opinion by Norman Solomon
Botox: The Barbie Drug
In a twist of fate, obituaries appeared for the inventor of the Barbie
doll just as a $50 million advertising campaign got underway for an
anti-wrinkle drug with a name that memorably combines the words
"botulism" and "toxin." Expensive injections of Botox are already
popular among women eager to remove lines from their faces. The ad
blitz of mid-2002 is certain to boost the practice.
American women between the ages of 30 and 64 are the prime targets,
and 90 percent of them will be hit with Botox pitches a minimum of 10
times. Launched with a paid layout in People magazine the first week
of May ("It's not magic, it's Botox Cosmetic"), the print ads use
before-and-after pictures. Network TV commercials are also part of the
campaign.
To many minds, we live in a post-feminist era when denouncing sexist
strictures is anachronistic. People who complain loudly about media
images of women are apt to be derided for "political correctness." But
another sort of PC--what might be called "patriarchal
correctness"--continues to flourish today as a media mainstay, and not
only in the realms of advertising and mass entertainment.
Despite all the progress for women's rights and against rigid gender
roles during the last few decades, it's chilling to take a fresh look
at routine depictions of women in mass media. Beauty-is-skin-deep
renditions of what it means to be female help to explain the allure of
Botox shots that cost about $500 and lose effect within four months.
After 85-year-old Ruth Handler, the creator of Barbie, died in late
April, some news stories noted that Barbie's plasticized--and
idealized--proportions were virtually impossible for girls to live up
to. The New York Times reported that "if the 11-inch doll were
5-foot-6, her measurements would be 39-21-33." London's Daily
Telegraph put the figure at 39-18-33. According to the Times, "one
academic expert calculated that a woman's chances of having Barbie's
figure were less than one in 100,000."
Styles change. And for the past third of a century, new waves of
feminism have effectively critiqued a lot of such destructive
role-modeling. We may prefer to think that Barbie-like absurdities
have been left behind by oh-so-sophisticated 21st century media
sensibilities. But to thumb through the Cosmopolitan now on racks is
to visit a matrix of "content" and advertising that incessantly
inflames--and cashes in on--obsessions with seeking to measure up to
media-driven images.
Satiric anti-ads in the latest issue of Adbusters magazine include a
full-page filled with close-ups of two sets of lips along with the
words "Perfectionism is a malignant force in our society." That tag
line begs for probing the question of what we mean by perfection.
Media veneers frequently sparkle with apparent high regard for women.
Yet indications abound that much of the advertising industry's
idealization of fabricated female images is based on contempt for real
women--who, like nature as a whole, must lack the sort of mass-produced
uniformity that can be readily packaged and sold.
Endless media messages convey the stubborn presumption that women can
never be good enough, but should live and buy--and ultimately
die--trying. First Barbie, then Botox.
Norman Solomon's latest book is The Habits of Highly Deceptive Media.
His syndicated column focuses on media and politics.
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