COMM315 Gender Analysis
Gender Stereotypes and Media
Behold, the contestants in the Miss America 2018 "scholarship" contest:
The Miss America pageant is a 96-year-old annual tradition held in Atlantic City, NJ. The pageant's history, as stated on the Miss America official website, began when East Coast newspapers came up with a way to increase their circulation by sponsoring a “photographic popularity” contest where the winner would be entered based solely on appearance. Over the course of almost a century, the Miss America foundation has changed its approach to marketing, and now advertises it as a “scholarship” pageant.
The inaugural “Inter-City Beauty Contest," as it was monikered, was created in 1921--only one year after women had been granted the right to vote. Let that sink in for a moment.
At that time during the 1920’s, women breaking free from the traditional gender roles saw this as risqué and liberating, I’m sure. The Progressive Era was ending and the Roaring Twenties rolled in boldly and defiantly, bringing with it a new woman on the scene. After such an oppressive history, why wouldn’t a woman want to finally be seen? Noticed? Lauded for her gams and “torso”? For centuries, women had been seen by many as simply an addendum to man—the one who cleans, cooks, and carries on his name for posterity through the birthing of many children. The Virginia Slims “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby” was still another 47 years away. Women needed to seize opportunities to finally be seen and heard (though in this case, mostly just seen.)
Education and Scholarships. Oh, really?
Fast forward to 2017—what has changed? I’ll pull directly from the “About Us” page on their official website.
“The Miss America Organization, a 501(c)4 non-profit organization, is the nation’s leading advocate for women’s education and the largest provider of scholarship assistance to young women in the United States, awarding millions of dollars annually in cash awards and in-kind tuition waivers.” (from http://missamerica.org/about-us/)
The Miss America Pageant is now about “education” and “scholarships,” and through it, thousands of hours of community service hours are performed and millions of dollars are raised for charities (though there have been some discrepancies in the actual dollar amount of scholarships awarded.) The façade is quite evident, to the point a talk show host even did some investigative work to find out whether the organization’s claims about the amount of scholarships dispersed are true.
The guise under which they operate is simply a way to hide their real (and original) intent. Just call it a beauty contest for heaven’s sake! Don’t try to paint a politically correct picture and tout it as being all about the scholarships and community service. The scoring guide breaks down the categories nicely, making it appear as if more focus is put on the contestant’s intelligence and talents. But if you total the categories that are based solely on appearance, 35% of preliminaries and at least 25% of the final night competition are devoted purely to how the contestant looks.
Also, how does a swimsuit competition contribute to worthiness of an educational scholarship? It appears that the farther we women get in gaining rights and equality, the smaller the bathing suit gets for the competition.
Is it any wonder little girls grow up believing there’s an ideal beauty and ideal physique? While the yearly Miss America pageant isn’t the sole source of insecurities and poor body image, it is a large cog in the wheel of those repeated exposures and continual messages of “this is what is beautiful.” The Cultivation Theory asserts that long-term exposure to something through media will create a belief that it’s the norm—that what they see on television is reality. This, in addition to all the other female gender stereotypes portrayed, paints an erroneous picture of what real women look like.
What About Men?
To be fair, I decided to see if there is a male equivalent of the Miss America pageant—“Mr. America”—and in fact, there is a contest called that, but it’s certainly not the equivalent. The Mr. America contest cuts to the chase and awards the man who has the best body. No baton-twirling, no parading around in a tux for everyone to gawk and jot down their opinions on their clipboards. It appears that this competition isn’t hidden behind the pretext of scholarships and the only well-roundedness that matters is in the contestant’s biceps.
Some say men aren’t as affected by media concerning their body image, some believe they are. I’m inclined to side with the former. In fact, I’m not surprised to learn what one study found--women are more dissatisfied with their bodies by a ratio of 10:1 compared to men.
I have no problem with pageants and contests, even ones that perpetuate gender stereotypes, if that’s what one wants to watch. However, when I compare the Miss America pageant vs. Mr. America competition, I find the Miss America pageant to be more insidious. The way it is peddled is deceptive at best. It is in its rawest sense an avowal/ascription dance--the contestant portrays herself the way she thinks the judges expect, fitting herself into this neat little box to get the most points that hopefully will culminate into a crown (oh, and a scholarship. Let’s not forget about that part.)
There is a virtual box called “Gender Stereotypes” and all the contestants—both from the Miss America pageant and the Mr. America competition—fit nicely into it. It’s 2017. Defying stereotypical notions should not only be welcomed, but encouraged. These two examples simply perpetuate them.
Final Thoughts
Full disclosure here. When I was 5-years-old, I received the Miss America Walk Lively Barbie doll for my birthday.
(Photo courtesy
http://www.fashion-doll-guide.com/Miss-America-Dolls.html )
I loved her—for about a week. I quickly became bored with the same play script. Walk the catwalk. Wave. Blow kisses to Ken. Brush her hair. Cross her legs when she sat (her legs bent—high-tech stuff there for 1976.)
You be the judge--here is what she does:
Boooorrrrrinnnng.
Being the resourceful half-decade-old kid that I was, I grabbed an outfit from my brother’s G.I. Joe doll (they weren’t yet called “action figures”) and dressed her in the camouflage one.
For reference:
The pants were too big, so I used a bread tie for her belt, and because her arms moved when she walked, I scotch-taped a dagger to her hand so it looked like she was in combat. The best part, though, was attaching her to the G. I. Joe zip-line. Sheer and utter joy overcame me as I watched Miss America, wearing her camo and coronation robe, dagger in hand, riding the zip-line into enemy territory at the bottom of the stairs from my back porch.
Now that’s what I call defying gender stereotypes.
