Why Pop Culture Matters to Race Bloggers
Prince of Persia, Twilight, The Last Airbender, Karate Kid, Red Dawn - this summer's blockbusters seem to have gotten the blogosphere humming more than usual, with many writers examining Hollywood's relationship with race.
In my experience, sardonic or critical posts focusing on the latest pop culture icons fare far better among readers than dry, data-heavy sociological analyses (which take about 23 times as long to prepare). Pop culture diatribes tend to be easy to write, widely read and more likely to go viral. For bloggers who live and die by pageviews and ad-clicks, this is our bread and butter.
Unfortunately, pop culture posts also tend to be polarizing and incite the most heated debates. First, you attract the fanboys and fangirls who can't stand to see the latest installation of their beloved Twilight saga criticized for how it perpetuates Hollywood's same old racial tropes. They will link your post to Twilight forums so that they can get hordes of fellow fans to mob you and tell you how much you just don't understand how difficult life is for Bella and her sparkly undead beau (as if you will only be convinced when a thousand people tell you the same thing). These comments tend to be entertaining, but ultimately they wreak havoc on your bandwidth.
Often, you'll also attract the first-time readers who stumbled upon your site because they googled the movie (or television show, or actor) in question and found an unexpected critical analysis of identity politics (rather than a post consisting entirely of l33tspeak, summarized as "i <3 jake gyllenhaal omg hes so sexy in prince of persia rotflmao!!!1!!!!1!!!!1!!"). Many such readers will proceed to write lengthy comments telling you in excruciating detail how they wasted the last 10 minutes reading your post. The gist of these comments is always the same: pop culture is only entertainment and isn't meant to be serious, so racial issues in these media don't matter. It's only a movie (or television show, or video game, or comic book)! Lighten up!
It's this flavor of comments that really get my goat - not because they are particularly insulting (although they can be), but because they reveal a fundamental lack of understanding about the significance of pop culture.
Popular culture (or "pop culture") is not something created in a vacuum. Nor do the stories it presents emerge out of thin air. Whether we're talking about musicians or movies, pop culture ultimately reflects the values of its time. Take, for example, The Birth of a Nation, which was released in 1915 and quickly became the highest-grossing movie of the silent film era. In Birth of a Nation, black men are depicted as violent and hypersexualized aggressors who victimize white women. White Klansmen are painted as heroes who rescue white women from such predators. The popularity of this film reflects the popularity of such sentiments about race and politics of the time. Similarly, Cold War-era movies reflect existing fears of Russia, communism and nuclear war. Films made during the Gulf War and 9/11 similarly reflect popular distrust of a corrupt, war-mongering, "Big Brother" government and growing fears of Islamic terrorism.
By the same logic, examining today's pop culture - particularly when it comes to race - can offer a sense of which ideas are striking a chord within Americans at any given moment. For example, the repeated comparison of Chinese and American culture in recent pop culture (as seen in Joss Whedon's Firefly, and this year in The Last Airbender, Karate Kid and Red Dawn) speaks to a growing respect (and fear) of China as a burgeoning world superpower.
But that's only half the reason why pop culture matters.
Pop culture doesn't just reflect popular trends and ideas, it also helps create them. For example, the average person who grew up in the 80s with limited exposure to Asian-Americans might develop a stereotypical view of Asians being as meek and exotic - a view influenced by films like Karate Kid, in which Mr. Miyagi fuels the stereotype that paints Asians as exotic martial artists. Over time, not only do such pop culture phenomenons help create stereotypes, they're recycled and later reinforced in future pop incarnations.
It's an especially damaging trend because people of color are so underrepresented in pop culture. In fact, over the last several years, Asian Americans have represented less than 1% of primetime television regular or leading roles - despite the fact that we are nearly 5% of the national population. Asian-American kids growing up in the 80s share a common tale of woe: in the playground, we were inevitably referred to as Mr. Miyagi or Long Duk Dong, because these archetypes of the sensai and the dorky buffoon were the sole reference many Americans had to define their perception of Asian people.
Fortunately, there are ways to combat these stereotypes. The image of a misogynistic African-American pimp or gangster can be challenged by depictions of loving African-American fathers in rom-coms. Portrayals of "mathletic" Asian-American geeks are challenged when Asian-American athletes and anti-heroes also appear on-screen. When we show American pop culture consumers new ideas of who a person of color can be, we can discourage people from pigeon-holing characters - and people - based on race alone.
It may seem as if race bloggers are exceptionally preoccupied with blogging about pop culture. Indeed, whole sites are dedicated to debating the racial missteps associated with The Last Airbender, with a national boycott of the film underway in protest of the movie's colorstruck casting. But, before you dismiss these efforts as unimportant, remember that the racial narratives in movies like The Last Airbender don't just reflect contemporary racial attitudes - they also help define them. In short, challenging these pop culture icons is a key part of understanding - and changing - attitudes towards race in today's America.
That doesn't mean that we race bloggers don't enjoy a good movie, even as they provoke our racial critiques. I loved Transformers 2, despite being offended by the shuckin'-and-jivin' Jar Jar Autobots. It's okay: you can love a movie and recognize its racial implications all at the same time. All we race bloggers ask is that when you go to see Twilight with a bunch of squealing "Team Edward" tweens tonight, don't overlook the racial tropes you're consuming at the same time.
Change.org
In my experience, sardonic or critical posts focusing on the latest pop culture icons fare far better among readers than dry, data-heavy sociological analyses (which take about 23 times as long to prepare). Pop culture diatribes tend to be easy to write, widely read and more likely to go viral. For bloggers who live and die by pageviews and ad-clicks, this is our bread and butter.
Unfortunately, pop culture posts also tend to be polarizing and incite the most heated debates. First, you attract the fanboys and fangirls who can't stand to see the latest installation of their beloved Twilight saga criticized for how it perpetuates Hollywood's same old racial tropes. They will link your post to Twilight forums so that they can get hordes of fellow fans to mob you and tell you how much you just don't understand how difficult life is for Bella and her sparkly undead beau (as if you will only be convinced when a thousand people tell you the same thing). These comments tend to be entertaining, but ultimately they wreak havoc on your bandwidth.
Often, you'll also attract the first-time readers who stumbled upon your site because they googled the movie (or television show, or actor) in question and found an unexpected critical analysis of identity politics (rather than a post consisting entirely of l33tspeak, summarized as "i <3 jake gyllenhaal omg hes so sexy in prince of persia rotflmao!!!1!!!!1!!!!1!!"). Many such readers will proceed to write lengthy comments telling you in excruciating detail how they wasted the last 10 minutes reading your post. The gist of these comments is always the same: pop culture is only entertainment and isn't meant to be serious, so racial issues in these media don't matter. It's only a movie (or television show, or video game, or comic book)! Lighten up!
It's this flavor of comments that really get my goat - not because they are particularly insulting (although they can be), but because they reveal a fundamental lack of understanding about the significance of pop culture.
Popular culture (or "pop culture") is not something created in a vacuum. Nor do the stories it presents emerge out of thin air. Whether we're talking about musicians or movies, pop culture ultimately reflects the values of its time. Take, for example, The Birth of a Nation, which was released in 1915 and quickly became the highest-grossing movie of the silent film era. In Birth of a Nation, black men are depicted as violent and hypersexualized aggressors who victimize white women. White Klansmen are painted as heroes who rescue white women from such predators. The popularity of this film reflects the popularity of such sentiments about race and politics of the time. Similarly, Cold War-era movies reflect existing fears of Russia, communism and nuclear war. Films made during the Gulf War and 9/11 similarly reflect popular distrust of a corrupt, war-mongering, "Big Brother" government and growing fears of Islamic terrorism.
By the same logic, examining today's pop culture - particularly when it comes to race - can offer a sense of which ideas are striking a chord within Americans at any given moment. For example, the repeated comparison of Chinese and American culture in recent pop culture (as seen in Joss Whedon's Firefly, and this year in The Last Airbender, Karate Kid and Red Dawn) speaks to a growing respect (and fear) of China as a burgeoning world superpower.
But that's only half the reason why pop culture matters.
Pop culture doesn't just reflect popular trends and ideas, it also helps create them. For example, the average person who grew up in the 80s with limited exposure to Asian-Americans might develop a stereotypical view of Asians being as meek and exotic - a view influenced by films like Karate Kid, in which Mr. Miyagi fuels the stereotype that paints Asians as exotic martial artists. Over time, not only do such pop culture phenomenons help create stereotypes, they're recycled and later reinforced in future pop incarnations.
It's an especially damaging trend because people of color are so underrepresented in pop culture. In fact, over the last several years, Asian Americans have represented less than 1% of primetime television regular or leading roles - despite the fact that we are nearly 5% of the national population. Asian-American kids growing up in the 80s share a common tale of woe: in the playground, we were inevitably referred to as Mr. Miyagi or Long Duk Dong, because these archetypes of the sensai and the dorky buffoon were the sole reference many Americans had to define their perception of Asian people.
Fortunately, there are ways to combat these stereotypes. The image of a misogynistic African-American pimp or gangster can be challenged by depictions of loving African-American fathers in rom-coms. Portrayals of "mathletic" Asian-American geeks are challenged when Asian-American athletes and anti-heroes also appear on-screen. When we show American pop culture consumers new ideas of who a person of color can be, we can discourage people from pigeon-holing characters - and people - based on race alone.
It may seem as if race bloggers are exceptionally preoccupied with blogging about pop culture. Indeed, whole sites are dedicated to debating the racial missteps associated with The Last Airbender, with a national boycott of the film underway in protest of the movie's colorstruck casting. But, before you dismiss these efforts as unimportant, remember that the racial narratives in movies like The Last Airbender don't just reflect contemporary racial attitudes - they also help define them. In short, challenging these pop culture icons is a key part of understanding - and changing - attitudes towards race in today's America.
That doesn't mean that we race bloggers don't enjoy a good movie, even as they provoke our racial critiques. I loved Transformers 2, despite being offended by the shuckin'-and-jivin' Jar Jar Autobots. It's okay: you can love a movie and recognize its racial implications all at the same time. All we race bloggers ask is that when you go to see Twilight with a bunch of squealing "Team Edward" tweens tonight, don't overlook the racial tropes you're consuming at the same time.
Change.org