The (Skinny) Empire Never Ended
While waiting in line at my local supermarket, eyes glazed with boredom, I picked up of one of those magazines that surreptitiously snap photos of celebrities in compromising positions. The usual fare dominated the gaudily colored front page: “Jennifer Turns to Brad”, “Ashlee expecting”, and “Enraged Tom runs amok in downtown Tokyo, millions unsurprised”, etc. But a far more disturbing sight in one of the magazine’s front-page side columns caught my eye. Actresses stood in their bathing-suits (unaware of the heavily-breathing cameraman hidden in the bushes) with their bones jutting out from places where bones aren’t usually seen on healthy human bodies. The magazine congratulated the women for losing so much weight. My anger might be put to more constructive purpose if I could remember the name of the magazine, but which gossip rag it was doesn’t even really matter. What matters is that today, in 2008, with literally decades of literature exposing the detrimental effects of our standards of beauty, an article like that can still be nonchalantly displayed next to a super market cash register.
(A brief disclaimer: I am a guy, and as a gender-privileged member of the culture I don’t have to bear the brunt of the national obsession with weight loss, perpetual skinniness, and the daily expectations of the “lifelong beauty pageant”, as “Our Bodies, Ourselves” puts it. Guys are under a certain amount of pressure too, but we simply aren’t objectified to the extent or with the intensity that women are. Everyone may be subject to our culture’s obsession with skinniness, but 90% of anorexia cases are still female.)
The American population, and through the wonders of globalization damn near everyone else, is bombarded everyday by countless images of skinny women, airbrushed, and utterly un-life like. Some of us, particularly those who’ve taken lots of gender or media studies courses, may think we are immune to the cultural messages encoded within the unending barrage of media and advertisements. We aren’t. No one is. Take the example of Fiji, where a curvaceous standard of beauty used to predominate. According to the BBC, television was introduced in 1995 (there is only one channel and it plays British and Americana shows) and ever since eating disorders have been on the rise. In 1998, Anne Becker, a Harvard anthropologist revealed her findings: “Nobody was dieting in Fiji 10 years ago … An alarmingly high percentage of adolescents are dieting now.” Ms. Becker’s study showed “that a higher proportion of adolescents in Fiji were dieting than in Massachusetts.”
The question is: what can we do about it? We need counter-narratives to provide alternatives to these unhealthy images women are inundated with. These counter-narratives should be coached in rhetoric that won’t alienate the average American (radical language often turns away those who most need to be reached). We need to harness mass media and visual culture and use it to broadcast empowering messages and ideologies in language that appeals to the experience of a wide variety of women. There have been some encouraging prospects in recent years. Dove’s Real Beauty Campaign is certainly a step in the right direction and the Milanese government’s demand for healthier models in the city’s renowned fashion show is a good sign too.
But as my supermarket experience proves, empowerment is far from the norm and we can’t forget that. Just because one multi-national corporation advertises a relatively empowering message, we must not grow complacent. After all, Dove’s parent company, Unilever, sponsors other beauty products whose tacit message contradicts Dove’s feminist-inspired rhetoric. We need to provide alternatives that appeal to many women, because Dove isn’t nearly enough, and the grocery store’s magazine racks are still filled with cadaverous models.

