Eat it, Caitlin Flanagan

Often, I accidentally think that the women's movement, and the tenets of feminism that accompany it, have finally entered the popular vernacular, and that we can now revel in equality with our male counterparts. Aspects this could include would be equal pay, equal opportunity, and elevated self-expression unconstrained by deeply entrenched notions of gendered expectations. But then, I shut down Microsoft Word, close my laptop, leave my ninth floor office, and enter the sad, sad reality of the outside world. Case in point: Caitlin Flanagan. This woman infuriates me:

http://www.elle.com/article.asp?section_id=37&article_id=8556&page_number=1

And you wanna know what really pisses me off? That people read this shit in volumes that I'm sure outstrip any authentic research and commentary on the current state of women's issues in North American (or global, for that matter) society.

So what's the solution? Should we, as sociologists, start infiltrating the popular media? And, if we did, would people pay attention to anything we had to say? And, if we chose to strive for household name status, would we have to dumb it down to such a degree that our work lost all integrity? I'm so confused....

To make up for my discouragement, I made my usual move of turing on the television. I watched American Idol tonight. Although I hate this show with the fire of a thousand hells, I do thoroughly enjoy the annual 'intro' episode, where you get to see completely misguided misfits humiliate themselves on national television. I think the toppers tonight were:

1. The juggling Minnesota adolescent with braces who sobbed and sweared like a psychopath (and I use that term deliberately, not in the generalized way it's so often thrown around) following his rejection; and
2. The woman who screamed out Bowie and Queen's 'Under Pressure,' and then subsequently made the claim that she had a 'degree in vocal performance' upon her 'shocking' rejection.

I really wish they'd create an entire series on these people. They're so much funnier, sloppier, and conventionally less attractive than the douches who make it to the finals. While I'm no marketing expert, I do think you could find a real demographic of people who'd thoroughly enjoy, and religiously follow, the trainwreck-ishness and embarrasingly authentic excursions of this rejected crew. It'd be like Maury with bad, bad singing and a cheesy orchestra.