Tuesday, 26 October 2010

On Frenemies in the Media.

As any reader of The Feminine Mystique knows, women's media - or is 'media directed at women' more accurate? - has been revolutionised since times where instructive articles insisted that if female readers wanted to keep a man, they must first learn to keep house, keep glamorous and keep quiet. Young women of 2010, brought up on More! and Sex and the City, look back to this period in smug surprise at the apparent indifference that our 1950s equivalents apparently had in the face of such brazen misogyny and injustice: 'Why would women pay to read such poison?', we marvel, our copy of Company or Glamour in hand. 'Those articles were clearly written with male interests in mind.'

It would take a huge pseudo-intellectual stretch to deem Cosmopolitan the Spare Rib of our generation, but compared to articles which actively criticised higher education for women on the grounds that it would make them unhappy housewives it is impossible not to feel the relative privilege in our lives as a result of the Women's Liberation Movement. Our magazines embrace our sexuality! They celebrate single women! They encourage us to critique our relationships, and would never tell us we were too fat to find love! Or at least not to our face. Because if anything distinguishes the voices in 'women's media' in 2010, it is their frenemy status. 

What is a frenemy? For those who didn't think Mean Girls was a documentary, a frenemy is exactly what it sounds like: an enemy disguised as a friend. Dispenser of backhanded compliments, the frenemy is only '100% by your side' because she would hate to be elsewhere and miss your downfall. The only difference between the sentiments of an enemy and a frenemy is the tone by which they are expressed: their message is exactly the same. One such frenemy appears to write for Company magazine.

Company's recent article 'Have Sex, Look Skinny' called to mind an embarassing story previously published by a similar magazine in which one woman shared her - admittedly horrifying - experience of being told by her boyfriend during sex that "her belly was a right swinger." Readers were understandably appalled, finding the insult bad enough but its timing - at a most vulnerable moment - a far more distressing episode of humiliation than the usual "my tampon fell out of my bag on a date" anecdote. Personally, my first thought was "wanker". It was not "how can I turn this insecurity into an article helpfully offering the most flattering sexual positions for a fuller figure."

Maybe some readers were craving this kind of guidance, just dying for the opportunity to turn sex into another joyless manifestation of their own neurotic body anxieties. Personally, I felt more than a little sold out. What about the women's mag mantras I had grown so accustomed to? I thought MEN LOVED CURVES, MEN DON'T NOTICE 'FLAWS' DURING SEX, ORGASM CAN ONLY BE ACHIEVED BY BEING IN THE MOMENT, GOOD SEX IS SEX WITHOUT INHIBITIONS? Now I was being told to consider myself in sexual terms as a postcard: what are my best views? When am I most picturesque? Sex becomes a still image and Heat magazine writers stand by poised to draw a red circle round the parts they deem ugly. How, in this day and age, post-The Female Eunuch, post- Carrie Bradshaw and the ladette phenomenon and all that lies between us and our 1950s counterparts, can such blatant pandering to the male gaze over female pleasure be published with its head held high? Simple. Because it was written by a frenemy.

Rather than spell out its message proudly, which undoubtedly is that without constant attention to detail you are repulsive to men, and unless you are a male fantasy come to life you are worthless, our BFF at Company gives us tough love because she cares. You should pose yourself like a mannequin during moments of alleged intimacy because... if you feel attractive, you enjoy sex more! You're gorgeous... when you make an effort! You can borrow my dress... it makes you look so slim! And aren't you pretty... for your age! 

When a light is shone on this backhanded compliment approach, the progress of women's magazines looks considerably less impressive. In fact, much of it is the same reactionary, sexist bullshit expressed in cosy, sisterly, 'we're all in this together' terms. In a world where political correctness reigns supreme, women's magazines may have changed their lingo - misappropriating words like EMPOWERMENT and SELF-ESTEEM when really they mean CONFORMITY - but they haven't yet changed their message. Beware your frenemies in the media: if body confidence is crucial to sexual satisfaction, then why promote increased awareness of appearance during intercourse? If you shouldn't feel embarrassed to earn more than your boyfriend, why is one magazine compelled to provide advice on how to reassure him? Rather than challenging a society which places these pressures on women, magazines aimed at women instead provide an endless barrage of commands designed to make women fit the slot they have been allocated. However it is important to remember that they don't even want you to fit the slot too comfortably, because then you will stop buying magazines...