The Feminist Movement is generally characterized as a fight to end sexism and receive gender equality. In recent years, body positivity has become a prominent practice among feminists. In my short time on this earth, I have seen more representation of different body types across various media platforms. The song Victoria’s Secret by Jax exemplifies what it means to be liberated from oppressive societal standards surrounding women’s bodies. In the opening lines of the song, Jax characterizes the desirable body that society constructs by singing the following lines:
“God, I wish somebody would’ve told me
When I was younger that all bodies aren’t the same
Photoshop itty bitty models on magazine covers
Told me I was overweight”
In these lyrics, Jax showcases society’s shaming of bodies that deviate from thinness. She also highlights the use of photoshop and other editing tools to achieve the body types that are “acceptable” in society. The use of these technologies to “doctor” photos further emphasizes how the images put forth in society are unattainable and set dangerous expectations for women. In addition to lessons surrounding body image, in the chorus of the song, Jax solidifies the hypocrisy and male-dominating discourse surrounding the female body by singing:
“I know Victoria’s secret
Girl, you wouldn’t believe
She’s an old man who lives in Ohio
Making money off of girls like me”
Cashin’ in on body issues
Sellin’ skin and bones with big boobs
I know Victoria’s secret
She was made up by a dude”
These lyrics reveal that a man is the creator of the notorious “Victoria’s Secret” brand. With this in mind, Jax is setting the tone that women should not conform to societal standards put onto women when they weren’t even made with women (or by women) in mind in the first place. This song continuously reminds me of the consumerism associated with achieving a certain image and allows me to question further the powers that enable and sustain constructs to continue circulating in society.
Spending my most formative years growing up in the city of Brooklyn, New York, I was surrounded by Black and Latina women of different body shapes, using colors, and bodily embellishments creatively in their fashion and self-representation, which seemed beautiful and fascinating to me. Until I learned to classify them as “other”… As a young white girl experiencing the world and all its differences, I learned to classify these groups as “other” based on their bodily aesthetic, the very aesthetics that society warned me about. Enter the monograph titled, Aesthetics of Excess: The Art and Politics of Black and Latina Embodiment, by Jillian Hernandez, the book that breaks down my childhood thoughts surrounding a topic called “aesthetic excess.” Hernandez examines the concept of aesthetic excess through the stories of working-class Black and Latina women from Miami. By amplifying these voices, the author sheds more light on ways that Black and Latina women in Miami have separated themselves from the prescribed white norms around gender, race, sexuality, and the neoliberal view of class.
Lights, camera, (sensual) action! Teleflora, an online flower delivery service, debuted their “Valentine’s Night” commercial during the 2012 Superbowl (“Teleflora”). Through this strategic marketing, the company reached its intended demographic of a male-dominated audience. By design, the commercial aims to capture the attention of a heteronormative group of male spectators, which also has implications on societal norms surrounding sports and masculinity. The overt focus on societal norms and expectations surrounding the male perspective, in turn, leads to a regressive depiction of the featured female – a depiction filled with undertones of patriarchal and sexist views of women in society.
As if a title like “Valentine’s Night” didn’t already scream sex and sensuality, the portrayal of a female in the intimate space of her bedroom furthers the theme of sex and sensuality emphasized by Teleflora. The camera in the commercial quite literally embodies the male gaze as it follows Brazilian model Adriana Lima from head to toe… sliding stockings over legs, fastening her lingerie, slipping into her red bottom heels, and slowly applying ruby red lipstick. This voyeuristic effect elicits a sense of intimacy between the audience and the “object” of the commercial. In a sense, the commercial objectifies the female body and promotes the expectation that women should “look pretty” not for themselves but for the gaze of others, specifically males. This expectation finds explicit emphasis in the female model’s own words… the only words uttered throughout the entire commercial.
With the camera up close and personal, Adriana’s red lips come into focus as she says: “Guys, Valentine’s Day is not that complicated. Give and you shall receive.” The message comes across as “Men, it’s simple… give women flowers and get [you know what] in return.” This transactional depiction not only demoralizes female agency but also plays upon the patriarchal tropes and symbols that permeate society and systems. Adriana’s words reinforce the harmful expectation that giving females a material object triggers an obligation for the female to return the favor. This notion couches females’ worth in their service to males; A male initiates a transaction and the female is expected to return the favor. This uneven distribution of power subverts female agency and reinforces the harmful notion of female inferiority to males – perpetuating sexism and patriarchy in modern-day marketing. In this context, sex transforms into a form of payment for the “Valentine’s Night” gift.
Part of the commercial where Lima addresses her male dominated audience
Additionally, the female image presented in the commercial promotes narrow, unrealistic beauty standards. Teleflora plays upon societal beauty standards that idolize skinniness, long legs, toned arms, cleavage, fair skin, high cheekbones, and silky smooth hair among other features. Overall, these characteristics are not representative of the actual diversity of female body types and skin tones. In this way, harmful beauty norms surrounding the female body also intersect with the oppression of other forms of identity, like race and ethnicity.
At first glance, the commercial appears to provide a platform of ethnic representation, but upon further analysis, it does quite the opposite. Teleflora depicts Brazilian model, Adriana Lima, in an errotic light – a strategic marketing ploy to gain the attention of viewers (“Teleflora”). The commercial reinforces the sexualization of Hispanic women in the media and plays upon the trope of an “attraction to the exotic.” Though this marketing decision may capture the attention of more viewers, the question becomes, “At what cost?” Biases are shaped and reinforced by symbols and images people are exposed to everyday. Pairing sexual symbols with the image of a Hispanic woman only furthers stereotypes about the broader group of women who identify with the Hispanic culture and overshadows the diversity of beauty and body type within the ethnic group. The “Valentine’s Night” commercial positions an intersectionally marginalized identity in service to the dominant male (likely white) audience. Even though the dominant group is not present in the commercial itself, it still manages to influence the narrative and support the maintenance of oppressive depictions of the marginalized identities.
In the end, Teleflora makes buying flowers “sexy” by pairing the flowers with a sexualized and unrealistic female depiction. Though this marketing tactic may have been helpful in reaching the targeted male audience, it has harmful implications for gender and sexuality norms. The commercial perpetuates symbols of females as objects rather than humans with agency and reinforces sexist and patriarchal notions of femininity. It also perpetuates racist views by exoticizing a Hispanic woman and reinforcing ethnic stereotypes about what a “sexy Hispanic woman” looks like or wants. Just as Teleflora’s red and white floral arrangements trigger images of Valentine’s Day, its narrow and sexualized depiction of a Brazilian female triggers deep-seated undertones of patriarchy, sexism, and racism.
Work Cited:
“Teleflora – Valentine’s Night Video from Ad Age.” Ad Age, 5 Jan. 2012, https://adage.com/videos/teleflora-valentines-night/1187.
I had an interesting, but familiar experience while doing the no-product day challenge. When I first heard about the challenge, I wasn’t too concerned about its difficulty due to the fact that I generally don’t use cosmetics and rarely do anything to my hair. On a typical day, I wash my face, put on deodorant, spray some perfume, and brush my teeth. For the challenge, I continued to wash my face and brush my teeth, mainly because I see these actions as a necessity, but I could see the influence of society in creating these habits that humans deem essential. With that said, my biggest challenge was not using deodorant or perfume to mask what my body odor was “destined” to be later in the day. When I got ready in the morning, it was almost instinctual to reach for my deodorant and perfume.
For the majority of the day, I didn’t think much about my armpit scent, but occasionally I would do a quick check to see if I was beginning to smell. No one seemed to notice that I wasn’t wearing deodorant or perfume (at least they didn’t mention it) except me. I was a little surprised at the result of no reactions from the no-product day challenge because, in the past, people pointed this out when I forgot to wear deodorant (maybe people are evolving? maybe I just didn’t smell?). It was the easiest for me to go without perfume because I generally use it because I like the scent but not using deodorant was challenging due to my insecurities about my armpit smell. Coincidentally, I have forgone using body and facial products in the past, ironically for dieting purposes. I found this forgoing beneficial to cleanse myself of the harmful chemicals in everyday products. It still surprises me that society would make products that knowingly contain harmful substances a pillar of everyday life. This challenge has reinforced that products do not define me and that I am probably overthinking the reality of wearing deodorant and perfume. In the end, these products don’t make a substantial difference and definitely don’t define worth.
