The “Ordinary” Celebrity and Postfeminist Media Culture
Erin Meyers / Oakland University
My previous two columns considered the increasing focus on “ordinariness” within reality television and the stars produced within this realm as major shifts within celebrity culture. This ordinariness stems from the generic conventions of reality television that highlight the “real” individual who is “just like us,” producing a category of celebrity who is essentially famous for “being herself” in public. This form of “ordinary” celebrity is further intensified by tabloid coverage of their private and “everyday” lives, thus broadening the definition of “celebrity” from an individual with a discernable talent to the private side discourses of those who are “famous for being famous.” Christine Geraghty argues that this shift to the private as a primary locus of fame is gendered, as female stars are “particularly likely to be seen as celebrities whose working life is of less interest and worth than their personal life.”1 Though women have long played a central role in celebrity culture, I suggest this particular shift towards the private and the “ordinary” person within celebrity culture points to the broader influence of postfeminism within contemporary popular culture. More specifically, I argue that tabloids, such as Us Weekly, Star, In Touch and OK, later aided by online sources of celebrity gossip like Perez Hilton and TMZ,2 offer a postfeminist view of celebrity culture that foregrounds the promises and perils of femininity as a discourse on the nature of fame. These extra-textual engagements with celebrity culture foreground the private-side star as a means to valorize choice and consumption as forms of social power while at the same time reinforcing a narrow view of what sorts of choices can be made. Tabloids offer inherently contradictory narratives that at once hold up female celebrities as sites of identification or role models whose lifestyles women should emulate while at the same time constantly scrutinizing and judging those women for falling short of the very ideals we want them to embody. That is, through the focus on the private lifestyles of stars as their claim to fame, tabloids frame “ordinariness” itself as an idealized yet impossible position for all women.
Rosalind Gill argues postfeminism is a key concept within feminist analysis, yet one that is notoriously difficult to precisely define. Rather than arrive at a singular definition, Gill suggests postfeminism is best viewed as a “sensibility” shaping a range of media texts around multiple “themes or features” that help articulate specific views of gender within contemporary culture.3 This broad definition necessarily recognizes the “contradictory nature of postfeminist discourses and the entanglement of both feminist and anti-feminist themes within them.”4 Similarly, Anne Helen Petersen points out that, “[L]ike all ideologies, postfeminism is at its core contradictory,” offering women the rhetoric of choice and empowerment that define feminism while simultaneously insisting that the feminist movement is no longer necessary.5 As such, postfeminism promotes a dystopic view on femininity within contemporary media culture in which women’s choices are constantly scrutinized, judged and found to be wanting. Women can never really “get it right” in postfeminist culture, yet postfeminist media, like tabloids, continually promote the idea that intensified self-surveillance and conspicuous consumption offer women paths to empowerment, pleasure and, most crucially, a “normal” or “ordinary” feminine lifestyle. Celebrity culture, in its emphasis on the contradictions between the private and public selves, between talent and personality, between ordinary and extraordinary combined with its increased attention to narratives of femininity through its focus on female stars is, I argue, a central space for the circulation of the contradictory ideologies that shape postfeminist culture.
On one hand, female celebrities are admired for their rich and successful lifestyles, evidenced by their consumption of the “right” sort of fashion and beauty products. This offers female audiences a seductive message that women really can “have it all,” but in ways that tie success and empowerment to constant self-maintenance and conspicuous consumption. Here, female audiences are drawn to celebrities and gossip as a mode of fantasy and aspiration, of how to “do it right” in contemporary culture. This is evident throughout the pages of tabloid magazines, as the emphasis on fashion and makeup is central way in which audiences are encouraged to follow the public and private lives of their favorite stars. For example, the regular style and beauty features in Us Weekly offer readers the opportunity to emulate the success of their favorite stars through the purchase of the right sort of fashion and beauty products.. The self-surveillance of postfeminism is central to these features that foreground the ordinary “problems” all women—even the stars!—must overcome (e.g. “beat blackheads,” “zap redness”) and the products the stars purportedly use themselves to “fix” these problems in order to emerge as idols of proper femininity. Here, the ordinary self can be made extraordinary through proper consumption and self-surveillance. The postfeminist narrative here suggests the success of these stars in the public sphere (e.g. the fact that they stand as enviable images of beauty) stems from their self-policing of the public presentation of the private/ordinary self. For tabloid coverage of reality stars who came from “ordinariness” into this glamorous celebrity world, the promise that anyone could enter this world through proper consumption is particularly potent.
On the other hand, the intense scrutiny of stars’ private lives also presents a narrative that, despite their enviable lifestyles, these female celebrities—as is typical of postfeminism’s contradictory discourses—cannot actually have it all. Within gossip media, female celebrities, according to Susan Douglas, “have what we wish we had, will never had, and yet even they—the most beautiful, admired, deferred-to women in the world—are also subject to the vicissitudes of living in a man’s world.”6 This is the dystopia of postfeminist culture in which women’s feminine selves are constantly policed and found wanting. Furthermore, within postfeminism’s rhetoric of empowerment, such failings are chalked up to bad personal choices rather than the systemic influence of patriarchy, thus blaming women for their own inability to live up to impossible ideals. As with the spaces of “getting it right,” feminine failure within celebrity tabloids is read through the celebrity body. Gill points to a “preoccupation with the body” as a central facet of postfeminist media culture, in which “femininity is defined as a bodily property rather than a social, structural or psychological one.”7 In the divide between private and public that shapes tabloid coverage of celebrities, the body becomes a key space where the merit of the public existence of these figures is policed.
This is particularly evident in the policing of pregnant and post-pregnancy bodies within tabloid media. In 2013, Us Weekly devoted eight cover stories specifically to Kim Kardashian’s pregnancy,8 with most focusing on the “struggle” of her weight during and after her pregnancy. As a reality star, Kim’s claim to fame already centered on the presentation of her private self in public. This, as Gill would suggest, positioned her body “simultaneously as [her] source of power and as always unruly, requiring constant monitoring, surveillance, discipline and remodelling (and consumer spending) in order to conform to ever-narrower judgments of female attractiveness.”9 Thus, the space through which we “know” Kim’s “real” self—the body—is always already the space through which we judge the self she presents not just for its adherence to “judgments of female attractiveness” but as evidence of her mental health and, not coincidentally, of her fitness as a mother. This sort of hyper-scrutiny of the celebrity body reinforces the contradictory discourses of postfeminism, as despite the glamorous and enviable lifestyles of the stars, they also serve as evidence of how women can never “have it all.” Within celebrity media, Douglas says:
there are ample lessons about physical self-scrutiny and behavioral self-regulation because it is always and only the most attractive, most perfectly slim (but not too thin), ‘nicest,’ most caring and nurturing and best-dressed who will get preferential treatment and the love and approval of others.10
This presents celebrity culture as a postfeminist dystopia, one in which female celebrities are presented as enviable and powerful individuals in contemporary culture yet are constantly scrutinized and policed for proper (traditional) femininity as evidence of “deserving” such fame and public attention. That even these women cannot ever “have it all” and are also judged harshly for even attempting to do so positions tabloids as central texts in which the discourses of postfeminism are consumed and negotiated by female audiences.
1. Focus on the private as public in Us Weekly.
2. “Getting it right” in celebrity culture through proper feminine consumption. Image source: Us Weekly, February 24, 2014, p. 70.
3. Policing Kim Kardashian’s pregnant body in Us Weekly (top left, top right, bottom left, bottom right).
Please feel free to comment.
- Geraghty, C. (2000), Re-examining stardom: questions of texts, bodies and performance. In Reinventing Film Studies. London: Arnold, 187. [↩]
- Though online sources of gossip, particularly gossip blogs, are important and popular sources of celebrity gossip, and ones that are tied in many ways to the form and narrative of tabloid magazines, I here will restrict my analysis to tabloids as an early progenitor of these postfeminist discourses. I have published elsewhere (Meyers, E.A. . Dishing dirt in the digital age: Celebrity gossip blogs and participatory media culture. New York: Peter Lang) on the social and industrial roles of gossip blogs. [↩]
- Gill, R. (2007). Postfeminist media culture: Elements of a sensibility. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 10(2), 148. [↩]
- Ibid., 149. [↩]
- Petersen, A.H. (2012). That teenage feeling: Twilight, fantasy, and feminist readers. Feminist Media Studies, 12(1), 53. [↩]
- Douglas, S.J. (2010). Enlightened sexism: The seductive message that feminism’s work is done. New York: Times Books, 243. [↩]
- Gill, R. (2007). Postfeminist media culture: Elements of a sensibility. European Journal of
Cultural Studies, 10(2), 149. [↩]
- Kim Kardashian, as well as her mother, Kris Jenner and/or sisters, Khloe and Kourtney, appeared on other non-pregnancy related covers during this year as well, demonstrating the intensified coverage of reality stars in tabloid magazines. [↩]
- Gill, R. (2007). Postfeminist media culture: Elements of a sensibility. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 10(2), 149. [↩]
- Douglas, S.J. (2010). Enlightened sexism: The seductive message that feminism’s work is done. New York: Times Books, 264. [↩]
Pingback: The “Ordinary” Celebrity and Postfeminist Media Culture Erin Meyers / Oakland University | FlipsPops
This article is an interesting companion to another article from this issue, namely Micheal Z Newman’s post on celebrity sex tapes.
Sex tapes, as Newman points out, have meaning because they are glimpses of the private moments of supposed celebrities, and as such give us a purported look into their everyday lives. At the same time, Newman’s examples, tellingly, consist largely of women who have made the transition from well-off socialites to celebrities in the public eye via the medium of reality television (such as Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian).
In fact, in both of the parenthetical cases I’ve mentioned here, the release of the sex tape predated, at least slightly, the beginning of the transitional reality show. Newman also notes the trademark lack of polish in the tapes, although he distinguishes them from other amateur pornography.
One of the most enduring of gender stereotypes women have had to contend with is the dichotomy between sexuality and modesty. In post-feminist discourse, this distinction has dulled somewhat, in that society now seems to accept that women might be sexual beings, but a stigma remains that associates women, sex, and wantonness.
Here I would briefly mention well-publicized cases including the sad fates of Rehtaeh Parsons and Audrie Pott, in which the suicide of teenaged girls were prompted by the online release of photographs and videos of the girls being raped. Although the involuntary nature of the rape videos means that these acts signify something a bit different than a tape of a voluntary sex act (and putting aside for now the question of whether the celebrity sex tape is always or often made or released without the consent of its “performer”), clearly, any discussion of this topic must concede the potential for humiliation involved in such material.
Which brings me around to the topic of THIS article, and my struggle to contextualize the celebrity sex tape within the notion of celebrity ordinariness that serves as its thesis. The post-feminist discourse mentioned in the text of the article above suggests the ordinary, the domestic, and the banal as proof that powerful celebrity women are normalized, while simultaneously being policed in order to make sure that they don’t exceed “proper” feminine spaces.
I would like to suggest that the celebrity sex tape is sometimes deployed as an extreme device allowing the control of unruly, powerful celebrity women by holding metaphorical blackmail over them. After all, the women appearing in such tapes have been “caught” in vulnerable and ordinary moments, behaving in ways that “good girls” are typically still not supposed to behave. This attitude is perhaps summed up most succinctly (and disturbingly) by Seth MacFarlane’s 85th Oscar song “We Saw Your Boobs,” in which the “comedian” attempts to dismiss and discipline well-known actresses by recounting the films in which they had appeared topless – presenting powerful women as sexual operates as a repressive act by marginalizing their accomplishments
The amateurish nature of the celeb sex tape further reinforces this by the suggestion of the involuntary and the scandalous. If a woman ever does come perilously close to “having it all,” the tapes suggest, the machinery of patriarchy can certainly deprive them of that by commodifying their sexuality one more time.
(I would like to apologize for the choppy nature of my comments. The spam filter kept rejecting my post, and I needed to get this up today for a class)
Celebrities as “real” people has always been fascinating– which is why paparazzi is a lucrative avenue for photographers. The fact that these women are more popular out of context from their screen roles speaks to our cultural voyeurism– which, as Joshua said, is exemplified in sex tapes, as well as in reality shows and tabloid magazines, as was pointed out in this article.
This need may also be related to our need for more “realistic” TV programming, whether through reality TV programs (of which there are far more of now than there used to be), or in greater realism exhibited in our drama programs (Breaking Bad, Mad Men) and our comedy programs (The Office). The best acting feels pretty naturalistic and seamless, and helps us as viewers to get lost in the performance. In the same way, portraying celebrity women as more “real” and showing the part of their lives that we don’t see on screen allows us (as fans) to get lost in the fantasy of knowing these people.
I have heard that fictional characters and people we see on TV are stored in the same part of our brain as real people that we actually know– which makes sense, as all of these people are observed by our senses (some with more senses than others). Though most people don’t know the celebrities on screen, the fact that people would like to– for whatever reason– creates a market for showing this side of them, and creates a more fully-formed picture of them in our minds.
The practice of scrutinizing them for not living up to these ideals seems pretty messed up, but gossip about people you *do* know is so popular in so many circles of friends– I can see how adding some celebrity women whom people don’t *really* know into the mix might help to take the topic of conversation off of the weather for a while.
I would like to know how Ordinary People live simultaneously as Celebrities? If we all know then we; especially the Media wouldn’t be so fixated with Celebrities and their Private Lives.