Remember when you were in junior high school and there was that one awful, mean girl? The one who made a big point to take your usual seat at the lunch table and leave you standing with your stupid lunch bag, too timid to stand up to her and turning bright red when none of your other friends did either? She was the one that told the boy you liked how you wrote his name in your notebook, made fun of your bookbag, helpfully told your teacher about the note you wrote (at her insistence,) and loudly announced that you had your period in a room full of prepubescent boys. Then she asked that boy to the dance for you, bought the same bookbag in a different color, and conspiratorally asked you for a tampon in the bathroom, fooling you once again into thinking she was your friend.
Of course you remember her. She was a fucking menace. All of us remember her. Because at one point in time, we all knew her, or we were her, or wanted to be her friend, depending on which way your hormones were raging that day. Junior high girls are the epitome of bullies; they’re why no woman, ever, recalls with complete happiness the preteen years. There may have been good moments, but they were all tainted by that awful girl. You show me a woman that cannot recall, with alaming accuracy, a traumatizing encounter with that girl at her school and I will show you a woman who is still plotting her revenge.
So what is it, exactly, about social media that makes grown women turn into the adult version of that girl? Under the guise of screen names, we have no problem calling other women fat, ugly, stupid, the list goes on. We have no trouble criticizing a woman’s entire parenting style based on one photograph, her entire wardrobe based on one outfit, her entire personality based on one comment. What the hell, ladies? What about the anonymity of the internet has turned us all into Regina George?
I bet Maria Kang is wondering the same thing. If you haven’t heard – and I’m sure most of you have – Ms. Kang is a fitness blogger who has come under a staggering amount of scrutiny for a photo she posted to her own Facebook page. Here’s the picture.
Looks pretty good, doesn’t she? Three little kids and still puts that much time and energy into her fitness and health? She probably eats healthy and hardly ever uses the cats “bothering her” as a reason not to do her home fitness DVDs. I bet she doesn’t have a recipe called “Spaghetti Monster” that includes cream cheese. And I’d wager she doesn’t eat chicken kiev for breakfast whilst watching the marathon on TV! Kudos to you, Ms. Kang!
This is what went through my head when I saw the picture. Did it make me feel bad about myself? No. Did I feel as though she was chastising me or shaming me? Not so much. Did it propel me off the couch? No, but if I was forced to pick an emotion, it would be “inspired” as opposed to “shamed.” If she can do it with three kids, I certainly could. Then I saw she was a fitness blogger with a huge following, and honestly, I thought, what a fabulous tagline! If I was actively trying to lose weight, I would print this picture out and put it on my fridge. Good for her!
The internets disagreed. While there were certainly people that supported her and agreed with the message, a good portion of the 18,000 comments – yes, you read that right, and I bet you couldn’t find an article about the government shutdown with half as many comments, but that’s another bag of apples entirely – were downright hateful. People called her a liar, (because obviously she couldn’t look THAT good,) a terrible mother, (because clearly a nanny was raising her children; obviously the only thing that is important to her is looking beautiful,) and even went so far as to question her children’s parentage, (“They’re probably not even her kids; they all look different.”) Common denominator in these comments? All women.
What the hell, ladies? Why the hate? Here’s a successful woman – a wife and mother who blogs about what works for her and how she’s been able to maintain a healthy lifestyle and workout routine while managing a busy family. She’s a fitness blogger, which leads me to believe that most people following her are women trying to do what she does, who are looking for advice and inspiration. So why, instead of taking that photo as an inspiration and getting moving, are we sitting behind our computers, trying to find the faults to tear her down? It makes no sense.
While we’re on tearing down – can we all please leave Miley Cyrus the fuck alone? I swore I wasn’t going to chime in on this so as not to add to the fact that WE ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT HER, but I can’t help myself. I saw today that Paul McCartney finally weighed in on what is apparently the debate of the goddamn year. It’s only a matter of time before the President chimes in and then we’re all going to be mad because he has better things to be doing but you know what? We made this happen. We have taken a performance on an awards show and elevated it to a national concern about the youth of today, turning Miley into a cautionary tale about what happens to good little Hannah Montana when she doesn’t listen to her parents. Give me a break. You don’t want your daughter to look up to or emulate her? I bet your mama didn’t want you to act like and dress like Madonna, which only made you like her more. And I bet her parents didn’t want her dating that boy who tried to look like that dirty hippie, Paul McCartney.
My point? She isn’t really doing anything different – it’s just that every single word, thought, and action is immediately visible and public now. And at this point, it doesn’t matter what she does or says – she could be saving orphans and kittens in her spare time and people are still going to be all, from behind their computers, “Yeah, but did you see those shorts she was wearing?” Which is how I hope she sees it – something along the lines of “Well, they’re not going to be happy anyway, might as well get naked on a wrecking ball!”
Maybe next time instead of automatically assuming the worst, we think for a second of whether we would say out loud to one person what we’re about to publish silently to hundreds? Don’t turn into that junior high bully. You remember how awful that felt – I bet women like Maria and Miley do, too.