to bariatric surgery, our cultural expectations are met, however when Joy does not talk about losing weight, the expectations are violated. This is likely a negative valence because viewers expect that a fat woman would want to lose weight and therefore talk about losing weight. Relational turmoil occurred in several of the relationships the couples have with family and friends. When Adrianna confronts her high school bully and he sincerely apologizes, our expectations are not met but a positive valence is assigned to this violation. The previews of the show lead the viewer to expect Nick to be rude and unapologetic. Instead, he sincerely apologizes, and they make amends. Rusty’s anger toward Kristin’s decision to get bariatric surgery and his active approach to sabotage her weight-loss progress causes a negative valance expectancy violation. Rusty is expected to support Kristin’s decision yet he does not want her to get the surgery. The overall attraction that these thin men have toward their overweight partners is the most dominant expectancy violation, which is why the show was created. It would not have been created if it was culturally acceptable for thin men to be attracted to fat women. A negative valence is assigned to this, which creates a level of curiosity that resulted in the creation of the show. Additionally, Rusty’s disapproval of Kristin losing weight and his comment about liking her fat and not minding if she was a little bigger is another negative valance of cultural expectation. Again, we expect thin men to be attracted to thin women and that is not the case for Rusty or the other men on the show. In conclusion, the lens of EVT allows for a better understanding of how American cultural norms impact these three mixed-weight couples. Specifically, we uncovered the cultural expectations that are placed on these couples. EVT allows us to point out the negatively valenced expectancy violations that affect the relationship of each couple, their relationships with friends and family, how they perceive themselves in a culture that values fat women less than thin women, and how our society perceives mixed-weight couples as less valuable than conventional relationships. REFERENCES Afifi, W.A., & Burgoon, J.K. (2000). The impact of violations on uncertainty and the consequences for attractiveness. Human Communication Research, 26, 203–233. https://doi​.org​/10​.1111​/j​.1468​-2958​.2000​.tb00756​.x. Afifi, W.A., & Metts, S. (1998). Characteristics and consequences of expectation violations in close relationships. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 15(3), 365–392. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/0265407598153004. Anderson, J. (2013). Communicating stigma about body size. Health Communication, 28, 603–615. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/10410236​.2012​.706792.

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Chapter 10

“Body-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody” Interrogating Black Bodies in Cable Television Siobhan E. Smith-Jones and Johnny Jones

Television is currently enjoying a “post-” moment subsequent to the Third Golden Era of the early twenty-first century. From 1999 to 2014, the cable television drama transformed the television landscape with stories of complex lead characters and darker themes that provided more depth than the traditional network drama or crime series. For example, Chase’s introduction of the iconic Tony Soprano of The Sopranos exemplified this phenomenon. Milch’s Deadwood and Simon’s The Wire on HBO followed with equally engaging ensembles and stories. Rival and smaller networks like FX added Nip/Tuck or Showtime’s Penny Dreadful, while AMC rebuilt its network with Mad Men, Breaking Bad, and The Walking Dead. These commercial dramas, along with risque, niche series such as The L-Word, Zane’s Sex Chronicles, Sex and The City, and Entourage enjoyed cult success in the middle of the era. Meanwhile, large-scale, multimillion-budget epics such as Boardwalk Empire, American Gods, and Westworld thrived toward the end of the era. Through groundbreaking negotiations and deals, predominantly White, male veteran television writers constructed antiheroes and portrayed sex and violence to make unique storytelling. Like the end of previous, critically acclaimed televisual eras, the Third Golden Era ended with an excess of new programming for new audiences. Both adapted works (Lovecraft Country from Matt Ruff’s book by the same name and P-Valley from Katori Hall’s play, Pussy Valley)1 center Black lives and bodies, but use unique and pleasurably shocking twists to welcome viewers whose intersectional identities are just now being explored in television in-depth. Though trailers and “next time on .  .  .” previews regularly rely on “sex sells” techniques by teasing steamy scenes, the actual episodes manipulate, 173

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challenge, and resist The Gaze, revealing that those who are often marginalized and othered in various media spaces are actually centered in these contexts. Roach and Felix (1989) argued that there exists a Black Woman Gaze, a different way of looking. Hooks (2009) explains the need for and reliance on an oppositional gaze. Recognizing the existence of a Black Resistant Gaze, in the following sections we perform a textual analysis of the portrayals of Black bodies, intersectional identities, and sex in the cable series Lovecraft Country (LC) and P-Valley (P-V). We encourage theoretical discussion of a potential Black Man Gaze and its relationship to the Black Queer Gaze. We explore what we call Narrative Blackness in the post-Third Golden Era of television. We do this through an analysis of how the two shows treat Black nude bodies in various scenes.

TELEVISION’S (POST-)THIRD GOLDEN AGE, BLACKNESS, AND THE BLACK CREATIVE Our narrative analysis of Black bodies in Lovecraft Country (LC) and P-Valley (P-V) requires a rhetorical critique of how Blackness functioned during the Third Golden Age of television and its aftermath. While representations of Black narratives have struggled against stereotypes throughout the history of television and entertainment media, LC and P-V are both representative of a slow narrative shift during the Third Golden Era that has gained momentum in the recent years of the era’s aftermath. The cultural studies tradition in the 1990s foreshadowed this shift, as scholars critiqued essentialist limitations and recognized Black experiences in popular culture that broadened the discourse on Blackness (Gray, 1995; Hall, 1992). By 1999, network television sitcoms diversified its Black narratives beyond The Cosby Show standard with a wave of diverse representations that combined Black comedy and sociopolitical consciousness (Zook, 1999). “Black productions of the 1990s were individual autobiographies as well as communal outpourings of group desire.  .  .  . During this period, black producers and consumers engaged in awkward modes of resistance and representation” (p. 586). Black television exited the 1990s and entered the Third Golden Era as what Haggins called a “rhizomatic construct” that “encompasses myriad social, political, and ideological issues [.  .  .] that reveals both ideal and negative cultural representations” (p. 175). Therefore, as the predominantly White and male cable television drama thrived, a 2002 study, “Prime-Time in Black and White,” noted that the growing numbers of Blacks on television were still ghettoized into comic roles and left much to be desired (Susman, 2002). As the Third Golden Era and cable television drama series evolved, a “chitlin’ circuit” auteur like Tyler Perry prospered from stereotypical Black

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representations that would make him the most prominent television/film producer in Hollywood by the end of the Third Golden Era. While networks followed commercially motivated trends that narrowed the possibilities of more progressive Black narratives during the Third Golden Era, the rhizomatic construct was shifting as the era shifted. By 2010, the Third Golden Era’s critically acclaimed art form began to expand to subscription-based streaming drama series with more diverse narratives. After the six-season success of HBO’s Girls produced by Lena Dunham, Netflix entered the television drama series competition as coproducer of Orange is the New Black created by Jenji Kohan and based on Piper Kerman’s memoir. Netflix made full seasons immediately available and normalized binge-watching, while also proving that an hour-long series about women could successfully blend comedy with drama to equal fanfare and critical acclaim, like the White and male productions of the Third Golden Era. Additionally, Orange is the New Black ironically reflected its title with its inclusion of Black narratives and bodies unlike previous series of the era. Meanwhile, on network television, writer/producer Shonda Rhimes was transforming her Shondaland from ABC’s Grey’s Anatomy (2005) to Scandal (2012) and How to Get Away with Murder (2014), which both featured progressive Black female protagonists played by blockbuster actors (Kerry Washington and Viola Davis, respectively). Shows like Mara Brock-Akil’s The Game (The CW, then BET) expanded Black “dramedy” formats with multiple topics (sports, crime and drugs, upward mobility, relationships, sex, and family) and Black women showrunners. Before Game of Thrones, the Third Golden Era of television had shifted from its original formats, narratives, and leaders to narratives, characters, and producers in Black. Consequently, a televisual revolution revealed a new phase of narrative Blackness through scenes that reveal Black bodies in an unprecedented fashion. The Black creative became the leader of this moment. Black DIY artists such as Issa Rae and Donald Glover came into their own innovations beyond their previous work. Rae adapted Insecure from her YouTube web series “Awkward Black Girl” and Glover evolved his burgeoning rap career and promising writing career on NBC’s 30 Rock into Atlanta on FX. These and other thirty-minute serials departed from the Third Golden Era while their creatives are following the call for equity and entertainment success of previously mentioned Black auteurs such as Perry, Rhimes, BrockAkil, and Ava Duvernay who took their talents from other media (“chitlincircuit” stage plays, web series, short film, and rap music) into mainstream television. The results have garnered substantive Black narratives helmed by young Black men and women who write, direct, produce, and star in leading roles whose characters are as flawed in humanity as any of the Third Golden Era’s characters.

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Like the televisual revolution of the 1990s, Glover, Rae, Misha Green, Katori Hall, and others produce narratives that are specific to the simple and complex relationships of the Black community. Unlike the showrunners and heralded works of the Third Golden Era, their stories are produced by Black men and women with Black writers’ rooms and Black directors. In past due time—amid streaming expansion, conglomeration, the “Me Too,” and #BlackLivesMatter movements—Black creatives have challenged the archetype of “difficult men” and rose to the occasion in an unprecedented fashion to transform Black narratives and Black bodies onscreen. As such, we argue in this chapter that Black creatives today have engaged in portrayals of resistance against the struggles for representation, and as a result, have added works of art to the Black narrative tradition. The Black Gaze and Its Potentialities With the understanding that blackness always already works in opposition to the subjugation of Whiteness, we are applying the resistant Black gaze to Black creatives’ works in television and film. This is not new. Black women have used The Gaze as a site of resistance to challenge definitions that mark them in society. Collins (2000) explains that Black women have adapted The Gaze to define their own perspectives and viewpoints. Black women scholarship, such as Bobo (1995), Harris-Perry’s Sister Citizen (2011), Scott’s The Language of Strong Black Womanhood (2017), and Roach and Felix’s “Black Looks,” reveals the collective nature of The Black Woman Gaze: “We are black and we are women; we have our own reality, our own history, our own gaze—one which sees the world rather different from ‘anyone else’” (1989, p. 142). Black women have a way of viewing various contexts that communicates a group understanding. Smith-Jones (2020) uses The Black Woman Gaze as the basis for her theory of Black feminist anticipatory vigilance, which recognizes that Black audiences naturally and regularly critique all matter of media products. The Black Woman Gaze has corrected the Black Gaze historically subordinated by White male patriarchy by turning away from Whiteness and focusing on the self and its communities. The Black Woman Gaze challenges what Awkward (2000) calls “the pleasures and dangers of the Black male gaze” (p. 139). Many Black feminist scholars argue that Black men media producers embrace a Gaze that is similar to the White Male Gaze where patriarchy appears to dominate, rather than presenting a perspective based in racial difference. Blockbuster Black filmmakers Spike Lee and Tyler Perry are often criticized on the basis of this logic (Dews, 2020; Jackson, 2014). While it appears that patriarchy causes Black men to often mirror The Gaze, Black creativity has challenged the Whiteness of the Black Man Gaze.

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Consider Jenkins’s Moonlight based on McCraney’s play In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue. The film focuses on an impoverished Black, queer boy, in three phases. Kim (2020) refers to Moonlight as the “best depiction of queer love in modern cinema (para. 1),” and Thrasher (2016) explains that the film “eschew[s] the white gaze and exist[s] entirely inside of blackness.” As Moonlight received acclaim with the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture, Jenkins who identifies as straight and McCraney who identifies as gay, utilized a Black Queer Gaze that challenged Black men to look beyond the reflection of The Gaze, as hooks (2009) has long taught us: “The ‘gaze’ has been and is a site of resistance for colonized black people globally . . . one learns to look a certain way in order to resist” (p. 255). While scholars have queered The Gaze (e.g., Evans & Gamman, 1995), our media have only presented a few narratives that represent a gaze that is Black, male, and queer. This theoretical “gaze gap” reflects the need for Crenshaw’s intersectional perspective: intersectionality as “a lens . . . for seeing the way in which various forms of inequality often operate together and exacerbate each other” (Steinmetz, 2020, para. 3). The vigilance of the Black Woman Gaze, the challenge for the Black Male Gaze, and the intersectional potential of the Black Queer Gaze reflect the work of Black creatives in the aftermath of the Third Golden Era. Black creatives from television showrunners to social media influencers are deconstructing framing and markings of the White Male Gaze. But as series like HBO’s The Black Lady Sketch Show or Childish Gambino’s “This is America” video teach us, the vigilant work of depicting blackness onscreen is hypertextual and incomplete. Telling stories, satirizing stereotypes, and checking narrow perspectives are all forms of hard labor that looks and creates in opposition to the White Male Gaze. As Black scholars, fan-critics, and creatives who uplift Black performance, we recognize that we engage in the development of an “oppositional gaze” that can inspire varied, critical, and aesthetic Black Gaze(s) (Hall, 1996; hooks, 1992). The narration of Black bodies that resist norms in American society and television informs our Gaze for this chapter. Queer Contexts: P-Valley and Lovecraft Country P-Valley debuted on cable network STARZ on July 12, 2020. It is an adaptation of Black woman playwright Katori Hall’s Pussy Valley. The show follows the lives of people impacted by thre strip club The Pynk, and its precarious position on the Mississippi Delta in the fictional town of Chucalissa, in the time immediately following Hurricane Katrina. Critics warmly received the first eight episodes (e.g., Rotten Tomatoes [n.d.] described it as 100% Certified Fresh with reviews from a range of sources, including TIME, Variety, NPR, and The Washington Post), and the network has already

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ordered a second season. During a panel at the ATX Festival, Hall addresses both the hypersexualization of Black women and the Gaze in media; Hall and her directors, which were exclusively women, discussed how to make P-V different from other shows that focused on strip clubs: “We often see explicit ‘boobs and booty’ when it comes to the portrayal of strip clubs on TV . . . the female gaze doesn’t spend time lingering on the body, but appreciating, and embracing the body” (Alisha, 2020, para. 10), In addition, the cast members spoke to the stigma surrounding their respective characters. In particular, Nicco Annan states of his character, “Uncle Clifford is a non-binary queer black male who identifies with the pronoun of she . . . . It speaks to the possibility to embrace all who you are—your masculinity and your femininity” (Alisha, 2020, para. 9). While many of the International Movie Database (IMDB)’s (2020) reviewers dismissed the show as “garbage” and “some kind of scam,” more viewers had positive reviews, insisting that the show “isn’t perfect but highly entertaining.” Speaking to the issue of inclusivity, one reviewer states, “I love the incorporation of a trans lead because they need representation more than ever!” Also focusing on the lives of a primary Black cast, horror drama Lovecraft Country premiered on HBO on August 16, 2020. It is an adaptation of White author Matt Ruff’s fantasy novel of the same name. Black woman producer Misha Green developed the ten-episode season for television, and the series is executive produced by Jordan Peele and J. J. Abrams, among others. HBO has not yet granted the show a second season. Though many fans have critiqued horror pioneer H. P. Lovecraft for his racist views, the book and TV series both subvert many of his themes. Set after the Korean War, Atticus “Tic” Freeman (Turner in the book), his uncle George, and childhood friend Letitia go on a quest to find his missing father, Montrose. Montrose has been lured to Massachusetts by a mysterious group with the promise of learning more about the roots of his deceased wife’s family. In rescuing Montrose, Tic learns more about his bloodline, immediate family, and himself than for which he ever bargained. Perhaps because of its presence on HBO, LC received many more “mainstream” reviews than P-V. Brian Tallerico of RogerEbert​.c​om writes, “‘Lovecraft Country’ is a show that uses genre storytelling to peel back layers of American history to reveal the systemic problems underneath it, but it’s also got a marvelously entertaining side, one that’s gory and sexy in unexpected ways” (2020, para. 1). On the other hand, other IMDB audience members expressed mostly disappointment with the series, with reviewers calling it “awful” or “ultimately unsatisfying” (2020). Other audience members called it an “excellent educational tool in the perfect horror” and defended the show, stating that “there are too many trolls these days.” Chris Setz insists that he is providing a more neutral critique on

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IMDB, yet ultimately produces a harsh reading of LC, writing, “[The show] lacks cohesion, structure, quite often any sort of plot and the characters are underdeveloped and become hard to care for because there is very little in the way of consistent internal logic” (para. 6). In addition to negative evaluations of LC’s narratives, other viewers have critiqued the show’s treatment of its non-binary characters. For instance, viewers meet the Indigenous Two-Spirit Yahima in the fourth episode; Montrose kills her in the same episode. While Green and LC had to navigate this controversy, P-V appears to be handling its queer characters more gently, at least according to some reviewers. Blavity’s Kenny Williams, Jr. (2020) states that, “P-Valley is leading by example in not only showcasing black, queer love but being bold enough to give the public a glimpse into its grim side” (para. 13) through its portrayal of the romance between Uncle Clifford and closeted aspiring rapper Lil Murda. Considering the development of texts that display Narrative Blackness in the post-Third Golden Era, we explore how Lovecraft Country and P-Valley, two texts in this tradition, treat Black nudity, sex scenes, and queer narratives. METHOD Our analysis is a “reading against the grain” that constructs a narrative textual analysis of a text. This method has been used previously to pinpoint specific moments of resistance in Black television series (Jones, 2016). Referred to as narrative Blackness, the approach owes much of its understanding to Hartman’s (1997) critique of slave narratives from the Works Progress Administration. Hartman analyzed slave narratives for quotidian performances overlooked in original documents upheld by a dominant White Gaze. We examined both television dramas for narratives written on, through, and around Black bodies. The details reveal how physically active Black bodies conjure, stage, and practice blackness in scenes that reflect significant issues of racial, gender, and sexual identities on screen. Episodes from the season obtained on demand were the primary samples for this study, as they introduced audiences to the series’ central characters through nudity and sex. We analyzed specific characters, scenes, and dialogues in the series and constructed narratives focused on nude, Black bodies and sex scenes. These narratives were analyzed over the course of season 1 of both shows, particularly as they related to Blackness and therefore resistance in myriad forms, movements, and filmic transformations. Scenes, characters, and dialogue were chosen because they each embodied different aspects of Blackness that function in resistance to subjugation in multiple forms. Via analyses of narratives, we posit that narrative Blackness is reproduced in two themes: nudity

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and intimacy. By analyzing particular scenes in multiple episodes, we highlight the intimate, raw, and magical resistance, self-making, and collectivity of narrative Blackness in P-Valley and Lovecraft Country. Analysis 1: P-Valley Though P-Valley’s main setting is strip club The Pynk, and the show does feature female nudity, it is not gratuitous. More often than not, the women are clothed, even if at times it would make sense for them to be nude in a sensible narrative. In episode 1, the mysterious Autumn Night takes the stage for the “Booty Battle”—and wins—despite never removing her “floss,” as the characters refer to the clothing in which the strippers dance. Though this is the first striptease of the series, it is decidedly unsexy. Shots of Autumn’s bending and swaying are cross-edited with flashback scenes of her being physically abused by a man, who we later find out is her former lover. The climax of this scene is reached when he shoves her to the ground and places a gun to her forehead. On another occasion, in episode 4, Mercedes prepares for her last dance. The other women comb her waist-length, wavy hair, rub lotion on her skin until it shines, buckle the straps on her platform heels, and lovingly position her strappy outfit into the appropriate places on her body. Though the scene objectifies Mercedes, particularly her waist and hips, she is not shown nude. Later in this episode, Ms. Mississippi agrees to take the stage when unforeseen conflicts prevent Mercedes from performing. She is filmed in silhouette and flashing blue light. The focus in the scene is the athleticism of the body double, rather than a leer at either of the actresses’ bodies. In addition to the show’s counterintuitive treatment of the Black female body, P-V regularly exposes its men’s bodies, the majority of which are those of Black men. This nudity does appear gratuitous. In episode 1, Andre, a real estate developer and god-son of the corrupt mayor, meets Autumn. They have immediate chemistry when Autumn dances for Andre in the Champagne Room, in episode 2. She is completely naked, save for a pair of white knee boots. He notices her C-section scar, which he touches lightly before disrobing to show her his own heart surgery scar, which stretches from sternum to navel. In this scene, Autumn’s nudity, which makes sense for the setting, is offset by Andre’s own nudity and emotional “strip.” In episode three, Andre attempts to have sex with Autumn; he is unaware, however, that Uncle Clifford has blackmailed Autumn into investigating his business dealings in Chucalissa and how they might affect The Pynk. Autumn remains in her yellow dress even as Andre snatches off his shirt and shoves down his pants. His rear is shown in extreme close-up. When she does remove her bra, the audience views her breasts for a shorter amount of time compared to Andre’s butt shot. In episode 7, Autumn dances again for Andre, her breasts and behind on

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display for the audience. The videography is extreme, with the audience seeing the reflection of Autumn’s torso in Andre’s eyes. Though she unbuckles his pants, the mood is interrupted when Autumn answers Andre’s phone. It is his wife, who later confronts Andre about his not being honest about his whereabouts. Instead, he seduces her with rough sex. The scene is punctuated with images of his buttocks clenching as he thrusts, while his wife remains fully clothed in her dress. In addition to the show’s counterintuitive treatment of the Black female body, and its gratuitous male nudity, P-V embraces full frontal male nudity. Later in episode 2, Autumn initiates phone sex with Andre. Though she is dressed in a tiny pair of panties with a white t-shirt and no bra, Andre quickly removes his shirt and pants to fully participate in the fantasy. As he lies on his back in the bed and masturbates, the shot is framed such that viewers can see the tip of Andre’s penis in his closed fist. Even more startling is that he orgasms, and the fluid is revealed on his stomach after he climaxes. Viewers also see graphic images of penises in episode 6 when Ms. Mississippi helps rising rap star Lil Murda with his stage fright by insisting that he perform on stage “butt naked.” This scene is reminiscent of D’Angelo’s groundbreaking “How Does It Feel” music video, which highlighted male sexuality and vulnerability. This feeling is accomplished with his unflinching gaze into the camera. The character could have suggested nudity by showing only his naked back and buttocks. However, the narrative calls for the character to strip, and as a result, he loses the fear that has been a major conflict for him. In order to make the most of the narrative, P-V embraces full frontal male nudity and innovates Black music video phenomenon. Amid clever videography that flashes women’s nudity in the setting of a strip club, P-V spends time exploring the lives of its queer Black male characters through the closeted relationship between Uncle Clifford and Lil Murda. As previously mentioned, Clifford is non-binary and refers to herself as “she.” In all but one scene during the season (episode 1), the character wears clothing, hair, and nails that emulate feminine styles. Murda performs a Black hypermasculine “cool pose” similar to a southern trap rapper. However, his interactions with Clifford reveal that he is a closeted gay man. He slowly reveals himself as LeMarquis, who is doing his best to present a believable rap persona straight to the point of near-toxic masculinity. The audience meets Murda when he and his boys arrive in a Hummer; when he emerges, he is dressed in an unzipped hoodie that displays his chest and abs. He wears several gold chains and has a grill in his mouth. He physically threatens the bouncer before entering The Pynk in a slow motion shot. Near the end of the episode, Murda and Clifford size each other up in the Paradise Room. As they look each other up and down, they see into each other. Murda teasingly pulls on one of Clifford’s blond, shoulder-length ringlets. “You do little murders

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as opposed to big ones?” Clifford teases. Murda initiates touch and Clifford leans into it when Murda tenderly places his headphones on her ears; however, no one else is around to witness the exchange. In the second episode, Lil Murda maintains his secret connection with Uncle Clifford by waiting for her in the backseat of her car. Murda wants to confront Clifford because she didn’t play Murda’s songs in the club, and she fears the threat of violence. Murda steers the conversation away from their barter-and-trade to the possibilities of intimacy between them. “I tried to give you a choice, but you ain’t want the D,” he reminds her. Clifford allows herself to fantasize: she imagines fingernails running along the skin of a man’s back with blue light. Clifford and Murda continue to flirt until they consummate their relationship in episode 4. Clifford leads Murda back into her office. Scenes switch between Ms. Mississippi performing and the two men kissing. Murda snatches Clifford’s pants down to expose her thong, and he rips her pantyhose. Murda smacks her ass, but Clifford slows him down by telling him he won’t be “diving all up in it.” Murda understands and gets a condom. Clifford removes her corset before pressing her buttocks against Murda and facing the wall. Murda spits where they are connected; the scene switches to Ms. Mississippi humping the floor. As the men reach climax, a cloud of silver confetti and money rains down on Ms. Mississippi’s triumphant figure as she overcomes her stage fright and the men release their sexual inhibitions. Episode 5 finds the two the morning after with Clifford brushing her beard and gazing lovingly at Lil Murda still lying on Clifford’s office couch. As Clifford looks over at Murda, the camera indicates Clifford’s gaze. The camera slowly glides upward, from Murda’s ankles, pauses at his hips and buttocks, travels over his back, and comes to rest on his sleeping face. The shot switches to Clifford perusing her own body in a mirror, as the camera maintains a gaze that is usually reserved for female characters by lingering on nipples, hips, and buttocks. In sum, P-V reserves it blatant leers for its Black men characters, both gay and straight. The show’s treatment of a Black queer relationship in all of its complexities does temper these images. Black women are more often than not respected as awe-inspiring athletes rather than objects for viewers’ gazes. Analysis 2: Lovecraft Country In Lovecraft Country, many of the characters are introduced through the physicality of their bodies. The leading male, Atticus Freeman, often wears form-fitting shirts and jeans, or appears shirtless. While this makes sense for physically intimate scenes, Tic’s character is often reflected in his physical strength and his anger. We see a shirtless Tic playing with the neighborhood

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children after he opens a fire hydrant for them during the block party in episode 1. His bare chest is naked and we also see his naked back when he is washing up later in the episode. He is shirtless during both of the ceremonies performed by members of the Order of the Ancient Dawn, a coven of White warlocks who are attempting to gather and control magic. Tic’s body is so often on gratuitous display that the writers of the show appear to wink at the audience in episode 4: Tic is injured when he has to put his arm, up to his elbow, into a trap door device to open it. Clearly referencing Indiana Jones, the contraption recognizes Tic’s Order of Ancient Dawn ring, but sacrificially requires his blood. Tic takes off his shirt to bandage the wound and Leti splashes over to him quickly in the waist-deep water. “You’re hurt!” she cries as she squeezes his bicep. “All right, Leti!” he yells back, and snatches his arm away. In addition to the consistent display of his skin, Tic often expresses his anger physically. In episode 5, he severely beats his father Montrose for killing Yahima, the two-spirited, intersexed character they discovered while searching for the Book of Names (a spell book that Tic’s family has guarded for 100 years). With narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, he demands that Leti give him the photographs that she took of the Book of Names. She is so frightened by Tic that she clutches a bat for protection. Tic notices her fear and stomps off. The relationship between Tic’s physicality and his anger are so well established that when we meet Tic’s grandfather in episode 9, the audience immediately recognizes the physical similarities between the two characters. Montrose, Tic, and Leti go back in time to Tulsa, 1921, to the site of the Black Wall Street Massacre. When we first meet Montrose and George’s father, he is demanding that his son “pick a switch.” He beats Montrose mercilessly about his head and shoulders while berating him for putting his brother’s corsage behind his own ear. Tic’s anger is simultaneously transferred to his grandfather in the past, and shows the unfortunate inheritance of which the equally abusive Montrose has cursed his son in the present. In another instance that grounds characters in their physicality, we meet Letitia (“Leti”) in episode 1; the camera lingers on her thin waist, hips, and legs at the Southside Chicago block party. The crowd is thrilled to see her and encourages her to go onstage. When Leti beams and bounces her way there, her body is contrasted to the larger woman singing on stage whose skin complexion is also browner than Leti’s. This is Ruby, Leti’s half-sister. Ruby comments to Leti, “Dress that short, should be wearing stockings.” Leti insists that it is too hot, and once the viewers learn that the two are sisters, we recognize that we are to understand them in contrast to each other. Leti is objectified again in the episode as she is putting her luggage into the car. The

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audience views her through Tic’s gaze: she is bent over and wiggling around; her buttocks, in form-fitting short shorts, framed in close up. In yet another example, Tic’s aunt-in-law and his Uncle George’s wife, Hippolyta, travels through time and space to learn the truth about herself (episode 7). LC has established that Hippolyta is intellectually superior to most, regardless of race or gender. The audience recognizes that her identity as a Black woman in the Jim Crow South has stunted her potential scientific achievements. After Leti gives her an orrery that was left behind in the house that she has bought, Hippolyta uses her scientific ingenuity to activate the orrery and accidentally falls through an extraterrestrial portal. She looks up to see herself being approached by an abnormally tall, brown-skinned, afroed creature. The setting suggests that she has teleported to another plane of existence. A UFO lifts her inside of it via a beam of light. When Hippolyta awakens, she is in a sterile-white room. She is naked, and when she sits up, viewers can see her entire body in profile. Her body is average in its size and musculature; there is nothing spectacular about her body, yet that is what makes it spectacular in this setting. Many viewers would find her relatable. That is why it is such a treat when Hippolyta discovers her essence through her body and mind and “names herself” in multiple temporalities. As one of Baker’s dancers, her body is contrasted with those who are younger and thinner. However, they only berate her for being “one of these new girls who don’t know the steps,” rather than commenting on her body. Before Hippolyta can lead her soldiers, she is physically bested by their current leader. The queen of the village eventually adorns Hippolyta with a feathered-headdress, conferring her authority. Her naming reunites her with George. The audience goes back to the first episode, with the two of them naked but covered in bed. Hippolyta is stronger now. She states that realizes that she “made [her]self smaller” to be George’s wife, and she is furious at both of them for allowing it. George admits his failure here and asks for her forgiveness. She does, and they travel to familiar and alien worlds together before Hippolyta names her intention to return to her responsibilities as a mother. During their travels, she appears with blue hair, becoming the inspiration for Dee’s comic book character, Orinthia Blue. In addition to using the character’s physical attributes as narrative, LC presents its characters in intimate contexts. These come as early as the first episode. We meet George and Hippolyta in bed in the morning, as she is asking him about going on the next trip for the Safe Negro Travel Guide, a reappropriation of The Negro Motorist Green Book. He is not convinced. “It’s dangerous for a woman out there,” he asserts. The conversation appears finalized when he leans over and kisses her. We see their kisses, and his hand as it slides over her gowned hip. We don’t see more than that; however, the audience, and Dee, their daughter, can hear them. “Gross!” she declares. Indeed,

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the show seems to take the position of many as it comes to depicting the sexual encounters of “older” characters. Many find sexual relations between people of this generation to be distasteful, and most television programs do not depict these activities beyond implication. This is an interesting position, because LC does not often shy away from graphic, sexualized images. Leti first finds herself in an intimate situation with Tic in the second episode. Christina, daughter of Samuel Braithwhite and would-be-heir to leadership of Order of the Ancient Dawn, if not for her pesky woman-ness, is holding Leti, Tic, and his Uncle George hostage in the Sons of Adam Lodge. Samuel has lured and trapped Montrose to lure George and ultimately Tic to the Lodge so he can use Tic, his last blood relative through Tic’s mother, to make himself immortal. Leti is unaware though Tic has come to join her in her room, it is a magical illusion. She shares with him that when she was a child, her mother often left her alone for long periods of time. He slides nearer on the bed to her. As they kiss, the camera tilts slowly upward, framing portraits that present a twisted version of the Garden of Eden. In these paintings, Adam appears with a snake for a penis. Though Leti asks “Tic” not to continue, he removes his shirt and unzips his pants. Echoing the themes in the artwork, a huge snake raises its head from the crotch of his pants and snaps at her face. She shrieks and throws herself backward. Though the real Tic and George are also being tormented by a person with whom they were romantically involved, only Leti is tortured sexually by one of the three on their journey. This illusory instance only heightens the sexual tension between Leti and Tic that breaks in the third episode, during her house-warming party. Leti, Ruby, and several other Black people have moved unwittingly into a house haunted with the spirits of eight Black people who were murdered in the house by Hiram Epstein, a doctor who used said people to do experimental operations. The threats aren’t only supernatural; the house is on the predominately White North Side of Chicago, 1955. Leti’s neighbors threaten violence, and Tic elects to stay at the house and provide protection. During the party, which takes place on an oppressively hot summer evening, Leti is a social butterfly. While her partner dances behind her, she boldly meets Tic’s gaze and antagonizes him because of his perceived rejection of her and his uptight behavior at the party. She dances in slow motion, hitches her skirt up past her thighs, and tousles her hair. After her dance, Leti goes into the bathroom. Tic follows behind her. He kisses her roughly and slams her against the sink. He shoves his pants down and takes her. Tic’s buttocks are the focus of the scene with her legs wrapped around his hips; she remains fully clothed. Afterward, he notices blood on himself. “I didn’t know I’d gotten my monthly,” she apologizes. With the passion between them dissipated, there is only awkwardness. He leaves sheepishly, and she turns and cries. Later in the episode, in the

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middle of sharing her discoveries about the house with Tic, Leti confesses that it was her first time. “Your first what?” he asks, without looking up from the newspaper clippings he’s perusing. When it finally dawns on him that it was her first sexual encounter, he is apologetic. She dismisses his apologies and assures him that she needed to feel something. Though Tic and Leti’s first sexual display is violent, in the fifth episode, their lovemaking is in deep contrast to the supernatural illusion and heated quickie previously in the show. Leti confronts Tic after he nearly beats his father to death for killing Yahima. Despite admitting to Leti that he has fantasized about killing his father, he also expresses to her, “Please don’t be scared of me.” This time, the intimacy is romantic. Leti’s nude behind is briefly shown. The camera lingers on their bodies as she slowly rides him. Through this encounter, Tic and Leti become the show’s embodiment of “normal” sex. By contrast, episode 5 finds Montrose physically hurt and emotionally raw after his son’s beating him. He visits his secret boyfriend, Sammy, at the Cabrini-Green projects. Though Montrose has been trying to keep his queerness a secret, neighbors are starting to figure it out. Montrose has rough anal sex with Sammy, who meets him at the door and asks him if cops or thugs had beaten him. A gross handful of saliva from Montrose aids their congress. Frank Ocean laments unrequited, queer relationships during “Bad Religion,” as it provides the soundtrack for the scene. Sammy and Montrose clench hands over Sammy’s heart as Montrose cries and takes him from behind. Afterward, Sammy turns to press his lips to Montrose’s, but the latter refuses the kiss. The scene ends with the implication that rather than accept Sammy’s kiss, Montrose performs oral sex on him. Though both Montrose and Tic both find comfort in sex after their heated exchange, Montrose’s encounter is pointedly unromantic and harsh. As other characters engage in intimacies both tender and otherwise, Ruby is frustrated at every turn. After discovering that Leti had lied to her about the source of the money that she used to purchase the aforementioned haunted house, Ruby wanders to Marshall Fields department store to make herself feel better. However, there is a new Black woman that has been hired for the job to which she had applied. Ruby learns that she applied “on a whim.” Ruby knows that the store will never hire two Black women concurrently. She is very well-educated regardless of race, but alas, she is a Black woman in the Jim Crow South. It is this state that brings her to play a set in Sammy’s bar. She accepts a drink from a White man who has been watching her from the other end of the bar. Viewers recognize William, Christina’s “good friend,” from the Lodge in episode 1. She ends up sharing with him: “It’s a rat race to the finish line. If I was in your skin, I wouldn’t have to run.” Though Ruby insists that she isn’t going home with him, the next scene is a jump cut of them kissing as

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they emerge through his front door. They continue their passionate display, ultimately ending up on the stairs. In the next episode, a White woman wakes up in bed, disoriented and confused. Looking at herself in the mirror, she commands, “Wake up, Ruby.” She, along with the audience, realize that somehow, she is inside of a White woman’s body. She goes to the Black part of town, imploring people to help her. She is approached by police, who promise to take her home to her “husband.” Almost immediately, she experiences great pain from her core; her gasps are accompanied by great crunching, popping, and wet, ripping sounds. As William carries her inside, viewers see the imprint of a hand glide along the inside of her wrist, and an eye rolling in its socket inside her throat. He places her on the plastic-covered floor. He cuts her open from sternum to navel and proceeds to rip her open while she screams. Later, Ruby, herself again, is sleeping in bed while William explains that the potion he gave her mimics the metamorphosis process that butterflies experience, and it is this potion that morphed her into a White woman. Enjoying a lovely day about town in her new White body, she didn’t even use the money he left for her, because she “had the only currency that matters: Whiteness!” After more of William’s encouragement, Ruby decides to apply at Marshall Fields. As a White woman, Ruby experiences both understanding and frustration with Tamara, the Black woman who was hired before her. She also learns what her White co-workers think of Tamara, and other Black people in general. Ruby’s discoveries in her White body are similar to the privileged experiences of Blacks who pass for White (e.g., Vox First Person, 2021). Viewers come to learn, along with Ruby, that William has given her a potion that transforms her into a White woman. She discovers that her manager was not only inappropriate with her but also attempted to assault Tamara. While Cardi B. quipps about “bloody shoes” on the soundtrack, Ruby graphically sheds her skin and graphically rapes him with one of her stilettos. Her manager is covered in her gore and worse as layers of skin fall onto his trembling form; she rolls him over to meet her eyes, because she “wants him to see who did this to him.” Later in the episode, William comes home, falling to the floor and ripping off his shirt. There is a close-up of hands pressing to get out of William’s back between his shoulder blades and along his spine, and though viewers have seen this terror before, the audience and Ruby are both horrified when Christina’s body bursts from William’s. “You’ve been William this whole fucking time?!” Ruby shrieks. Episode 8 uses the brutal murder of Emmitt Till as its narrative center, and Tic, Leti, Montrose, and George and Hippolyta’s daughter Dee attend his funeral. The episode also combines interracial sex, queer sex, and body horror. Ruby goes to William’s mansion after the service, crying about the

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day’s events and says Emmitt “looked like a monster.” William undresses Ruby as they kiss. Ruby takes the potion, and for the first time, the viewers see her transform into Hillary, beginning with stereotypically desired blue eyes. They make passionate love, and Ruby’s orgasm tears her out of Dell/ Hillary’s body with crunching, wet sound effects. William continues to ride her throughout. Later in the episode, Ruby is furious and accuses Christina of not caring about her situation. She is also angry with herself, “because on today of all days, [she] did not want to be a Black woman fucking a White man.” Christina barely bats an eyelash. She assures Ruby that she doesn’t care about Emmitt Till or any of the other victims of lynching; she tells Ruby that she is a woman “who wanted what [Ruby] wanted.” She leaves, aloof and cool as ever. However, she hires two men to beat her, tie a gin fan around her body, and kill her in the same fashion as Till. Only her immortality spell saves her. She does want to empathize with Ruby’s pain, even though she can never fully comprehend it as a White woman. Further, she could experiment because of the spell. Till, and others who lost their lives in lynching massacres, had no such protection. In the final episode, Christina teaches Ruby more about magic and her desire to be immortal. Christina admits misgivings about killing Tic: “If this doesn’t work, I would have killed the last of my family for nothing.” Ruby insists that they are family now. They kiss. Ruby responds with, “This is my first time,” when Christina asks her if she “has ever done this before?” The implication is that this is the first time that Ruby will be sexually intimate with a woman. Interestingly, LC does not show this particular intimacy between Christina and Ruby, though the show at this point has depicted a range of graphic and same-sex sex scenes. It is interesting that the body-horror-focused episode five is the one that includes graphic sex between two queer men of color and an interracial heterosexual couple. It is even more interesting that the straight, Black couple are portrayed as the ideal; their sex, and by relation their relationship, is depicted as healthy. The others are depicted as deviant. Their sexual behaviors reflect their hurt, anger, and fear. This pattern holds when one considers any of the love scenes that feature Ji-Ah, Tic’s former love interest, from his time serving in the Korean War. Though she appears to be a young South Korean woman, she is actually a multi-tailed fox spirit that kills men by absorbing their lives after she has sex with them. From her instances of scheming to her most tender moments with Tic, she is deviant because she is not human. To summarize, LC uses a focus on its characters’ bodies as narrative; their thoughts, behaviors, and interactions are rooted in their physicalities. The show also depicts the sexual intimacies between its heterosexual couples, in contrast to its queer couples, as “normal.”

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CONCLUSION In summary, both P-Valley and Lovecraft Country regularly use nudity and sexual depictions to frame their characters. While cable television of the past relied on gratuitous female nudity, Hall’s and Green’s works feature much more male nudity. This choice might be to appeal to straight and queer viewers. In the case of Hall, she made a conscious choice to use the female stripteases to praise the athletic abilities of the body doubles, rather than gaze at them sexually. The sex scenes often tie Black sex and violence together, rather than sex and love. Tenderness and romance are seen very little; this is embodied through Hippolyta and George and in Leti and Tic’s second sex scene. Viewers do not see loving queer or interracial sex. While Montrose comes to accept Sammy’s love after envisioning a fantasy in which he is welcomed by Sammy and his fellow drag queens, their sex scene emphasizes physical and emotional pain. The audience does not see the tenderness that might be between Ruby and Christina in their real bodies beyond their kiss. Because our analysis focuses on Black nude bodies, sex, and queer narratives, we did not examine some of the other themes the shows put forth. First, both shows are set in, or reference, the American South. Within the first episode of both shows, the moment that two Black characters with two different skin tones appear, so did a conversation begin regarding colorism and its current impact. Both Autumn/Hailey’s and Leti’s portrayals reference the tragic mulatto archetype. While P-V makes its frustration with colorism quite plain (e.g., Autumn/Hailey is referred to as “yellow bone,” “red bone,” and “light skin”), LC’s commentary on the phenomenon is more subtle. Second, we could not explore in-depth the themes of Black motherhood and gender performance in both shows. Mercedes’s dream is to open a dance studio for the pre-teen girls she trains; she also wants custody of her daughter. Like Leti and Ruby, her character also has a strained relationship with a religiously hypocritical mother. Third, Christina Braithwhite embodies a self-serving version of feminism. Though she is willing to use the rules of the Jim Crow South to her advantage, she does not appear actively racist. She is motivated to have power over the natural world through magic, rather than oppress others based on their skin. She is angry with Tic not because he is Black; in fact, she values him to a certain degree because they are cousins, and his blood can grant her immortality. She is upset with the Order of the Ancient Dawn for imposing patriarchy on her. Even though she is better at magic than any of the men, she is as much a victim of White male patriarchy in the Jim Crow South as Hippolyta, Ruby, and Leti are. Considering other limitations, the authors are a straight, married couple. We are academics. While we were intrigued with P-Valley’s and Lovecraft Country’s portrayals of queer characters, we cannot view the texts through

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a Queer Gaze. Future research should involve interviews with both Black viewers and Black queer viewers to explore various Gazes and their interpretations of television. Our reading of the Third Golden Era and its aftermath only introduced us to the shifts in television currently at play. We encourage scholarship that engages the era’s greatness and shortcomings and Black creativity that confronts the dominant narratives and creates more spaces for unique Black storytelling.

NOTE 1. Today, viewers have no shortage of offerings from broadcast networks, subscription streaming services, niche and premier cable networks. Of course, in the battle for viewership, networks are competing for Black viewers and are producing programs targeting this specific audience. Two such programs, HBO’s Lovecraft Country and Starz’s P-Valley, premiered in the late summer of 2020.

REFERENCES Alisha. (2020, July 3). P-Valley review 2020 Tv show series season cast crew online. Entertaining Movie​.com​. https://entertainingmovie​.com​/p​-valley​-review​-2020​-tv​ -show​-series​-season​-cast​-crew​-online​.html Awkward, M. (2015). Black feminism and the challenge of black male desire. In M. Marable, A. Popescu, K. Jones & P. Lespinasse (Eds.), New black renaissance: The souls anthology of critical African-American studies (pp. 137–141). Routledge. Bobo, J. (1995). Black women as cultural readers. Columbia University Press. Collins, P.H. (2000). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment (2nd edition). Routledge. Dews, T. (2020). My name isn't hyper-sexual Jezebel: An analysis of Spike Lee's appropriation of the White Male Gaze in She's Gotta Have It. 2020 JHU Richard Macksey National Undergraduate Humanities Research Symposium. 244. https:// www​.mackseysymposium​.org​/virtual2020​/all​/presentations​/244 Evans, C., & Gamman, L. (1995). The gaze revisited, or reviewing queer viewing. A queer romance: Lesbians, gay men and popular culture. In P. Burston & C. Richardson (Eds.), A queer romance (pp. 12–61). Routledge. Gray, H. (1995). Watching race: Television and the struggle for blackness. University of Minnesota Press. Haggins. (2001). Afterword: Television in the age of the digital: New frontier and brave new world. Emergences: Journal for the Study of Media and Composite Cultures, 11(1), 175–179. https://www​.tandfonline​.com​/doi​/abs​/10​ .1080​/10457220120044729​?journalCode​=cemj20 Hall, S. (1992). What is this black in popular culture. In Dent (Ed.), Black popular culture (pp. 21–36). New Press.

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Harris- Perry, M.V. (2011). Sister citizen: Shame, stereotypes, and Black women in America. Yale University Press. Hartman (1997). Scenes of subjection: Terror, slavery, and self-making in nineteenthcentury America. Oxford University Press. hooks, b. (2009). Reel to real: Race, class and sex at the movies. In The oppositional gaze: Black female spectators (pp. 253–274). Routledge. International Movie Database. Lovecraft Country (2020–) user reviews. https://www​ .imdb​.com​/title​/tt6905686​/reviews​?ref_​=tturv​_ql_3 International Movie Database. P-Valley (2020–) user reviews. https://www​.imdb​.com​ /title​/tt9340526​/externalreviews​?ref_​=tturv​_ql_5 Jackson, C.K. (2014). Visible but devalued through the black male gaze: Degrading images of the black woman and Tyler Perry’s Temptation. In A.Y. Goldman, V.S. Ford, A.A. Harris, and N.R. Howard (Eds.), Black women and popular culture: The conversation continues (pp. 55–70). Lexington. Jones, E. (2018). How the wire became the greatest TV show ever made. BBC. https://www​.bbc​.com​/culture​/article​/20180412​-how​-the​-wire​-became​-the​-greatest​ -tv​-show​-ever​-made Jones, J. (2016). Treme: Narrative blackness in great American television drama. In D. Gendrin, C. Dessinges & S. Roberts (Eds.), HBO’s Treme and post-Katrina catharsis: The mediated rebirth of New Orleans (pp. 257–286). Lexington Books. Kim, Y. (2020, June 3). Three years later, Moonlight still triumphs as the greatest queer film. The Daily Northwestern. https://dailynorthwestern​.com​/2020​/06​/03​/ae​/ three​-years​-later​-moonlight​-still​-triumphs​-as​-the​-greatest​-queer​-film/ Martin, B. (2013a, May 13). Review of difficult men: Behind the scenes of the creative revolution: From ‘The Sopranos’ and ‘The Wire’ to ‘Mad Men’ and ‘Breaking Bad.’ Publishers Weekly. https://www​.publishersweekly​.com​/978​-1​-59420​-419-7 Martin, B. (2013b). Difficult men: Behind the scenes of the creative revolution: From ‘The Sopranos’ and ‘The Wire’ to ‘Mad Men’ and ‘Breaking Bad’. Penguin Press. Roach, J. & Felix, P. (1989). Black looks. In L. Gamman & M. Marshment (Eds.), The female gaze (pp. 130–142). The Real Comet Press. Rotten Tomatoes. (n.d.). P-Valley: Season 1 reviews. https://www​.rottentomatoes​ .com​/tv​/p​_valley​/s01​/reviews Scott, K.D. (2017). The language of strong Black womanhood: Myths, models, messages, and a new mandate for self-care. Lexington Books. Shapiro, R. (2020, June 12). How Hollywood landscape changed for black creatives over time [Radio broadcast]. NPR. https://www​.npr​.org​/2020​/06​/12​/876293275​/ how​-hollywood​-landscape​-changed​-for​-black​-creatives​-over​-time Smith-Jones, S.E. (2020). Black Women, Black Panther, and anticipatory vigilance. In P. Sotirin, V.L. Bergvall, & D. Shoos (Eds.), Feminist vigilance. Palgrave Macmillan. Steinmetz, K. (2020, February 20). She coined the term ‘intersectionality’ over 30 years ago. Here’s what it means to her today. Time​.com​. https://time​.com​/5786710​ /kimberle​-crenshaw​-intersectionality/ Susman, G. (2002). Minority report. Entertainment Weekly, June 5, 2002, Retrieved June 13, 2013, http://www​.ew​.com​/ew​/article​/0,​,259579​,00​.html

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Tallerico, B. (2020, August 12). HBO’s Lovecraft Country is wicked smart television. Roger Ebert​.com​. https://www​.rogerebert​.com​/streaming​/hbos​-lovecraft​-country​ -is​-wicked​-smart​-television Thrasher, S.W. (2016, October 29). Moonlight portrays black gay life in its joy, sadness and complexity. The Guardian. https://www​.theguardian​.com​/film​/2016​/oct​ /29​/moonlight​-movie​-barry​-jenkins​-black​-gay Vox First Person. (2021, January 18). The loneliness of being mixed race in America. Vox. https://www​.vox​.com​/first​-person​/21734156​/kamala​-harris​-mixed​-race​-biracial​-multiracial Williams, K. (2020, September 18). How ‘P-Valley’ delved into the glory and grimness that can come with black queer love. Blavity​.com​. https://www​.google​.com​ /amp​/s​/blavity​.com​/amp​/how​-p​-valley​-delved​-into​-the​-glory​-and​-grimness​-that​ -can​-come​-with​-black​-queer​-love Zook, K. (1999). Color by Fox: The Fox network and the revolution in Black television. Oxford University Press.

Chapter 11

The One with All the Fat-Shaming An Examination of Anti-Fat Bias on Friends Adrienne Darrah

It is where a notion finds its inverse that we uncover its difference, and it is in this intersection where we find meaning. Hall (1997) argues that “difference signifies. It speaks” (p. 230). While difference may be viewed positively, more often, it creates a dyadic opposition that categorizes us and them or what Hall (1997) refers to as “the spectacle of the ‘Other’” (p. 225). It is through these dyadic representations where culture exists, where individuals understand their role and how they should behave within their culture, and where cultural norms inform the individual of what is right and wrong, good and bad, valued and worthless, proper and improper, beautiful and ugly (MolinaGuzmán, 2016; Ravary et al., 2019). This chapter aims to examine the dyadic relationship between the cultural norms thin and fat and the othering of fat characters in the popular situation comedy, Friends. Since the introduction of the television sitcom, many have turned to their TVs as a source of cultural oversight (Postman, 1985). Although the world has become more diversified, sitcoms have remained primarily straight, White, and male (Molina-Guzmán, 2016). Through the introduction of on-demand and streaming video services, however, character representations have begun to evolve (Molina-Guzmán, 2016; Postman, 1985). Unfortunately, this diversification has focused almost entirely on sexual orientation, race, and gender, and the representation of overweight or obese characters continues to trail behind (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Greenberg et al., 2003; Himes & Thompson, 2007; Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018). While obese and overweight are medically defined concepts based on an individual’s body mass index, Nath (2019) differentiates between these concepts and the cultural concept of fat by contending that “fat refers to individuals who are deemed to weigh more than they ought to based on dominant social norms concerning what is an appropriate weight or size” (p. 578). 193

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Through the idealization of the thin figure, the fat label removes the medically defined health boundaries in favor of stigmatizing the fat individual. Given its influence over viewers’ cultural beliefs, television promotes this interpretation of the world and its social standards through fat-shaming on popular television shows (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Postman, 1985; Ravary et al., 2019). This, in turn, serves to normalize anti-fat bias as a cultural norm. Anti-fat bias is deepened through the use of disparagement humor and the representation of fat characters in negative contexts. Through the advancement of the thin ideal, television perpetuates norms that promote thin as “attractive, desirable, and even acceptable” (Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018, p. 322) and fat as lazy, gluttonous, sloppy, unattractive, and sexually inexperienced (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Greenberg et al., 2003; Gullage, 2014; Himes & Thompson, 2007; Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018; Nath, 2019; Puhl & Heuer, 2010). This dyadic juxtaposition leads to a further acceptance of anti-fat bias and stigmatization through television sitcoms (Himes & Thompson, 2007; Puhl & Heuer, 2010). The pop culture phenomenon Friends has long been accused of anti-fat bias due to its most notable and familiar obese character, “Fat Monica” (e.g., Gullage, 2014). However, there are many other incidents of fat-shaming and anti-fat bias throughout the series, which are equally as notable and which are often overlooked. These incidents include the overt utilization of the word fat to describe a less than desirable individual or physical attributes and the utilization of descriptive imagery to indicate a character’s excessive weight. This chapter aims to explore the comprehensive nature of anti-fat bias on Friends.

THE SITCOM FRIENDS Friends is an American television sitcom that follows the lives of six single, White, twenty-something individuals as they traverse life, love, and their careers in the West Village neighborhood of New York City. The group is composed of Rachel Green, Phoebe Buffay, Joey Tribbiani, Chandler Bing, and brother and sister pair Ross and Monica Geller. Most of the sitcom is set in Monica’s apartment, which she alternates sharing with Phoebe, Rachel, and Chandler throughout the series, or in the local coffeehouse, Central Perk. Airing from 1995 until 2004, the sitcom ran in the coveted 8 p.m. EST Thursday timeslot. During its run, NBC, the network home of Friends, held the number one spot on the Thursday night primetime block. Throughout its run, Friends consistently held a spot in the top ten most watched television shows, and during the 2001–2002 season, Friends took the number one spot (Ginsburg, 2004), cementing its place in pop culture history. While the show

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ended in 2004, the sitcom’s popularity continues to increase as the show runs in syndication as well as through on-demand and streaming video services. DYADIC REPRESENTATION According to Hall (1997), a dyadic representation of sharply contrasting ideas is necessary for the understanding of comprehension. An individual is simply unable to grasp the meaning of a notion until they can understand its difference. A basic understanding of day, for example, is predicated on the individual’s experiences with night, and an understanding of fat is founded on the individual’s knowledge of thin. Hall (1997) referred to this as “binary opposition” (p. 235), which is necessary, he argued, “for the production of meaning, the formation of language and culture, for social identities and a subjective sense of the self as a sexed subject” (p. 239). Differential representations between dyadic oppositions may be discounted due to an oversimplification and reductionist utilization of binary classifications (Hall, 1997). For example, what is black is black and what is white is white, however, there is no gray. Through this oversimplified acknowledgment of difference, we find the promotion of stereotyping and, when significant, stigmatization against the Other (Hall, 1997; Smith et al., 2016), or as Friends would establish, the elevation of the thin ideal at the expense of the overweight or obese individual. Stereotyping and Cultural Norms In and of itself, media does not carry broad meaning. Instead, viewers understand meaning based on overarching messaging sent through a variety of media and the context in which those messages are received (Hall, 1997). It is through a broad understanding of media messaging that is sent both overtly and covertly that cultural norms are developed and social discourse is maintained (Durham & Kellner, 2012). Hall (1997) argues that culture is built upon classifications. However, when those who are classified to be exceedingly different from accepted cultural norms are labeled as such, stereotyping and stigmatization occur (Hall, 1997; Nath, 2019). Hall (1997) defines stereotyping as the prejudicial reduction of an individual “to a few essentials, fixed in Nature by a few, simplified characteristics” (p. 249). Stereotyping effectively diminishes the individual to their fundamental attributes and inherent characteristics. These attributes are further exaggerated and simplified until the individual is viewed as nothing more than an oversimplification of their characteristic differences (Hall, 1997; Hogg & Reid, 2006; Smith et al., 2016). For example, individuals who

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are viewed as fat may not be recognized for any of their other identifying characteristics, which occurs substantially throughout Friends. According to social identity theory, individuals who do not fit within the accepted cultural norms are relegated to an out-group status (Hogg & Reid, 2006). While the in-group is differentiated as far as cultural boundaries will allow, the out-group is viewed as a homogeneous group built upon one fundamental attribute such as weight (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Greenberg et al., 2003). Media content influences cultural beliefs regarding these attributes, which may also include race, ethnicity, gender, age, class, mental health, and other essential individual characteristics (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Durham & Kellner, 2012; Hall, 1997; Himes & Thompson, 2007). Durham and Kellner (2012) write, “media culture offers patterns of proper and improper behavior, moral messages, and ideological conditioning, sugarcoating social and political ideas with pleasurable and seductive forms of popular entertainment” (p. 1). As a producer and purveyor of mass media, television sitcoms such as Friends convey cultural norms to the general population while continually reinforcing negative stereotypes. Individuals who recognize they may no longer fall within the boundaries of accepted cultural norms often alter their views and behaviors to avoid ostracization (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Hogg & Reid, 2006; Parrott, 2016; Smith et al., 2016). Disparagement Humor Though there are multiple factors that impact the perpetuation of anti-fat bias on television, sitcoms shamelessly support its dissemination through their reliance on fat characters as a crux of absurdity. Fat characters who function as a source of comedic farce become victims of derogatory commentary and teasing all in the name of humor (Himes & Thompson, 2007; Parrott, 2016). This type of humor, which is referred to as disparagement humor, is defined as “communication in which a person or group (the disparager) insults another person or group (the target), often on the basis of characteristics such as race, gender, sexuality, income, age, religion, health, political affiliation, and physical appearance” (Parrott, 2016, p. 50). Fat-shaming, which may result in adverse outcomes and social and psychological consequences, is considered a type of disparagement humor (Parrott, 2016; Pearl et al., 2012). While the intent of sitcom humor may be to entertain, there are often traces of animosity which straddle the appropriate-inappropriate line (Cai et al., 2019; Parrott, 2016). As a consequence of television characters being reduced to the core component of weight, fat characters become defined as a stereotyped caricature of an individual. The comedic opposition of the fat character, such as Fat Monica in Friends, contrasted against their thin counterpart, helps to normalize fat-shaming and anti-fat bias through humor (Himes &

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Thompson, 2007; Pearl et al., 2012). Similar to Hall’s (1997) illustration of Black individuals being defined by their blackness, fat characters are often defined solely by their fatness. The Friends audience becomes keenly aware of this as Monica Geller is identified by the disparaging moniker Fat Monica when she is overweight, ultimately creating two distinct characters based on one individual. Fake or canned laughter also bolsters the overall acceptance of disparagement humor on television through the addition of a laugh track. A laugh track indicates to the viewer that what is said or is being depicted should be considered funny (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Cai et al., 2019; Parrott, 2016). The utilization of a laugh track in sitcoms such as Friends reinforces anti-fat bias when a fat character is made into a joke. The laugh track communicates to the viewer that it is not only acceptable to laugh (Parrott, 2016), but also helps the viewer feel as if they are part of the audience (Cai et al., 2019). The Thin Ideal Individuals are differentiated through the identification of dominant cultural norms regarding proper weight and size (Nath, 2019). Individuals who exceed this arbitrary standard set by society are labeled as fat and may erroneously endure being portrayed as lazy, gluttonous, weak-willed, unsuccessful, ill-disciplined, or romantically inept (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Greenberg et al., 2003; Gullage, 2014; Himes & Thompson, 2007; Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018; Nath, 2019; Puhl & Heuer, 2010). Throughout Friends, these characteristics are often attributed to Fat Monica and other fat characters. Individuals who are considered thin, however, fit within the cultural norm and are often viewed as attractive, likable, successful, intelligent, and romantically and sexually valued (Himes & Thompson, 2007; Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018). Monica fits into this ideal only after she has lost a significant amount of weight. In a 2003 study, Greenberg et  al. (2003) compared the number of obese television characters during the 1999–2000 season with the obese population in the United States and found that 3 percent of female characters were obese, whereas 25 percent of the female population was obese. While male characters fared slightly better, they were three times less likely to be obese compared to the male population (Greenberg et al., 2003). In an updated study, Mastro and Figueroa-Caballero (2018) examined overweight and obese television characters during the September to December 2013 viewing period. While their findings are in line with Greenberg et al.’s (2003), they found that 3 percent of female characters were overweight or obese compared to 66.5 percent of the female population and 6 percent of male characters were overweight or obese compared to 71.6 percent of the male population

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(Mastro & Figueroa-Caballero, 2018). This significant discrepancy between population and the number of obese and overweight characters portrayed on television is further indicative of an anti-fat bias and cultural oppression of fat individuals on television. Comparable to White and male privilege, thin privilege reinforces the power imbalance between thin and fat through the cultural oppression of overweight and obese individuals (Durham & Kellner, 2012; Hall, 1997; Molina-Guzmán, 2016). Within the thin/fat dyad, the idealized thin figure is lifted up through the denigration of the fat individual who is at a disadvantage solely because of their physical size. Due to deep- and long-rooted biases, the media favors homogeneity (Molina-Guzmán, 2016), which further ingrains an anti-fat bias through the promotion of the relatively unattainable thin ideal (Bissell & Parrott, 2013; Greenberg et al., 2003; Puhl & Heuer, 2010). Anti-Fat Bias and Friends Fat is simply fat because of its place in the thin/fat dyad. As Postman (1985) argues, “a television-based epistemology pollutes public communication and its surrounding landscape” (p. 28). During the mid-1990s to mid-2000s, when Friends aired in primetime, the notion of fat-shaming was not yet a part of our everyday lexicon, and jokes made at the expense of fat characters were not considered offensive. With an average of 25.5M viewers over the course of its ten-year run (Ginsburg, 2004) and aggregation of new viewers due to reruns in syndication and on-demand and streaming video services, Friends has had a lot of landscape to pollute. Instances of fat-shaming in the sitcom continue to be perpetuated through narrative and visual forms further solidifying the show’s regime of representation (Hall, 1997, p. 232). As a primary curator of cultural norms, television unapologetically transmits anti-fat messaging. This messaging is prevalent in sitcoms which often utilize fat characters as a punch line. As such, this chapter seeks to explore the verbal and non-verbal narrative the pop culture phenomenon Friends utilizes to disseminate anti-fat messaging to answer the question: How does Friends perpetuate anti-fat bias through disparagement humor and the denigration of the Other?

ANALYSIS OF FRIENDS The structure of fat-shaming on Friends is often dependent upon the context of the scene. Some instances are passing comments that add little value to the episode beyond reinforcement of the show’s anti-fat bias whereas other

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instances are a central tenet to the sitcom’s plotlines. Of the 236 episodes of Friends, 87 episodes, or 36.9 percent of all episodes, include at least one scene with a fat-related incident or comment. Several episodes include multiple instances of anti-fat bias with 128 instances of fat-shaming occurring throughout the course of the 87 episodes. The One with All the Fat-Shaming In S5E22, the sole instance of fat-shaming occurs when Phoebe angrily calls Ross a “fat ass” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). Phoebe immediately regrets the remark and apologizes. This instance of fat-shaming serves two purposes. First, the utilization of fat as a disparaging comment further strengthens the six main characters’ in-group status by threatening to label one as Other. Phoebe could have opted to use any number of insults, however, to solidify the status of the six main characters, the writers chose to utilize the term fat as it is viewed as unattractive and undesirable. Second, the canned laughter that immediately follows the remark informs the viewer it is acceptable to shame someone based on their body size. While Ross is not considered fat and Phoebe almost immediately walks back her comment, the damage has already been done at that moment. Another instance of anti-fat bias occurs in S7E6. Chandler and Monica are newly engaged, and while the relationship is stable, it is not without its hiccups. When Monica runs into Chandler’s former girlfriend, she finds that he broke up with her because she had gotten fat. Being formerly overweight, Monica fears that if she were to gain weight Chandler may leave her given his aversion to commitment. She asks him, “Are you going to break up with me if I get fat again?” (Bright et al., 1994–2004) while reminding him he called her fat when they were younger. While choosing to give Monica a fat backstory is a questionable decision, this plotline should serve to reassure viewers that love is stronger than weight. However, in S5E8, Chandler takes no interest in Monica until she loses weight and is no longer labeled Other, ultimately refuting the love is stronger than weight argument. Friends constructs an idealized reality and uses fat-shaming as a comedic device in a number of ways. While some instances of anti-fat bias are blatantly obvious, others are less so, instead of using descriptive imagery to indicate the character as being fat. In S7E9, Monica tells Phoebe, Chandler, and Ross about her first bike. She reminisces, “It was my sixth birthday. My dad took me to the park. Got on it. It bent” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). This moment is indicative not only of a character being fat-shamed, but also of a character making self-deprecating commentary regarding their status as a former Other. This occurs throughout Friends, with most instances involving Monica and her fat alter ego, Fat Monica.

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Monica Geller and Fat Monica Through the utilization of disparaging humor, sitcoms such as Friends, stigmatize fat characters and put forth a message that the thin ideal is an important cultural norm. The inclusion of Fat Monica as a character does not have meaning per se, but when placed in context next to attractive, fun, and idealized Rachel Green or juxtaposed with current-day thin Monica, the message is clear. The contrasting body types drive the underlying ideology of Friends and subjects viewers “to societal manipulation while obscuring the nature and effects of operations of domination and subordination” (Durham & Kellner, 2012, p. 11). As one of the most notable and familiar characters in the Friends universe, Fat Monica serves as nothing more than a visual spectacle and comedic device used to solidify Monica’s role as attractive and desirable in her current form. Fat Monica’s one-dimensionality is exaggerated by her awkward physical movements, her incessant need to talk about food or have it in her hands, her loud demeanor, and her sexual inexperience. This characterization of Fat Monica is indicative of the marginalized Other and is in line with the trope of the fat television character. Fat Monica is introduced in narrative form long before she is introduced as a visual spectacle. In S1E2, Monica’s father recounts how she was chubby as a child. This notion of Monica’s obesity in her younger years is solidified by Rachel who recounts to Phoebe that Monica “was a BIG girl” in S1E4 and again when Rachel, pretending to be Monica, asks an attractive doctor, “have I mentioned that back in high school I was a cow?” in S1E17 (Bright et al., 1994–2004). Throughout the first season, characters from Monica’s past, including a high school classmate, Rachel’s mother, and Monica’s father’s best friend, reinforce her status as a formerly fat character by their surprise that she is no longer overweight. It is not until S2E14 that the viewer is finally introduced to the visual spectacle that is Fat Monica. During this episode, Fat Monica solidifies her status as Other as she becomes the focus of not one, but four disparaging jokes made by her father, Chandler, Joey, and the sitcom itself. Fat Monica will appear in only four more episodes and one opening sequence following this episode, however, her presence in the Friends universe is significant. While Monica’s weight in her thin form does not define her life, loves, or career, Gullage (2014) notes that Fat Monica’s “fatness is the central focus of her character’s storyline” (p. 181). The dominant ideology of the thin ideal on Friends is no more apparent than through Fat Monica. Not only is Monica shamed when she is overweight, but this stigmatization resonates throughout her adulthood and spans the entirety of the series. Monica as a thin, attractive, and relatively successful character has established her place in the in-group,

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however, the sitcom relishes in reminding viewers that this status is precarious and can be taken away. The Other Friends It is important to note that while Fat Monica serves as the foundation for antifat bias on Friends, there are many other instances of fat-shaming throughout the series. While the focus of previous research regarding anti-fat bias on Friends has focused primarily on the Fat Monica character, it can be assumed that this occurred for one of two reasons. The first is due to Fat Monica’s importance in the sitcom, both in physical and narrative form. Fat Monica serves as a constant reminder to the viewer that cultural norms dictate a thin ideal. The second reason is due to women being held to a higher thin standard than men in the United States. This is apparent in the discrepancy between the number of obese and overweight female characters on television compared to their male counterparts. While the five remaining primary characters are not considered fat nor do they have overweight backstories, all except for Phoebe falls victim to fatshaming. These instances serve as a reminder that an individual’s status as a member of the in-group is precarious at best and there is always a threat of being labeled as Other. Given that women are held to a higher weight standard than men, it is surprising that Phoebe is spared from being fat-shamed. However, it is worth noting that the combined instances of fat-shaming for the three male friends equates to Rachel’s total number of fat-shaming incidents. Monica in both her thin and Fat Monica forms is fat-shamed a total of seventy-two times throughout the sitcom’s ten-year run. Rachel, however, is shamed a mere five times. The first three instances occur once in each of the first three seasons and include references to her calves, ankles, and time in high school. In S1E19, Ross laments that Rachel was not more like Monica in high school, which is peculiar given that Monica was fat and a member of the out-group. However, to reinforce the sitcom’s anti-fat bias, Ross tells Rachel, “You had to be a bitch in high school. You couldn’t have been fat?” (Bright et al., 1994–2004) The last instances of Rachel being fat-shamed occur at the end of her pregnancy in the eighth season. As a social phenomenon, Friends serves to establish cultural norms and while it may seem that these instances of antifat bias are included solely for comedic value, this is not the case. Parker and Pausé (2019) explain that fat-shaming pregnant women are utilized to influence their maintenance of a healthy level of weight gain during their pregnancy. While women and pregnancies differ, similar to Nath’s (2019) view of fat being established through dominant cultural norms, the amount of weight and the way a woman carries it during pregnancy is also established

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in this manner. Therefore, fat-shaming a pregnant Rachel serves to reinforce and solidify these norms. Chandler, who is known for his wit and sarcasm, is the most frequent offender of fat-shaming on Friends. The show writers would have the viewer believe these offenses are done in the name of humor given the laugh track that subsequently follows each of these instances. However, this does not protect Chandler from falling victim to fat-shaming himself. In S2E7, while Chandler is lamenting his appearance, Phoebe responds, “I go through the exact same thing every time I put on a little weight” (Bright et al., 1994– 2004). Though Chandler is fat-shamed in only this episode, the shaming extends the entirety of the episode and, by the end of the episode, Chandler’s weight returns to normal and his status in the in-group is secured. While Ross is technically fat-shamed three times, one instance is a retrospective of a previous incident. In S7E12 and again in the retrospective episode S8E19 Joey and Ross find themselves trapped on the roof of an apartment building. After using a fire escape to climb down, the characters find that the drop ladder will not drop to the ground and decide Joey will hang from the ladder while Ross climbs down the ladder and then Joey. As Ross is climbing down Joey, Joey comments on Ross’s weight. Ross acknowledges that his weight gain is a temporary regression given the recent holidays. Unlike Monica, Ross’s weight gain does not follow him through the remainder of the sitcom’s ten-year run. The final friend to be fat-shamed is Joey. In S7E16, Phoebe, Monica, Chandler, and Joey imagine a world where Monica dates Joey instead of Chandler. The episode cuts to an imagined scenario where “Fat Joey” comes waddling out of a bedroom to sit down at a table filled with his favorite foods, “fried stuff with cheese” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). While not serving to fatshame Joey per se, particularly given that this scenario does not exist in reality, this scene serves to perpetuate the sitcom’s anti-fat bias and tie Monica to another instance of fat-shaming. Ugly Naked Guy While Fat Monica serves as the model for anti-fat bias on Friends, the second most prominent fat character on the sitcom is “Ugly Naked Guy,” a nudist who occupies an apartment across from Monica’s, fails to use window coverings and shuns clothing. Ugly Naked Guy serves as the quintessential Other, a caricature of an individual, a stereotyped version of how society defines fatness. Ugly Naked Guy is a nameless and unseen entity that is reduced to nothing more than his fatness. Through the diminishment of the character’s characteristics, the development of the anti-fat bias norms associated with Friends is further perpetuated.

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In S3E6, a flashback episode, viewers learn that Ugly Naked Guy used to fit the thin ideal. While staring into his apartment, Phoebe laments, “It’s so unfortunate . . . cute, naked guy is really starting to put on weight” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). While largely unknown to the viewer, Ugly Naked Guy, the nameless entity, who, according to Phoebe’s comment, is ugly by the sheer virtue of being fat. Though Ugly Naked Guy is not part of the core group of the six main characters, his weight gain threatens to push him into the cultural out-group. Similar to Fat Monica, Ugly Naked Guy’s first appearance in the Friends universe is in narrative form during S1E2. Unlike the Fat Monica character who is portrayed by a thin Courteney Cox in a fat suit, the two physical appearances of Ugly Naked Guy are played by an overweight actor. While his face is never seen, Ugly Naked Guy is placed in unfavorable contexts when nothing more than his bare, protruding stomach can be seen in S3E8 and again when he is viewed waist up from behind in S5E14. Coincidentally, S5E14 is also Ugly Naked Guy’s last appearance both in physical and narrative form. Minor Characters Friends also demonstrates its anti-fat bias through fat-shaming minor characters. Within the 128 instances of fat-shaming, 31 of these instances, or 24.2 percent, are aimed toward minor characters including those who are named and unnamed and introduced in narrative form only. While this may seem inconsequential given the characters’ minimal roles in the sitcom’s overall plotlines, it is important to the overall culture of the sitcom to include these instances of insignificant characters being fat-shamed to solidify the sitcom’s anti-fat bias. One of the most notable minor characters to be fat-shamed on Friends is Erica, the mother of Monica and Chandler’s twins. In S10E16, Erica’s selfdeprecating comment that she is “concerned people think I’m just fat with big breasts” (Bright et al., 1994–2004) toward the end of her pregnancy is the last incident of fat-shaming to occur before the sitcom’s finale. Similar to Rachel’s pregnancy, this incident serves to remind viewers that a pregnancy that does not adhere to accepted cultural norms can label a woman as Other regardless of her situation and does not excuse a woman from maintaining an ideal weight. Finally, the Friends Thanksgiving episodes often include fat-shaming, with seven of the nine thanksgiving episodes including incidents of anti-fat bias. While Fat Monica tends to be the target of these incidents, S8E9 veered from this trope with the introduction of formerly fat Will Colbert, a friend of Ross and Monica’s from high school who joins the group for dinner. There

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are two reasons why this episode is notable. First, Will is portrayed by Brad Pitt. Named People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” in 1995 and again in 2000, by the time this episode aired in 2001 Pitt had already starred in several Hollywood blockbusters and was married to Jennifer Aniston, the actress who portrays Rachel Green. A household name, the Friends writers expected viewers to suspend reality and accept that Pitt could easily portray a formerly fat character, hammering this point home through the inclusion of four fatshaming comments. The second reason why this Thanksgiving episode is notable revolves around the episode’s plotline. Rachel finds out that Will, who Rachel treated poorly in high school, was the originator of a rumor that Rachel is a hermaphrodite. This, along with Rachel’s offense at being labeled a hermaphrodite, has become a controversy in the LGBTQ community. While never expressing regret for the 128 instances of fat-shaming throughout the course of the sitcom’s history, Marta Kauffmann, Friends co-creator and producer, has gone on record to acknowledge her regret for the hermaphrodite storyline (Martinelli, 2019). This discrepancy in Kauffman’s regret and lack thereof further solidifies the argument that the diversification on television has focused primarily on sexual orientation, race, and gender, while negative representations of overweight or obese characters continue to be overlooked.

DISCUSSION Through the utilization of disparaging humor, anti-fat bias on Friends creates a dominant cultural norm of idealized individuals whose embedded social values include attractiveness and desirability. These values, as Friends suggests, are necessary components of the thin ideal. Although this cultural norm was predominant during the time of the sitcom’s original broadcast, as time increases between broadcast and syndication and on-demand viewing, rampant fat-shaming that is characteristic of the sitcom no longer goes without notice. Within the Friends universe, there is a distinct in-group and out-group. As social identity theory suggests, this formation of the in-group and out-group occurs based on discriminatory attitudes and behaviors by those in the ingroup (Hogg & Reid, 2006). Social identity theory calls for conformity to the attributes deemed worthy by the in-group otherwise an individual is subjected to being relegated to the out-group. This differentiation of groups provides members of the in-group with a sense of self. The in-group in Friends consists of the six primary characters and those they bring into their inner circle, while the out-group includes characters viewed as unfavorable by the six primary characters. At different points

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throughout the sitcom’s ten-year run, each of the primary characters participates in victimizing fat characters as Other and each, except for Phoebe, is impacted by this discrimination. This is indicative of the sitcom reminding the viewer that even the attractive and desirable can be labeled Other. While Fat Monica and Rachel are friends in high school, this is the most obvious example of an in-group and out-group dyadic relationship. The difference between the two characters is subtly referred to throughout the sitcom’s ten-year run. However, in S4E2, when Monica is asked out by Rachel’s high school boyfriend, Monica expounds on their differences when Rachel becomes upset. Reinforcing her status as Other, Monica explains to Rachel, “You and I went to different high schools . . . You went to one where you were popular . . . I went to one where I wore a band uniform that I had to have specially made . . . that fat girl inside of me really wants to go. I owe her this. I never let her eat” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). Though Monica could have completed her thought with “I owe her this,” by adding “I never let her eat,” the writers advance the stereotypes that overweight and obese individuals only focus on eating and have no self-control. Although it is not clear why Rachel and Fat Monica are friends given their respective group memberships, Friends reminds us of Fat Monica’s status as Other when she is introduced to Chandler in S5E8. As Chandler and Ross are greeting Ross and Monica’s parents, Fat Monica introduces herself as “Ross’ little sister” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). Chandler looks Fat Monica up and down and replies, “Okay” (Bright et al., 1994–2004). Through this interaction, Friends reminds the viewer that fat is not deserving. It is not until later in the episode when Monica has lost a significant amount of weight that Chandler takes notice of her in a sexual way. While most criticism regarding anti-fat bias on Friends involves Fat Monica, the utilization of fat characters as a comedic device extends well beyond Fat Monica. To understand the issue of anti-fat bias in the sitcom, it is important to recognize the juxtaposition of fat-shaming and the thin ideal and the utilization of Other. The binary opposition and othering of this dyadic relationship are evident through verbal and non-verbal cues. By placing Matt LeBlanc in a fat suit to portray Fat Joey or casting Brad Pitt in a role with a formerly fat backstory, Friends strengthens this dual representation of the fat and thin ideals. Matt LeBlanc by sheer virtue of donning a fat suit and adopting a stereotypical style of walk and Brad Pitt’s self-deprecating humor and references to his former fat self are each met with a chorus of canned laughter. These instances signify to the viewer that laughing at fat individuals is an accepted and recommended cultural norm. A quick Internet search of “Friends without laugh track” returns clips of the sitcom with its laugh track removed. These laughless scenes emanate a different, often darker,

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impression by demonstrating the callousness of the disparagement humor which underlies these moments. Comparatively, with the addition of the canned laughter, these segments are given a reprieve of levity and the viewer is left unconcerned regarding their appropriateness. Through the addition of a laugh track, the viewer is not only apprised that a verbal or non-verbal cue is funny, but the laugh track also indicates the level to which the cue should be found humorous. On average, Friends had 25.5M viewers over the course of its ten-year run. The number of viewers on a given night reached as high as 52.9M in Season 2 (Ginsburg, 2004). While the episode that boasted this audience, S2E13, included a minor fat-shaming incident, it nonetheless included a fat-shaming incident followed by canned laughter which ultimately reached 52.9M viewers. Additionally, eleven of the top twenty-five most viewed episodes, which each had 30.2M viewers or higher, also included fat-shaming incidents which perpetuated the show’s anti-fat bias.

CONCLUSION Since its early years, television has served as a source of cultural oversight. Due to the media’s preference for homogeneity, dyadic representations of us and them, in-group and out-group, and ultimately, Other, help to clarify a comprehension of accepted cultural norms. While Hall (1997) argued that binary opposition is necessary for comprehension and understanding, he also warned that these oppositions could lead to an oversimplification and reductionist utilization of individual characteristics. Through the disparagement of Other, we find deep-rooted stereotypes and stigmas that serve as the foundation for cultural norms. Though Hall (1997) focuses on gender, sexuality, and racial and ethnic differences, othering should also include the denigration of fat individuals. As a pop culture phenomenon, some viewers may find Friends relatable or entertaining; however, the show has significant deficiencies in its truthtelling. The dyadic juxtaposition of fat and thin leads to an acceptance of an anti-fat bias and stigmatization which is perpetuated through the show’s storylines. The sitcom’s conspicuous stereotyping and stigmatization in the name of humor favors the thin ideal, which is representative of the series’ superficiality. The propagation of anti-fat bias through the sitcom is significant given the show’s reach. Though it has been seventeen years since the Friends series finale, the sitcom, which in no way tries to hide or apologize for its anti-fat bias, has found a new way to reach a greater number of viewers. In the time since the finale, the sitcom has aired in the rerun, has been available for

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purchase, has aired through on-demand and video streaming services, and has had a reunion special. While this study brought greater light to the sitcom’s anti-fat bias, future research might consider other significant cultural norms disseminated through Friends. This may include the sitcom’s overt gender, LGBTQ, racial and ethnic, and socioeconomic biases. Though Marta Kauffmann, Friends co-creator and producer, has gone on record stating that the casting of the six White, heteronormative actors as the show’s leads was not a conscious decision (Boucher, 2021), it was a decision nonetheless. The popularity of Friends as a pop culture phenomenon is particularly noteworthy given the role television plays in the dissemination of cultural norms. Friends, through its discernable biases, impacted these norms through its regime of representation, and given the relatively recent promotion of acceptance for all, the dated nature of Friends and its anti-fat bias does not hold up well. While the creators may not have set out for Friends to become a cultural phenomenon, it did become one, and the sitcom’s continued popularity will regrettably continue to perpetuate its anti-fat bias. REFERENCES Bissell, K., & Parrott, S. (2013). Prejudice: The role of the media in the development of social bias. Journalism & Communication Monographs, 15(4), 219–270. https:// doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1522637913504401 Boucher, A. (2021, May 28). Friends creators open up about the show’s lack of diversity: ‘We didn’t intend to have an all-white cast.’ People. https://people​.com​/ tv​/friends​-creators​-shows​-lack​-of​-diversity/ Bright, K., Crane, D., & Kauffman, M. (Executive Producers). (1994–2004). Friends [TV series]. Bright/Kauffman/Crane Productions; Warner Bros. Television. Cai, Q., Chen, S., White, S.J., & Scott, S.K. (2019). Modulation of humor ratings of bad jokes by other people’s laughter. Current Biology, 29(14), R677–R678. https:// doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.cub​.2019​.05​.073 Durham, M.G., & Kellner, D.M. (2012). Adventures in media and cultural studies: Introducing the KeyWorks. In M.G. Durham & D.M. Kellner (Eds.), Media and cultural studies: KeyWorks (pp. 1–23). Wiley-Blackwell. Ginsburg, D. (2004). Friends Nielsen ratings archive. Retrieved from http://newmusicandmore​.tripod​.com​/friendsratings​.html Greenberg, B.S., Eastin, M., Hofschire, L., Lachlan, K., & Brownell, K.D. (2003). Portrayals of overweight and obese individuals on commercial television. American Journal of Public Health, 93(8), 1342–1348. https://doi​.org​/10​.2105​/ AJPH​.93​.8​.1342 Gullage, A. (2014). Fat Monica, fat suits, and Friends: Exploring narratives of fatness. Feminist Media Studies, 14(2), 178–189. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/14680777​ .2012​.724026

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Hall, S. (1997). The spectacle of the ‘Other’. In S. Hall (Ed.), Representation: Cultural representations and signifying practices. Sage in association with the Open University. Hogg, M.A., & Reid, S.A. (2006). Social identity, self-categorization, and the communication of group norms. Communication Theory, 16, 7–30. Himes, S.M., & Thompson, J.K. (2007). Fat stigmatization in television shows and movies: A content analysis. Obesity, 15(3), 712–718. https://doi​.org​/10​.1038​/oby​ .2007​.635 Martinelli, M.R. (2019, April 29). ‘Friends’ co-creator Marta Kauffmann explains why fans love the show’s sports episodes. For The Win. https://ftw​.usatoday​.com​/2019​ /04​/friends​-marta​-kauffman​-anniversary​-finale​-sports​-moments​-thanksgiving Mastro, D., & Figueroa-Caballero, A. (2018). Measuring extremes: A quantitative content analysis of prime time TV depictions of body type. Journal of Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 62(2), 320–336. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/08838151​.2018​ .1451853 Molina-Guzmán, I. (2016). #OscarsSoWhite: How Stuart Hall explains why nothing changes in Hollywood and everything is changing. Critical Studies in Media Communication, 33(5), 438–454. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/15295036​.2016​.1227864 Nath, R. (2019). The injustice of fat stigma. Bioethics, 33(5), 577–590. https://doi​.org​ /10​.1111​/bioe​.12560 Parker, G., & Pausé, C. (2019). Productive but not constructive: The work of shame in the affective governance of fat pregnancy. Feminism & Psychology, 29(2), 250–268. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/0959353519834053 Parrott, S. (2016). When everyone is laughing: The presence, characteristics, and enjoyment of disparagement humor in online TV. Mass Communication and Society, 19(1), 49–73. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/15205436​.2015​.1072724 Pearl, R.L., Puhl, R.M., & Brownell, K.D. (2012). Positive media portrayals of obese persons: Impact on attitudes and image preferences. Healthy Psychology: Official Journal of the Division of Health Psychology, American Psychological Association, 31(6), 821–829. https://doi​.org​/10​.1037​/a0027189 Postman, N. (1985). Amusing ourselves to death: Public discourse in the age of show business. R.R. Donnelley & Sons Company. Puhl, R.M., & Heuer, C.A. (2010). Obesity stigma: Important considerations for public health. American Journal of Public Health, 100(6), 1019–1028. https://doi​.org​ /10​.2105​/AJPH​.2009​.159491 Ravary, A., Baldwin, M.W., & Bartz, J.A. (2019). Shaping the body politic: Mass media fat-shaming affects implicit anti-fat attitudes. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 45(11), 1580–1589. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/0146167219838550 Smith, R.A., Zhu, X., & Quesnell, M.N. (2016). Stigma and health/risk communication. In J. Nussbaum (Ed.), Oxford research encyclopedia of communication: Health and risk message design and processing (pp. 1–33). Oxford University Press.

Chapter 12

Where Power Resides An Analysis of Female Bodies in Game of Thrones Juliana Russell and Sarah S. LeBlanc

Clapton and Shepherd (2020) wrote that Game of Thrones (GoT) exposes viewers to “gendered representations of power and authority” (p. 10). The show features seven houses, also known as families, as they fight among each other for the ultimate power, the Iron Throne, the highest seat of authority in Westeros. However, critics argue that Westeros is misogynistic and patriarchal, where only straight men may rule, homosexuality is considered a sin, and female bodies are for sexual exploits and brutality (Amjad & Ashrafi, 2021; Clapton & Sheperd, 2020). Averaging between 10 and 13.9 million viewers through seasons 7 and 8, viewers witnessed nudity, violence, and the fall of the White Walkers. But it is the nudity and violence that grabbed our attention as it comes to GoT female characters. Trejo Morales (2020) and Russell (2020) noticed when they noted the use of nudity and sexual violence as power moves toward female characters. We use the phrase “sexual violence” as an umbrella term that encompasses rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment, and a variety of other forms of sexually directed attacks (Siliman, 2019). In the very first episode of Game of Thrones, viewers witnessed the incestual act of sex between Jamie and Ceresi Lannister. From then on, the treatment of sexual violence was a continuous thread throughout the series, concluding in the second to last episode when Jon Snow stabs Daenerys Targaryen killing her in front of her last surviving dragon. GoT sexual violence research focuses on character development (Marques, 2019), gender (Aksey, 2018), and even fan communities (Cinque, 2019). But much of this research focuses on the rape of characters and the communication of masculinity toward females (Askey, 2018). Many of the rape acts in the show have been analyzed from feminist 209

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perspectives and focused on female characters (Ferreday, 2015). While we applaud and appreciate the previous work, the goal of this work is to focus more on the power plays and how the female body is used as a means to yield and conquer. The purpose of this chapter is to critically examine female characters’ use of their bodies to communicate power as it pertains to acts of sexual violence in GoT through the lens of critical feminist theory. Because violence occurs on and within the body, this chapter will examine the communication of power and sexuality toward the female form. In both the novels by George R. R. Martin and the television series, many female characters seek power; yet only a handful of these characters have their bodies violated or disturbed during their quest. In this chapter, we examine how the female body is a symbol of a political power struggle by both male and female characters from the show. Underlying the examination of the body is the notion that harming or violating the female body is a way of communicating one’s power either to themselves, same-gender characters, or their victims. LITERATURE REVIEW Research (Anderson & Bushman, 2002/2018; Hughes & Hasbrouch, 1996) examines rape and sexual violence through a particular show; after all, it is just entertainment. This chapter follows this trend but will do so through a critical feminist theoretical lens. In the sections that follow, we lay the theoretical foundation by examining critical feminist theory and then move into discussing how rape and sexual violence have been explored in GoT, highlighting how rape and sexual violence is present as well as how the body is not. Critical Feminist Theory Viewers of GoT argue that women are largely in charge in Westeros, but how they used their feminine ways is yet to be discussed. Lauf (2017) asserts that what got many of the female characters into power was their acceptance of brutalities, such as the rape and sexual violence we explore below. However, we argue that the non-verbal communication of their bodies contributed to this conquering of power. To frame the discussion of this chapter, we introduce the critical feminist theory as a lens to examine females’ rise to power. Feminist theory “grounds itself in the knowledge that patriarchal structures have limited women’s choices, voices, and visibility” (Denker, 2021, p. 233). The structure of Westeros is based on patriarchy, with a King as a ruler and a Queen. To place feminist theory into communication, scholars focus

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on the intersectionality of gender, interaction, and social change (Rakow & Wackwitz, 2004). For example, GoT female characters flaunt their gender while communicating with others as they fulfill their desire to seek social change. Critical feminist theory focuses on the three tenets proposed by Rakow and Wackwitz (2004). Wood (2015) echoes Rakow and Wackwitz but pays more particular attention to gender and patriarchy. Since Westeros is situated as a patriarchal society, examining gender through a feminist lens sheds light on how and through what means gender is communicated. This study contributes to the previous research, though, by also looking at sexuality. There are many female-identifying characters but communication of gender and sexuality differs between the characters. This chapter explores these differences and how they are used in interactions with other characters. Finally, there are two critical aspects we seek to foreshadow: power and sites of struggle. The first critical aspect of the CRT aspect focuses on power and how power is used to bring hidden issues to light (Denker, 2021). We argue that power sheds light on political maneuvers communicated through non-verbal means, specifically kinetics, by examining how the female body communicates a power play. Finally, families, and in the case of GoT political maneuvers, are sites of struggle (Sotitrin & Ellingson, 2018). Power plays are made within families as well as in warfare, hence examining sites of struggle is necessary because we argue that the context of the scene influences the message from the body. Therefore, this chapter looks at how female characters’ power arises as a result of these struggles. With an understanding of feminist theory and CFT in place, this section moves into the opposite of CFT: masculine power maneuvers. Rape and Sexual Violence Research Dillman Carpentier et al. (2017) estimate approximately 65 percent of cable television shows contain sexual content, ranging from romantic love to recreational sex, in both consensual and non-consensual situations. Further, rape and sexual assault are used as a trope in the bulk of television shows (Brinson, 1992). In discussing rape myths, primarily on prime-time television, Brinson (1992) discussed the similarities in how the use of the trope devalues women in a patriarchally modeled world. Widely circulated myths in television dramas shape how rape is seen and dealt with in society, such as court cases and belief in victims’ stories (Brinson, 1992). Prior to the final season of GoT, an examination of other serial dramas determined a greater instance of sexual violence on television romanticized, specifically period dramas such as Poldark and Outlander, often with the female victim eventually falling in love with her rapist (Byrne & Taddeo, 2019). While some shows used rape to show the effects of war or other negative situations, rape is portrayed as

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a universal issue, not dependent on the society or era of the show (Byrne & Taddeo, 2019). Often, women are treated as a commodity: they are there for the use of men (Needham, 2017). But is sexual violence used the same way? The second trope, sexual violence, is used regularly in fantasy-based entertainment (Borowska-Szerszun, 2019). Shows like GoT, which are loosely based on the Middle Ages, justify the use of sexual violence as part of society, representative of what the experience would be for people living during that timeframe (Borowska-Szerszun, 2019). The usage of “whore” is common, with sexually expressive women relegated to the whore role, which devalues their worth (Brinson, 1992); female characters, who were “saving themselves” or not sexually expressive, are epitomized in the virginal role as an example of the superlative woman that all women should aspire to be. Sexual violence, which is experienced by both the whore and virgin, is used to then create a sense of horror at the situation, but also fascination at the acts being viewed, as if creating a voyeuristic experience to be enjoyed by the home viewer (Borowska-Szerszun, 2019). Rape and Sexual Violence within GoT Caputi (2016) contends that sex and violence have been prevalent in pop culture, which is why just studying sex and violence within GoT would not add anything new to already existing research. We argue that the use of sex and violence within GoT is more than just patriarchal societies communicating their dominance. We also argue that the usage of sex and violence symbolizes the struggle between patriarchal and matriarchal power. Viewers know that sex and violence exist in the series; viewers noticed the difference between these acts after the rise of the #MeToo movement (Russell, 2021), which began prior to the final season of GoT. What viewers may have missed, though, is not the what, the sex and violence, or the how, through rape or sexually violent acts, but where these acts are communicated, the body. Gresham (2015) points out that when freeing the Unsullied from their masters, Daenerys uses her dragon to kill their leader, one of the Good Masters of Astapor. The Good Master’s death sends a message to the Unsullied that “another person’s body in a power-play without consent is unnatural and can have horrific consequences” (p. 162). Hence when a sexual act such as rape or violence occurs on an unwilling character, be it male or female, without their consent, the perpetrator behind the act is in a power play. When violent or political acts are made against a male or female body through unwanted advances or through a power play, the body becomes the battlefield. Male violence toward feminine bodies is a patriarchal way of controlling—if not exerting—power (Sheffield, 2008). Lumsden and Morgan (2017) assert that it is not just the act of rape or sexual violence but also the threat

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of these actions that contribute to the power play between feminine and masculine bodies. Many of the male characters, such as Joffrey and Drogos, see the female body as an object rather than a representation of a human being (Clapton & Shepherd, 2017). Clapton and Shepherd (2017) explain this through the actions of King Joffrey during the abuse of Sansa Stark during Episode 4 of Season 2, theorizing that Joffrey’s treatment of Sansa’s body is a medium for sending a message to Sansa’s brother, Robb Stark. Sansa’s body is a toy, an object in the power struggle, representing how Joffrey wants to break the toy in order to communicate his power to another child, that is, Robb (Taylor, 2012). GoT research demonstrates the need to study the use of the female body physique as a site of power. But the research that does exist focuses on how male characters use the female body to exert power and not how the female body communicates power. GoT research focuses on view of the perpetrator and not the victim (Phillips, 2017). We argue that many female characters, whether main characters or supporting ones, communicate power through their body. Clapton and Shepherd (2017) support this by focusing on how Daenerys Targaryen uses her body to gain power (Clapton & Shepherd, 2017) as evident when she takes control of post-marital sex with Drogos or massacres Dothraki leadership in order to claim the power of the Dothraki people. Thus, we ask RQ: How is power communicated through the use of female bodies? METHOD This chapter is a result of a larger project spearheaded by the first author as part of fulfilling her thesis requirements (Russell, 2021). Russell (2021) examined every episode of GoT in every season to determine how the depiction of rape and sexual violence changed prior to and after the #MeToo movement. Russell used an iterative critical approach to the analysis of the GoT artifact, using the published definitions of rape and sexual violence mentioned above as her guide. Specifically, Russell (2021) did a critical content analysis, mirrored after Hefner and Wilson’s (2013) work on romantic ideals in popular films as well as Johnson and Holme’s (2009) work on contradictory messages within romantic films. The unit of analysis was each episode, first making notes on when rapes and acts of sexual violence occurred. The unit of the analysis during the second viewing became these acts of rape and sexual violence. Finally, after the second author came on board, the unit of analysis shrank to the characters partaking either as perpetrators or victims during the acts

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of rape and sexual violence. The following paragraph discusses Russell’s individual approach to the analysis of units of the episode and then the acts of rape and sexual violence. During the first viewing of all the shows, Russell made notes of initial themes, examined the shock value of sexual violence, and characters were noted. These notes resulted in a coding sheet (Hefner & Wilson, 2013) designed by Russell for use during the second complete viewing of the series. The second viewing of the show resulted in Russell coding sexual violence, how it related to storylines, as well as character characteristics before and after the act of violence. Taking all of her notes, Russell compiled characters’ narratives and explored these narratives determining theme saturation. During the analysis, Russell (2021) used a feminist perspective lens to analyze each episode’s sexual violence and the effects on the characters. For this particular project, the authors used Russell’s notes and analysis; but the second author reviewed important episodes, noting when and if a power play occurred, who participated in the power play, and how the power play was being communicated. More analysis was completed by examining female characters and the manipulation of their body. We looked at how they dressed, when they undressed, body movements, and promises involving their body. The analysis was supplemented by additional scene viewings and discussion by the authors. What follows is the result of the analysis. POWER RESIDES WHERE MEN BELIEVE IT RESIDES The purpose of this chapter is to understand how the bodies of many of GoT female characters communicate power. Specifically, we seek to address the question of how their bodies are used to communicate power and/or control. In examining the data, we found three prominent themes: bodies as a way to control, bodies to communicate masculine traits, and bodies as a tool. Tears Aren’t a Women’s Only Weapon The first theme centers on how many of the female characters communicated control and dominance through their bodies. Specifically, we determined that many of the female characters used their bodies to condition male characters or to award them. Females often change their body position, using counterstereotypical non-verbal displays or dominant poses, to communicate power (Bailey & Kelly, 2015). Many of the female characters are successful with this dominant body pose. For example, while locked up following a battle at sea, Tyene Sand (a SandSnake or women warrior of Dorn, one of the seven

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kingdoms) undresses in order to get Bronn, a friend of Tyrion and Jamie Lannister, to admit she is the most beautiful female he has ever seen. “Who is the most beautiful woman in the world,” Tyene asks Bronn as he starts to succumb to the Long Farewell poison. “You” Bronn answers, as Tyene holds the tablet. “Who?” “You,” he answers again as Tyene tosses the antidote tablet to him. (Benioff & Weiss, 2015a) Throughout this scene, Tyene exposes parts of her body by a breast free from her dress, then the untying of the dress. With each strip tease moment, Bronn moves closer to the bars that separate their cells. Bronn moves closer, after a new part of Tyene’s body is exposed. This scene demonstrates female characters’ use of manipulation tactics to get what they need from other characters. Manipulation is when one person must control the situation and the object (West & Turner, 2010). Tyene controls her undress, hence controlling her body; Tyene also controls the situation, as she alone controls if Bronn should live or die. Hence, Tyene’s use of her body in the moment manipulates Bronn. A second way female characters used their body to control other characters was through the act of sex. Upon being ordered to kill Daenerys (Dany) Targaryen, Daario breaks into her camp dressed as an unsullied. But as he enters Dany’s tent, she steps out of the tub, distracting him while ordering him to accept her as his Queen (Benoiff & Weiss, 2015b). Much like Dany, Melisandre, known to many as the red witch, seduces Gentry, a bastard son of King Robert Baratheon. However, the sexual act does not occur since Melisandre just wanted to get a hard-on out of Gentry so she could take some of his blood. While male sexual encounters were used at times to control females (Needham, 2017), female characters communicated the act of sex artfully. If the female character did not like how things were going at the moment, she would communicate sex either verbally and non-verbally or just non-verbally, grabbing the attention of the man and turning the situation to favor her. This supports LeBlanc and LeBlanc’s (2016) finding of how men use communication to turn situations around but also brings forth how women use body language to turn the situation in their favor. Cersei Lannister non-verbally communicated sex throughout the series, starting in Season 1, Episode 1. Brann Stark climbs a tower to witness Jamie and Cersei Lannister having dog-style sex. Jamie catches Brann before he can escape, makes eye contact with Cersei, and then pushes Brann as he says, “the things I do for love.” He knows, should Brann not be taken care of, his and Cersei’s illicit affair would become public, decreasing his chance of future sexual encounters with his

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sister. However, throughout this scene, Cersei remains on the floor in doggy style position as if non-verbally communicating to Jamie if you want more of this then do as I order. The sexual position communicates how Cersei uses the act of sex to manipulate her brother. Later that season, Cersei tells her lover “get back into bed and not talk about business” as a way to quiet him, preventing him from seeking more information about her plans to dispose of Robert, her husband. Cersei’s body not only manipulates and controls Jamie and her lover but also other characters, such as Lancel, a page for King Robert who supplies him with just enough drink so Robert stands in front of a boar and is mauled, ending his life. Cersei promised sex should he complete the deed. Cersei promises sex and Euron Greyjoy the chance to put a baby in her belly if he defeats Dany’s armada and brings Cersei back some elephants. Upon the success of capturing and seizing one of Dany’s vessels, Cersei fulfills her promise. Likewise, Ros flashes her vagina to Theon Greyjoy as she leaves Winterfell for King’s Landing, communicating that she held her power between her legs but also communicating that she knows what Theon enjoys. The sexual act, as well as the allure of sex, allows many of the female characters the opportunity to use their body to manipulate members of the opposite sex. In doing so, they non-verbally communicate manipulation and power. “I’m not a lady. I never have been” After having sex and losing her virginity to Gentry, Arya says, “I’m not a lady. I never have been. That’s not me” after Gentry requests Arya’s hand in marriage (Season 8, Episode 2; Benioff & Weiss, 2019). Viewers of the show would agree with these three statements, as they witnessed Arya shed her dresses and long hair in favor of passing as a boy to escape King’s Landing and then remain in pants throughout the series. But Arya is not the only female character who behaved more masculine than feminine. There are a few other female characters that turn away from the norm of patriarchy, forging their way. Each of them is exceptional in some way, such as Brienne who is as tall as a man and can fight just as brutally if need be (Marques, 2019). But there are also minor female characters that refuse to let men rule over them, being against the values placed on women of child-bearers and home-keepers. Some of the women of Westeros communicated their masculinity as part of who they are; but we argue that other characters, despite others trying to push them into the feminine box, communicated masculinity as a trait of power. Lady Lyanna Mormont pledged allegiance to House Stark and wielded a sword dressed completely in armor during the Battle of Winterfell against the

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undead army. One of her men requested that she join the others, who were not fighting, in the crypt; but she responded with “sit by the fire knitting while men fight to defend her” (Season 7, Episode 1; Benioff & Weiss, 2017). It was not just Lady Mormont’s fighting spirit but also how she used herself to communicate leadership. She sneered when first encountering Ramsay Bolton, stands after the Battle of the Bastards, accepts Jon Snow as the King of the North, and promises to train all on her home island, Bear Island. Lady Lyanna Mormont was just ten years old when she received control of her family’s home; Yara Greyjoy, although quite a few years older, tried to conquer control of her family’s home only to lose to her cousin Euron. Like other female characters, such as Arya and Brienne of Tarth, Yara dresses in a suit of armor-material, wearing only pants with her hair never neatly combed or styled. The wardrobe alone is enough to mark Yara’s communication of masculinity but there are also specific actions she completes as well. Yara Greyjoy was given the title of Lady of the Iron Islands but in many ways exhibited masculine qualities. As a warrior, she existed and thrived in the realms most often inhabited by men in the series: leader, warrior, and commander of a ship. To not only survive but to thrive in that environment, she had to be as strong and warlike as the men she was leading. Yara is encouraged by both her father and her brother, Theon, to rule the Iron Islands. Her father first broke gender stereotypes by granting Yara command of the ship Black Wind (Tomoiaga, 2016). The faith and belief of her father and brother are what separates Yara from Arya and Lady Lyanna, whose fathers and brothers often question their ability to be masculine. From her manner of dress to how she moved through society, she exhibited classic masculinity from the beginning (Singh & Singh, 2018). Yara is a warrior, dressed in “male” clothing. She leads men with the same language and roughness they would use among themselves. For example, when she attempts to rescue her brother Theon, she leads a group of warriors, scales a wall using grappling hooks, then slits a guard’s throat before fighting Ramsay’s soldiers in an attempt to get to Theon. The entire persona she presents is that of a masculine warrior leader. Yara also communicates masculine traits through her sexuality. In a tavern and brothel, Yara attempts to have sex in front of Theon, who was castrated by Ramsay Bolton, and says to the tavern “since it is my last night ashore for a long while, I’m gonna fuck the tits off this one” (Cogman & Mylod, 2016). This scene demonstrates how Yara’s gender and sexual identities are transgressive (Singh & Singh, 2018). She later communicates to both Ellaria and Dany her interest in them, cementing her desire for women rather than men. While Yara originally presents as a female, her persona is that of someone who presents in ways that get the results she is looking for, and most often, that is masculine. Tomoiaga (2016) writes that Yara Greyjoy is “the

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embodiment of pride and duty, a knight in her true self, a trustworthy, exceptionally brave soldier, and a tender daughter and sister” (p. 250). Wear It Like a Badge of Honor The final theme signifies how clothing, emblems, or other artifacts communicated one’s journey to overcome and/or demonstrate signs of violence. LeBlanc (2017) focused on Princess Leia’s clothing but very little research exists in communication that examines clothing beyond the sex symbol (Dow & Wood, 2015). We argue that GoT takes a different approach to female clothing and instead plays with colors and hues of dress. This is not to say that some characters do not wear sexy dresses or mirror that of Princess Leia wearing pants during scenes of struggle (LeBlanc, 2017); however, for purposes of highlighting the journey of bodily violence, this chapter focuses on colors. Two characters demonstrate the progression, each in one way. First, we will concentrate on Sansa Stark and then examine Gilly Craster. Sansa Stark When the audience first meets Sansa, she is star-struck by the king and his son, Joffrey (Benioff & Weiss, 2011a). Her dress is light blue and shows perhaps 4 inches of her neck and chest; her hair cascades down her shoulders and is styled with two braids atop of her head. We point out her appearance from her very first scene because her character, and hence body, communicates softness, understanding, and integrity with a hint of sexual desire. She is her father’s pawn, since he promises her hand to his friend Robert’s son Joffrey, and must communicate the part of being worthy to marry the future King of Westeros. Later, Sansa’s dresses begin to take a darker hue. For example, once Sansa and Joffrey’s engagement breaks, Lord Lannister bonds her to Tyrion and a wedding ceremony takes place (Cogman, 2013). Her dress is tan and brown and very little of her neck/chest area is shown. The color brown demonstrates resilience, which is what Sansa is communicating after Joffrey has her father beheaded. However, after learning of her brother Robb’s and mother Catelyn’s murder at the Red Wedding, Sansa’s trust of people in the capital wanes and her clothing becomes darker, such as the dark purple she wears during a walk with Tyrion in the gardens; this trend continues through Joffrey’s murder, as she is seen at the wedding couple’s table in a purple gown but her hair appears darker from previous seasons. The darker hue of purple begins her communication of frustration and sadness. Even after she is rescued and comes under the protection of Baelish, her wardrobe and her hair begin to darken in hue. Sansa’s appearance continues

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to morph darker as violence increases, exchanges between men continue to take place, and her trust in others begins to wane. She wears black during the period she was wed to Ramsay Bolton, the sentencing of Baelish, aka LittleFinger, and through the battle with the White Walkers. It is only after Sansa is crowned “Queen of the North” that the color of her wardrobe lightens to a lighter purple hue. It is like the changes in the colors and hues of her wardrobe signify Sansa’s journey from a light-hearted teenager to the victim of abuse and others’ quest for power back to a light-hearted queen, fulfilling her once teenage dream. The changing of the artifacts covering Sansa’s body wasn’t by her deeds, nor was it for her benefit, but for the benefit of others from many families. By watching Sansa be engaged to Joffrey by her father, made to marry Tyrion after being claimed as unfit for Joffrey, and then handed to Ramsay as a ploy, viewers witnessed the agency behind Sansa’s metamorphosis. While her clothes became darker, so did her hair color but also the tightness of the style. Some viewers even noticed that Sansa’s once light-blue eyes darkened over the running of the show, symbolizing her change from carefree youth to hardened adult. And while that may have been true from the neck down, especially when married to Ramsay, it is the neck and above where Sansa demonstrates her agency. The meek Sansa that we see trying to please Joffrey in the first 3 seasons with her neck and parts of her chest area shown is not the Sansa we see near the end of Season 6 as she’s telling Ramsay “Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear” with her neck and chest area completely covered (Benioff & Weiss, 2016a). This coverage carries over into the scene where Sansa confronts Baelish about his actions of leaving her with Ramsay: Would you like to hear about our wedding night? He never hurt my face—he needed my face, the face of Ned Stark’s daughter. But the rest of me, he did what he liked with the rest of me, as long as I could still give him an heir. (Benioff & Weiss, 2016c)

During the final episodes of Season 8, viewers note that it is Sansa’s pride, that when matched with her choice and agency and lightening of her clothes and softening of her features, “facilitates self-respect” for a young girl who once held no power but ends up ruling the North (Schubert, 2016, p. 116). Sansa’s quest for power as a leader in Winterfell was on display through her face for all gathered to see but as noted, her body from the neck down hid under layers of dark clothing. The color and coverage of her wardrobe changes support previous findings on how dress communicates identity; as identity changes because one’s response to societal changes so does one’s dress (Roach-Higgins & Eicher, 1992).

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Gilly Craster Sansa’s clothing metamorphosis signified a journey of her character not experiencing violence in her life filled with violence both to her family and herself. Another GoT character’s clothing and body metamorphosis demonstrates the opposite journey: from a period of incest, sacrificing of children, and fear to love, acceptance, and freedom. Gilly Craster is a wife and daughter of Craster, a Wildling and Free Folk who lived north of the Wall. As a daughter, Gilly suffered severe abuse from father’s hands. When girls were born, they were raised to a young age and then married to their father to continue his incestuous habits. When his daughter-wives birthed sons, Craster abandoned them in the woods to die or be stolen by the White Walkers (Benioff & Weiss, 2012b). Gilly Craster received more abuse than just being raped by her father. He routinely demeaned her and her sisters and treated them worse than the animals in the yard (Benioff & Weiss, 2012b). Craster mocks male visitors for not having daughters and taking them as brides as if this behavior is socially acceptable. The men are uneasy, and only one daughter, Gilly, is saved by one of the men (Benioff & Weiss, 2013b). As such, Gilly’s and the sister-wives’ storylines take different turns. When viewers first meet Gilly, she is dressed in dark rags, smears of dirt and mud visible on her skin, and she is unkempt. Soon after meeting Samwell, Gilly communicates signs of anxiety and PTSD, violently making herself smaller to not be seen and shrinking away when Samwell tries to help her. After Samwell rescues her, Gilly’s body begins to lose the dirt and mud markings and by the time they seek shelter in an abandoned cabin, Gilly’s face is clean and she is pulled back. The more Samwell communicates protection toward Gilly and her son, the more Gilly relaxes. By the middle of Season 5, Gilly and Samwell found protection at Castle Black. It is in this season that Gilly’s wardrobe begins to shift from dark, dirty, and rag-like to more proper, long dresses that cover her body from the bottom of her neck to her feet. As the relationship between Samwell and Gilly tightens, Gilly’s wardrobe begins shifting in color from the dark blacks and browns to gray; when she arrives at Horn Hill, her dress is a blueish gray representing Gilly’s growth in non-Wildling and Freefolk ways as well as the softness she is developing. By the time of the family dinner at Horn Hill, Gilly wears a black dress with goldish/yellow adornments, signifying joy but also seriousness. By the middle of Season 8, after the battle with the White Walkers, Gilly’s hair is soft, free-flowing, and captures her youthlike appearance. Her wardrobe is lighter, although not in the pink or blue hues reminiscent of Sansa Stark or white like Daenerys. This dramatic transformation demonstrates how Gilly healed, Samwell’s part in the healing, and how much confidence she has gained since her father’s abuse. Viewers witnessed the change in her dark

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clothing matching the dark era between Craster and his daughter/wives to her lighter colored clothing that came with her love, connection, and growth with Samwell. This shift in clothing, from dark rags to brighter colored dresses, visually shows the shift from her bad situation as her father’s wife to, by the end of the show, the better place she found with Samwell. As evident through Gilly’s transformation, her journey contradicted the journey of Sansa Stark. It is as if the less violence Gilly saw, the less destress her body communicated, symbolized by the changing of the color of her character’s wardrobe and hairstyles. During the analysis of the data, we were intent on just focusing on the body; but the more we analyzed, the more we realized the importance of the artifacts female characters adorned. As we watched the artifacts, or in this case hair and clothing, change, we saw the symbolism of this change in the growth of the female characters. While previous research focused on Sansa Stark’s costumes (Franz & Kumar, 2019), our analysis details how characters’ wardrobe colors change as power is gained or decreased among female characters.

YOU WIN OR YOU DIE. THERE IS NO MIDDLE GROUND. The purpose of this chapter was to critically examine female characters’ use of their body to communicate power through the lens of critical feminist theory. Specifically, we analyzed data to address the question: How is power communicated through the use of female bodies? Our analysis resulted in three themes: bodies as a way to control, bodies to communicate masculine traits, and clothing the bodies. To conclude our chapter, we expand on what each of these themes means, how they tie back to the guiding question, and where future research can go from here. For women who have little worth in a deeply patriarchal society, their bodies are often their only currency to rise in the political realm. The main type of currency female characters spend is their sexual desire. Female characters use the allure, the promise, and the sight of sex to take control of situations and manipulate men to do their bidding. Characters such as Tyene, Melisandra, Cersei, and Dany used their bodies to communicate power through sex. Female bodies shift to communicate power (Bailey & Kelly, 2015), but our study takes this one step further by demonstrating that with the shifting of the body so that it communicates sex, females not only control but also manipulate others. We want to point out that while some female characters do seduce male characters, the act of sex was not the only way to communicate control and manipulation. Just the promise or allure of sex, such as Ros flashing her vagina at Theon when leaving Winterfell, controlled others. In a world of hyper-masculinity (Johnson, 2018) and sexual desires (Singh & Singh, 2018),

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it was the ones who used their bodies in strategic ways that almost remained standing in the end. Our second theme focused on how many female characters used masculine traits to demonstrate and communicate power. We chose to move beyond the obvious characters of Arya and Brienne of Tarth and focus on lesser-known characters for this theme. Along with Arya and Brienne, Lady Lyanna and Yara Greyjoy communicated power through very masculine traits, such as wielding a sword at the age of ten to fight along with other Northerners during the Long Night or commanding the lead ship in Greyjoy’s armada. Yara and Lyanna defied the stereotypes put forth by the Westeros by not using their bodies for sexual exploits and even giving into homosexual tendencies, a great sin in the seven Kingdoms (Amjad & Ashrafi, 2021; Clapton & Sheperd, 2020). They ruled and garnered respect from their people, sometimes more than many of their male counterparts did. Future research should continue to explore the links between gender and sexuality and how they intersect in terms of masculine qualities, kinetics, and leadership. The final theme, clothing the bodies, focuses on the changing of colors and hues of female characters and how these changes demonstrated the cycle of power. As pointed out above, LeBlanc (2017) demonstrated that very little research focuses on characters’ clothing; but as this theme suggests, the clothing of two female characters deserved analysis and explanation. We argue that Sansa Stark’s and Gilly Craster’s clothing highlighted the cycle of violence and the impact the cycle had on their quest for power. Sansa Stark’s clothing choices represented the complete cycle from positive, a young naïve teenager wearing light colors, to negative, a woman wearing dark clothing and covering her body completely, back to light colors when named Queen of the North. Gilly’s journey was linear, highlighting the lack of power and control she had when as a daughter/wife of Craster to how her clothing lightened during her journey of faith, trust, and freedom with Samwell. Our analysis did not just focus on how much of a body was covered but also on what the symbolism behind the colors meant. This is a new contribution to research, as far as we can tell based on copious hours of database searches, as we could find no information about the subtle non-verbal messages coming from colors. Hence, our findings contribute to the field of semiotics and future researchers should continue to flush out the meaning behind the sign of color. Next, Franz and Kamar (2019) pointed out how Sansa’s costumes demonstrated a loss of innocence, but our analysis takes this one step further by featuring how the clothing sends messages about the person as well as their quest/journey. We also move our analysis beyond the sex symbol in order to extrapolate how clothing can communicate power, control, and life course.

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As the curtain fell on the series, very few female characters were left standing. But those who survived the show ended their journeys with power. Sansa Stark was named Queen of the North; Brienne of Tarth became leader of the King’s Guard; Yara returned to her family home where she ruled; and, Arya Stark left on a ship to explore the world beyond the Seven Kingdoms. These characters not only communicated journeys of self-discovery but they also represented the journey some fictional characters take to come out on top. REFERENCES Aksey, B. (2018). “I’d rather have no brains and two balls”: Eunuchs, masculinity, and power in Game of Thrones. The Journal of Popular Culture, 51(1), 50–67. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & VanPatten, T. (Director). (17 April 2011a). Winter is coming (Season 1, Episode 1) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO), Television 360, Grok! Television, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & VanPatten, T. (Director). (24 April 2011b). The Kingsroad (Season 1, Episode 2) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO), Television 360, Grok! Television, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Kirk, B. (Director). (15 May 2011c). The wolf and the lion. (Season 1, Episode 5) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Grok! Television, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Minahan, D. (Director). (29 May 2011d). You win or you die. (Season 1, Episode 7) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Grok! Television, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead, Home Box Office (HBO). Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (19 June 2011e). Fire and Blood. (Season 1, Episode 10) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Grok! Studio, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (1 April 2012a). The North remembers. (Season 2, Episode 1) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO), Television 360, Grok! Television, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (8 April 2012b). The night lands. (Season 2, Episode 2) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Executive Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO), Television 360, Grok! Television, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (20 May 2012c). The prince of Winterfell. (Season 2, Episode 8) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff

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(Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office, Television 360, Grok! Studio, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (3 June 2012d). Valor morghulis. (Season 2, Episode 10) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office, Television 360, Grok! Studio, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Graves, A. (Director). (21 April 2013a). And now his watch is ended. (Season 3, Episode 4) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Sakharov, A. (Director). (5 May 2013b). The climb. (Season 3, Episode 6) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Nutter, D. (Director). (2 June 2013c). The rains of Castamere. (Season 3, Episode 9) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Sakharov, A. (Director). (9 June 2013d). Mhysa. (Season 3, Episode 10) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Graves, A. (Director). (15 June 2014). The children. (Season 4, Episode 10) [TV series episode}. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling. Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Mylod, M. (25 April 2015a). High Sparrow. (Season 5, Episode 3) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling. Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Sapochnik, M. (31 May 2015b). Hardhome. (Season 5, Episode 8) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling. Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Bender, J. (Director). (22 May 2016c). The Door. (Season 6, Episode 5) [TV series episode}. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling. Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Sapochnik, M. (Director). (9 June 2016a). Battle of the bastards. (Season 6, Episode 9) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Sapochnik, M. (Director). (26 June 2016b). The winds of winter. (Season 6, Episode 10) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Taylor, A. (Director). (20 August 2017a). Beyond the wall. (Season 7, Episode 1) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Mylod, M. (Director). (30 July 2017b). The queen’s justice. (Season 7, Episode 3) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Podeswa, J. (Director). (27 August 2017c). The dragon and the wolf. (Season 7, Episode 7) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead.

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Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Nutter, D. (Director). (5 May 2019). The last of the Starks. (Season 8, Episode 4) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Director). (19 May 2019). The iron throne. (Season 8, Episode 6) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Clapton, W., & Shepherd, L.J. (2017). Lessons from Westeros: Gender and power in Game of Thrones. Politics, 37(1), 5–18. Cogman, B. (Writer), & Kirk, B. (Director). (8 May 2011). Cripples, bastards, and broken things. (Season 1, Episode 4) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Grok! Studio, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Cogman, B. (Writer), & Graves, A. (Director). (28 April 2013). Kissed by fire. (Season 3, Episode 5) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Cogman, B. & Hill, D. (Writers), & Podeswa, J. (Director). (17 May 2015). Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. (Season 5, Episode 6) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Cogman, B. (Writer), & Mylod, M. (Director). (5 June 2016). The broken man. (Season 6, Episode 7) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Cogman, B. (Writer), & Mylod, M. (Director). (23 July 2017). Stormborn. (Season 7, Episode 2) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Denker, K.J. (2021). Critical feminist theory: Giving voice and visibility to gendered experiences. In D.O. Brathwaite & P. Schrodt (Eds.), Engaging theories in interpersonal communication: Multiple perspectives (pp. 233–245). Routledge. Espenson, J., Benioff, D., Weiss, D.B. (Writers), & Minihan, D. (Director). (22 May 2011). A Golden Crown. (Season 1, Episode 6) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Grok! Studio, Generator Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Ferreday, D. (2015). Game of Thrones, rape culture, and feminist fandom. Australian Feminist Studies, 30(83), 21–36. Gresham, K. (2015). Cursed womb, bulging thighs, and bald scalp: George R.R. Martin’s grotesque queen. In J. Battis & S. Johnston (Eds.), Essays on George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire (pp. 151–169). MacFarland. Hefner, V. & Wilson, B.J. (2013). From love at first sight to soul mate: The influence of romantic ideals in popular films on young people’s beliefs about relationships. Communication Monographs, 80, 150–175. https://10.1080/03637751/2013/776697. Hill, D. (Writer), & Nutter, D. (Director). (14 April 2019). Winterfell. (Season 8, Episode 1) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Johnson, K.R. & Holmes, B.M. (2009). Contradictory messages: A content analysis of Hollywood produced romantic comedy films. Communication Quarterly, 52, 252–373.

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Johnston, S. (2018). Abjection, masculinity, and sacrifice: The reek of death in Game of Thrones, Men and Masculinities, online. Kaplan, R. (2017) Non-normative sex and bodies in Game of Thrones: How ‘extreme’ bodies question the nature of sex and sexual images. Kultur & Geschlect, 18, 1–20. Lauf, J. (2017, July 25). The major problem with Arya’s feminism in “Game of Thrones.” Bustle. https://www​.bustle​.com​/p​/game​-of​-thrones​-season​-7​-is​-feminist​ -but​-only​-for​-one​-kind​-of​-woman​-70659. Marques, D. (2019). Power and the denial of femininity in Game of Thrones. Canadian Review of American Studies, 49(1), 46–65. Martin, G.R.R. (Writer), & Marshall,N. (Director). (27 May 2012). Blackwater. (Season 2, Episode 9) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO). Television 360, Grok! Entertainment, Bighead Littlehead. Martin, G.R.R. (Writer), & MacLaren, M. (Director). (12 May 2013). The bear and the maiden fair. (Season 3, Episode 7) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Martin, G.R.R. (Writer), & Graves, A. (Director). (13 April 2014). The lion and the rose. (Season 4, Episode 2) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Television 360, Startling, Bighead Littlehead. Rakow, L.F. & Wackwitz, L.A. (2004). Feminist communication theory: Selections in context. Putnam. Rocha, L. (2018). Fighting and feminist expression: The Argent family and the limits of female agency in Teen Wolf. In U.M. Anywio & A. Hobson (Eds.), Gender Warriors (pp. 71–83). Brill. Russell, J.L. (2021). Sexual violence in Game of Thrones [Unpublished master’s thesis]. Purdue University Fort Wayne. Schubert, R. (2016). Woman with dragons: Daenerys, pride, and postfeminist possibilities. In A. Gjelsvik & R Schubart (Eds.), Women of ice and fire: Gender, game of thrones, and multiple media engagements (pp. 105–129). Bloomsbury. Sheffield, C. (2008). Sexual terrorism. In L.L. O’Toole, J.R. Schiffman, and M.L. Kitter Edwards (Ed.), Gender violence: Interdisciplinary perspectives, (2nd ed., pp. 111–130). NYU Press. Siliman, S. (2019). Embracing the bad victim: Sexual violence and sympathy on popular television. The Popular Culture Studies Journal, 7, 140–158. Online. Singh, S. & Singh, G. (2018). Expressions of subversive gender roles and sexual desires: Reading HBO’s Game of Thrones. Journal of Arts, Science, & Commerce, 35–46. https://dx​.doi​.org​/10​.18843​/rwjasc​/v9i4​/05. Taylor, V. (Writer), & Petrarca, D. (Director). (22 April 2012). The garden of bones. (Season 2, Episode 4) [TV series episode]. In D. Benioff (Producer) Game of Thrones. Home Box Office (HBO), Television 360, Grok! Television, Bighead Littlehead. Walton, P.L. (2019). “You win or you die”: The royal flush of power in Game of Thrones. Canadian Review of American Studies, 49(1), 99–114. Wood, J.T. (2015). Critical feminist theories: Giving voice and visibility to women’s experiences in interpersonal relations. In D.O. Braithwaite, & P. Schrodt (Eds.), Engaging theories in interpersonal communication: Multiple perspectives (2nd ed., pp. 203–215). Sage.

Part IV

ADVERTISING

Chapter 13

“Anti-Racist X-rays?” Color-Blind Racism and the “Universal” Body Beck Wise

A soft humming soundtrack swells over footage of people walking through a town square—they’re smiling and holding hands, carrying shopping bags as pretty pink balloons bob along behind them. As the piano kicks in, the camera flips from the crowd to a close-up view of two x-rayed skeletons facing each other, one’s arm reaching to the other’s hip, then pans up to reveal the skeletons kissing. Their skulls look like a heart. The crowd, now revealed to be gathering around a giant screen on which these x-rays are projected, is confused—and then charmed. This is the opening scene of the Ad Council of America’s anti-implicit bias public service announcement campaign, Love Has No Labels, which captured the Creative Arts Emmys’ top spot in 2016 over the usual slate of splashy high-budget corporate ads—that year, Gatorade, Snickers, Honda, and Google rounded out the top five (Nudd, 2016). The print and video campaign centers around a staged public event in which x-rayed skeletons move on/behind a screen and aims to counter implicit bias by using x-ray vision to reveal something beyond what the viewing audience usually sees, both literally—the skeletons beneath the skin—and figuratively. In this chapter, I offer a rhetorical-cultural reading of this advertising campaign, its underlying warrants, and its reception in order to understand how scientistic texts like Love Has No Labels might work to effect social change—and what underlying logic and literacies might undermine their success. A rhetorical reading attends to how communication functions in a given context; within the field of medical rhetorics, this means examining “how specific symbolic patterns structure meaning and action in health and medical contexts and practices” (Keränen, 2014, p. 37). A cultural reading 229

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attends to the way contexts shape communication, examining “the ideological structures that shape the way scientific texts are produced” (Dorpenyo, 2015, p. 227). A rhetorical-cultural approach brings these goals together to examine the broader conditions of communication and persuasion: not just the immediate production or reception of a text, but the ecologies of knowledge and ideology in which they operate. Following Ceccarelli (2001), I employ a close textual-intertextual analysis, examining both the text itself “to offer hypotheses about how readers might have been invited to respond to the text’s appeal” and its intertextual networks, to understand the text’s construction and effect (p. 6). This allows us to understand the interarticulation of popular and scientific discourse. Interarticulation is, as Dingo (2012) explains, “a rhetorical tool that can help us account for both the shifting meanings and unevenness of rhetorics as they travel” (p. 110); while Dingo uses it to explain how terms accrue different meanings as they’re used across national boundaries and cultural contexts, it also captures the way that ideas accrue meanings as they travel across private, public, and technical spheres of argumentation (Goodnight, 1999). In this chapter, the textual analysis examines the way that Love Has No Labels uses implicit notions about the objectivity of x-ray images to warrant claims about human difference; the intertextual analysis examines related discussions of objectivity and visualization to understand what literacies the advertising campaign assumes, and how they might shape the campaign’s effect.

SETTING THE SCENE: THE OBJECTIVE GAZE Let’s return to the opening scene of this chapter, and of the advertisement. A minute into the video, a viewer begins to clap as the lyrics begin—“even if I wanted to, I can’t change”—and onstage, a woman hugging her girlfriend seems to relax, putting her hand over her heart and laughing at their increasingly warm reception. As the ad continues, we see more x-ray figures on the screen. Appearing in pairs and trios, they dance, embrace, kiss, hold hands, and dance together—and then actors step out from behind the x-ray screen to reveal themselves as same-sex, interracial, interabled, or trans-religious couples. The audiences on the screen smile and laugh, their initial shock and confusion turning to delight as these richly diverse couples are revealed. The thirty-second TV spot I’ve outlined here is just one in a larger campaign, Love Has No Labels, which rolled out videos ranging from fifteen seconds to more than two minutes, as well as a suite of print advertisements. Some of these place visual elements such as text and borders from the TV ads over photos of interracial and interabled pairs, while others use the same juxtaposition of x-rays and flesh, showing x-rayed skeletons kissing or holding

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hands, with photographs of the bodies’ exteriors overlaid over the hands or mouths to show black or white skin. The advertisements use a range of slogans, forking “love has no labels”: love has no race, no gender, no disability, no religion. In the videos, we also hear voiceovers with lines like “my heart doesn’t see race” and “love is love.” The campaign was intended to combat implicit bias by using x-ray images to argue for the existence, and importance, of a universal human—these images, it’s suggested, show us what the ads refer to as a “universal love” that would otherwise go unseen. We at home are invited to share in the townfolks’ experience—we experience the reveal as they do, disarticulating the x-rays from the actors, interior structure from a bodily surface: a rupture neatly captured in Nudd’s (2016) distinction between “human skeletons” and “the humans themselves” in his AdWeek article. X-ray vision, the ad argues, sees through the distractions, shocks, and scandals posed by different bodily configurations, revealing an underlying truth: we’re all the same under the skin. The argument’s success rests on the association of science with objectivity—these medicalized (or at least medical-ish) x-ray images offer an appeal to authority that isn’t possible if we just saw the two women on the stage. This reflects scientistic thinking, a key feature of modernity in which “scientific knowledge is set above all other experiences of knowing” and held to be consubstantial with nature (natural-ized) (Lessl, 1996, p. 380). In this environment, science is held up as a key authority, perhaps the key authority, effectively co-opting it into structures of governance. When this occurs, the rhetorical structures and underlying premises of science begin to operate in the public sphere, taking on political and social effects—effects that can be seen in contemporary debates over vaccination practices, climate change, and much more. Appeals to scientific authority are employed to justify emerging social practices, codifying and ultimately naturalizing them. At the heart of many such appeals is a claim of objectivity which, as Haraway (1988) has pointed out, is the grounding epistemology of the scientific tradition; this, she argues, is “the god trick of seeing everything from nowhere” (p. 581). Scientific knowledge is constituted through an imagined gaze that is disembodied, unengaged, and inert: absolute, and thus irrefutable. This imagined gaze is made concrete when the work of looking is outsourced to machines. Marshall McLuhan (2001/2003), loosely following Benjamin, argued in Understanding Media and again in The Medium is the Massage that technologies serve as extensions to and amputations of the human sensorium. The camera, for example, is conceived as an extension of the eye and thus of the gaze, permitting objects invisible to the unaided eye to be apprehended in some fashion—mimetically, remotely, infinitely. Medical imaging technologies extend the eye through the body, producing images of its interior without rupturing its surface—and by virtue of their

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indelible association with medicine, make claims to objectivity and scientific authority. Such images of the interior of the body are increasingly prevalent in contemporary public culture, appearing in art, advertising, fiction, and more, and even becoming a compulsory feature of traveling by air in the securitized United States—and they operate to require adherence to rigid social and bodily norms. The claim that science and technology are neutral is itself a neutralizing one, indicating not (just) that these spheres are unbiased, but asserting that they are safe and unthreatening. Technology’s objectivity is claimed as a source of authority and power, but—as with whiteness, cissexuality, heterosexuality, and able-bodiedness—this ground is a false one. As many have noted, technologies eventually become so embedded in everyday life that they become invisible as technologies; they are naturalized and neutralized, and their cultural histories occluded. The canonical example—and one which rhetoric and instructors often draw to their students’ attention—is the pencil: its invention revolutionized writing technology, but it is now taken for granted and the term “writing technologies” is all, but reserved for digital tools (Baron, 2009). Such a mindset is perhaps more common among inexpert publics than in the university, where science and technology scholars have long argued that technologies are anything but neutral, being both produced and utilized by anything-but-objective humans (Pinch & Bijker, 1987). Rather, scholars in this field argue, technologies inevitably reflect and reproduce the biases of their creators. When taking a film photograph, for example, light reflected from a subject passes through a camera lens and onto the film, prompting chemical reactions which create an accurate image of the subject; a photograph, produced through this technologized process, more accurately reproduces the subject’s visual appearance than a drawing, produced by a variable—and fallible—human. Or does it? The process is biased from the outset: film is chemically designed to react in particular ways to particular wavelengths of light, to reproduce some colors more vividly and faithfully than others (Cima, 2015; Roth, 2009). When that film is developed, photographic laboratory workers are provided with a reference card to help them determine when an image was properly developed. This reference card, known as a “Shirley card,” depicted a White woman; a photograph was properly developed—its color balance correct—when the subject’s skin tone matched the woman in the reference card. While multiethnic versions now exist—Kodak, for example, introduced a reference card with a White woman, a Black woman, and a Brown woman in 1995—they have been sold at such a premium that many laboratories still use the original (Roth, 2009). As a result of these decisions, photographic film for many years most accurately represented white skin—and in holding up Shirley as

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the photographic ideal, film companies remind us that the White woman is always the default object of the gaze. It was not until the 1960s that this was even considered an issue. Kodak moved to better reproduce darker tones by altering the chemical composition of their film, but this was not prompted by the debates over civil rights then occurring; it was a response to complaints from manufacturers of dark wooden furniture and chocolate, then big clients of the firm, who found that their products’ details were underexposed when photographed. African American writer and photographer Syreeta McFadden, in a Buzzfeed post that circulated widely in 2014, writes: Kodak never encountered a groundswell of complaints from African-Americans about their products. Many of us simply assumed the deficiencies of film emulsion performance reflected our inadequacies as photographers. Perhaps we didn’t understand the principles of photography. It is science, after all. (para. 17)

These biases remain in digital photography, too, as well as other technologies relying on reflected electromagnetic waves, with the result that subaltern bodies are automatically excluded from the frame. Autofocus technologies seek out light spots—which is to say, white faces—in photographs, failing to recognize people of color; programs that warn you when someone blinked in a photograph are triggered by monolidded eyes (Lum, 2010; Sharp, 2009; Wang, 2009); autotagging programs on social media misidentify Black people as animals (Alciné, 2015; Barr, 2016; Hern, 2015; Zhang, 2015); face-tracking webcams only track white faces (Raphael, 2014), a problem described as “rather minor” by one tech commentator (Ralph, 2014); game platforms fail to register uses of color1 (Grobart, 2010; Ionescu, 2010; Sutherland, 2010); Twitter crops Black people out of photo previews after their algorithm identifies “the most important parts of the picture” (Hern, 2020); motion-activated soap dispensers don’t respond to dark-skinned users (Plenke, 2015). This last echoes a moment from medical drama Grey’s Anatomy in which Sandra Oh’s Korean American character details the recent problems of her life, culminating in “the automatic paper towel thingy won’t recognize me as human. I’m just standing there, waving my hands like an idiot” (Greenspan, 2013, author’s emphasis). In all of these cases, the occlusion and hypervisibility of subaltern bodies have been dismissed as insufficiencies of the technology—not the product of human bias being built in, despite the abundance of evidence that such biases persist (Noble, 2018). The technologies themselves, their makers claim, are neutral. Objective. Their gaze is, like Haraway’s imagined scientific gaze, apparently unassailable because the technologies do not make the kinds of judgments humans do (a position that seems hard to sustain in an age of machine learning and algorithmic decision making).

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X-ray Vision: What Lies Beneath X-ray technology is likewise thought to provide an objective vision of the target of its gaze. Mechanically, it is very much like photography, except that sensors capture electromagnetic radiation that has penetrated a body, rather than bouncing off it—and its imaginative importance is inflated by the notion that x-rays reveal hidden truths: the bodily structures concealed beneath the skin. Coupled with their machinic objectivity, x-rays appear to offer evermore penetrating knowledge. This is the premise from which the Love Has No Labels argument proceeds. I first heard of the campaign when a friend emailed me about one of the videos, writing only “Warning: feels ahead” above a link. The article she shared (Andrade, 2015) offered just a couple of sentences of analysis alongside an embedded video, but exemplified the coverage the campaign received across sites like Slate (Lowder, 2015), queer TV network Logo’s NewNowNext (Tharrett, 2015), UK and U.S. editions of the Huffington Post (Barrell, 2015; Keady, 2015), among others. These media accounts acclaimed the advertisements for revealing a universal humanity: Slate’s J. Bryan Lowder (2015) commented that “It’s a small point—if we can get past our surface prejudices, love looks the same—but one smartly made,” while Diply’s Christyn Andrade (2015) wrote “When you take away all of the outer appearance, it becomes much easier to accept people for who they are, doesn’t it?” These comments are all variations on the platitude I’ve already invoked, an imaged universal human beneath and beyond surface variations. But the universality presented here is false on several fronts. The first is the most obvious: the entire campaign is fiction. The x-ray images presented in the still advertisements and at the staged live event are computer-generated, and the couples who emerge as the “real people” behind (or around?) the bones are actors (Vartan, 2015). The animations are a combination of motion-capture and computer-generated imagery: CGI skeleton models were made to move in line with the actions of actors wearing motion-capture sensors in order to produce a “base” video, which—in the live events—was edited on the fly so that the skeletons could be scaled and moved to align with the actors as they stepped out from behind the stage (Vartan, 2015). More critically, though, the universal body presented here is a normate one, an imagined, non-existent, and indeed impossible physical ideal. The labels in the advertisements point to divergence from this unlabeled norm— the actors we are shown are all marginalized on one or more axes, whether non-White, disabled, aged, or non-heterosexual. This diverse representation is in some sense the point, but in choosing to let young, White, able, cishetero bodies remain unlabeled, the advertisements reinscribe the exact dynamic of

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unseen and ignored bias which they set out to criticize—and in using x-ray to present this argument, offer a scientistic warrant which naturalizes White, hetero, able-bodiedness as not just normate, but a pre-existing universal body from which all other bodies diverge. The campaign makes the point that categories based on phenotypic race, gender identification, and sexual orientation are socially constructed—but it does so by pointing to medicalized imagery that is subject to and based upon just as many socially constructed categorizations. For example, forensic anthropologists identify “race” from bones using probabilistic measures (Sauer, 1992), a practice that is frequently deployed as “proof” that race is a natural category (and wheeled out as a spectacular cornerstone of forensic dramas)—but anthropologists have demonstrated that the categories into which bodies are sorted don’t reflect real breaks between bodily characteristics. Rather, they are influenced by racial and racist stereotypes dating back hundreds of years. This is particularly apparent in recent scholarship examining a possible genetic origin for race: researchers have examined large volumes of genetic data from around the world and sorted them into clusters based on genetic similarity. The process is semi-automated: computers are tasked with grouping genetic profiles into a researcher-assigned number of clusters, and researchers then identify the best fit. This has frequently resulted in researchers identifying five originary racial groups (Rosenberg et al., 2002), and been hailed as providing evidence for a biological, rather than social, basis for race (Shiao et al., 2012). However, scholars including Morning (2014) have suggested that “our measures of ‘biological ancestry’ are molded by the same cultural beliefs about human difference that fuel our social classification schemes” (p. 194). In other words, researchers test for clusters based on pre-existing notions about how many clusters should be found, even overruling the computer-designated “best fit” to better align with the desired result (Morning, 2014, p. 199; Roberts, 2011), where in fact all genetic variation is clinal (Bolnick, 2008) and there is more genetic variation within the so-called racial clusters than across them (Fujimura et al., 2014). Similar issues occur in forensic anthropology, which focuses on skeletal remains; researchers have identified skeletal features as characteristic of different racial groups (Stull et al., 2014), but these identifications rely on stereotypes about social race (Fullwiley, 2014; Ousley et al., 2009; Smay & Armelagos, 2000), and the actions taken based upon those identifications also vary according to racist stereotypes. For example, scholars in New Zealand have found that when remains are identified as Māori, culturally appropriate actions including repatriation are not undertaken (Hudson et al., 2008) and deaths are dismissed as a natural product of the “Māori warrior gene” (Gillett & Tamatea, 2012); this latter, according to Gillett and Tamatea (2012) “distract[s] attention from the real basis of antisocial behavior and resulting

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ethnic injustice” (p. 41) and naturalizes racist stereotypes. Further, racist practices can produce racist bodily variation, such as skeletal abnormalities based on malnutrition, which may be naturalized when they are handed down to future generations through epigenetic variation (Sullivan, 2013). The debate over the universality of bones and other bodily characteristics, then, is an ongoing one—and one with real implications for social and racial justice. The same problems occur when trying to identify the sex of a skeleton. Forensic anthropologists are often called on to gender skeletal remains based on physical markers, but as in the case of race, this requires anthropologists to map a social category (gender) onto an apparently sexed bodily configuration. The most common characteristic considered is the shape of the pelvic girdle: people assigned female at birth generally have a pelvis shaped to allow childbirth. There are also statistical differences in bone size and proportion, and in muscle bulk that result in differing attachment structures for muscle to bone (Thieme & Schull, 1957). But as with racial identifications, there are no absolutes to be drawn despite the imaginative dominance of the gender binary, sex, and gender manifest as and with a wild variety of biological and other characteristics (Fausto-Sterling, 2000). It might seem unfair to criticize a viral advertising campaign for its failure to engage with the complicated and ongoing history of scientific racism and sexism across a range of disciplines. But like those fields, the advertisements situate universality within a very narrow scope, limiting which bodies are considered fully human in ways that recall the practices criticized above. The film makes a point of showing differently abled people, beginning exactly halfway through the longest video when two small bodies are shown behind the screen; they are revealed to be sisters, one with Down syndrome. Immediately thereafter, two men conversing in sign language in the audience are shown, before cutting back to a man and woman embracing directly in front of the screen—the man holding a guide cane as a visual signifier of impaired vision. It’s noteworthy that only the child with Downs syndrome is shown behind the “x-ray screen”—guide canes are typically made of metal so the man’s cane would likely show up on the screen, as would the characteristic gestures of sign language. And had the creators selected somebody who uses a wheelchair—well, there would be no “surprise!” moment there, since a wheelchair is immediately legible as such even in x-ray where perhaps the cane might go unnoticed or the signs be registered as different kinds of movement. In other words, part of the criteria for being considered and represented as a “universal human” is a disability that is invisible within the visual schema of the x-ray. That said, Down syndrome commonly presents with musculoskeletal variation visible on x-ray (Edwards et al., 1988; Willich et al., 1977), and the condition may be diagnosed prenatally using radiography (Chaoui, 2005)—so the argument of universality is premised on a lay

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audience, unable to identify the skeletal markers commonly identified with (some forms of) disability, racial categories, and phenotypic sex. The labels attached to the various bodies on and in front of the screen suggest that differences are unitary and externally imposed. Each couple is associated with a single label—gender, race, disability, age, religion—although it is now thirty years since Crenshaw (1991) argued for the necessity of intersectional analyses in understanding raced and gendered oppression, a perspective that has since been extended to other forms of difference. This is not to say that intersectional differences are not present in the film, though —the aged couple, for example, appear Asian, and the film lingers on a family with two Black dads. But these intersections go unremarked, both within the advertisements and in the educational materials provided on the Love Has No Labels website. Further, the labels aren’t always reflective of the particular differences at play: the label “gender” stands in for sexual orientation; “race” stands for both race and ethnicity; and “religion” seems to operate as code for “ethnicity” when applied to a White woman wearing clerical garb and a Brown woman wearing a sari, a garment that “women wear it regardless of their religion, nationality, caste, class or region of origin” (Kaur, 2017, para. 4). This collapsing of differences under a single label—and even the structure of the campaign, which relies on the premise that all the presented forms of difference can be analogized—fails to recognize the differences between differences. As Samuels (2003) and other intersectional feminist scholars have argued, there are limits to analogy and this tactic often conceals the very different forms of discrimination and oppression experienced by people within different identity categories. Such analogies rely on imagined ideals of monolithic other(ed) communities that remain stable over time, a fantasy that does little to further social justice and can work against it, especially when such analogies veer into appropriation. The advertisements also foreclose the possibility that those to whom such labels are applied might embrace them, or at least find ways to use them strategically. It’s common for activists and members of oppressed groups to identify with and (re)claim the identity labels that are being criticized by the advertisements, using such terms as part of what Gayatri Spivak (1995) terms strategic essentialism (p. 214)—adopting hegemonic labels for personal or political gain. In the realm of disability, for example, people use identity labels for a variety of purposes, whether as part of a large-scale theoretical and political intervention, as in the case of crip theory (Kafer, 2013; McRuer, 2006), or simply to access needed resources and services (Nario-Redmond et al., 2013; Olney & Brockelman, 2003). In queer communities, “coming out”—claiming a non-heteronormative gender or sexual identity—is a liberatory practice. Color-blind racism—the insistence that one “doesn’t see race,”

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phrasing that actually appears in the video—and other similar “post-racial” discourse is often deployed by White people to deny White supremacy (Bonilla-Silva, 2014); these practices deny ongoing racist oppression and erase individuals’ personal and cultural history, which is often vested in racial identity labels. The overall effect of these advertisements, then, is not to argue that difference doesn’t matter. Rather, the advertisements claim that difference doesn’t exist, pointing—in the print advertisements—to an originary humanity that pre-exists difference, stating that “before anything else, we’re all human.” At the same time, though, they reiterate norms that identify difference as something that exists only in relation to an imagined and unnamed neutral position. Visuality and Power The campaign’s reinscription of the normate body as the universal ideal is especially harmful in this context—not only because of the popularity of the advertisement, but because of its interaction with broader structures of visualization and control. There is an indelible link between power and visuality that operates in a broad variety of spheres. For Haraway (1988), vision is at the core of scientific authority and power: vision and visual metaphor dominate scientific discourse and all scientific knowledge emerges from the imagined objective gaze (Haraway, 1988). For Mirzoeff (2011a, 2011b), vision operates to maintain classed and gendered power relationships. Finally, for Foucault, vision is at the heart of both medical and governmental power relationships (Foucault, 1977; Foucault & Smith, 1963). In all these cases, visualization serves as a mechanism of control, enforcing social order and reinscribing orthodoxies; it enacts the demands that characterize the gazes commonly thought of as surveillant, like closed-circuit TV. In recent years, the question of what constitutes surveillance has become rather murky. As Gary Marx points out in his introduction to the Routledge Handbook of Surveillance Studies, while surveillance was an object of interest inside and outside the academy dating back to the 1950s, it was 9/11 that prompted a surge in academic investigations in the field—and with them, a surge in definitions, schemas, explanatory concepts, and motivations (Lyon et al., 2012, p. xxvii). This is a natural consequence of the broad multidisciplinarity of the field of surveillance studies and its internal variation, with scholars from a wide variety of fields and orientations sharing a single empirical object. However, all these versions of surveillance have in common a fundamental relation of asymmetry—both of power (one has power over an/ other) and function (one sees the other). Asymmetric vision and knowledge is at the heart of that most canonical of surveillance studies texts, Discipline and Punish. Here, Foucault expands on

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Bentham’s notion of the panopticon, a prison structure in which cells face a central tower with a guard inside. Prisoners cannot see the guard and so cannot know when the guard is observing their specific cell; therefore, the theory goes, they behave as though they are being monitored at all times. The same logic underlies the mass deployment of CCTV cameras in urban centers; there are not enough city employees to monitor all cameras at all times, so the cameras function primarily retrospectively, to identify criminals after a crime has been committed. However, research suggests that cameras serve to displace, rather than deter, antisocial behavior, resulting in lower crime in CCTV-monitored spaces but higher crime in adjacent unmonitored areas (Armitage, 2002; Centre, 2016; Coaffee, 2004). Access to Images of the Interior of the Body Asymmetric vision is likewise at the heart of Foucault’s (1980) notion of biopower. The Birth of the Clinic has long served as a touchstone for sociocultural analyses of medical history and while reliance on the text is not without its problems (as historians in particular have noted, Foucault’s analysis has historical faults and emerges from a very particular set of temporospatial and social conditions2), its dominance makes it a useful starting point for thinking through the relationship and metaphoric links between science, society, visuality, and power. Foucault (1980) argued that in the eighteenth century, changing social conditions required new modes of social control. The effective exercise of political power became (and still is) dependent on its ability to act on the most everyday attributes, effort, and actions of its citizens—specifically, those pertaining to their bodies: Power had only a weak capacity for “resolution” as one might say in photographic terms: it was incapable of an individualizing, exhaustive analysis of the social body. But the economic changes of the eighteenth century made it necessary to ensure the circulation of effects of power through progressively finer channels, gaining access to individuals themselves, to their bodies, their gestures, and all their daily actions. By such means power, even when faced with ruling a multiplicity of men, could be as efficacious as if it were being exercised over a single one. (Foucault 1980, pp. 152–153)

Biopower, as Foucault named this new mode of control, is grafted onto the disciplinary power that operates on individuals subject to panoptic surveillance; it conceives people as individuals to be trained, employed, and utilized. Biopower works on citizens as a mass that can be regulated and generalized, focusing on standardizing key features of human life such as birth, reproduction, illness, and death. By reducing individuals to the single thing that they

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necessarily have in common, and which they most value—the very act of living—biopower produces a population in which any citizen can be substituted for any other. Medical discourse has been implicated in biopower’s operations since the beginning, since the emerging medical profession was tasked with certifying the processes and events of human life—and this medical power is created and consolidated through asymmetric vision. In The Birth of the Clinic, Foucault (Foucault & Smith, 1963) notes that when autopsy, then the only means of seeing inside the body, was adopted as a standard tool of Western medicine, knowledge of the body was consolidated into the hands of the medical establishment—also in the eighteenth century. Autopsy, in his view, privileged doctors by allowing them a language founded on their ability to see within the opaque body, a language unavailable to the layperson. Both objective—or “objective”—and objectifying, the medical gaze is able to see beyond the skin to the internal organs of the patient, who is reduced to describing their symptoms in global terms; the lived and embodied experience of the individual is subordinated to medical visualization (Leder, 1992). The body comes to be understood as an assemblage of components legible only to trained observers—and, further, as an assemblage of set or stock components, in common across the population. Here too any citizen can be substituted for any other; here too we see a “field of visibility” in action—a surveillant regime (Foucault, 1977, p. 202). In addition to enacting a form of asymmetric vision that consolidates medical power, x-rays function as a mode of biopower by de-individuating representations of bodies. In recent years, technologies that reduce the body to an abstract set of measurements, data points, or components—such as the Human Genome Project—have been said to perform the work of biopower by obscuring individuality (Rabinow & Rose, 2006). This same abstraction is at work in x-rays and other medical images, both inside and outside the hospital, which represent the human body stripped of its individual flesh, down to its (allegedly) universal bones—and in a scientistic culture, such assertions of universality carry great force. All this is to say that the Love Has No Labels advertisements might be working for change, but they operate within a racist, cissexist, and ablist framework that ultimately undermines their message. They aim to counter implicit bias by showing us what we don’t see, but themselves have limited vision, relying on limited health and visual literacy, as well as inexpert publics’ stereotypes about bodies, in order to make their argument. And they ultimately present an argument not for embracing difference, but rather for ignoring it—pretending it doesn’t exist, erasing surface variations in favor

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of an underlying sameness. When the advertisements’ voiceover says, “My heart doesn’t see race,” it’s a pointed reminder of Bonilla-Silva’s (2014) opening observation in Color-Blind Racism that: Most whites assert that they “don’t see any color, just people”; that although the ugly face of discrimination is still with us, it is no longer the central factor determining minorities’ life chances; and, finally, that, like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., they aspire to live in a society where “people are judged by the content of their character, not by the colour of their skin.” (p. 1)

But as he argues, this “sincere fiction” “otherises softly,” maintaining racist disparities in health outcomes, generational wealth, educational outcomes, criminalization, and more—maintaining “racism without racists.” One of the frames upon which color-blind ideology rests is abstract liberalism, which— among other practices—positions outcomes as results of personal choice, shifting responsibility to individuals and eliding or ignoring institutional and structural barriers; while it’s beyond the scope of this chapter, but it’s worth noting that implicit bias frameworks are likewise an abstract liberal response, positioning racism as a problem to be solved by individuals, and implicit bias training is often deployed as the primary institutional response to racist cultures. In presenting racism as something to be looked past and thus solved at the individual level, the advertisements maintain this dominant ideological perspective. Race’s positioning alongside ability, religion, and ethnicity in the advertisements invites analogy across these categories of difference—and indeed, analogies between race and homosexuality were often invoked in the leadup to the U.S. Supreme Court striking down bans on same-sex marriage a few months after the campaign launched. Analogy and comparison is a key strategy for “mak[ing] the strange familiar” (West, 2015, p. 568) and bringing novel ideas into the realm of comprehensibility. Aligning these categories of difference in Love Has No Labels potentially offers easier ways in for audiences, making them rhetorically effective despite analogy’s flattening effect. And as West (2015) argues, we can “adapt and qualify these analogies in richer ways and to embrace their indeterminacies as productive complexities and opportunities for a coalitional politics directed at the state and not at each other” (p. 578). But if we are to analogize across these intersecting identity categories in accepting the advertisement’s arguments, we must also analogize across the underlying ideology. The insistent ignoring/ignorance which characterizes color-blind racism is also at work when non-marginalized people insist they don’t see a wheelchair user’s wheels, a Jewish person’s kippur, a woman’s

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wife—and also works to maintain structural barriers to marginalized people’s success. We must also contend with the advertisements’ scientific warrants; while the campaign is presented in the service of social justice, it obscures the extent to which science too treats difference as something to be minimized, controlled for, or ignored—obscuring and pathologizing variation.

CONCLUSION The campaign is both a story about bodies and a story about science—one with implications for how viewers understand scientific endeavors, as well as how they understand the relationship between bodies, difference, and social justice. If we are to work toward social justice—toward anti-racist, anti-ableist, anti-sexist, anti-bias societies—we can and must develop the critical visual, scientific, and social literacies that allow us to talk back to dominant frames and visualize more diverse futures. Scholars and practitioners of rhetoric and technical communication play a crucial role in sponsoring these literacies. As Peterson and Walton (2018) note, analytical scholarship “is important for chipping away at myths of neutrality to reveal how human values (often associated with capitalistic, masculine, heteronormative, able- ist, or white perspectives) and agendas (often inequitable) shape” texts across a range of professional and public contexts, and must inform action if technical communication is to deliver on the promises of its social justice turn (p. 417). Analyses like this one, which trace the contexts and interarticulations of ideas as they travel between popular, scientific, and critical discourses, allow us to better understand the relationship between representation, argumentation, and power—and in turn to more effectively promote social justice. Love Has No Labels is just one example of a text that promises to disrupt normative ideologies, but in an act of transcoding, simultaneously relies on and reinscribes those norms: “on one level the meaning . . . is unquestioned, on the other it rhetorically functions to mean something slightly different depending on context, occasion and audience” (Dingo, 2012, p. 31). Such transcodings are often at play when cultures of expertise intersect with public cultures, and attention to these articulations can inform rhetorical studies of, and interventions into, other public debates like those surrounding vaccination, genomics, and healthcare access—all sites where social claims are warranted by scientific representations. This understanding of Love Has No Labels and the discourses with which it interacts can facilitate a more effective engagement with other such medico-cultural artifacts in order to promote social justice.

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NOTES 1. Interestingly, while dark-skinned users are unable to sign in using facial recognition, the game system is said to be still playable because its interaction relies on “skeletal recognition.” 2. See, among others, Alford (2000); Megill (1987); Rowlinson & Carter (2002).

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Sharp, G. (2009, May 29). Nikon camera says Asians: People are always blinking. The Society Pages: Sociological Images. https://thesocietypages​.org​/socimages​ /2009​/05​/29​/nikon​-camera​-says​-asians​-are​-always​-blinking/ Shiao, J.L., Bode, T., Beyer, A., & Selvig, D. (2012). The genomic challenge to the social construction of race. Sociological Theory, 30(2), 67–88. https://doi​.org​/10​ .1177​/0735275112448053 Smay, D., & Armelagos, G. (2000). Galileo wept: A critical assessment of the use of race in forensic anthropology. Transforming Anthropology, 9(2), 19–29. https://doi​ .org​/10​.1525​/tran​.2000​.9​.2​.19 Spivak, G.C. (1995). The Spivak reader: Selected works of Gayati Chakravorty Spivak (D. Landry & G. MacLean, Eds.). Routledge. https://www​ .routledge​ .com​/The​-Spivak​-Reader​-Selected​-Works​-of​-Gayati​-Chakravorty​-Spivak​/Spivak​ -Landry​-MacLean​/p​/book​/9780415910019 Stull, K.E., Kenyhercz, M.W., & L’Abbé, E.N. (2014). Ancestry estimation in South Africa using craniometrics and geometric morphometrics. Forensic Science International, 245C, 206.e1-206.e7. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.forsciint​.2014​.10​.021 Sullivan, S. (2013). Inheriting racist disparities in health: Epigenetics and the transgenerational effects of white racism. Critical Philosophy of Race, 1(2), 190–218. https://doi​.org​/10​.5325​/critphilrace​.1​.2​.0190 Sutherland, J.J. (2010, November 5). XBox Kinect not racist after all. The TwoWay - NPR. http://www​.npr​.org​/sections​/thetwo​-way​/2010​/11​/05​/131092329​/ xbox​-kinect​-not​-racist​-after​-all Tharrett, M. (2015, March 4). Giant x-Ray achine prove “love has no labels” in heartwarming new PSA. NewNowNext. http://www​.newnownext​.com​/skeleton​ -kiss​/03​/2015/ Thieme, F.P., & Schull, W.J. (1957). Sex determination from the skeleton. Human Biology, 29(3), 242–273. Vartan, S. (2015, March 6). The real story behind that viral skeletons video. Mother Nature Network. http://www​.mnn​.com​/lifestyle​/arts​-culture​/blogs​/the​-real​ -story​-behind​-that​-viral​-skeletons​-video. Archived at: https://web​.archive​.org​/web​ /20150318102008​/http:/​/www​.mnn​.com​/lifestyle​/arts​-culture​/blogs​/the​-real​-story​ -behind​-that​-viral​-skeletons​-video Wang, J. (\@jozjozjoz). (2009, May 10). Racist camera! No, I did not blink ... I’m just Asian! Flickr. https://www​.flickr​.com​/photos​/jozjozjoz​/3529106844 West. (2015). Analogizing interracial and same-sex marriage. Philosophy & Rhetoric, 48(4), 561–582. https://doi​.org​/10​.5325​/philrhet​.48​.4​.0561 Willich, E., Fuhr, U., & Kroll, W. (1977). Skeletal changes in Down’s syndrome. A correlation between radiological and cytogenetic findings (author’s transl). Rofo, 127(2), 135–142. https://doi​.org​/10​.1055​/s​-0029​-1230670 Zhang, M. (2015). Google aplogises after Photos app autotags Black people as gorillas. PetaPixel. http://petapixel​.com​/2015​/07​/02​/google​-apologizes​-after​-photos​ -app​-autotags​-black​-people​-as​-gorilla

Chapter 14

#Realbodies Exploring the Impact of Women Empowerment Advertisements Ashton Gerding Speno and Jennifer Lewallen Woolf

Female empowerment, or “girl power,” could be one of the most easily recognizable phrases of the postfeminist era. This era is associated with an increased focus on the individual and self-management, as well as acceptance of popular culture; it is also often criticized for exploiting female empowerment as a commodity. Simultaneously, there has been a rise in women-empowerment advertising, along with a “love your body” discourse, which is likely due to the growth of social media and feminist critiques about unrealistic body image ideals (Banet-Weiser, 2018; Gill & Elias, 2014). This female “empowerment” advertising has been called femvertising (Iqbal, 2015). Femvertisements sometimes contain postfeminist discourses, interestingly featuring both feminist and antifeminist messages (McRobbie, 2009). Femvertising is considered successful by marketers because it improves brand reputation and sales (Zmuda & Diaz, 2014), but researchers have found that disempowering discourses are present within these so-called empowering advertisements. For example, Windels, Champlin, Shelton, Sterbenk, and Poteet (2019) found six commonly used elements of postfeminism that they argue are ultimately disempowering, some of which are commodity feminism, self-surveillance, and love your body. Although these discourses are often a critique of how the beauty industry has preyed upon the insecurities of women, they are often fraught with contraction. Banet-Weiser (2018) asserted the following: This kind of contradiction is typical of popular feminism, where the “Love Your Body” messages challenge not only the point of the beauty industry’s constant quest to encourage one to buy products through shaming of the body 249

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but also that for-profit corporations often depend on this kind of cycle of shame consumption. (p. 75)

Within femvertising and the “love your body” discourse is a trend of promoting “real” body types (e.g., Aerie, Dove) that has incited debate in U.S. culture about what constitutes “real” women. Some companies are using unretouched images in their advertising and marketing materials (e.g., Aerie, ASOS, Dove, Modcloth, Target) and are being applauded for leading the “body-positive” movement (Brown, 2018). Overall, these campaigns tend to be well-received by women who prefer a more realistic version of beauty (Remke, 2011) and have been praised by journalists for challenging ideal body standards (e.g., Krupnick, 2014). However, scholars like Banet-Weiser (2018) note that these discourses are a reaction to injurious advertising trends of the past or those that emphasized an idealized body type. Now, the “love your body” advertisements still place the onus on the individual; the messaging is that if you do not love your body, it is because you are not confident. The solution to this, of course, is to become empowered by purchasing the right products. In some cases, there seems to be little difference between the images of the “love your body” advertisements and the traditional ideal bodies featured across media, and many times the women are sexualized, such as in the Aerie lingerie and swim advertisements. Interestingly, research by Harrison and Hefner (2014) showed that there were no differences in self-esteem and objectified body consciousness for adolescents who viewed retouched versus unretouched images. In this same vein, we wonder how advertisements promoting “real bodies” that are still sexualized and still conform to the body ideal will impact ideas about the self. The purpose of this study is to experimentally test the impact of viewing advertisements featuring sexualized images of women in combination with copy from the “love your body” realm. Specifically, advertisements from Aerie’s #aerieReal campaign featuring the tagline “the real you is sexy” will be employed to investigate the effect on women’s likelihood to engage in social comparison and weight-loss-related social comparison, as well as the effect on motivations to exercise and acceptance of cosmetic surgery. REAL BODIES VERSUS IDEAL BODIES There is an ongoing cultural discourse involving “real” bodies versus ideal bodies in a larger “love your body”/body positivity discourse. While the majority of body image and media research focused on a “thin ideal,” the current media culture endorses muscular/toned bodies and curvier body types as well (Betz & Ramsey, 2017). The common threads running through the body types seem to be a smooth silhouette (i.e., no bulges of body fat), a lack

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of cellulite, stretch marks, and birthmarks/blemishes, and proportionate, able bodies. Despite this trend in advertising, research has shown that women prefer realistic models in advertisements over ideal-bodied models, regardless of their high or low body- or self-esteem (Remke, 2011). While it is encouraging to see a wider variety of women’s bodies across media and a preference for “real” bodies over-idealized bodies, scholars pointed to the complexities of the “real bodies” discourse. For example, Gill and Elias (2014) argued that these advertising campaigns do not “represent a straightforward liberation from tyrannical beauty standards” (p. 180), and that these discourses are more ambivalent than they first appear. Specifically, Gill and Elias advanced three arguments: 1) the campaigns promoting “real” women still use Photoshop and makeup on their models, 2) there is only a small shift from the idealized bodies from before to the “real” models currently featured (e.g., Dove was exposed for searching for “flawless” nonmodels for their campaign), and many of the companies using the “love your body-” style advertising campaigns are the same companies invested in preserving female body dissatisfaction to sell their products. Furthermore, they point out that women in this new era must work double duty not only to attain beautiful bodies but to also makeover their psychological disposition by exuding the aura that they love their bodies and are confident that they are beautiful. The existing experimental research in this realm complicates the notion that advertising campaigns featuring “real” bodies are a positive force in society. For example, Bissel and Rask (2010) experimented to test if exposure to Dove advertisements featuring ultra-thin, average, and plus-size models would decrease women’s short-term internalization of body image ideals, utilizing social comparison theory (Festinger, 1954) and self-discrepancy theory. Specifically, 138 American women participated in the experiment, and results showed that there was no difference in participants’ self-discrepancies between their ideal selves and actual selves between the three experimental groups, but that those who engaged in social comparison processes were more likely to have discrepancies between actual and ideal selves regardless of the experimental group. Furthermore, women who had a higher endorsement of thinness were more likely to report body dissatisfaction regardless of the experimental group. Thus, it did not matter if participants were exposed to ideal body images, average body images, or plus-size body images; they had similar discrepancies between their actual and ideal selves after viewing the advertisements. Additionally, Harrison and Hefner (2014) found similarly complicating results in their study of ideal-body media images. Their experiment of 393 adolescents tested the effects of unretouched and retouched images, with a third condition in which the retouched images (retouched-aware) were explicitly labeled as such (as compared to a no-images control group). Results

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showed that the unretouched and retouched groups did not differ from the control group, but that the retouched-aware group exhibited increased objectified body consciousness and decreased physical self-esteem. This stands in contrast to applause from the culture about companies using unretouched images or suggestions that advertisements featuring retouched images should be labeled as such.

SOCIAL COMPARISON AND BODY IMAGE Much of the literature focused on media and body image centers on how women compare themselves with idealized images of women, drawing from social comparison theory (Festinger, 1954). The crux of the theory is that individuals compare themselves to others to explore and evaluate the self. Expansions of the theory involve motivations for social comparisons, such as self-enhancement (upward comparisons) and maintenance of a positive evaluation of the self (downward comparisons). Research demonstrated a difference in motivations for social comparison, depending on age and gender. For example, abilities and skills differences are typically central to children’s social comparison, while appearance-based comparison becomes more salient during adolescence (Chen & Jackson, 2012; Mueller, Pearson Muller, Frank, & Turner, 2010). For college women, in particular, body-related envy continues to be a primary factor in social comparison through emerging adulthood (Pila, Stamiris, Castonguay, & Sabiston, 2014). Moreover, if one wants to maintain a positive body self-evaluation, they may downwardly compare themselves to someone who they perceive to be less attractive than themselves; if they want to motivate themselves to enhance their body appearance through diet or exercise, they may make an upward comparison to models in magazines or images from social media accounts (Lewallen, 2016). While this may help individuals achieve their physical goals, research suggests that making such upward comparisons to thin-idealized body types may lead to other negative outcomes such as negative mood and body dissatisfaction (e.g., Tiggemann, Polivy, & Hargreaves, 2009). Other researchers have explored thin-ideal advertisements and social comparison as well. For example, Dittmar and Howard (2004) conducted an experiment in which women were exposed to one of three types of images: thin models, average-size models, and no models. Results showed that thinideal internalization and social comparison acted as moderators between the images and body-focused anxiety, but thin-ideal internalization was a stronger predictor than social comparison. Similarly, Tiggemann and McGill (2004) experimentally tested the role of social comparison processes in women’s reactions to magazine advertisements featuring the thin-ideal. The

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three conditions contained advertisements featuring full-body, body parts, or product images. Their results showed that participants exposed to the thinideal images (both full-body images and body parts conditions) elicited more social comparison, negative affect, and body dissatisfaction than the product images condition. Additionally, the effects of image type on negative affect and body dissatisfaction were mediated by amount of social comparison. In another study, Bessenoff (2006) found through an experiment that exposure to advertisements featuring women fitting the thin-ideal increased body dissatisfaction, negative mood, depression, and lowered self-esteem, with social comparison mediating these relationships. Clearly, social comparison processes are an important factor in women’s processing of ideal bodies featured in advertisements. More recently, social comparison and body image have been explored in relation to social media use. Fardouly, Diedrichs, Vartanian, and Halliwell (2015) examined the use of Facebook and a fashion magazine website on women’s mood and body image and explored how appearance social comparison tendencies moderated these effects. Women in the experiment browsed their Facebook account, a fashion magazine website, or an appearance-neutral control website for ten minutes, and subsequently filled out a survey. Results showed that women who scored high on appearance social comparison tendencies reported more appearance discrepancies than women in the control group. Participants who browsed the fashion magazine website exhibited more weight and shape discrepancies, but social comparison tendencies did not moderate these effects. In another study, Lewallen and Behm-Morawitz (2016) explored how thinspiration images on Pinterest might spark social comparison and intentions to engage in extreme weight-loss behaviors. An online experiment of U.S. women revealed that participants who followed more fitness boards on Pinterest were more likely to report intentions to engage in extreme weightloss behaviors, and that endorsement of an ideal female body type was positively related to social comparison and intentions to engage in extreme weight-loss behaviors. Thus, social comparison processes appear to be quite relevant to social media use and body image issues as well.

ATTITUDES ABOUT EXERCISING AND COSMETIC SURGERY Media and body image have also been examined in relation to attitudes about body modification through exercise and cosmetic surgery. Halliwell, Dittmar, and Orsborn (2007) explored media images featuring the muscular male body ideal, gym use, exercise motivations, and body-focused negative affect. An

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experiment revealed that the impact of exposure to the muscular ideal was contingent on men’s exercise status, such that non-exercisers reported greater body-focused negative affect, and gym users reported less body-focused negative affect after exposure. Exercise motivations moderated the effects for gym users, such that men who reported more exercise motivation reported a greater degree of self-enhancement after media exposure. According to the authors’ knowledge, there is no existing research that explores media, body image, and exercise motivations in a sample of women. However, body image and exercise motivations of women have been studied in relation to practicing yoga and aerobic exercise (see Zając & Schier, 2011). More drastic than the motivation to exercise is the motivation to modify the body through cosmetic surgery. Henderson-King and Henderson-King (2005) developed the acceptance of cosmetic surgery scale to measure attitudes about cosmetic surgery and validated the scale through a set of four studies. The studies showed that acceptance of cosmetic surgery was negatively related to satisfaction with physical appearance and positively related to attitudes about makeup use. Since the creation of the scale, scholars have studied acceptance of cosmetic surgery in relation to traditional media use (Fogel & King, 2014; Slevec & Tiggemann, 2010; Swami, 2009) as well as social media and new media use (Fogel & King, 2014; Lunde, 2013; Walker, Krumhuber, Dayan, & Furnham, 2019). General media use is a predictor of acceptance of cosmetic surgery, while body appreciation and BMI are negatively related to acceptance of cosmetic surgery (Swami, 2009). Television exposure, appearance investment, aging anxiety, and body dissatisfaction are predictors of acceptance of cosmetic surgery (Slevec & Tiggemann, 2010). For example, Fogel and King (2014) explored reality television exposure, Twitter and Facebook use, and cosmetic surgery acceptance in a sample of college students. They investigated whether perceived realism and social media use were related to acceptance of cosmetic surgery among reality TV cosmetic surgery program viewers in order to identify beneficial venues to advertise cosmetic surgery services. The results of this survey showed that perceived realism of the programs and following a character from the programs were positively associated with acceptance of cosmetic surgery. Taken together, these body modification constructs were explored in concert with social comparison processes in relation to “body positive” advertisement exposure. THE PRESENT STUDY The goal of this study is to examine the impact of viewing “body positive/ empowering,” yet sexualized print advertisements for a popular lingerie

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company that promotes “real” bodies through an experimental design. A controlled experiment is thought to be the best research method for understanding a cause-and-effect relationship between variables (Leshner, 2013). Specifically, this experiment employed print advertisements from Aerie’s #aerieReal campaign featuring the tagline “the real you is sexy” and print advertisements featuring benign household products to test the potential impact on female participants, considering variables such as social comparison, exercise motivations, and acceptance of cosmetic surgery. In line with the literature reviewed on social comparison, body image, and media featuring women’s bodies that conform with the ideal (Bessenoff, 2006; Dittmar and Howard, 2004; Fardouly, et al., 2015; Lewallen & Behm-Morawitz, 2016; Tiggemann & McGill, 2004; Tiggemann, Polivy, & Hargreaves, 2009) the main goal is to investigate whether participants exposed to the #aerieReal campaign engage in social comparison processes. Thus, we propose the following hypotheses: H1: Participants in the Aerie condition will report higher levels of social comparison than participants in the cleaning products condition. H2: Participants in the Aerie condition will report higher levels of weight-lossrelated social comparison than those in the cleaning products condition.

Additionally, we were interested in how viewing these “body positive” campaigns might be related to attitudes about body modification, such as exercise for inducing weight loss and cosmetic surgery. In line with the literature reviewed on exercise motivations and acceptance of cosmetic surgery (Fogel & King, 2014; Halliwell, et al., 2007; Henderson-King & HendersonKing, 2005; Lunde, 2013; Slevec & Tiggemann, 2010; Swami, 2009), we make the following predictions: H3: Participants in the Aerie condition will report higher levels of exercise motivations than participants in the cleaning products condition. H4: Participants in the Aerie condition will report higher levels of acceptance of cosmetic surgery than participants in the cleaning products condition.

METHOD Participants Of the 207 women who participated in the experiment, 45.4 percent were aged 18–24 (n = 94), 40.6 percent were aged 25–34 (n = 84), 8.7 percent were aged 35–44 (n = 18), 3.4 percent were aged 45–54 (n = 7), 1.4 percent were aged 55–62 (n = 3), and one participant was over 65 (.5%). The racial/ethnic

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breakdown was 48.3 percent (n = 100) Asian/Pacific Islander, 27.1 percent (n = 56) Caucasian, 6.3 percent (n = 13) Black/African American, 6.3 percent (n = 13) Native American, 5.3 percent (n = 11) Hispanic/Latino, 4.3 percent (n = 9) other, and 2.4 percent (n = 5) two or more races. Just over half of the participants (50.7%, n = 105) indicated that their highest level of education was a bachelor’s degree, 3.4 percent (n = 7) had a professional degree, 20.8 percent (n = 43) had a master’s degree, 1 percent (n = 2) had a doctorate degree, 12.1 percent (n = 25) had some college but no degree, 5.3 percent (n = 11) had an associate’s degree or vocational training, 5.3 percent (n = 11) had a high school diploma/GED, and 1.4 percent (n = 3) had some high school but no diploma. Most of the participants were married or in a domestic partnership (44%, n = 91), followed by 38.6 percent (n = 80) participants who were single and never married, 13.5 percent (n = 28) participants who were never married but were in a dating relationship, 2.9 percent (n = 6) participants who were divorced, and 1 percent (n = 2) participants who were separated. Design and Procedure The study design was a between-subjects experiment with two conditions: exposure to Aerie lingerie advertisements (n = 102) and exposure to cleaning product advertisements (n = 105). We collected data via an Amazon Mechanical Turk (MTurk) online sample. Participants were recruited through the MTurk site to participate in a research study called “The Evaluations of the Aesthetics and Effectiveness of Print Advertisements.” After consenting to the study, participants were randomly assigned to view three Aerie lingerie advertisements or three cleaning product advertisements. These were all actual Aerie, Dawn, Tide, and Windex advertisements, and each included imagery and copy. The ads featured similar bright/engaging colors and a similarly sized text with comparable amounts of copy. See the appendix to view these advertisements. The first Aerie advertisement featured a woman’s backside from the upper waist to the lower thigh in a lacy bra and thong, and the copy said “SUN’S OUT BUNS OUT! Show off your cutie booty even more with the new mini cheeky!” Text at the bottom of the ad said, “P.S. THE REAL YOU IS SEXY. THIS GIRL HAS NOT BEEN RETOUCHED. #aerieREAL.” The model was thin and toned with faint stretch marks visible on the upper buttocks. The second Aerie advertisement featured a woman’s frontside from the upper thigh to the top of the head. The woman was standing wearing a bikini and slightly leaning against a wall and looking down while smiling. The copy said “#aerieREAL SUMMER IS HERE—WHETHER YOU’RE FLAT AS A SURFBOARD OR CURVY LIKE A COCONUT, REMEMBER THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A PERFECT BEACH BODY. THE REAL YOU IS

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Figure 14.1  Sun’s Out Buns Out. Advertisement © Aerie.

SEXY.” The model was curvy and toned with an hourglass shape. The third Aerie advertisement featured the frontside of a woman wearing lingerie, from the hip to the top of the head. The woman appears to be kneeling on the floor or a bed with pillows and windows behind her. The copy read “TIME TO GET REAL. TIME TO THINK REAL. NO SUPERMODELS. NO RETOUCHING. BECAUSE . . . THE REAL YOU IS SEXY. #aerieREAL.” The model was athletic with a V-shaped body.​​​

Figure 14.2  #aeriereal. Advertisement © Aerie.

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Figure 14.3  The Real You Is Sexy. Advertisement © Aerie.

The Dawn advertisement featured one bottle of the dawn dish soap to the left, and equals sign in the middle, and two bottles of generic-looking dish soap to the right that said “Non-ultra dish liquid.” The copy read “2X MORE everyday grease-cleaning power per drop*,” and the asterisk at the bottom read “based on cleaning ingredients vs. non-ultra joy.” The Tide advertisement featured a bottle of the laundry detergent “Tide Coldwater—brilliant clean at lower temperatures” with some water in the background. The copy read “Save up to 50% of energy per load* when you switch to cold water washing.” The asterisk at the bottom read “convert warm/cold to cold/cold cycle, medium

Figure 14.4  Dawn Advertisement. Advertisement © Proctor & Gamble.

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Figure 14.5  Tide Advertisement. Advertisement © Proctor & Gamble.

load in top-load machine w/electric water heater.” The Windex advertisement featured a bottle of the Windex window cleaner in front of a clean window with what appears to be a water and mountain landscape in the background. The copy read “DON’T STAND FOR DIRTYTM. Don’tStandForDirty​.co​m.”​​​ After viewing the advertisements, participants answered questions related to their perceptions of the quality of the advertisements and indicated whether they would purchase the products they were shown. Then, participants completed a short survey for a study conducted by the department of communication at a Midwestern university about general well-being and were told that the survey would involve questions about mental health, body

Figure 14.6  Windex Advertisement. Advertisement © S.C. Johnson.

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image, and/or race relations in the United States. In reality, all participants completed a survey that included the Extent Thoughts Questionnaire, the Ideal Body Stereotype Scale, the Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Scale, the Exercise Motivations Inventory-2, and a measure of social comparison. After involvement in the study concluded, a debriefment of the study occurred. We explained that the goal of the study was not to understand perceptions and evaluations about print advertisements, but to examine the potential effects of “real body” campaigns on consumers’ attitudes about the self. The debriefing form explained why this use of deception was necessary (not to “trick” them, but to allow them to respond naturally to the questions asked so that we could accurately measure the impact of the images on the body image variables), and participants were encouraged to contact the principal investigator if they were uncomfortable and wished to withdraw their participation from the study. No participants contacted the researchers about this issue. Upon conclusion of the study and debriefing, participants were paid directly through MTurk.

MEASURES Independent Variables Ideal Body Stereotype Scale The ideal body stereotype was measured using the Ideal Body Stereotype Scale (Stice & Whitenton, 2002). The six items in the scale assess the extent to which participants have internalized a thin-ideal body image (α=.828, M= 3.66, SD= 0.74). Participants were asked to indicate the extent to which they agreed with each statement on a 5-point Likert-type scale and higher scores indicate higher likelihood of thin-ideal internalization. Example items included “women with long legs are more attractive” and “tall women are more attractive.” Body Mass Index The variable body mass index (BMI) was used to measure participants’ body fatness. BMI is recognized by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention as a reliable indicator of body fatness for most individuals (Body Mass Index, 2015). For the current study, participants’ BMI was calculated using the recommended formula: weight (lb.) / [height (in)]2 × 703 (Body Mass Index, 2015). They self-reported their height and weight in the online survey, and the researchers calculated participants’ BMI scores with the formula (M = 21.72, SD= 8.12).

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Dependent Variables Social Comparison The measure for fantasy comparison (α= 0.905, M= 3.55, SD= 0.912) was adapted from Tiggemann, Polivy, and Hargreaves’s (2009) questionnaire to measure social comparison, which was designed to measure the extent that participants could fantasize about living a similar lifestyle to the women featured in images in fashion magazines. Participants responded to 5 items on a 5-point Likert-type scale from 1 (strongly disagree) to 5 (strongly agree). Higher numbers indicate a higher level of fantasy processing. Example items included “It would be great fun to be one of these women” and “I can imagine myself as one of these women.” Extent Thoughts The Extent Thoughts Questionnaire was adapted from Bessenoff’s (2006) original questionnaire, which was designed to assess thoughts relating to social comparison, weight, and weight-reduction activities (α= 0.688, M= 3.19, SD= 0.679). Participants responded to eight items on a 5-point Likerttype scale ranging from 1 (not at all) to 5 (to an extreme degree). Larger numbers indicate having experienced these thoughts to a greater extent while looking at the images. Example items included “To what extent did you think that the women (in the images) were in better shape than you?” and “To what extent did you think about weight reduction activities (such as dieting and exercising)?” Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Henderson-King and Henderson-King’s (2005) Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Scale was employed to measure the degree to which individuals generally accept cosmetic surgery (α= 0.946, M= 5.29, SD= 1.68). Participants responded to 15 items on a 7-point Likert-type scale ranging from 1 (strongly disagree) to 7 (strongly agree), indicating the extent to which they agreed with each statement. Example items included “if cosmetic surgery can make someone happier with the way they look, then they should try it” and “I would seriously consider having cosmetic surgery if I thought my partner would find me more attractive.” Exercise Motives The independent variable exercise motives was measured using the Exercise Motivations Inventory-2 (EMI-2) (Markland & Ingledew, 1997). The EMI-2

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is a 51-item measure assessing a range of reasons for exercising. For this study, the first 25 items from the measure were used in the survey (α= 0.949, M= 4.15, SD= 0.96). Higher scores indicate a higher level of motivation to exercise. Participants indicated why they choose to exercise on a 6-point Likert-type scale ranging from 0—not at all true for me to 5—very true for me. Example items included “to lose weight” and “because I want to maintain good health.” RESULTS Prior to testing each hypothesis, simple bivariate correlations were conducted between each key variable tested in the present study. The correlation matrix revealed significant correlations between Condition and Race, as well as Condition and Extent Thoughts. Race, a moderating variable, was significantly correlated with Condition, BMI, Exercise Motivations, Social Comparison, and Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery. BMI, tested as a covariate, was significantly correlated with Race, Exercise Motivations, and Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery. Finally, the Ideal Body Scale, also tested as a covariate, was significantly correlated with Social Comparison, Exercise Motivations, Extent Thoughts, and Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery. Each hypothesis was tested using either an analysis of variance or an analysis of covariance, including BMI and the Ideal Body Scale as covariates, depending on the hypothesis. See table 14.1 for the complete correlation matrix. The first hypothesis predicted participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of social comparison than participants in the cleaning products condition. The ideal body scale and BMI were added as covariates and assumptions for ANCOVA were met. Specifically, there was a significant linear relationship between the covariates and dependent variable. To test this hypothesis, a factorial ANCOVA was conducted and results confirmed a significant main effect for condition, F (1,149) = 5.549, p= .02, η2 = .036, but there was not a significant main effect for race. There was also a significant interaction between condition and race, F (5,149) = 2.988, p= .013, η2 = .091. Given that there were two groups for the condition, post hoc testing was not available, so a test for pairwise comparisons was employed. Because the assumptions of homogeneity of variances were not violated, a Bonferroni correction (p= .05) was employed for pairwise comparisons. Pairwise differences indicated a significant mean difference for condition on social comparison. Specifically, individuals in the Aerie condition (M=3.884) ranked higher in social comparison than did those in the cleaning products condition (M=3.418). See tables 14.2 and 14.3 for a complete list of results and means for interaction effects.

.024 −.195** .344 −.097 .087** .047 .071

1

** Correlation is significant at the .001 level (2-tailed) * Correlation is significant at the .05 level (2-tailed)

1 Condition 2 BMI 3 Race 4 Ideal Body Scale 5 Social Comparison 6 Extent Thoughts 7 Exercise Motivations 8 Acc. Cos. Surgery

Variables

−.303** .053 −.14 −.067 −.166* −.174*

2

Table 14.1  Correlations among Key Study Variables

.001 .154* .127 .176* .194**

3

.302** .299** .319** .271**

4

.479** −.466** .251**

5

.574** .308**

6

.285**

7

8

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Table 14.2  ANCOVA: Social Comparison Source

Df

F

p

η2

Ideal Body Scale BMI Race Condition Cond. x Race

1 1 6 1 5

11.503 2.149 1.673 5.549 2.988

.001 .145 .131 .02 .013

.072 .014 .063 .036 .091

Table 14.3  Mean Comparisons: Social Comparison Cleaning Products Variable: Race Caucasian Black Asian Hispanic/Latino Native American Two or more races Other

M 3.074 3.334 3.815 2.632 3.825 3.598 3.645

Aerie

SE .187 .395 .128 .327 .322 .351 .358

M 3.691 3.160 3.671 4.315 3.899 . 4.568

SE .159 .325 .127 .453 .325 . .786

H2 predicted participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of weight-loss-related social comparison (Extent Thoughts) than those in the cleaning products condition. Because the assumptions of homogeneity of variances were violated, the Welch statistic is reported. Additionally, because Levene’s test was significant, covariates were not included. Thus, a factorial ANCOVA was conducted, and results confirmed a significant main effect for condition, F (1,176) = 6.371, p= .01, η2 = .035 and a significant main effect for race, F (6,176) = 3.53, p= .003, η2 = .107. There was also a significant interaction between condition and race, F (5,176) = 3.539, p= .004, η2 = .091. Because the assumptions of homogeneity of variances were violated, results are reported conservatively. Post hoc testing was not possible for conditions, as there were only two conditions in the online experiment. Pairwise differences indicated that individuals in the Aerie condition (M=3.403) ranked higher on Extent Thoughts than did those in the cleaning products condition (M=2.989). See Tables 14.4 and 14.5 for complete lists of results and interaction effects. Table 14.4  ANOVA: Extent Thoughts Source

Df

F

p

η2

Race Condition Cond. x Race

6 1 5

3.53 6.371 3.539

.003 .01 .004

.107 .035 .091

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#Realbodies Table 14.5  Mean Comparisons: Extent Thoughts Cleaning Products Variable: Race Caucasian Black Asian Hispanic/Latino Native American Two or more races Other

M 2.585 3.094 3.369 2.375 3.446 2.950 3.104

SE .132 .310 .092 .234 .234 .277 .253

Aerie M 3.263 2.931 3.391 3.750 3.458 . 3.625

SE .117 .207 .091 .358 .253 . .620

Table 14.6  ANCOVA: Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Source

Df

F

p

η2

Ideal Body Scale BMI Race Condition Cond. x Race

1 1 6 1 5

11.503 4.578 1.997 4.32 .969

.001 .034 .07 .039 .439

.072 .014 .078 .03 .033

H3 predicted participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of exercise motivations than participants in the cleaning products condition. The ideal body scale and BMI were added as covariates and assumptions for ANCOVA were met. Specifically, there was a significant linear relationship between the covariates and dependent variable. Additionally, the assumptions of homogeneity of variances were met and Levene’s test was not significant. To test this hypothesis, a factorial ANCOVA was conducted and analyses revealed no significant main effects or interactions. H4 predicted participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of acceptance of cosmetic surgery than participants in the cleaning products condition. The ideal body scale and BMI were added as covariates and assumptions for ANCOVA were met. Specifically, there was a significant linear relationship between the covariates and dependent variable. To test this hypothesis, a factorial ANCOVA was conducted and results confirmed a significant main effect for condition, F (1,142) = 4.32, p= .039, η2 = .03. There was not a significant main effect for race, nor was there was not a significant interaction between condition and race. Given that there were two groups for the condition, post hoc testing was not available, so a test for pairwise comparisons was employed. Because the assumptions of homogeneity of variances were not violated, a Bonferroni correction (p= .05) was employed for pairwise comparisons. Pairwise differences indicated that individuals in the Aerie condition (M=5.99) ranked higher on acceptance of cosmetic surgery than did those in the cleaning products condition (M=5.124). See tables 14.6 and 14.7 for a complete list of results and means for interaction effects.

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Table 14.7  Mean Comparisons: Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Cleaning Products Variable: Race Caucasian Black Asian Hispanic/Latino Native American Two or more races Other

M 4.605 4.843 5.323 5.316 6.573 5.189 4.021

SE .365 .890 .251 .699 .631 .687 .700

Aerie M 4.994 5.522 5.691 7.034 5.912 . 6.789

SE .324 .636 .258 .887 .635 . 1.539

DISCUSSION Overall, the present study confirms a relationship between viewing “body positive” print femvertisements and social comparison, with some interactions between condition and race. Specifically, H1 predicted that participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of social comparison than participants in the cleaning products condition, and this hypothesis was supported. Interestingly, there was an interaction between condition and race: participants who were Caucasian, Hispanic, and Native American in the Aerie condition reported higher levels of social comparison than those in the cleaning products condition, but participants who were Black, Asian, or “other” in the cleaning products group reported higher levels of social comparison than those in the Aerie condition. The mean difference was greater for Caucasian, Hispanic, and Native American participants indicating that it was likely the manipulation that caused the social comparison differences. Similarly, H2 predicted that participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of weight-loss-related social comparison than those in the cleaning products condition, and this hypothesis was supported. There was also a main effect and an interaction between condition and race: participants who were Caucasian, Hispanic, and “other” in the Aerie condition reported higher level of weight-loss-related social comparison than those in the cleaning products condition, and participants who were Black in the cleaning products condition reported higher levels of weight-loss-related social comparison than those in the Aerie condition (the rest of the differences in race were negligible). The mean difference was greater for Caucasian, Hispanic, and “other” participants, indicating that it was likely the manipulation that caused the social comparison differences. Our results are in line with previous research that has shown that exposure to idealized bodies results in social comparison (e.g., Bessenoff, 2006; Tiggemann & McGill, 2004). However, our results make a novel contribution to the literature as we have

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tested advertisements featuring supposedly “real” women in conjunction with “body positive” copy. Next, H3 predicted that participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of exercise motivations than participants in the cleaning products condition, and this hypothesis was not supported. However, based on a priori evidence, H4 predicted that participants in the Aerie condition would report higher levels of acceptance of cosmetic surgery than participants in the cleaning products condition, and this hypothesis was supported. Given the plethora of literature on exercise, body modification, and social comparison, it was somewhat surprising that H3 was not supported. In the present study there were main effects for condition and social comparison and cosmetic surgery, and it seems that a less drastic body modification, such as exercise motivation, would be endorsed before or in addition to a more extreme body modification. However, it could be that women feel suspect that such a body type cannot be achieved by exercise alone, and so they see cosmetic surgery as a more viable option. The finding that women in the Aerie condition reported higher levels of cosmetic surgery acceptance is in line with extant research about media exposure and acceptance of cosmetic surgery (Fogel & King, 2014; Lunde, 2013; Slevec & Tiggemann, 2010; Swami, 2009). Our results contribute to the existing literature by demonstrating that it is not only general media use or viewing reality television focused on cosmetic surgery that will spark endorsement of these attitudes, but advertisements within the “love your body/real bodies” discourse that appear to encourage these attitudes as well. These findings would suggest that even the most well-intentioned media and advertising campaigns can have unintended negative consequences for consumers. Overall, our results suggest that “body positive” campaigns may not have as much of a positive impact on women as previously suggested. Even though the femvertisements contained seemingly positive messages about women’s bodies, exposure to these advertisements resulted in social comparison processes and an acceptance of cosmetic surgery. This points to a discomfort with the self, rather than a positive/acceptance/self-love view, as previous research has shown social comparison to moderate the relationship between ideal-media exposure and negative body states, and acceptance of cosmetic surgery to be negatively related to satisfaction with physical appearance (Henderson-King & Henderson-King, 2005). Practically speaking, companies that truly do want to promote body positivity should reconsider their advertising strategies. Scholars such as Gill and Elias (2014) have pointed out that the very companies running these campaigns seem to be heavily invested in preserving female body dissatisfaction in order to sell their products, so it is not likely that these companies will be motivated to revise their strategies. Thus, media literacy education that deconstructs these campaigns may be the most practical solution for addressing these types of advertisements.

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Limitations and Future Directions There are some limitations of this study that need to be recognized. First, we do not know what region of the world the participants are from. While the majority of Amazon Mechanical Turkers are from the United States (about 75% during the time the survey was administered), the rest are located elsewhere, mostly in India (Ipeirotis, 2010). Advertising messages are culturebound, and the meaning of our stimuli may vary considerably from culture to culture. Follow-up research should be sure to identify where the participants are from by including a measure with the other demographic questions. Second, there was an issue with our manipulation check, such that some participants did not receive it. While random assignment, the study design, and the statistical tests that we ran show that the manipulated independent variable caused variation in some of the independent variables, we cannot ensure that the test that yielded null results (exercise motivations) are due to a failure of the manipulated independent variable to influence this variable. Thus, a follow-up study should ensure that a manipulation check is utilized. Third, future research should consider adding a control group. The present study included two experimental groups: one that was exposed to Aerie advertisements, and one that was exposed to advertisements featuring cleaning products. It would be useful to include a third group that does not view any advertisements or images to establish a true control baseline. Furthermore, it would be better to include a typical beauty advertisement featuring the beauty ideal, rather than advertisements featuring cleaning products. This would better isolate the variable of interest. The present study begins to pave the way for several avenues of future research. It would be worthwhile to experimentally test other negative body emotions after exposure to advertisements from the body-positivity discourse, such as appearance anxiety and self-objectification constructs. Additionally, qualitative research investigating the complexities of women’s reactions to such campaigns would be instrumental in painting a clearer picture of how these contradictory campaigns are experienced. Finally, it is vital to explore consumer engagement with these campaigns on various social media platforms, to explore whether “real” women accept, reject, or re-negotiate the meanings of these campaign messages. CONCLUSION This study revealed that women exposed to print advertisements for a popular lingerie company promoting “real” bodies reported higher levels of social comparison, weight-loss-related social comparison, and acceptance

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of cosmetic surgery. It is safe to predict that so long as advertisements are predicated on female insecurity, companies will continue to strategize to reach a wider audience. Moreover, because social comparison is a natural process of human communication and psychology, female consumers will likely continue to compare themselves to mediated representations of their gender demographic, even when companies purportedly flout existing ideals. As Mull (2019) writes, “For ‘real women’ to be a useful idea, people have to grant that it’s possible for a person’s womanhood to be fraudulent. You can remove digital retouching, but there is no objectively correct way to depict a woman in a photo, or for a woman to present herself in real life” (para. 7). How advertisers choose to evolve and respond to the needs and desires of consumers remains to be seen. It is vital that media effects researchers continue to investigate the intended and unintended consequences of beauty standards, including advertisements that insist “the real you is sexy,” and that media literacy education is used as a shield against possible negative effects of such campaigns. REFERENCES Banet-Weiser, S. (2018). Empowered: Popular feminism and popular misogyny. Duke University Press. Bessenoff, G.R. (2006). Can the media affect us? Social comparison, self-discrepancy, and the thin ideal. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 30, 239–251. https://doi​ .org​/10​.1111​%2Fj​.1471​-6402​.2006​.00292.x Betz, D.E., & Ramsey, L.R. (2017). Should women be “All About That Bass?”: Diverse body-ideal messages and women’s body image. Body Image, 22, 18–31. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.bodyim​.2017​.04​.004 Bissell, K., & Rask, A. (2010). Real women on real beauty: Self-discrepancy, internalisation of the thin ideal, and perceptions of attractiveness and thinness in Dove’s campaign for real beauty. International Journal of Advertising, 29(4), 643–668. https:///doi​.org​/10​.2501​/s02650487102​01385 Brown, N. (2018, March 28). 10 brands leading the body-positive movement with unretouched ads. Style Caster. https://stylecaster​.com​/beauty​/brands​-that​-dont​ -retouch​-models/ Calogero, R.M., Herbozo, S., & Thompson, J.K. (2009). Complimentary weightism: The potential costs of appearance-related commentary for women’s self-objectification. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 33(1), 120–132. https://doi​.org​/10​.1111​ %2Fj​.1471​-6402​.2008​.01479.x Chen, H., & Jackson, T. (2012). Gender and age group differences in mass media and interpersonal influences on body dissatisfaction among Chinese adolescents. Sex Roles, 66(1–2), 3–20. https://doi​.org​/10​.1007​/s11199​-011​-0056-8 Dittmar, H., & Howard, S. (2004). Thin-ideal internalization and social comparison tendency as moderators of media models’ impact on women’s body-focused

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anxiety. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 23(6), 768–791. https://doi​.org​ /10​.1521​/jscp​.23​.6​.768​.54799 Fardouly, J., Diedrichs, P.C., Vartanian, L.R., & Halliwell, E. (2015). Social comparisons on social media: The impact of Facebook on young women's body image concerns and mood. Body Image, 13, 38–45. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.bodyim​.2014​.12​.002 Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7, 117–140. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​%2F0​0187​2675​400700202 Fogel, J., & King, K. (2014). Perceived realism and Twitter use are associated with increased acceptance of cosmetic surgery among those watching reality television cosmetic surgery programs. Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery, 134(2), 233–238. https://doi​.org​/10​.1097​/PRS​.0000000000000322 Gill, R., & Elias, A.S. (2014). ‘Awaken your incredible’: Love your body discourses and postfeminist contradictions. International Journal of Media and Cultural Politics, 10(2), pp. 179–188. https://doi​.org​/10​.1386​/macp​.10​.2​.179_1 Halliwell, E., Dittmar, H., & Orsborn, A. (2007). The effects of exposure to muscular male models among men: Exploring the moderating role of gym use and exercise motivation. Body Image, 4(3), 278–287. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.bodyim​.2007​.04​.006 Harrison, K., & Hefner, V. (2014). Virtually perfect: Image retouching and adolescent body image. Media Psychology, 17(2), 134–153. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​ /15213269​.2013​.770354 Henderson-King, D., & Henderson-King, E. (2005). Acceptance of cosmetic surgery: Scale development and validation. Body image, 2(2), 137–149. https://doi​.org​/10​ .1016​/j​.bodyim​.2005​.03​.003 Ipeirotis, P.G. (2010). Analyzing the Amazon Mechanical Turk marketplace. ACM XFRDS, 17(2), 16–21. https://ssrn​.com​/abstract​=1688194 Iqbal, N. (2015). Femvertising: How brands are selling #empowerment to women. The Guardian, October12, https://www​.theguardian​.com​/lifeandstyle​/2015​/oct​/12​ /femvertisingbranded​-feminism Krupnik, E. (2014, January). Aerie’s unretouched ads ‘challenge supermodel standards’ for young women. Life. https://www​.huffpost​.com​/entry​/aerie​-unretouched​ -ads​-photos​_n​_4618139​#comments Leshner, G. (2012). The basics of experimental research in media studies. The International Encyclopedia of Media Studies, 236–254. https://doi​.org​/10​.1002​ /9781444361506​.wbiems181 Lewallen, J. (2016). When image isn’t everything: The effects of Instagram frames on social comparison. The Journal of Social Media in Society, 5(2), 108–133. https:// thejsms​.org​/index​.php​/JSMS​/article​/view​/159 Lewallen, J., & Lewallen, J., & Behm-Morawitz, E. (2016). Pinterest or thinterest?: Social comparison and bodyimage on social media. Social Media+ Society, 2(1), https://doi​.org​/2056305116640559 Lunde, C. (2013). Acceptance of cosmetic surgery, body appreciation, body ideal internalization, and fashion blog reading among late adolescents in Sweden. Body Image, 10(4), 632–635. https://doi​.org​/10​.1016​/j​.bodyim​.2013​.06​.007 Markland, D., & Ingledew, D.K. (1997). The measurement of exercise motives: Factorial validity and invariance across gender of a revised Exercise Motivations

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Inventory. British Journal of Health Psychology, 2, 361–376. https:// doi/10.1111/j.2044-8287.1997.tb00549.x McRobbie, Angela (2004). Post-feminism and popular culture. Feminist Media Studies, 4(3), 255–64. https://doi​.org​/10​.1080​/1468077042000309937 Mueller, A.S., Pearson, J., Muller, C., Frank, K., & Turner, A. (2010). Sizing up peers: Adolescent girls’ weight control and social comparison in the school context. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 51(1), 64–78. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​ /0022146509361191 Mull, A. (2019, March 8). There’s no such thing as a ‘real woman.’ The Atlantic. https://www​.theatlantic​.com​/health​/archive​/2019​/03​/real​-women​-ad​-campaigns​ -dont​-make​-sense​/584413/ Nuttall, F.Q. (2015). Body mass index: obesity, BMI, and health: a critical review. Nutrition today, 50(3), 117. https://doi/10.1097/NT.0000000000000092 Pila, E., Stamiris, A., Castonguay, A., & Sabiston, C.M. (2014). Body-related envy: A social comparison perspective in sport and exercise. Journal of Sport & Exercise Psychology, 36(1), 93–106. https://doi/10.1123/jsep.2013-0100 Remke, D.A. (2011). Effects of using real women in advertising (Master’s thesis, Oklahoma State University). Slevec, J., & Tiggemann, M. (2010). Attitudes toward cosmetic surgery in middleaged women: Body image, aging anxiety, and the media. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 34(1), 65–74. https://doi/10.1111/j.1471-6402.2009.01542.x Stice, E., & Whitenton, K. (2002). Risk factors for body dissatisfaction in adolescent girls: A longitudinal investigation. Developmental Psychology, 38, 669–678. https://doi/10.1037/0012-1649.38.5.669 Swami, V. (2009). Body appreciation, media influence, and weight status predict consideration of cosmetic surgery among female undergraduates. Body Image, 6(4), 315–317. https://doi/10.1016/j.bodyim.2009.07.001 Tiggemann, M., & McGill, B. (2004). The role of social comparison in the effect of magazine advertisements on women’s mood and body dissatisfaction. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 23(1), 23–44. https://doi/10.1521/jscp.23.1.23.26991 Tiggemann, M., Polivy, J., & Hargreaves, D. (2009). The processing of thin ideals in fashion magazines: A source of social comparison or fantasy? Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 28, 73–93. https://doi/10.1521/jscp.2009.28.1.73 Walker, C.E., Krumhuber, E.G., Dayan, S., & Furnham, A. (2019). Effects of social media use on desire for cosmetic surgery among young women. Current Psychology, 1–10. https://doi/10.1007/s12144-019-00282-1 Windels, K., Champlin, S., Shelton, S., Sterbenk, Y., & Poteet, M. (2019). Selling feminism: How female empowerment campaigns employ postfeminist discourses. Journal of Advertising, 49, 18–33. https://doi/10.1080/00913367.2019.1681035 Zajac, A.U., & Schier, K. (2011). Body image dysphoria and motivation to exercise: A study of Canadian and Polish women participating in yoga or aerobics. Archives of Psychiatry and Psychotherapy, 4, 67–72. Zmuda, N., & Diaz, A. (2014, September 2). Female empowerment in ads: Soft feminism or soft soap? Advertising Age. https://adage​.com​/article​/cmo​-strategy​/ marketers​-soft​-feminism​/294740

Chapter 15

Eat French Fries and Be Healthy The Fit Body as a Means of Promoting Fast Food Debbie Danowski

Two fit African American young men barter for a Quarter Pounder and Chicken McNuggets while eating dinner at home on sofas. One suggests a trade for the other’s food to which the first brother replies that the trade isn’t fair. The words “The Sibling Trade Deal Meal” appear just as one of the brothers points out that he’s older therefore a fair food trade isn’t necessary. A group of fit-bodied women and men dance while holding Dunkin’ Donuts lattes topped with whipped cream while a fit White man and fit African American man sit in front of their computers remotely with each eating DQ burgers, fries, and sundaes. Fit African American men sit in front of their computers remotely with each eating DQ burgers, fries, and sundaes. In each of these commercials, viewers see fit-bodied actors and actresses eating or drinking fast food thus associating eating unhealthy food with physical activity and fit bodies. The use of fit bodies in advertisements for products such as large burgers, whipped cream-topped lattes, and sundaes have the potential to promote societal denial about the healthiness of these foods as evidenced by the body sizes of the actors in the commercials and the level of physical activity portrayed in each advertisement. When healthy, fitbodied celebrities and audience members promote fast food, it’s impossible to deny the association of health with fast food. This is inaccurate as fast food is known to be even more dangerous than most Americans realize. According to Fuhrman (2018), who uses the term “Fast Food Genocide” to describe how dangerous eating fast food is, the effects on individuals are not limited to those that are health-related. “Many people recognize that junk food, fast food, processed food, white flour, sugar, maple syrup, honey, agave nectar, 273

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and all the junk people are eating contribute to obesity. . . . Currently, 1 in 5 Americans suffers from a psychiatric disorder” (p. 375). This chapter examines the practice of using fit-bodied actors and physical activity in American fast-food advertising. For this study, health-related fitness is defined as “containing the components cardiorespiratory endurance, muscular strength, muscular endurance, flexibility, and body composition” (Britton et al., 2020, p. 782). This definition will be used throughout the chapter to determine the fitness of the bodies used in fast-food advertisements. LITERATURE REVIEW The instructional nature of the media has been studied by many researchers drawing on the foundation of social learning theory which suggests that learning takes place through observing the behavior of others (Bandura, 1959). More importantly, social learning theory is “particularly valuable in analyzing the possible effects of television violence, but it is also a general theory of learning that can be applied to other areas of mass media effects” (Severin & Tankard, 2001, p. 280). This makes researching the messages sent out through advertising in the current study important in the creation of awareness about body size and physical activity portrayals in fast-food commercials. We see this evident in what messages commercials communicate and what viewers then learn from these messages. Body Size Perceptions in Advertising Castonguay, Bakir, and Blodgett (2019) studied how the bodyweight of food advertising characters affects adolescents’ perceptions of the healthiness of cereal. In this study, 157 American adolescents with a mean age of 13.1 years were randomly shown advertisements that included either thin or overweight characters and then asked to complete a survey. Results indicated that “higher BMI adolescents, in particular, believe a food to be healthier when promoted by a thin character” (p. 793). Castonguary et  al. (2019) concluded that the images of what food is being consumed and the bodily makeup of the character impact how teens perceive the healthiness of the product. This study reinforces the instructional nature of television, specifically advertisements. While the current study does not focus on researching the perceptions of individuals viewing advertisements, it does analyze the advertisements themselves. The importance of researching fit-bodied portrayals in fast-food commercials lies in creating awareness of the messages presented to viewers as a means of understanding the subtle health cues present in these types of commercials. It is not just the body image that impacts what one learns from commercials. Children perceived high-sugar cereals to be healthier when children engaged

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in physical activity than when they did not (Castonguay, 2019). Children were shown commercials for Frosted Flakes cereal which included characters who were and were not engaged in physical activities (Castonguay, 2019). Results suggested that children perceived the cereal to be healthier when they viewed commercials that contained physical activity, noting that the commercials with physical activity had an “immediate effect” on the perceptions of the healthiness of the cereal (p. 579). These results mirrored that of Harris, Haraghey, Lodolce, and Semenza (2018), who concluded that children found products they were unfamiliar with, specifically cookies and fruit drinks, to be healthier when physical activity was present in the advertisement. Though these two studies focus on children, it is not difficult to assume that teenagers and adults also can be affected by the portrayals of physical activity in advertisements thus further reinforcing the need to create awareness of the physical activity portrayals in fast-food commercials as a means of understanding health cues in the promotion of unhealthy foods. Research on fast-food advertising is almost exclusively limited to studying the impact of the types of commercials presented to a specific audience, the majority of which focuses on children. For example, Whalen et  al. (2019) studied the types of advertisements shown on UK television during children’s peak viewing hours. They found that fast-food advertisements accounted for 15.4 percent of all ads shown making this category the third most advertised (Whalen, 2019). This rise in fast-food advertisements and the large percentage shown make the current study’s analysis of the body types and physical activities presented in these types of commercials relevant and important. Though understandably, research would focus almost exclusively on children who are more vulnerable to advertising’s influence and in need of greater protection, with the pervasiveness of advertising in the digital age, it is equally important to focus on adults as well. While the ever-growing childhood obesity rate makes research on the influence of food advertising on children an even greater necessity, the adult obesity rate is also growing at a high rate and so analyzing the hidden health messages sent out through the advertising of unhealthy foods is important and necessary. Currently, there is little to no research that examines body sizes in fast-food advertisements and little, if any, about fastfood advertisements directed at adults specifically. This chapter will examine the concept of including fit bodies in fast-food advertisements as a means of promoting societal denial about the healthiness of these foods which has the potential to contribute to an increase in the ever-growing American obesity rate. Presentation of Images on a Continuum Scale (PICS) The concepts of thin, normal, and obese body sizes were assessed by undergraduate college students to determine their perceptions of the ideal, current,

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and most attractive bodies (Novella et al., 2015). As part of this study, an artistic continua of thin-to-obese and thin-to-muscular figure drawings was created, which was named the Presentation of Images on a Continuum Scale (PICS). Included in the PICS were eight images in each category (thin to obese and thin to muscular both male and female). The detailed figure drawings vary from very thin images to obese images to even overly muscular ones with healthy bodies in the middle of each. The value of this study is the creation of detailed images that easily translate to the measurement of bodies presented in the media and specifically in fast-food advertisements for use in the current study. Given the various types of advertisements present along with the development of PICS, I hypothesize that fit body portrayals in fast-food commercials are extremely prevalent and used as a means to promote denial about the health effects of eating unhealthy food. Specifically, I examine the body size of the actors in fast-food advertisements as classified by the PICS chart and with perceived activity levels exhibited in the commercials as a means of identifying the fitness level of the actors. METHOD This study contains fast-food advertisements from twenty-five of the top fifty fast-food restaurants of 2018 as listed on QSR Magazine’s website (“Ranking The Top 50,” 2019). A decision was made to include Starbucks (#2 on the list) and Dunkin’ Donuts (#8 on the list) in this study even though the commercials mainly promote beverages. The reason behind this is that many of these beverages contain food substances such as whipped cream; and, many coffee shop customers will also purchase food items that are easily available at both establishments. Body Size Measurement Tool For purposes of the current study, the non-muscular PICS for males and females were used. Body sizes on the PICS scale are labeled with numbers 1 through 8 with 1 being anorexic and 8 being obese. Considering that the majority of actors in commercials are employed to represent average people and not body-builder types, this measurement tool allows for a more accurate reflection of the body sizes in fast-food advertisements. Relying on these images in the current study and drawing on the Britton et al. (2020) definition of fit bodies, body sizes 4 and 5 on each of the two scales were identified as average and normal weight, respectively, and thus designated as fit bodies for measurement in fast-food advertisements. The creation of the PICS allows

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for selections between each drawing and are numbered to reflect this. In the current study, the figures themselves were numbered. No allowances for selections between the figure drawings were allowed. Body Type Advertising Measurement Chart To record the body sizes in each advertisement, a Food Advertising Body Type Chart was created, which included the following headings: Company, Product, Activity, Body Type, and URL. The name of the company and the product were listed respectively in the first two columns. Under the Body Type column, the following categories were used: Fit African American Male, Fit African American Female, Fit Asian Male, Fit Asian Female, Fit Latin Male, Fit Latin Female, Fit White Male, Fit White Female, Overweight, Underweight, Borderline, Children/Young Teens, Unknown. Each of these body type categories was assigned corresponding numbers from the PICS scale to measure the body sizes of the actors in the fast-food commercials. A Fit African American Male was defined as a man over the age of fourteen years with black skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the male PICS. A Fit African American Female was defined as a woman over the age of fourteen years with black skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the female PICS. A Fit Latin Male was defined as a man over the age of fourteen years with brown skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the male PICS. A Fit Latin Female was defined as a woman over the age of fourteen years with brown skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the female PICS. A Fit Asian Male was defined as a man over the age of fourteen years with light brown skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the male PICS. A Fit Asian Female was defined as a woman over the age of fourteen years with light skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the female PICS. A Fit White Male was defined as a man over the age of fourteen years with white skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the male PICS. A Fit White Female was defined as a woman over the age of fourteen years with white skin who fit into the body sizes 4 and 5 in the female PICS. An Overweight actor was defined as someone over the age of fourteen years whose body size resembled numbers 7 and 8 in the PICS. Race and gender were recorded in this category for each occurrence. An Underweight actor was defined as someone over the age of fourteen years whose body size resembled numbers 1 and 2 in the PICS. Race and gender were recorded in this category for each occurrence. An actor in the Borderline category was defined as someone over the age of fourteen years whose body size resembled numbers 3 and 6 in the PICS. Race and gender were recorded in this category for each occurrence.

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Actors in the Children/Teens category were those under the age of fourteen years. Race, gender, and body sizes were recorded in this category for each occurrence. The Unknown category was reserved for instances when actors’ body size, race, or age was indistinguishable either due to blurred, crowded, or deep background images. Inserted in the URL Column, a hyperlink to each advertisement allowed easy access to the commercial. To find commercials for each company listed on QSR’s site, a Google search using the company name and the word “advertisement” was conducted for each of the twenty-five companies. The most current advertisement using human actors was chosen. Recording Body Sizes Each commercial was viewed by two different researchers to ensure accurate and valid coder reliability. Only those actors who were identifiable were categorized in this study. In the event of large crowd scenes, only those whose faces and bodies could be identified were included except for one or two actors in the background that did not involve crowd scenes. In this case, if the actor’s body size was distinguishable then he or she was included even if the race could not be determined. After each researcher completed individual charts, results were compared and discussed. In the case of discrepancies, researchers viewed the commercials again together to determine the correct categorization. After the two researchers agreed on all results and completed one shared results chart, each category was color-coded in a Microsoft Word document following which the results were tabulated. Fit African American men were highlighted in light blue. Fit African American women were highlighted in pink. Fit White men were highlighted in yellow. Fit White women were highlighted in emerald green. Children were highlighted in hunter green. Overweight men and women of all races were highlighted in red. Results and Discussion As hypothesized, fit body portrayals in fast-food commercials are extremely prevalent and used as a means to promote denial about the health effects of eating unhealthy food. A total of 88 percent of fit body portrayals were present in the twenty-five fast-food advertisements viewed while there were 13 percent of overweight body representations. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC; 2021), the prevalence of obesity was 42.4 percent in 2017–2018 an increase from 30.5 percent in 1999. The actual obesity rate is more than triple the number of portrayals of overweight actors in fast-food commercials.​​

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Figure 15.1  Fit vs. Overweight Bodies. Graph created by author.

Figure 15.2  Overweight Portrayals.Graph created by author.

While this concept may not seem important, quite the opposite is true. With the rising obesity rate, the use of fit bodies promotes societal denial about the healthiness of fast food which ultimately contributes to an acceptance of unhealthy eating habits and obesity. This is evidenced by the Dunkin’ Donuts “Cheersin’” (2020) commercial in which all but one of the five actors are fit-bodied. The one overweight Asian female is shown dancing and moving easily around while holding a latte in the same way the fit-bodied males and

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females are. In this particular commercial, there is a great deal of physical activity with one of the White males standing on his head and several of the others, including the overweight Asian female, dancing vigorously. It’s also important to note that the overweight Asian female is closer to the Britton et al. (2020) definition of fitness and fit bodies in the PICS and therefore is only slightly recognizable as overweight. Another example of the association of fit bodies to activity and fast food is evidenced by several commercials which include images of sports figures or teams eating or ordering the food available at the restaurants. In the Whataburger “Dinner” (2020) commercial, as part of a montage of people eating in the restaurant, eight fit White men in matching uniforms are shown eating fast food. Similarly, the Subway “Superbowl” (2021) advertisement featuring football player Marshawn Lynch includes images of him working out on the field then leaving to drive around town in a giant truck tire then ends with him being served food from the restaurant. Similarly, the Panda “Express Craving The Sweet Life” (2020) commercial features pro football player George Kittle working as a life coach instructing audience members on how to get the sweet life with food. Only one of the audience members shown in a very brief close-up includes one overweight African American man while all other audience members are fit bodied. According to Fuhrman, the dangers of fast food are also related to the preparation methods which encourage overconsumption. He notes that the fast and processed food manufacturers don’t just put salt on the French fries and the meat, they also put salt in the French fry batter and inside the chopped meat. They also include high fructose corn syrup in most foods. The added fat, sugar, and salt create a taste that makes people crave these foods, a sensation that many describe as an addiction. (p. 379)

With this being the case, it’s not difficult to see how misleading the use of fit bodies in fast-food advertisements is. Any association of health regarding fast-food advertising is not only misleading but untrue and even dangerous, thus making the findings in the current study important and relevant to identifying misleading advertising practices. In addition to those fast-food commercials previously mentioned, the use of fit bodies and the association of activity and thus, health, are present. In Starbucks’ “Do You” (2021) advertisement, a White female is shown walking confidently and briskly down the street while an overweight African American woman is shown exercising and dancing. Though it can be argued that the inclusion of an overweight body points to the health dangers of consuming fast food, the fact that this woman is dressed in athletic attire and is moving vigorously and easily does not truly indicate the consequences of

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eating fast food. Furthermore, according to the Britton et al. (2020) definition of fitness, “muscle endurance” and “flexibility” are indicators of fitness. The Taco Bell “$1 Loaded Nacho” (2021) advertisement includes one young fit White male riding a skateboard past a group of fit friends who are on a picnic while the Chipotle “Super Bowl Burrito Can Change The World” (2021) commercial shows children and adults farming and the children running through fields. The Hardee’s “Habanero Ranch” (2021) commercial shows a large group of people, all of whom except one are fit, laughing, dancing, and eating burgers. The deliberate exclusion of overweight or obese people in these commercials creates an environment of denial where overweight individuals are not seen and therefore cannot be visually associated with eating fast food. As Fuhrman (2018) points out, eating fast food is a major contributor to the growing obesity and health crisis in America yet the majority of fast-food advertisements all but ignore this reality, in all likelihood not wanting to associate their products with dangerous health issues. The Little Caesar’s “Big Pizza” (2021) advertisement, however, takes the idea of ignoring overweight bodies to a different level. In this commercial, overweight bodies have negative connotations. The focus of the commercial is a parody of “Big Business.” In the commercial, the “Big Pizza” corporation board of directors is shown sitting around a table discussing how to raise prices before they are introduced to a Little Caesar’s pizza deal. In this case, overweight bodies are associated with corporate greed. There are four overweight males, three White and one African American. While this is a stereotypical portrayal of overweight bodies, it is presented negatively and six fit White males and one fit White woman are also included seemingly to detract viewers’ attention from the stereotypical portrayals. Furthermore, eating Little Caesar’s pizza is presented as the antidote for gluttony, which in reality will create the very same overweight bodies that are portrayed negatively in the commercial. Though not a new concept, the use of fit bodies and fast food to show love and special family moments was portrayed in several commercials in this study. Parkin (2006) points out about images of mothers in her classic book where she analyzes decades of food advertisements, “the power of food to shape their children’s lives was a powerful, consistent message” (p. 221). This is evidenced in the Domino’s Pizza “Pizza & A Movie” (2021) advertisement where a Domino’s employee is shown walking through explosions to bring a woman her pizza dinner. The last shot is of a child watching the movie and eating pizza to emphasize the importance of family time spent together. The Sonic “Drive-In” (2021) advertisement features two adults and a child after having gone through the drive-thru. The woman, who is in the driver’s seat, asks the child if he would rather eat his food in the car or wait until he gets home. The child says he wants to eat it in the car. Despite the setting, the importance of

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eating together is emphasized in this commercial as well since the family is shown eating together in their car. Next, the promotion of fit bodies and family love expressed by eating fast food is shown in Papa John’s “Delivering Thanks Team” (2020) advertisement. In this commercial, a store manager in Kentucky talks about how he is helping his community during the COVID pandemic by delivering food. As he speaks, a montage of community members, including families, is shown bonding over the pizza that his team has delivered thus firmly establishing the idea that eating fast food encourages fit-bodied families to spend time together and is a means of showing love. Finally, in the KFC “Uber Eats Free Delivery” (2021) advertisement, fit-bodied families and relatives are shown eating and laughing while eating fried chicken; and in the Dairy Queen “$6 Meal” (2021) commercial, two fit men bond while eating lunch together remotely in front of their computers. Both the Whataburger “Dinner” commercial (2020) and the Hardee’s “Habanero Ranch” (2021) advertisement include groups of people bonding while eating the food advertised, the majority of whom are fit. The Taco Bell “$1 Loaded Nacho” advertisement includes three fit friends eating Tacos as means of bonding. Associations with nature and fit bodies are also included in many of the fast-food ads studied. Advertisements showing people eating fast food in a natural setting create an association with nature which gives the false impression that the food being eaten is natural and healthy. This is evidenced by the fact that 16 or 64 percent of the twenty-five advertisements studied have outdoor scenes or, in the case of Arby’s “Catch A Flaky Fish” (2021) commercial, make references to the outdoors. In this commercial, fish sandwiches are shown rocking back and forth to give the impression of being on a ship while a White fit male in the background hangs up a raincoat to make viewers believe that he has just come in from fishing. This technique is identified by Andrews, Van Leeuwen, and Van Baaren (2014) as the “Promised Land” technique which is designed to evoke a strong reward response. They note, “even though the claims made are exaggerated or obvious lies, they target the important desires we carry with us, thereby making us vulnerable to them” (p. 36). In this case, Americans who like the taste and convenience of fast food want to believe that the ingredients in these items are healthy and aid in maintaining a fit body. The truth, however, as Dr. Fuhrman (2018) and others have pointed out, is exactly the opposite: fast food is unhealthy and causes “irreparable effects” on both individual and public health (Bahadoran et al., 2016). In a review of scientific literature about the effects of fast food, Bahadoran et al. note that Fast-food consumption and out-of-home eating behavior is the main risk factor for lower diet quality, higher calorie, and fat intake, and lower micronutrients

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density in the diet. Frequent consumption of fast foods was accompanied by overweight and abdominal fat gain, impaired insulin and glucose homeostasis, lipid and lipoprotein disorders, induction of systemic inflammation, and oxidative stress. Higher fast-food consumption also increases the risk of developing diabetes, metabolic syndrome, and cardiovascular disease. (p. 231)

In the case of fast-food advertisements, the “Promised Land” is the need consumers have to believe that fast food is healthy and that they won’t gain weight from eating it. This is proved by the fact that 88 percent of the bodies shown in these ads were fit and by the higher-than-average association of these foods with nature and natural settings. In the Jack-In-The-Box “Southwest Cheddar Combo” (2020) advertisement, three fit White men are shown inside a barbershop with a large window in the background. In the window, the main street of what appears to be a small town is shown where there are trees and greenery. Though not directly outside, the advertisement still uses the association of nature to subliminally project health and healthy ingredients. This technique is described as “Anchoring” in which “a product’s value is strongly influenced by what it is compared to” (Andrews et al., 2014, p. 94). As Andrews, Van, et al. note Anchoring is almost impossible to overcome: Even when people are told that they are susceptible to anchoring and that it will be included in the information they are about to receive, they still do not correct it sufficiently. Even experts (like judges, doctors, and seasoned consumers) fall for it! (p. 97)

Adding to this, two of the ads in this study take place in vehicles. The Wendy’s “Breakfast Exfast” (2020) advertisement and the Sonic “Drive-In” (2021) commercial both create associations with nature and the outdoors through eating in the car. It’s important to note that eating in a vehicle is sometimes associated with Binge Eating Disorder. According to the diagnostic criteria outlined in the fifth edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM5), Binge Eating Disorder (BED) is characterized by: 1. Recurrent and persistent episodes of binge eating 2. Binge eating episodes are associated with three (or more) of the following: • Eating much more rapidly than normal • Eating until feeling uncomfortably full • Eating large amounts of food when not feeling physically hungry • Eating alone because of being embarrassed by how much one is eating

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• Feeling disgusted with oneself, depressed, or very guilty after overeating 2. Marked distress regarding binge eating 3. Absence of regular compensatory behaviors (such as purging). (2014) The American Addiction Center (2020) includes eating in the car, in the garage, or in the yard as a visible warning sign in its list which also includes “repeatedly offering to take out the family trash, so others won’t see empty food wrappers, skipping public meals, repeatedly dieting and consistently failing, having rigid rules about foods that are ‘good’ and those that are ‘bad.’” Portrayals of actors eating in their cars not only normalize dangerous BED behavior, but it encourages those who suffer from BED to purchase the foods advertised in their restaurants by using fit bodies to make them believe there are no consequences to eating fast food. According to Watts (2020), almost 60 percent of all alcohol sold is consumed by those who are heavy drinkers, many of whom are alcoholics. The Pareto Law, named after economist Vilfredo Pareto, says that 80 percent of all sales are made by the top 20 percent for almost any product is outlined in the article, and the 55 percent rise in alcohol sales the week of March 21, 2020, during the COVID pandemic, is also noted. Considering the addictive characteristics of both alcoholism and BED, it is not difficult to transfer these percentages to those who are obese. The advertising technique of including images of fit-bodied actors eating fast food in cars encourages those who suffer from BED and purchase the majority of fast food to continue this practice and even to increase the frequency of it. In the same way that the alcohol industry needs alcoholics for financial stability, the fast-food industry needs those with BED to purchase their food to remain successful. Images of car eating reinforce familiarity for those with BED and the use of fit bodies contributes to denial about the consequences of eating this food. Both of which result in these restaurants making false associations for those with eating disorders as a means of creating a climate of denial that makes it acceptable for BED sufferers to purchase excess food. Images of fit-bodied people eating fast food at home serve to create an association between the wholesomeness of a home-cooked meal and fast food. In total, 14 or 56 percent of the ads studied show images of or imply eating at home. In the case of the Panera Bread “Raised Bar” (2021) commercial, a chef is shown in a large professional kitchen to give viewers the idea that the food is prepared in a home-like setting while the Pizza Hut “Super Bowl 55 – Craig Robinson” (2021) advertisement features the comedian playing the video game Pac Man in what appears to be a home game room decorated with Pizza Hut memorabilia. The Hardee’s “Habanero Ranch” (2021) advertisement shows a large group of people eating outside in what

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seems to be the backyard of a ranch home while the “Zaxby’s Super Bowl” (2021) commercial includes aerial images of several homes appearing to be shot from a blimp. Ads for delivery services include allusions to or images of consumers eating at home. These include the following ads: Domino’s Pizza “Pizza & A Move” (2021), KFC’s “Uber Eats Free Delivery” (2021), and Papa John’s “Delivering Thanks Team” (2020). Even though there aren’t images of people eating at home, the Whataburger “Dinner” (2020) commercial includes images of people eating at tables in the restaurant that mimics a family home table. While the video montage of mostly fit happy families, friends, and sports teams eating in the restaurant is shown, there is a rap song that begins with “It’s the weekend. It’s Whataburger time. Let’s go out to eat and have a good night” (2020). The song goes on to talk about how the man loves the woman and can’t stop thinking about her. Taking into consideration the Anchoring technique described by Andrews et al. (2014), it’s not difficult to see that the commercial is encouraging viewers to become obsessed with the food at Whataburger, which promotes this product to those with BED. In other words, the message being presented here is that not only is eating at Whataburger an obsession, but it will make those who eat this food feel happy and loved but not gain weight as evidenced by the fit-bodied actors present. Interestingly, those with BED or other eating disorders suffer from low self-esteem and feel unlovable/unloved, and are often isolated. Any type of food advertisement that portrays fit, happy, loved people eating together is what Andrews et  al. call the “Promised Land.” Being loved and accepted while eating is a sharp contrast to the disgust that those who binge regularly feel. Thus, this idea of associating fast food with fit bodies and love is an intoxicating draw for those with BED, who are, in fact, the restaurant’s main consumers. It is clear from the results of this study and deeper analysis of the fast-food advertisements from the top twenty-five restaurants that the promotion of fit bodies combined with promises of health, love, and family are disproportionately present in American fast-food advertisements. Considering the increasingly high rate of obesity in the United States and across the world, the promotion of these values and ideas in the advertisement of foods that are unhealthy and contribute greatly to the problem can be considered a threat to public health. While future studies may seek to expand the number of advertisements studied to include the remaining twenty-five restaurants on the list and also to additional fast-food establishments, regulation and education about these practices would be a logical next step in working to lessen the consequences of an already dangerous problem.

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REFERENCES American Addiction Centers. (2020). Binge eating. https://ame​rica​nadd​icti​oncenters​ .org​/binge​-eating Andrews, M., Van Leeuwen, M., & Van Baaren, R. (2014). Hidden persuasion: 33 psychological influence techniques in advertising. The Netherlands: BIS Publishers. Bahadoran, Z., Mirmiran, P., & Azizi, F. (2016). Fast food pattern and cardiometabolic disorders: A review of current studies. Health Promotion Perspectives, 5(4), 231–240. https://doi​.org​/10​.15171​/hpp​.2015​.028 Bandura, A., & Walters, R.H. (1959). Adolescent aggression. Ronald Press. Britton, Ú., Issartel, J., Fahey, G., Conyngham, G., & Belton, S. (2020). What is health-related fitness? Investigating the underlying factor structure of fitness in -org​ youth. European Physical Education Review, 26(4), 782–796. https://doi​ .sacredheart​.idm​.oclc​.org​/10​.1177​/1356336X19882060 Castonguay, J. (2019). Sugar and sports: Age differences in children’s responses to a high sugar cereal advertisement portraying physical activities. Communication Research, 46(5), 579–595. doi:10.1177/0093650215587357 Castonguay, J., Bakir, A., & Blodgett, J.G. (2019). Adolescents’ responses to cereal ads: an assessment of weight and gender. Journal of Food Products Marketing, 25(8), 785–804. https://doi​-org​.sacredheart​.idm​.oclc​.org​/10​.1080​/10454446​.2019​.1678208 Centers for Disease Prevention and Control (2021). Adult obesity facts. https://www​ .cdc​.gov​/obesity​/data​/adult​.html Fuhrman J. (2018). The hidden dangers of fast and processed food. American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine, 12(5), 375–381. https://doi​.org​/10​.1177​/1559827618766483 Harris, J., Haraghey, K., Lodolce, M., & Semenza, N. (2018). Teaching children about good health? Halo effects in child-directed advertisements for unhealthy food. Pediatric Obesity, 13, 256–264. doi:10.1111/ijpo.12257 National Eating Disorders Association. (2014). New in the DSM-5: Binge eating disorder. https://www​.nat​iona​leat​ingd​isorders​.org​/blog​/new​-dsm​-5​-binge​-eating​-disorder Novella, J., Gosselin, J.T., & Danowski, D. (2015). One size doesn't fit all: New continua of figure drawings and their relation to ideal body image. Journal of American College Health, 63(6), 353-360. https://doi:10.1080/07448481.2015.1040410 Parkin, K.J. (2006). Food is love: Advertising and gender roles in modern America. University of Pennsylvania Press. Ranking the top 50 fast-food chains in America. (2019). https://www​.qsrmagazine​ .com​/content​/ranking​-top​-50​-fast​-food​-chains​-america Severin, W.J., & Tankard, J.W. Jr. (2001). Communication theories: Origins, methods, and uses in the mass media (5th ed.). Longman. Watts, M. (2020). America’s heaviest drinkers consume almost 60% of all alcohol sold. Newsweek. https://www​.newsweek​.com​/americas​-heaviest​-drinkers​-consume​ -almost​-60​-all​-alcohol​-sold​-1520284 Whalen, R., Harrold, J., Child, S., Halford, J., & Boyland, E. (2019). Children’s exposure to food advertising: The impact of statutory restrictions. Health Promotion International, 34(2), 227–235. https://doi​-org​.sacredheart​.idm​.oclc​.org​/10​.1093​/ heapro​/dax044

Chapter 16

Ideal-Body Media and Gay Men’s Self-Discrepancy Irena Acic, Lindsay Roberts, and Laramie D. Taylor

The self is a multifaceted construct composed of three basic dimensions: the actual self (one’s perception of the attributes that one actually possesses), the ideal self (one’s perception of the attributes that one believes they should ideally possess or the attributes that one believes others would like for one to possess), and the ought self (one’s perception of the duties and obligations that one should ideally fulfill, from one’s own perspective or from the perspective of another person) (Higgins, 1987). The ideal self and the ought self may be perceived as self-guides; an individual strives toward bringing their actual self as close as possible to the ideal self and the ought self. According to selfdiscrepancy theory (Higgins, 1987), failure to match one’s actual self with the self-guides may result in different types of self-representation incompatibility (i.e., discrepancy), depending on the domain of self (actual; ideal; ought) and the standpoint on self (own; significant other’s). Body satisfaction literature has mostly been interested in examining the actual-ideal self-discrepancy from the own standpoint (Halliwell & Dittmar, 2006). In other words, “How does my actual body differ from the body I would ideally like to have?” Less attention has been given to the actual-ideal self-discrepancy from the perceived standpoint of the significant other. In other words, “How does my actual body differ from the body I believe my significant other would ideally like for me to have?” The perceptions of one’s significant other’s perspective warrant further attention because research has shown that a discrepancy between one’s actual self and one’s ideal self from a perceived standpoint of a significant other is associated with negative feelings including dejection, shame, and embarrassment (Higgins, 1987). Higgins (1987) defines a significant other as the individual’s parent, sibling, friend, or romantic partner. The present study focuses on the perceived standpoint of a romantic partner (i.e., “Which attributes would my romantic partner like for me to possess?”), given 287

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the importance of romantic partners in shaping the self-systems (Andersen & Chen, 2002). Additionally, Halliwell and Dittmar (2006) found that the self-discrepancy between one’s perceived actual self and one’s romantic ideal self is likely to influence body dissatisfaction, possibly because appearance self-discrepancy is an important dimension of self-discrepancy (Halliwell & Dittmar, 2006). One group that may be particularly susceptible to self-discrepancies is gay men. Given that gay men are highly influenced by ideal-body media (Marino Carper et al., 2010) and ideal-body media are known to set virtually unachievable standards for individuals (Harrison & Hefner, 2008), it is possible that gay men will be particularly susceptible to the discrepancies between their actual self and the self-guides seen in the media. Furthermore, because the ideal gay male body is usually leaner than the ideal straight male body (Tiggemann, Martins, & Kirkbride, 2007), gay men could be striving toward an ideal self that is particularly difficult to achieve, thus increasing the potential of experiencing self-discrepancy along with the negative effects such as restrictive eating or eating disorders (Harrison, 2001). Despite the reasons to believe that gay men could be highly susceptible to self-discrepancy, this population has been understudied from the self-discrepancy perspective. This chapter aims to expand our knowledge about self-discrepancy in gay men. In general, self-discrepancy literature tends to focus on the outcomes of self-discrepancy. Incompatible self-representations are associated with detrimental outcomes such as shame and embarrassment (Higgins, 1987), low self-esteem (Bessenoff, 2006), and eating disorders (Harrison, 2001). Little research has examined antecedents to self-discrepancy. In the current study, we explored two possibilities. First, given the importance of the romantic ideal self, we explored the potential link between individuals’ relationship status and self-discrepancy. Second, ideal-body media are known to alter viewers’ norms and expectations (McCreary et al., 2007); the standards projected by ideal-body media likely contribute to self-discrepancy. Thus, we explored the potential relationship between ideal-body media exposure and self-discrepancy. We examined appearance, personality trait, and sexual selfdiscrepancies in gay men.

ROMANTIC IDEAL SELF An early study on self-evaluation shows that others’ evaluations significantly affect one’s self-evaluation (Hoelter, 1984). The self is partially shaped by other people’s expectations of the individual’s behavior and attributes (Andersen & Chen, 2002). According to self-discrepancy theory, others’ ideals for the individual may be real (i.e., verbalized) or assumed by the

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individual (“What do I think my significant other would like for me to be or possess?”). During adulthood, parents’ and peers’ standpoints become less relevant compared to their importance in childhood and adolescence. At the same time, a romantic partner’s standpoint becomes more salient (Halliwell & Dittmar, 2006), whether it is verbalized or assumed by the individual. The romantic ideal self, the individual’s perception of what their partner would like for the individual to be or possess, may be particularly influential in the domain of physical appearance, given the emphasis individuals tend to put on their partner’s appearance (Schmitz, 2016). The discrepancy between one’s actual self and the romantic ideal self has been examined only in the domain of heterosexual relationships (e.g., Halliwell & Dittmar, 2006). However, research demonstrates the importance of a romantic partner’s standpoint in gay relationships, as gay relationships were essentially found to be no different from straight relationships (Kurdek, 2005; Peplau & Fingerhut, 2007). For example, in a study by Tylka and Andorka (2012), gay participants whose partners wanted them to become more muscular were more likely to experience body dissatisfaction than gay participants who experienced no pressure from their partners. If a romantic partner’s standpoint is salient among gay men, then it could be beneficial to look further into the discrepancies between gay men’s perceived actual selves and gay men’s romantic ideal selves. One question that warrants further attention is: What are the antecedents of this type of self-discrepancy?

IDEAL-BODY MEDIA AND SELF-DISCREPANCY To have an effect on an individual, self-discrepancies need to be activated; the likelihood of activation increases with accessibility (Higgins, 1999). Selfdiscrepancies will trigger negative emotions and outcomes only if individuals are being frequently reminded that their actual selves do not match their ideal selves (Higgins, 1999). Ideal-body media, that is, media promoting a thin and curvaceous body for women (Bell & Dittmar, 2011) and muscular, V-shaped body for men (Blond, 2008) can provide just such a reminder. Mass media represents a source of ideals that are unattainable for many, especially in the domain of physical appearance (Harrison & Hefner, 2008). Individuals often internalize these ideals and compare themselves to the ideal bodies seen in the media, highlighting their own perceived shortcomings (Mckinley & Hyde, 1996). Even for individuals with the physical and psychological wherewithal to attain a body reflecting media ideals, media exposure can be expected to result in increased levels of self-discrepancy. Self-discrepancy, after all, reflects the perceived distance between the individual’s present state and the

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ideal state. Making this discrepancy, this sense of inadequacy, or imperfection salient has consequences. Ideal-body media exposure is likely to activate appearance-related selfdiscrepancies (Harrison, 2001). Past research has found diverse links among self-discrepancies, body image, and ideal-body media. For example, selfdiscrepancy activation was found to be associated with a higher likelihood of engaging in disordered eating (Harrison, 2001). Self-discrepancy moderates the media-body image link; negative effects of ideal-body media exposure on individuals’ eating behaviors have been shown to intensify in the presence of self-discrepancies for both women and men (Harrison et al., 2015). Additionally, for women, self-discrepancy was found to moderate the effects of exposure to ideal-body images on self-esteem; women scoring higher on self-discrepancy experienced lower self-esteem after exposure to ideal-body media compared to women scoring lower on self-discrepancy (Bessenoff, 2006). However, the relationship between exposure to ideal-body media and self-discrepancy remains unclear in gay men. Gay Men The links between ideal-body media exposure and self-discrepancy have been well documented in heterosexual individuals (e.g., Harrison, Taylor, and Marske, 2015). Members of sexual and gender minority communities have largely been left out of this research. Given that gay men have been found to be more susceptible to ideal-body media effects than straight men (Van Vonderen & Kinnally, 2012), this is a particularly problematic gap in the literature. With this in mind, we undertook an exploration of potential links between gay men’s exposure to ideal-body media and gay men’s self-discrepancy. Poor body image is demonstrated to be a problem among gay men relative to straight men. In a study by Tiggemann, Martins, and Kirkbride (2007), 134 gay men and 119 straight men were compared in terms of body positivity/ negativity and perceptions of an ideal body. Both groups reported they would like to lose weight and gain muscle, but gay men were less satisfied with their bodies. Furthermore, they strove toward different ideals; the perfect body was seen as leaner among gay participants than their straight counterparts (Tiggemann et al., 2007). This is no surprise, given that gay men’s body ideals are largely shaped by what they see in popular media (Marino Carper et al., 2010) and media images of gay men typically show bodies with a low amount of fat and a high level of muscularity (Schwartz & Andsager, 2011). Furthermore, images of gay men in popular media seem to be promoting sexual objectification as something that is acceptable and desirable (Frederick & Essayli, 2016). For example, a quick search on the popular social media

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platform Instagram using #gaybody yields thousands of photos depicting lean and muscular gay men, often posing shirtless or in tight muscle tops, drawing attention to their body parts (e.g., arms and abs) rather than the face. Morrison et  al. (2004) compared body satisfaction in heterosexual and gay men across twenty-seven studies and found that gay men were consistently less satisfied with their appearance than heterosexual men. As a consequence of this greater degree of body dissatisfaction, gay men tend to engage in appearance-altering behaviors such as restricted eating more often than other groups. Conner et al. (2004) found that gay men are more likely to restrict their food intake than heterosexual women. Compared to straight men, gay men are also more likely to use steroids and weight loss supplements (Kaminski et al., 2005), and undergo cosmetic surgery (Frederick & Essayli, 2016). Finally, compared to straight men, gay men are more likely to feel uncomfortable with engaging in sexual activity because of the way they look (Frederick & Essayli, 2016). Clearly, physical appearance plays a key role in self-concept for many gay men (McClain & Peebles, 2016). The importance of physical appearance in gay men is constantly reinforced by the media (Van Vonderen & Kinnally, 2012). Yet, to our knowledge, only one study has examined media exposure and self-discrepancy in sexual minority individuals; Bond (2015) investigated the mediating role of self-discrepancy in the relationship between media exposure and well-being among lesbian, gay, and bisexual adolescents. The present study addresses the gap in the self-discrepancy literature by exploring the potential relationship between gay men’s self-discrepancy and gay men’s ideal-body media exposure. This study seeks to answer: What is the nature, if any, of the relationship between ideal-body media exposure and self-discrepancy among gay men? Relationship Status Another important factor in considering the relationship between ideal-body media and self-discrepancy is relationship status. According to the notion of the “partner market,” advanced by Schmitz (2014), physical appearance is more salient among individuals who are currently seeking a romantic or sexual partner, or on the “market,” than among individuals who already have a partner (Schmitz, 2014). This salience likely arises because appearance is evaluated as one of the main “goods” one has to offer on the “partner market.” Thinking about one’s own physical appearance may result in selfdiscrepancy as individuals become aware of the differences between their perceived actual self and the romantic ideal self (i.e., the self one believes their partner would like for them to be) (Higgins, 1999). Being single, as opposed to being in a relationship, would therefore be expected to be associated with greater self-discrepancy. Perhaps more importantly for the present

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discussion is the possibility that single gay men may be more vulnerable to any self-discrepancy-inducing effects of ideal-body media. Several factors are likely to contribute to such a vulnerability. First, since self-discrepancies are more accessible among un-partnered folk, those self-discrepancies would be expected to be more available for subsequent priming or activation. Second, gay men are likely to develop unrealistic fears of becoming unattractive (Kaminski et al., 2005). Ideal-body media have the potential to remind gay men that their bodies are not as attractive as they would want them to be. In other words, ideal-body media may activate appearance-related self-discrepancies in gay men because the topics of attraction and appearance are already salient in gay men. Physical appearance is particularly important when searching for a partner (Schmitz, 2014). Therefore, we are left wondering: Does gay men’s relationship status moderate the link between ideal-body media exposure and self-discrepancy? At least one other possible relationship among relationship status, idealmedia exposure, and self-discrepancy are worth considering. It is possible that relationship status may drive ideal-body media use. This may arise in several ways. First, single gay men in search of a partner are hoping to attract a gay male partner; gay men typically set high standards when it comes to their partner’s physical appearance (Tiggemann et al., 2007). These standards are reinforced by the ideal-body media (Harrison & Hefner, 2008). Therefore, single gay men may turn to the ideal-body media to evaluate whether their own bodies are “good enough” (Hamer, 2003), making them particularly aware of their self-discrepancies. It is also possible that single gay men turn more frequently to specific types of ideal-body media for more instrumental reasons associated with their un-partnered status, for example, seeking out exercise or fashion magazines to facilitate improvement of one’s appearance, or more frequent use of sexually explicit media, all of which have been shown to elicit body-image disturbance among gay men (Duggan & McCreary, 2004). Consequently, gay men’s relationship status may be associated with their self-discrepancy, mediated by exposure to ideal-body media. We, therefore, ask: Is there a relationship between gay men’s relationship status and self-discrepancy, mediated by ideal-body media exposure? In addition to appearance self-discrepancy, we consider two more types of self-discrepancies in relation to ideal-body media exposure and relationship status: sexual self-discrepancy and personality trait self-discrepancy. Based on the existing studies, appearance self-discrepancy and sexual and personality trait self-discrepancies in gay men may be closely related concepts; according to Frederick and Essayli (2016), gay men’s dissatisfaction with their physical appearance is likely to cause them to feel uncomfortable with engaging in sexual activity. Kimmel and Mahalik (2005) found that gay

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men’s perceptions of their physical appearance tend to shape gay men’s perceptions of their entire persona. Relationship Satisfaction In addition to gay men’s relationship status, we considered the potential role of the extent to which romantically/sexually involved gay men were satisfied with their current relationship in connection with other study variables. The concept of relationship satisfaction has so far been studied primarily in the domain of heterosexual marital relationships (Fincham & Beach, 2009). Relationship satisfaction is associated with different types of individuals’ behavior, including media use. For example, more frequent exposure to television, regardless of the genre, was found to be associated with lower relationship satisfaction (Holmes & Johnson, 2009). Furthermore, the use of sexually explicit media had a negative effect on relationship satisfaction in men who were less emotionally intimate with their partners (Veit et al., 2017). Finally, Bridges and Morokoff (2011) found that men who use sexual media more frequently are likely to experience lower relationship satisfaction. Given that gay couples’ relationships are very similar to heterosexual relationships (Kurdek, 2005; Peplau & Fingerhut, 2007), the lack of research in the area of gay men’s media use and relationship satisfaction is surprising. Thus, we want to know: What is the nature, if any, of the relationship between ideal-body media exposure and relationship satisfaction among gay men?

METHODS Recruitment Participants (N = 602) were gay men recruited through Gayforum​.org​, a website described as an “online community for gay and bisexual young adults to discuss topics of interest, make friends, and chat with other gay people from around the world.” The forum has over 15,000 members worldwide from countries including, but not limited to: the United States, Canada, Japan, Great Britain, and Australia. This recruitment technique allowed for a diverse sample of gay men regarding background and socioeconomic status. Next, participants were recruited through LGBTQ centers on the campuses of two large West Coast universities, as well as by posting a flyer on the Facebook page of an LGBTQ community center in a major West Coast city. Lastly, participants were recruited through several subreddits popular among gay men. The final sample included 602 men who self-identified as gay.

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Participants Participants ranged in age from eighteen to seventy-one years old (M = 29.46, SD = 9.99). More than half of the participants identified as White/Caucasian (67%). Others identified as Hispanic or Latino (14%), Asian (11%), Black or African American (5%). Less than 3 percent of the participants identified as American Indian or Alaska Native or Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander. On average, the participants were college-educated with an average household income between $60,000 and $69,999. All participants responded to an anonymous cross-sectional online survey. To confirm eligibility to participate, every participant first had to agree with the statement, “I identify as a gay man.” Measures Participants responded to an anonymous cross-sectional survey using Qualtrics online survey software. Following a procedure by Duggan and McCreary (2004), participants were asked to reflect on the past month and indicate how often they were exposed to several media in which idealized gay male bodies play a prominent role, namely Instagram, Grindr, and pornographic videos. Self-discrepancy was measured as participants were asked to list five qualities they believed their partner would like for them to have and to indicate the extent to which each of the qualities applied to their perceived actual self. Following the approach by Higgins (1987), greater differences between the two self-state representations signified a greater magnitude of self-discrepancy. Responses were coded into one of the three categories: appearance (e.g., muscular, tall, lean), personality traits (e.g., talkative, kind, independent), and sexual traits (e.g., a top, large penis). Then, appearance self-discrepancy (M = 2.16, SD = 3.07), sexual self-discrepancy (M = .43, SD = 1.11), and personality trait self-discrepancy (M = 4.28, SD = 3.08) scores were calculated for each participant. Due to the skewness of appearance self-discrepancy and of sexual self-discrepancy, the log of both of these items was used in analyses. Additionally, a total self-discrepancy score was calculated (M = 6.87, SD = 3.93). We opted for an idiographic assessment of self-discrepancy rather than presenting participants with a preconstructed list of attributes because the idiographic approach is more successful in gauging those self-concept aspects that are salient to an individual (Higgins, 1999). Furthermore, this approach allowed for the inclusion of specific body attributes that participants considered desirable from their partner’s standpoint such as having excessive body hair. A question about participants’ relationship status was included in the demographic question block (“Which of these terms most closely describes

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your relationship status: single, casually dating, seriously dating, living with a partner, engaged, married”). Participants who indicated they were single or casually dating were then coded as “single” (64%); the remaining answer choices were coded as “romantically involved” (36%). Single participants were asked to respond to the romantic ideal self-questions while thinking of their most recent partner or a partner they would like to have. Participants, who indicated they were in a relationship, were presented with an additional block of questions pertaining to relationship satisfaction. The Relationship Assessment Scale (Hendrick, 1988) was administered as a 7-item Likert scale with scores ranging from 1(low satisfaction) to 5 (high satisfaction). Questions included “To what extent has your relationship met your original expectations?” or “How often do you wish you hadn’t gotten into this relationship?” Findings Frequency analysis of participants’ responses to the question about five qualities they believed their partner would like for them to have showed that the most frequently listed personality trait was “kind” (n = 171), followed by “funny” (n = 140), and “caring” (n = 78). The most frequently listed appearance-related trait was “attractive” (n = 67), followed by “fit” (n = 40), and “lean” (n = 14). Interestingly, participants listed a low number of sex-related traits, most of which were pertaining to penis size and sex drive. An independent sample t-test was conducted to compare appearance, sexual, personality trait, and total self-discrepancies between single gay men in our sample and gay men who indicated they were in a committed relationship. There were no significant differences between the two groups in terms of their sexual self-discrepancy and personality trait self-discrepancy. However, we found that single gay men scored significantly higher (M = 2.42, SD = 3.02) on appearance self-discrepancy than gay men in a relationship (M = 1.62, SD = 2.63), t(296) = 2.32, p = .021. There was also a significant difference in terms of the total self-discrepancy scores between single participants (M = 7.30, SD = 4.11) and participants who were in a relationship (M = 6.11, SD = 3.65), t(296) = 2.52, p = .012; once again, single gay men from our sample achieved higher discrepancy scores. To answer our first question and examine relationships among study variables generally, Pearson correlations were run for each of the variables measured (see table 16.1). Several key study variables were found to be correlated; ideal-body media exposure was negatively correlated with sexual self-discrepancy but positively correlated with personality trait selfdiscrepancy. Ideal-body media exposure was also positively correlated with relationship status, indicating that participants with a committed romantic

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Table 16.1  Correlations among Key Study Variables 1 1. Ideal-body media exposure 2. Appearance self-discrepancy 3. Personality trait self-discrepancy 4. Sexual selfdiscrepancy 5. Total selfdiscrepancy 6. Relationship status 7. Relationship satisfaction

2

3

4

5

6

7

–.034 .124**

–.238**

–.100*

.149*

–.179**

.040

.587**

.528**

.155**

–.137*

–.019

.266**

–.139*

–.011

–.206** .029 –.183**

–.074 –.146*

.484**

Note. * p < .05, **p < .01

partner also used more ideal-body media. To investigate how relationship status functioned in the relationships between ideal-body media exposure and various types of self-discrepancy, we ran alternative models describing relationships among ideal-body media exposure, relationship status, and self-discrepancy. To investigate our second question, moderation analyses were performed using Hayes’s PROCESS modeling (Hayes, 2013). In each model, the predictor variable was ideal-body media exposure and the moderating variable evaluated was relationship status (see table 16.2). Each model employed one measure of self-discrepancy as the dependent variable— appearance self-discrepancy, sexual self-discrepancy, personality trait self-discrepancy, and total self-discrepancy. Out of the four models, relationship status was found to moderate the relationship between idealbody media exposure and personality trait self-discrepancy and total self-discrepancy. The interaction term between relationship status and ideal-body media exposure explained a significant increase in variance in personality trait self-discrepancy, R2 = .03, F(3, 573) = 5.93, p < .01 and total self-discrepancy, R2 = .03, F(3, 573) = 6.26, p < .01. Therefore, relationship status was a significant moderator of the relationship between ideal-body media exposure, personality trait self-discrepancy, and total self-discrepancy. Regarding participants who were single, there is a significant positive relationship between ideal-body media exposure and personality self-discrepancy as well as total self-discrepancy. However, regarding participants who were in a relationship, there was a significant negative relationship between ideal-body media exposure and personality self-discrepancy as well as total self-discrepancy.

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Ideal-Body Media and Gay Men’s Self-Discrepancy Table 16.2  Moderating Effects of Relationship Status

IV

Moderator

Ideal-body Relationship media status exposure

Effect for singles

Effect on relationship participants

0.13**

.69***

-.14 (n.s.)

.024***

.67**

-.74*

Delta-R^2 due to moderation

DV Appearance selfdiscrepancy Sexual selfdiscrepancy Personality trait selfdiscrepancy Total selfdiscrepancy

.004 (n.s.) .000 (n.s.)

Note. * p < .05, **p < .01

Table 16.3  Mediating Effects of Ideal-Body Media Exposure IV

Relationship Status

Mediator

Ideal-body media exposure

DV Appearance selfdiscrepancy Sexual self-discrepancy Personality trait selfdiscrepancy Total self-discrepancy

Direct effect

Indirect effect

–.10 [–.16 : –.04] .02 [–.015 : .055] –.25 [–.78 : .27] –.671 [–1.34 : .006]

–.002 [–.01 : .009] –.008 [–.015 : –.002] .136 [.039 : .26] .072 [–.04 : .21]

Note. Ranges in brackets are 95% confidence intervals.

A mediation analysis was performed using Hayes’s PROCESS (Hayes, 2013) in order to find answers to our third question. The outcome variables again were the four measures of self-discrepancy, the predictor variable was relationship status, and the mediating variable was ideal-body media exposure (see table 16.3). Out of the four models, ideal-body media exposure mediated the relationship between relationship status and personality trait self-discrepancy and sexual self-discrepancy. The indirect effect of relationship status on personal self-discrepancy, mediated by ideal-body media use, was .14 [95% CI .04: .26]. The indirect effect of relationship status on sexual self-discrepancy, mediated by ideal-body media use, was −.10 [95% CI −.21: −.02]. Finally, to investigate our final question, a moderated mediation analysis was performed using Hayes’s PROCESS (Hayes, 2013). For this model, the independent variable was ideal-body media exposure, the moderator was relationship status, and the dependent variable was relationship satisfaction (see table 16.4). Each model employed a different type of self-discrepancy as a

Ideal-body media exposure

IV

Mediator

Appearance

DV

Relationship satisfaction Sexual Relationship satisfaction Relationship status Personality trait Relationship satisfaction Total Relationship satisfaction

Moderator .299 .296 .310 .300

.000 .000 .016

Direct Effect

.01

Delta-R^2 due to moderation

Table 16.4  Moderated Mediation Model with Direct and Indirect Effects

Effect for singles

.000 [–.012 : .012]

.012 [–.015 : .043]

.012 [–.006 : .036]

–.016 [–.067 : .017] .023 [ .000 : .051]

.000 [–.021 : .014]

.016 [–.022 : .057]

–.016 [–.058 : .01]

Effect on relationship participants

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mediator, namely appearance, sexual, personality trait, and total self-discrepancies. In each model, we specified that the indirect effect of ideal-body media exposure on relationship satisfaction varied as a function of relationship status, where relationship status was expected to moderate the relationship between ideal-body media exposure and self-discrepancy. Out of the four models, appearance self-discrepancy and total self-discrepancy mediated the relationship between ideal-body media exposure and relationship satisfaction among gay men. For all four models, there was a direct, positive effect of ideal-body media exposure on relationship satisfaction. Moderation was largely not significant. Only in the model with relationship satisfaction as the mediator did relationship status play a role. In this model, relationship status moderated the relationship between ideal-body media exposure and total self-discrepancy, but this ultimately did not significantly impact the relationship between idealbody media and relationship satisfaction among study participants.

DISCUSSION The present study adds to the self-discrepancy literature by considering the antecedents to self-discrepancy in gay men. As the first study looking at the importance of the romantic ideal self in gay men in connection with gay men’s media exposure and self-discrepancy, the present study offers several interesting and important findings. In response to our first question, we investigated the links between idealbody media exposure, gay men’s relationship status, and different types of self-discrepancy among gay men. The most interesting finding of the correlation analysis was the association between ideal-body media exposure and two types of self-discrepancy; while gay men’s exposure to ideal-body media was positively correlated with personality trait self-discrepancy, ideal-body media exposure was negatively correlated with sexual self-discrepancy. Given the nature of correlation analysis, it is impossible to determine the direction of causality. One possibility is that gay men who are more frequently exposed to ideal-body media tend to experience higher levels of personality trait selfdiscrepancy and lower levels of sexual self-discrepancy. Ideal-looking individuals are often perceived as smart, friendly, and kind, even when there is no reason to believe so (Dittmar & Howard, 2004). Therefore, exposure to ideal bodies might prompt a gay man to start thinking about the assumed positive traits of the mediated person—traits for which he might feel like he does not possess himself. Consequently, personality trait self-discrepancies might become activated which puts other self-discrepancies, such as sexual ones, out of focus. It is, however, also possible that gay men scoring higher on personality trait self-discrepancy and lower on sexual self-discrepancy tend to

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engage more frequently with ideal-body media. One potential explanation is the “escape from self” idea (e.g., Larson, 1995; Moskalenko & Heine, 2003). According to this idea, individuals who are not satisfied with themselves tend to strategically engage with media more frequently to temporarily block their negative self-evaluations. Thus, if someone scores high on personality trait self-discrepancy, that is, if he believes his partner would like for him to have a different personality, he might turn to media in general, including ideal-body media, more frequently. Simultaneously, he might be turning to ideal-body media to confirm the “value” of sex-related traits he believes his partner is satisfied with, reflected in his low sexual self-discrepancy scores. In sum, gay men scoring higher on personality trait self-discrepancy and lower on sexual self-discrepancy could be turning to ideal-body media to focus on the good and forget about the bad. Another interesting finding suggests that appearance self-discrepancy in gay men is likely to be positively correlated with sexual self-discrepancy and negatively correlated with personality trait self-discrepancy. One potential explanation is that focusing on the visual dimensions of self-discrepancy leaves less attention to be allocated to the personality trait dimension of selfdiscrepancy. In other words, if an individual is focusing on his sex-related traits, he is likely to also focus on his appearance, as gay men find physical appearance to be important in a romantic/sexual partner. Consequently, less attention will be given to the personality trait self-discrepancy. In response to the impact of relationship status, gay men’s relationship status was found to moderate the link between ideal-body media exposure and personality trait self-discrepancy, and the link between ideal-body media exposure and total self-discrepancy. We found that for single gay men from our sample, more frequent exposure to ideal-body media was associated with higher selfdiscrepancy levels in terms of both their personality trait self-discrepancy and total self-discrepancy. Conversely, for participants who were in a relationship, more frequent exposure to ideal-body media was associated with a decrease in personality trait self-discrepancy as well as total self-discrepancy. These findings suggest that, for gay men, being in a serious relationship has a potential protective role against the negative effects of ideal-body media exposure. Experimental methods might fruitfully be employed to test this possibility. Collectively, then, our findings are consistent with the possibility that ideal-body media exposure among gay men results in changes to the strength of their self-discrepancies, and that this is moderated by relationship status. However, we also examined the possibility that relationship status is, in fact, the driver of the media–self-discrepancy relationship. The present study also found a positive indirect effect of gay men’s relationship status on personality trait self-discrepancy, via exposure to ideal-body media. Among our participants, being in a relationship was associated with greater ideal-body

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media exposure which, in turn, increased personality trait self-discrepancy. Although it is not immediately apparent why gay men who are in a relationship would turn to ideal-body media more frequently than single gay men, it is possible that the relationship is spurious. Two types of ideal-body media, Grindr and Instagram, are commonly used as social networks. Individuals who spend more time on social media are also more likely to be extroverted (Wang et al., 2018), and extroverted folk are probably more likely to be in a committed romantic relationship. Thus, it is possible that the observed relationship between relationship status and ideal-body media use emerges from a common antecedent—namely extroversion, gregariousness, or social orientation. In addition to a positive indirect effect of gay men’s relationship status on personality trait self-discrepancy, we found an indirect negative effect of gay men’s relationship status on sexual self-discrepancy, through ideal-body media exposure. These results suggest that being in a relationship is related to a lower frequency of ideal-body media exposure, which is, in turn, related to a lower sexual self-discrepancy score. For our final question, we investigated the potential links between gay men’s relationship satisfaction and other study variables. Results suggest that ideal-body media exposure had a direct, positive effect on relationship satisfaction. The relationship remained stable even when controlling for different types of self-discrepancies and relationship status. To discern the elements of ideal-body media content that likely contributed to this unexpected positive effect, future research should include a detailed analysis of ideal-body media content gay men are consuming. This chapter establishes several relationships novel to the literature on gay men’s media exposure. First, gay men’s exposure to ideal-body media is associated with gay men’s self-discrepancy levels from the romantic partner perspective. Second, being in a committed relationship might have the potential to protect gay men against the negative effects of ideal-body media exposure. Furthermore, the frequency of exposure to ideal-body media differs between single gay men and those who are in a serious relationship. This, in turn, has implications for gay men’s self-discrepancy levels. Finally, even after controlling for self-discrepancies and relationship status, exposure to ideal-body media content is positively related to relationship satisfaction. REFERENCES Andersen, S.M., & Chen, S. (2002). The relational self: An interpersonal socialcognitive theory. Psychological Review, 109(4), 619–645. https://doi​.org​/10​.1037/​ /0033​-295X​.109​.4​.619

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Index

#MeToo, 3, 109–22 #Realbodies, 249

Keeping up with the Kardashians, 3, 87 Lizzo, 3, 9, 10, 12–19, 25

anti-fat bias, 193, 194, 196–99, 201–7 narratives, 3, 29, 109–11, 114–20, 127, 151, 174–77, 179, 189–90, 214

Barber, Celeste, 3, 67, 68, 79, 81, 85 body: dysmorphia, 2, 97; fit, 273, 276, 278, 282; ideal, 60, 67, 68, 72, 81, 250, 251, 260, 286–301; scale, 260, 262, 265; thin, 2; image, 1; painted, 123, 124, 137; posthuman, 109, 110, 112–14, 116–21; real, 3, 47, 55, 61, 68, 72, 105; universal, 229, 234–35

power, 2–4, 10–15, 17–18, 50, 56, 73, 76, 81, 127, 134, 189, 198, 209–14, 216, 219, 221–23 racism, 128, 229, 236–37, 241 relational turmoil, 143, 152, 159, 161, 163, 164

Cardi B., 3, 25, 30–32, 34–35, 37–41, 44 self-discrepancy, 287, 290–91, 295–97, 299–300 self-objectification, 2 shaming, 39, 78–80, 249; fat, 56, 194, 196, 198–99, 201–6 stigma, 147, 149, 151, 178; weight, 3, 143–44, 146–47, 149, 150, 154 stigmatization, 143, 150, 194–95, 200, 206

Drag my Dad, 129 expectancy violations theory, 143–45, 163–65 fat identity, 143, 148–49, 152–53, 163 Instagram, 3, 4, 9, 10, 12–15, 18, 21, 22, 27, 31, 42, 43, 47–57, 59, 61–65, 67, 69, 71, 72, 75, 78–85, 87–94, 97–107, 123, 125, 270, 291, 294, 301 Kardashian, Kim, 87, 93, 106–8

visual rhetoric, 12 weight. See stigma, weight yummy mummy, 3, 87–89, 91–106

305

About the Contributors

Mary Beth Asbury (PhD, University of Kansas) is an associate professor in the Department of Communication Studies at Middle Tennessee State University. Dr. Asbury’s research primarily focuses on the examination of identity and stigma in health and interpersonal contexts. Ruth J. Beerman (PhD, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee) is an assistant professor of Communication Studies at Randolph-Macon College. Specializing in contemporary rhetoric and public discourse, her research interests focus on visual and body rhetoric, gender, argumentation, and public controversies. Erin Cook (MA, Oregon State University) is an adjunct instructor at Oregon State University. Her research interests concern the feminist rhetorical theory and its intersection with visual rhetoric. She is a regular contributor to the VISCOM conference and has received the Top Faculty Paper Award at the Northwest Communication Conference. Amy Crumbaugh (MA, Illinois State University) academic and creative work focuses on feminism, body image, and mass media. She lives in Bloomington, Illinois, where she spends her time reading, writing, and playing with her dog. Debbie Danowski (PhD, Capella University) is an associate professor of Communication Studies at Sacred Heart University and the author of five popular books about weight loss, body image, and food addiction. Dr. Danowski’s academic publications include: “Bet You Can’t Eat Just One: Binge Eating Disorder promotion in American Food Advertising,” Media 307

308

About the Contributors

Literacy and Academic Research, April 2019, Vol. 2, No. 1; and “Cover to Cover: Contemporary Issues in Popular Women’s Magazines,” Women, Wellness and the Media, 2008, Cambridge Scholars Publishing Adrienne Darrah (MPA, Penn State University—Harrisburg) is a secondyear doctoral student in the communications program at the Penn State Donald P. Bellisario College of Communications. Adrienne’s research interests include philanthropy and the sociocultural influence of communications on equity and inclusion practices. Trischa Goodnow (PhD, University of Pittsburg) is a professor of Speech Communication at Oregon State University. Her primary research examines visual rhetoric. She has published in Visual Communication Quarterly, American Behavioral Scientist and published books on parliamentary debate, The Daily Show and rhetoric, and World War II comic books and propaganda. Amanda Hill (PhD, University of Central Florida)​is an assistant professor of Communication Studies at St. Mary’s University specializing in storytelling and media production. She has presented internationally and has published in a diverse range of journals including ​Media Education Research Journal; Storytelling, Self, Society; Visual Ethnography; Community Literacy Journal;​ and the ​IAFOR Journal of Psychology & the Behavioral Sciences​. K. Megan Hopper (PhD, University of Missouri) is an associate professor in the School of Communication at Illinois State University. Her research interests include media representation of women, experiences of journalists, and media literacy. Hopper’s teaching interests include ethical issues in mass communication, mass media theory and effects, media literacy, reporting for the mass media, and media convergence. She has published and presented a variety of scholarship related to journalism and media representation and effects and has professional experience as a print and online journalist. Johnny Jones (MFA, California Institute of the Arts) is an interdisciplinary teacher and creator whose current research and creative activity includes Black masculinities and Black narratives in media as well as modern and contemporary African American theater. He teaches courses primarily in Black Theatre and Performance Studies, as well as African American Studies. Jessica M. W. Kratzer (PhD, University of Missouri) is an associate professor in the Department of Communication at Northern Kentucky University. Dr. Kratzer’s research focuses on interpersonal communication with an emphasis on sexual communication.

About the Contributors

309

Sarah S. LeBlanc (PhD, University of Missouri) is an assistant professor in Interpersonal Communication. Her research focuses on maternal communication by exploring postpartum experiences, mom guilt, and conversations regarding taboo topics. She has been published in Health Communication, Qualitative Research Reports, and the Iowa Journal of Communication. Wanjiru Mbure (PhD, University of Missouri) research focuses on representations of the global Black body in the media. She also examines the historical influences that shape these representations and their impact on intersectional identities of gender and race in contemporary and post-colonial contexts. Her research has been published in Women and Language, Howard Journal of Communications, Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media, and African Media Review. Wendy Chapman Peek (PhD, Cornell University) research interests are balanced between literature of the European Middle Ages and films of the American West. Her work has appeared in the Journal of Popular Culture, the Journal of Popular Film and Television, and Bright Lights. Her current project is titled Complicated Shadows, a book-length manuscript on masculinity in 1950s Westerns. Suri M. Pourmodheji (BA, University of Wisconsin-Madison) is a master’s student in the Cinema and Media Studies program in The Media School at Indiana University-Bloomington. Her research interests include Celebrity Studies, Reality Television, and Body Image. She is interested in looking at how female celebrities on reality television represent and discuss body image. Within the conversation around body image, she is also curious to know how celebrities confront age. Juliana Russell (MA, Purdue University Fort Wayne) graduated from the Professional Communication program at Purdue University Fort Wayne. Her focus of study has been sexual violence in popular culture. In considering thesis topics, she focused on the sexual violence in the series, Game of Thrones, not only cataloging instances but also the effects on the characters, both victims and perpetrators. Sylvia Rust (BA, Purdue University Fort Wayne) is a professional Communication Studies graduate student and graduate teaching assistant at Purdue University Fort Wayne. Her research is on body size, specifically media representation of fat bodies, public discourse on bodies, and the impact representations have on society.

310

About the Contributors

Siobhan E. Smith-Jones (PhD, University of Missouri) is an associate professor in the Department of Communication at the University of Louisville. Her current research interests include explorations of African American women as interpretive communities. She teaches courses in mass media, race, culture, fandom, and media literacy. Ashton Gerding Speno (PhD, University of Missouri) is an assistant professor of Mass Communications at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville in Edwardsville, IL. Her research focuses on issues of gender and sexualization across media, adolescents’ experiences with new media technologies, and the impact of media on the self. Nora Suren (MS, North Carolina State University) is a PhD student and graduate instructor in Communication at the University of MassachusettsAmherst, where she is studying issues of identity and social media cultures. Her research interests also include social media influencers, online visibility, femininity, and online hate. Tamanna Tasmin (MS, Illinois State University) is originally from Bangladesh. Tasmin’s research interests include women empowerment, gender roles in media, and equal rights in society. Driven by her personal experience of growing up in an oppressive society, Tasmin focuses on the qualitative approach of research that highlights individual voices. She completed her undergraduate degree in Marketing from a leading university in Bangladesh and is currently pursuing a second Master’s in Project Management. Beck Wise (PhD, University of Texas) is lecturer in Professional Writing at the University of Queensland. Her research is at the intersection of technical communication, medical rhetoric, and feminist studies, investigating how science is used in public debates about social justice. Beck’s work has also appeared in Continuum Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, Rhetoric of Health & Medicine, and Research in Online Literacy Education. Jennifer Lewallen Woolf (PhD, University of Missouri) is a Communication Arts instructor at Fresno City College in Fresno, CA, where she enjoys introducing students to the discipline of Communication. She has previously conducted research on the influence of social media use on perceptions of the self and others.