Fuck yeah Sweden

Because shooting shit with foam balls is fucking awesome, regardless of what's between your legs.

Reblogged from feministing

 

JCPenney is my favorite department store.

Firmly securing their place at the top of the list (above the cute clothes at great prices): 

The tag reads: What makes dad so cool? He's the swim coach, lunch maker, best friend, toilet-fixer and hug-giver--all rolled into one. Or two. 

Of course, they're getting all kinds of backlash from their conservative "traditional consumer base" and some conservative columnists have been blaming the company's loss in stock value etc. this year on their acceptance and celebration of ALL kinds of families. But even though those criticisms were raised after their Mother's Day ad with two moms, they published this, and that shows that they're the kind of company I love--the kind with values based on, you know, human decency and acceptance, rather than trying to get the most money possible.   

Things that make me smile:

See how they're all called "skin tone"? 

Way to go, Urban Armour

 Check out Sociological Images' full post about companies that don't erase people of color with their usage of terms like "skin tone" and "nude" here.

“I swear to god I will lose my mind if I hear the “sex sells” fallacy one more time. Sex does not sell. If sex sold, we would see penises where we see boobs. Naked men would be on everything that naked women are on. Sex isn’t what they’re selling you. They’re selling you an impossible, pornographically fueled misogynistic idea of the perfect woman.”

--Tumblr won't tell me. Sadface.

--via el odio por amor 

There's only one thing I hate more than an offensive ad

And that's when people try to explain why the offensive ad isn't offensive, or worse, why people who are offended shouldn't be. 

First off, if something offends someone, it offends them. You have no right to explain to me what should or should not offend me. And just because something isn't offensive to you doesn't mean it can't be offensive to me or anyone else.

Secondly, okay, here is the ad:

Ya'll know me. I have no problems with embracing female sexuality and letting her be sexually active and liberated and whatnot. I'm in The Vagina Monologues this upcoming weekend, and sex is, in fact, almost all I've been talking about recently. I'm evidently getting a bit of a reputation for it (not like I give a shit). I applaud all of that; it makes me really happy that we can see women as beings with their own sexual desires, rather than just as the playthings of men in advertising. Yay this campaign for doing that.

But that's where my applause ends. Drastically and unceremoniously.

1. "We’re way too quick to cry slut-shaming, racism, sexism, fattism, etc., in advertising, even when there are clearly the best of intentions at play." Not to be a conspiracy theorist, but that's exactly what they want us to think! If activists and non-dominant populations don't stand up when they're being shamed, belittled, ridiculed, othered, marginalized, made fun of, dehumanized, etc., then who will? If these things aren't rallied against, advertising companies will never learn, and we will let shaming, belittling, ridiculing, other-ing, marginalizing, making fun of, and dehumanizing such populations be a normal part of daily life in our society. By being silent, we'd be providing tacit approval.

2. I also just think that implying that that woman's vagina is a place to which people can check in is incredibly objectifying. You check into fast food places, not into women unless you're viewing that woman solely as a sex object.

3. And even if they're not directly suggesting that a high-ish number of sexual partners increases ones chance of contracting HIV/AIDS, it definitely plays into that stereotype. The company should be aware of those implications.

(These comments were originally posted in regard to this Thought Catalog article that makes me sad because I like them a lot.)

Whoa, an ad campaign explaining white privilege?

Reblogged from el odio por amor

Lies my Commercials Told Me:

Check out this lovely short satirical piece on impossible standards of beauty and the rampant use of Photoshop in the media/advertising industry:


Fotoshop by Adobé from Jesse Rosten on Vimeo.

And while we're talking about things that make me angry...

I dislike commercials all the time. In fact, I think it's safe to say I dislike most of the commercials that are on television. Sometimes I even dislike them enough to talk with other people about disliking them. But I've never gone so far as to look up the video on YouTube so that I can 1) dislike it, and 2) rant about it here. 



But while weight loss commercials--well, really, weight-obsessive American culture, but that's a whole different ballgame--generally don't sit well with me, with all the implicit criticisms of people's "Before" selves and the tiny print at the bottom of the screen that reads "Results Not Typical". I have gotten used to be annoyed by these things. 

This new Jennifer Hudson and Weight Watchers commercial takes it a little too far, though.

I won't even start by mentioning that no one will ever win my favor by singing Whitney's song from The Preacher's Wife. That's beside the point. 

The ENTIRETY of the problem is that heavier Jennifer from the past sings "I was looooooost," and then thinner Jennifer sings, "and now I'm freeeeeeeee." That's it! That's all I'm taking issue with. But my issue with it is huge.

Now, let me come out and say that I am NOT by any means hating on Jennifer Hudson for losing weight. She looks GOOD. In fact, let me further say that I'm not hating on Jennifer Hudson for anything, because she didn't design the damn commercial.

But I want to be really articulate about what I'm upset about. This commercial isn't just your average run-of-the-mill hey, look, I lost a lot of weight and I'm happy about that; watch skinny me talk about how my whole life changed. Those commercials imply some negative emotions or understandings of having been overweight, but oftentimes shift the blame for that negativity to other people and in a small sense could be interpreted as advocating for the rights of heavy people by drawing attention to how others demean them. (Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to believe that actually happens, but hey, a girl can dream.)

But this commercial takes it a step further. By heavy Jennifer singing her line, "I was lost," it's like Weight Watchers is trying to shame heavy people. They're suggesting that people who don't have flat abs or could stand to lose a little arm flab have "lost their way," have made bad decisions, are bad people. And then new skinny Jennifer is "free," having found the path to enlightenment in a size whatever. That's the message I'm supposed to be getting, right? There is an academic term for what they're doing: fat-shaming. And it's not okay, not even a little bit.

Depending on where I'm shopping, I'm sometimes a plus-sized woman (because society keeps trying to convince women that smaller and smaller sizes are the norm), and no matter what I'm a large-structured curvy woman. My skeleton probably weighs more than most fashion models whole bodies. And I'm fine with that. I am not lost, and I don't like Weight Watchers insinuating that I am just because I don't count calories and obsess about being toned and defined. I refuse to let them shame me into thinking there's something wrong with me, my body, or my mind.    

L.O.V.E.

That's what the fight for marriage equality is about. Everything else is just a fringe benefit. The important thing is to recognize and validate love and commitment wherever they come in this world full of false starts and not-so-happy endings.

This ad actually made me tear up a little. 

I-can't-believe-someone-thought-this-was-okay advertising strikes again! (NSFW)

Why yes, in case you were confused, this is a White woman lying on a bed of naked, contorted Black men, in an advertisement for luxurious handmade bedding. 

"Merge into the colours of the south. Feel the beating heart of the city of light at night. Breathe the scent of the forest. Feel the briny of the breakers on your skin." Funny, I don't associate any of those things with the naked, contorted bodies of Black men. Do you?

My first question is whether these men are intended to be interpreted as being alive or dead. I'm not sure which is more problematic: If they're alive, every single stereotype about the hypersexualized savage Black man out to rape and ravage the pure White woman comes into play here. I realize this is 2011 where interracial relationships are no longer condemned and denigrated to the degree they once were, and could perhaps be less of a big deal in France than they are here (this is a French ad), but...anyone who knows anything about the history of race relations should recognize this damaging trope and not try to replicate/propagate it. Or if I'm supposed to view this from the liberated empowered woman standpoint, are they her playthings? I can't get behind that either. If they're alive, are they/their work supposed to represent the labor that went into creating this luxurious bedding? Dozens of Black men working to make something for one White woman...do I have to say the s-word? (Their contortion does make me think of the arrangement of certain ships...) At the very least this smacks of all sorts of oppression.

If they're corpses, which I hadn't considered until someone pointed it out in the comments on the Sociological Images post that alerted me to this ad, then we're dealing with the Black-body-as-disposable notion that society has never really seemed to shake. They almost look as if they were tossed into some kind of mass grave. Were they worked to death to create the luxury this White woman desires so? Were they sexed to death in some crazy orgy that created the "heavenly" aura the woman finds herself in?

I suppose the best possible way to interpret this is that Black men's bodies are supposed to be a luxury, which is at the very least a kind of rare positive association. But even that has objectification written all over it. PEOPLE cannot be luxuries. THINGS are luxuries. Black man = person. Sheets = thing. Let's not equate the two, okay?

Winning.

Status update from Nivea for Men USA last night:
Thank you for caring enough to give us your feedback about the recent "Re-civilized" NIVEA FOR MEN ad. This ad was inappropriate and offensive. It was never our intention to offend anyone, and for this we are deeply sorry. This ad will never be used again. Diversity and equal opportunity are crucial values of our company. 

Let me show you just how many damns I give.

Dear Nivea,

The recent Summer's Eve ads made me uncomfortable, because they were [one of] the most stereotypical thing[s] I'd seen in advertising in a long time. They tried to cop-out and call blatant racial profiling "appealing to wider audiences" or some bullshit, but the internet saw through that in a heartbeat. I thought that was going to be our big advertising what-the-fuck-were-they-thinking scandal of 2011, but you have snatched that infamous prize right out of their pigeon-holing fingers.

 

Because my choice not to try my hardest to look like you means I don't give a damn? [If you mean about your standards of beauty, you damn straight, but I'm pretty sure you're not that righteous.] Because my choice not to try my hardest to look like you means I don't "look good" (fine print)? Because a black man is an ANIMAL if he has an afro and a beard? Because that which does not mimic White culture is to be demonized? I have heard my hair texture be deemed unprofessional. I have heard it be called ugly, heard the word "nappy" spat as an insult. I have heard this from Black people as well as people of other races--even Patti Labelle went off about how a little biracial girl's hair needed "taming" just the other day.  When I went natural I even had a not-so-close [Asian] friend ask me incredulously, "You did that on purpose?!" (He has since fallen to the level of acquaintance.) But never, and I mean NEVER, has someone implied that wearing my hair the way it grows out of head puts me on equal footing with a BARBARIAN. Never has anyone told me I don't belong in civil society because of what is on my head. [Well, my mom once told me I wasn't fit to be seen in public with her, but that is neither here nor there.]

Before I get into the HOW FUCKING DARE YOU, there is someone I would like you to meet. He is a man I am honored to know and be recognized by, as he never fails to call me "Sister Reid" when I see him in public. Very probably the most widely-recognized blackademic in the world, he has authored 21 published books, appeared on countless television news series, had a cameo in The Matrix, and even released a few spoken word/hip-hop CDs. He graduated magna cum laude from Harvard University at age 20, went on to get a PhD from [my very own] Princeton University, and has received over 20 honorary degrees from other institutions. I have never seen him in anything but a 3-piece suit. I remember MS Word filling my notes from his class with squiggly red underlines because the concepts upon which he elaborates need heavier terms than most people can handle. Briefly, this man epitomizes the concept of civility.

That's right, THIS AFRO-WEARING BEARDED MAN.

It's ridiculous that I have to provide you with this example right now. It's ridiculous that we're even having this conversation right now. It is ridiculous that ONE-HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT YEARS after Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, we still need to defend our humanity to the majority. 

It is so hard to cultivate a love for ourselves as a people in the face of the media/world at large telling us we're doing it wrong every single day. Ads that feature anorexically-skinny-no-hips-no-ass-bitches or some blonde White woman whipping her hair back and forth in the shower are one level of social exclusion. On a good day I can step back and say hey, those people deserve being celebrated too even though these are the people we see portrayed positively all over the damn television/billboards/movies/world on a regular basis. But you are blatantly, no-holds-barred, balls-to-the-wall telling me that that which is inherent in my humanness and personhood is the opposite of a good look. Where the hell do you get off telling me that I'm not good enough? Nobody puts Baby in a corner my humanity on the line! What the fuck makes you think it's appropriate to portray my natural state of being as something to be stripped off like a mask and tossed away? 

What if we went around saying that eyes that weren't brown were uncivilized? Or hair that was naturally straight? Or skin lighter than a paper bag? No, that would be ridiculous, right? THEN CHECK YOURSELF.  Better yet, go get a lesson in civility and learn to give a damn about peoples who are unlike yourselves, rather than demeaning and de-humanizing them. "Projecting confidence and sophistication is simple" when you own your body and work with what was given to you naturally, when you don't let someone else's standards of beauty make you feel like something is wrong with you. Loving yourself, that's the epitome of confidence. Being deep enough to trust in your natural beauty, that's sophisticated. 

 

I haven't done fake hashtags in a while, but this deserves them:

#Getthefuckoutofmyfacewiththisshit

#Youshouldbeashamedofyourself

#Youarepartoftheproblem

#ThingsthatmakemewannaraisemyBlackPowerfistandpunchyouintheface 

 

     

Generally, I hate ads that bear no relation to the product being advertised.

You know the kind of ads I'm referring to: young pretty people having fun fun fun for 25 seconds and then a screen about how this ad is for the jeans/sneakers they were wearing. Usually this makes me feel like that small segment of my life has been wasted even more spectacularly than a commercial usually wastes small segments of my life. Sometimes, though, it can be really funny--foreign countries manage this well--like in this banned condom commercial. (Though I must state, for the record, that it isn't really cool to insinuate that this child wasn't wanted/isn't loved.)


Today I learned that these types of commercials can also be kind of cool and inspirational-ish. Maybe I'm just in a cheesy mood, but I'm kind of sad Levi's pulled this ad due to criticism about its ill-timing due to the London riots. 

Stephen Colbert is winning so hard

in the game of my affections right now. 

I wanted to blog about these ads last week, but didn't know how to type STEREOTYPICAL, RACIST, and CULTURALLY INSENSITIVE in large enough letters. Or how to convey that I'm fucking sick and tired of women being told that their bodies aren't good enough at every damn turn. SUMMER'S EVE, YOU ARE CREATING A PROBLEM HERE TO INCREASE YOUR REVENUE (and exacerbating lots of other problems in the process). So much shaking my goddamn head here. 

But that's just me whining. Colbert did something so much better than whine. He launched a counter-attack [though I must say that the fact that simply making a very similar ad tailored to men reveals the ridiculous nature of the situation just goes to show how accustomed we've become to women's bodies being problematized in the media...]: 

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive

 

Period.

Dear Pad Commercial Designers,

Maybe I’m doing it wrong, but your vials of

blue liquid convince me of absolutely nothing.

Touchably dry, my bloodstained fingertips scoff.

Your free floating cartoon pad drifts like a magic carpet

across my screen, and as it loop-de-loops, it promises

to stretch to fit my body’s natural curves.

Problem with that statement number one:

You sound like a Pamper’s Cruisers commercial.

Two: someone once told me a “regular” sized pad is designed

around the body of a size 6 woman, and I don’t like

what you’re implying about my “irregularity”.

And seriously, anyone who was just dying for a thong pad

is in dire need of a reality check.

But don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily,

Tampon Commercial Designers. No, I’ve got a complaint or two for you.

Who are these actresses you cast? What menstruating woman in her right mind

really wants to lounge flirtatiously on a pool chaise in a bikini

between overly muscular gentlemen, or chase her dog barefoot

through the wet sand, or go clubbing in the tightest of black dresses,

or nail that difficult new yoga pose while sporting white spandex?

Sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but no one trusts you that well.

And just because you make it tinier (read: easier to leak) and dress it up

in a polka-dotted case does not make me want to show it off to my class,

and I won’t be the first person in line to twirl in slow motion through the field

of flowers or splash gaily in the waterfall either. Now is not a good time to discuss purity.

Of course, not everyone paints periods as a pocket full of sunshine, but Midol and Pamprin

Commercial Designers, you’re next on my list. If I see one more woman get half out of bed

then fall back in, or poke her water weight in the mirror/struggle to button her work pants,

or moan in agony while grabbing her waist/back/head, I’m going to scream.

Yes, it hurts. We all know that. We’ve all known that from tender ages of innocence.

We also know that the cute tight pants are out of commission for a few days, and no matter

how tight the budget is, that morning coffee is a must this week. We know we’ll be crying at

the sappy movies and not having the energy to move, but the real world expects us

up at our normal times and moving at our normal rates and not taking twice as many bathroom

breaks because we either feel like we’re back in diapers or our tampon is so small we can’t feel it

and that’s worrying but either way popping two pills doesn’t stop the feeling that we’re dying

so either show the woman with the clenched jaw and the halfhearted smile who suffers invisibly 

or shut the fuck up.

That last bit is meant for all of you.

Signed,

Your Consumers