Miley Cyrus rocking the racism boat

I don’t respect Miley Cyrus.

While supporters claim she’s being a good businesswoman by stripping off all her clothes and dancing provocatively around like a peacock, I’m of the strong opinion that getting half naked isn’t “good” business. It’s cheap, uncreative, and lazy business. Let’s not dress it up as anything more than what it is (or dress it down, in Miley’s case).

However. I’ve read a few news stories lately making a claim that Miss Cyrus is nothing short of racist for “co-opting” African-American culture, and that’s where I put my foot down. The young lady may be vulgar, unimaginative, and squirm-inducing, but racist she is not. Well, at least not for dance moves, which is what this post is all about.

Let’s talk for a moment about cultural appropriation, the name given to the act of taking something you like from another culture, and applying it to yourself. Think pretty, hipster models in Native American headdresses. I, myself, didn’t realise that was such a big deal until a drew a comparison with Maori culture here in New Zealand. It would be hideously offensive for somebody here to get a ta moko (a traditional face and body type of tattoo for all you non-Kiwis), if it held no cultural meaning for them and they wanted it “just to look cool”. In the same way, Native American war bonnets are meant to be worn by someone who has earned them. They are highly symbolic, so it’s safe to say that any old white person donning one because “the feathers look so pretty” is disrespecting that culture.

Some instances of supposed cultural appropriation are simply ludicrous though, and Miley Cyrus adopting the infamous “twerk” is one of those instances.

Simply Google cultural appropriation and you’re likely to find about five links on the first page slamming Cyrus for her heinous crime of twerking when she apparently had no right to twerk. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a heinous crime (please stop twerking, Miley), but only because it looks stupid. The idea being echoed around is that twerking is a black girl dance move, and as we are all very much aware, Miley ain’t no black girl.

That’s where it gets overly politically correct. It’s where social justice warriors jump in with their torches and pitchforks, screeching that Cyrus shouldn’t be stealing a dance move popular to black culture. But guys, how long has twerking even been a thing? A year? Two at the most? It’s not as if it’s ingrained in African-American history. It’s not as if it holds any meaning whatsoever. It’s literally nothing more than a dance move that some people do because they think it makes them look sexy. Maybe if twerking was a native dance done to mourn the passing on a loved one I would buy all this nonsense about it being cultural appropriation, but this is so far off the mark it’s not funny.

On top of that, there’s the same kind of wailings going on about Cyrus performing “black” music, that is, hip hop style songs stereotypically sung by your average strong, independent black woman. I may not like her music, but there’s nothing wrong with Miley picking up a genre of music that she likes, and running with that. Again, it’s not as if hip hop is some meaningful part of black history. Should we be calling Eminem racist for being a rapper? After all, rap is a genre dominated by African-Americans, should we slam him too?

The argument can, of course, be raised that Cyrus is still racist for her treatment of black women in her VMA performance, but that’s a whole other ball game.

Nevertheless, I am so very, very tired of seeing that sickly, white tongue sticking out everywhere I go, on magazine covers or web pages. I’m ready for that to disappear, please.

My future husband

I was never the kind of person to have a celebrity crush, until I discovered Joe Jonas when I was a young teen.

Before that, I thought plenty of celebrities were good looking, but I never wanted them for myself or pined after them. I never hated a male celebrity’s girlfriend until Joe Jonas.

It happened very suddenly. I had watched Camp Rock (I think it was on TV at the time), and my brain immediately told me “you will marry that floppy-haired, thick-eyebrowed adonis”. One moment I had not a care in the world for young pop stars, the next I was madly in love, emphasis on ‘madly’.

My friends from that time will know how crazy I was about Joe. I convinced myself that somehow we would end up together, and we would get married. “Why would I feel so strongly about this if it wasn’t meant to be?” I told myself. I am embarrassed just typing that.

Another friend of mine who had her heart set on the younger Nick Jonas, spent her time daydreaming and plotting with me about how we’d meet our future husbands, and how everything would play out. We put together a little book and wrote ridiculous scenarios about how we’d meet them. That was a bit of fun, we weren’t entirely nuts. Regardless, I still seriously thought I would one day meet Joe Jonas and somehow blow him away and change his life forever. It was a sure thing.

I despised Demi Lovato when she got together with Joe. I had an actual sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw a photo of the two of them kissing. I hated Taylor Swift for ever having been with Joe at all, and for besmirching his good name by saying he broke up with her in a 27 second phone call.

All of those feelings disappeared when I met my current boyfriend, Sam. We just celebrated our three year anniversary, and while he did take me out the night before, we spent the actual day sitting inside playing computer games together. I remember when I first got together with Sam, I told him that I’d choose him even if Joe Jonas showed up and wanted to whisk me away to America with him to be his wife.

“Really?” Sam asked, skeptical.

“Yes!” I said emphatically.

“Are you sure?” he asked again. “Because if Katy Perry suddenly showed up, well. . .”

And that’s when I started hating Katy Perry.

Nudity and construction equipment

Oh Miley, you’ve done it again.

Her new music video for Wrecking Ball came out today, and I can safely say she’s ruined the song for me.

The tongue still doesn’t stay in her mouth, although this time instead of poking it out, she’s just seductively licking sledgehammers. Can we all just take a moment and think about just how ridiculous that sounds? Seductively licking sledgehammers.

When she’s not doing that, she’s naked except for a pair of boots, riding a wrecking ball, or just writhing around on the ground in underwear and a singlet.

Miley, honey, I know you said you can’t stop, but I think it’s time to.

Dear Miley Cyrus . . .

Sweetie, I believe I speak on behalf of every single living being who has seen your performance at the VMA’s when I say what the hell was that?

1. Why does your tongue spend more time out of your mouth than inside it?

2. A lot of your dancing involves standing with your legs very far apart. It looks a bit strange, as if the skin between your thighs is chafing, so you’re being extra careful not to let them rub together. Briiiing the legs in bud, they’re not going to bite each other.

3. You seem to have misplaced your clothes. Of course, so did Lady Gaga, so maybe you can schedule a shopping trip together.

4. You also bend over an awful lot. Good for you, I guess, I try that after going for a run, but I can only reach halfway to the floor. Some day I aspire to reach all new lows like you. (that was a pun, and it sounds really catty, but I don’t want to delete it because I’m quite proud of it).

5. I do actually like your new song, wrecking ball. Maybe we could get a half decent music video for that one? Y’know, one where you aren’t channeling your inner stripper? Yes? Wonderful.

Emotional investments

I’ll admit, when I read the news that Cory Monteith had been found dead in his hotel room, I clapped my hand to my mouth in shock and thought – hoped – for a moment that it wasn’t true.

I’m sitting here still trying to wrap my head around the fact, and feeling a little bit guilty about how sad it’s made me. I mean, I never knew him, I didn’t have some kind of mad, celebrity crush on him. What reason do I have to feel sad about the passing of a celebrity I never even met, when other people around the world die every single day? The death toll from the train explosion in Quebec has risen to 33, and a third person has died from the plane crash in San Francisco. A one year old boy named Atreyu Taylor-Matene died in Auckland on Friday from head injuries. These are awful, horrific things to be happening, and while I feel a twinge of sadness for it all, it’s difficult for me to mourn those deaths. What makes them any different from Cory Monteith?

When a celebrity dies and the world goes into shock, pictures usually start circulating on the internet showing starving African children and a caption along the lines of: “one person dies, the whole world mourns. Millions die, nobody cares.” It’s sad, but it’s true, and I wonder what makes us so invested in the life of a star that their death takes precedence over those who die every day in much worse ways.

The reason, I believe, is that – particularly with television and movie stars – we watch them so much and see them acting and being somebody that we start to feel like we know them, even though they’re simply putting on a mask. We see them slip into a role and become somebody else, and that somebody else has emotions and fears and dreams, and we’re sitting here in front of our TV screens rooting for them. We start to love who they pretend to be.

When the actor dies, the character dies too. Sure, you can replace them sometimes, but it won’t ever be the same. Nobody can be that character in the same way, and you won’t connect with the new actor in the exact same way.

Despite all the ridicule it receives, and all its cheesiness, I actually enjoy Glee. I liked Finn and I was always hoping he’d end up with Rachel. I wanted things to work out and I wanted that happy ending for them. Now there’s no Finn anymore, and while this makes me horribly guilty to admit, that makes me pretty sad, because now we’ll never see what would’ve happened.

So that’s what I think it is. I think that we become emotionally invested in a celebrity’s life because we see them lay their character’s soul bare. I’m sure there’s a whole raft of other reasons it upsets so many people when a celebrity dies, but this is one that occurred to me while I asked myself why Cory Monteith mattered more than a stranger in a plane crash.