It seems that within minutes, the world got to know this face. The BBC claims YouTube videos featuring Susan Boyle, the quintessential Ugly Duckling du jour performing a musical number on Britain's Got Talent, have reached 50 million views. Facebook was and still is abuzz with commentary, most of it in the category of "I weep every time I see this video."
Here's a link, in case you've been hiding in a bomb shelter: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nox2DRCAKxk&feature=bz303
Granted, the deeply archetypal stories of the frog turning into the prince and the ugly duckling growing up to become a beautiful swan are compelling. Don't judge the book by it's cover, or whatever. Something about no matter how mediocre, ostracized, unpopular, unsophisticated, or different-looking you are, there might be a pearl lurking in the oyster, a diamond in the rough.
I did not weep, cry, gasp, or feel tingles down my spine when I saw Susan Boyle sing. Rather, I became afraid for her, sacrificing her beauty so that we can redeem our collective insecurities about our own hyper-mediated body image and expectations of success. Within 5 minutes, we have placed onto this unsuspecting woman the burden of having to carry our collective guilt about doubting her in the first place, while constructing her starry-eyed success story for her, from beginning to end. We will make her win, make her famous, turn her life upside down, suck the life out of her spirit, use her up, and spit her out -- just so we can feel self-righteous and say "Look, I totally respect and believe in this ugly person. She's, like, such an inspiration to me. She's truly following her dream!"
Except that she's following someone else's dream of success. Except that we'll only feel inspired if we can simultaneously preserve her position of power -- down there, on a pedestal. We will like her as long as we know we're younger and/or more beautiful and/or more sophisticated and/or more all-knowing -- and as long as we have the power to cast our vote on her destiny, quite literally on this television competition.
Would we love Susan Boyle if she wasn't so awkward and backward-looking? Nope. Which is evidence enough that we are not actually considering her full humanity, that she's facing the real danger of having her self-esteem built up for her by her hysterical and complex-ladden audience only to find that she's being carried off on a hot air balloon slowly drifting into oblivion.
May you, Miss Boyle, harness the true power of transformation that is carefully concealed in this experience. I wish nothing less for you. (Hint: Your audience won't give it to you, other than in the form of bait.)
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3 Kommentare:
hi! first time reader...found you on twitter.
extremely well said. tried to write something similar myself, but wasn't able to hit the nail on the head quite like you did.
Catherine, thanks! I'm glad you found my blog.
I'm totally fascinated with the fact that we (collectively) are so fascinated with this figure, Susan Boyle. Even for people like me, who often ignore big hypes like this, I find that her story and our response to it is touching a powerful nerve in our culture of air-brushes, narcissistic self-realization, 15-minute-fame, and aggressive self-entitlement.
Very curious to see how this story will continue to unfold... (if at all).
Yea, so I heard about Susan Boyle in the two minutes of air time CNN gave her and that was that. Then a couple of days later, a little boy was given about two minutes of air time again and was compared with Susan Boyle in terms of such a compelling voice, etc. etc. So I did get chills hearing this but I think it was more the song and not the fact that she is an older woman who is not the cookie-cutter Glamour cover model. I like her voice. I hope she wins and I hope she remains true to herself.
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