pop culture | Introduction to Gender & Sexuality Studies

As a society, our interpretation of disability should be no different than our interpretation of race, gender, class, or any other aspects of our identities. But, as a society, our interpretations of our different identities face constant backlash and oppression that plagues the idea of what is considered to be “normal.” In the monograph, Ableist Rhetoric by James L. Cherney, it is emphasized that ableism studies are different from disability studies, but in studying ableism, contributions are made to the field of studying disabilities. To put it simply, studying oppressive factors enhances knowledge on the situation of oppression. The same can be said for racism and ethnic studies and sexism for women’s studies (Cherney 11). Additionally, Cherney argues that viewing ableism in a rhetorical light allows for us to see the role it plays in everyday life and our commonly perceived norms.

James L. Cherney, Ph.D. is currently an associate professor in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Nevada, Reno. In addition to Ableist Rhetoric, Cherney has published multiple journal articles, book chapters, media reviews, and more, most of which with a focus on disability studies and ableist culture.

In Ableist Rhetoric, Cherney argues that the main relationships that support the genre of ableist rhetoric are that (1) deviance is evil, (2) normal is natural, and (3) the body is able (Cherney 24). He discusses that while some media may not fall neatly into one of these three categories of analysis, ableist themes can nonetheless be present. The argument for deviance is evil is that in the media, people and concepts that are “unnatural” or deviate from the accepted norms exhibit sin and are reason for punishment. This relationship is exhibited when Cherney discusses The Exorcist and how the little girl’s deviant behavior is demonic and needs to be expelled. Before it’s accepted as demonic possession, doctors pass it off as a mental disorder or some form of neurodivergence that is not inherently bad. However, once they find that the root of the problem is demonic possession, it is unanimously decided that the girl must be cured. While one may question how this example is an idea that enables an ableist rhetoric (since it rules out a neurodivergence), it still assumes that deviation from normal behavior is evil and needs to be dealt with in a proper, holy way.

The argument for normal is natural is that natural law and biological reason are used to define what we consider as “normal” (25). The relationship is demonstrated by explaining the Cochlear Implant Debate (CID) and the conflict it creates within ableist culture, but more specifically, Deaf culture. According to Cherney, “the CID pits Deaf activists who see the implant as a threat to their cultural identity against medical specialists and implant designers who typically view deafness as an illness that can and should be cured” (64). Activists take the stance that this view assumes that Hearing culture and spoken language is the only valid approach to communication, while there is an entire culture of Deaf people who communicate through gesture and sign language. The issue is that while they are alienated from the general majority in a space that is not originally theirs, who is to say what can be considered normal in a place where that minority is the majority. A hearing person who is learning sign language can be considered a minority in the Deaf community in a similar way in which cultural immigrants are technically the minority in a foreign country or setting.

The argument for body is able equivocates the capacity of one’s body with ability, enforcing the idea that the confines of body measures determine one’s ability. In the chapter where Cherney builds on the idea, he uses the example that the rhetoric of body is able supports that with the accessibility of stairways, “people who cannot use stairs are disabled by their bodies instead of by a set of ableist ideas and the structures that entrench these in contemporary culture” (85). This relationship is examined further in the context of disability and sport. Cherney discusses the idea that sports rely on “privileging those whose bodies are different enough to give them an advantage in the specified activity,” essentially saying that sport is ableist in its nature to encourage only those who have the specific abilities to participate (94). This not only excludes disabled people, but further excludes “normal” able-bodied people who just don’t have the general skill set to excel at sports. However, the prevalence of disability sports like the Paralympics, wheelchair basketball, quadriplegic rugby, and many more suggest that everyone can benefit from the perks of participating in sports and physical activity. In carrying out the notion that sports are available to all and that to be athletic is to be able-bodied and extremely physical implies the blatant ableism present within the realm of physical activity and the exclusion principle based on biological strength and fitness.

Cherney’s research for the book tends to focus mainly on social and media analyses, drawing information and examples from popular media (like The Exorcist) and current social commentaries (like the CID and the debate about disability and sport). Additionally, Cherney draws information from historical points of view and various ethnographic accounts of ableist culture. By combining the various sources of information, his research contributes an objective as well as a subjective telling of each example.

A main strength of Ableist Rhetoric is that the book highlights the differences between disability studies and ableist studies, giving more clarification in the argument of how we interpret media, society, and otherwise harmless constructs. In the past, we have not questioned the concept of normal and how we define normal in the added context of abnormal. However, with Cherney’s defined relationships that make up ableism, it is easier to understand how we continue to exacerbate the conditions of disability. Additionally, the book manages to tell a subjective view of disability studies and how its rhetoric impacts our daily lives in a much broader context than just simple activism for disability.

A weakness of Ableist Rhetoric is that it fails to provide an explanation for exactly what rhetoric is. While it goes very in-depth on the rhetoric of ableism and other rhetorical structures and models, the text does not give a straight definition of rhetoric. It would be beneficial to include this definition in order to give a basic understanding to the backbone of his argument. Additionally, including a more thought-out definition of rhetoric could help to expand the audience that the book targets, since many people may not know what it is off the top of their heads.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Ableist Rhetoric because not only did it help me gain a better understanding of a more rhetorical view of disability studies, but it helped me to realize that my lens on the world is more clouded than I originally thought. I found it really interesting to learn more about the debate of how we define normalcy, mainly because I have been learning more information on what “normal” is, but in many different contexts (my classes, other books, etc.). I believe that everyone should be able to read this book in some shape or form, even if they just hear Cherney’s view on the main three flaws in our understanding of ableism. A major audience for the book should be healthcare providers, people who have a voice in media and society, and even just people who interact with disabled people on a day-to-day basis. Ableism is a real problem in our society, but due to our view on what “normal” is, we overlook its simplest manifestations, whether that be sports, popular culture, or even just daily functioning.

Works Cited:

Cherney, J. L. (2019). Ableist rhetoric: How we know, value, and see disability. The Pennsylvania State University Press.

James Cherney: University of Nevada, Reno. Academia.edu. (n.d.). Retrieved October 31, 2021, from https://nevada-reno.academia.edu/JamesCherney/CurriculumVitae.

University of Nevada, Reno. (n.d.). James Cherney: Communication studies. Department of Communication Studies. Retrieved October 31, 2021, from https://www.unr.edu/communication-studies/faculty-and-staff/james-cherney.

By Alice Berndt

Written for Jezebel

On November 13, 2020, jaws dropped and 1D fans swooned when the cover image for Vogue’s December issue was released. The shot features former boy bander and current pop sensation Harry Styles dressed in a black and white lace gown and black cropped blazer, his hair swept to the side in an intentionally effortless flop. He is the first man to appear solo on the cover of Vogue in 127 years. As the cover reads, “Harry Styles makes his own rules.” [Vogue]

Framed against a sprawling green meadow and clear blue sky, the British singer squints into the sunny distance. He holds a blue balloon to his lips, mid-blow, showing off an array of chunky rings, including one in the shape of an “H” and another in an “S.” The photo is iconically Harry — sexy, androgynous, playful, and edgy.

Since the beginning of One Direction’s seemingly eternal “hiatus” back in 2015, Styles has been making a name for himself as a solo pop rock artist. In addition to releasing hit singles like “Sign of the Times” and “Watermelon Sugar,” he has also become a fashion icon, breaking free from his 1D wardrobe of V-necks and skinny jeans and embracing more traditionally feminine styles like colorful blouses, bootcut pants, and dresses. For the most part, fans and the public have been accepting of his style transformation, which recalls music legends of the past including David Bowie and Prince. But for some, this Vogue cover took it a step too far.

In a move that sparked contentious debate, conservative commentator Candace Owens retweeted Vogue’s post on Styles’ cover shoot and wrote:

“There is no society that can survive without strong men. The East knows this. In the west, the steady feminization of our men at the same time that Marxism is being taught to our children is not a coincidence. It is an outright attack. Bring back manly men.”
[Twitter]

Yowza. Owens received immediate backlash from liberals, feminists, and Styles’ fans alike who claimed she was being sexist and close-minded. She was criticized for her assumption that masculinity and strength (or lack thereof) are directly connected to wardrobe — a man cannot be “manly” if he wears a dress.

This assumption stems from centuries of clothing acting as a marker of gender — men wear pants and women wear dresses and skirts. Period. But is Owens implying that the inverse is true as well — that women cannot be feminine if they wear pants? Certainly Owens herself has been spotted wearing pants on more than one occasion. Commentators wondered how an article of clothing could limit or “attack” masculinity and strength but not femininity or grace.

In a reclamation of Owens’ derogatory words, Styles posted an image to Instagram from his cover shoot with Variety and captioned the post “Bring back manly men.” The caption combined with the cheeky photo — Styles in a powder blue pantsuit eating a banana — pokes fun at his haters, addressing the situation while also making light of it.

Styles is certainly not the first celebrity to be criticized for their clothing choices, so why did this get so much attention? Perhaps because it’s far less common for a woman to publicly shame a man for his outfit than vice versa. We’re used to female celebrities being called out for “scandalous” or “overly sexy” clothing (Billie Eilish’s British Vogue cover, for example), but typically male celebrities wear what they want or what their stylists give them and that’s that. It also cannot be ignored that Styles has a massive fanbase that has grown alongside his career since the inception of One Direction in 2010 and is prepared to defend him regardless of the context.

In talking about gender and fans, we must engage in a conversation about privilege. A quote from Styles on the Vogue cover reads, “Anytime you’re putting barriers up in your life, you’re limiting yourself.” For Styles, a straight white male celebrity with a net worth of over $80 million, he has the comfort and freedom to express himself through his clothing without fear. [Vogue]

For many others, including female-identifying, LGBTQ+, and POC celebrities, what they wear is often the biggest target for ridicule, criticism, and objectification. These individuals must first break down the barriers placed in front of them by society before they can even consider those they may have built for themselves.

With that simple act of reclamation via his Instagram post, Styles had, in the minds of many, “won” the argument. For many others — celebrities or not — the complexities of how they use clothing to express themselves is a never-ending fight, both internally and externally. [Vogue]

Don’t get me wrong, I worship Harry Styles as much as the next Gen Zer and wouldn’t dare question his status as a cultural icon. As actress and director Olivia Wilde says of Styles, “It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.” By breaking free from the societal binary of gendered clothing, Styles utilizes his privilege to pave the way for others. But his work is far from being done. [Vogue]