I have recently been hearing an awful lot about a book called “Female Chauvinist Pigs; Women and the Rise of the Raunch Culture” by a woman named Ariel Levy.
Being neither a female, a chauvinist or a pig, I have yet to read it. However, I am informed by the cognoscenti that the book sees the increasingly public degradation and sexualisation of women as a girl-power rebellion against the fuzzy jumper, crew-cut brigade of the feminist old guard.
According to Levy, the modern woman, or girl as they refer to themselves between 14 and 45, embraces the freedom inherited from their dour matriarchs and blends it with a Page 3 engagement with their own sexuality. The results may be viewed on any metropolitan street between the hours of 9pm and 2am Friday – Sunday.
Now, I have been called, by a prominent member of the feminist academy, an ‘unreconstructed male patriarch’ (which, I think,means I have had no homosexual experiences to date and think that its a bit iffey for women to fight in wars) so my opinion may mean nothing here. But nevertheless, I don’t think that this is really the case.
I doubt modern Essex girl (can you still say that?) closely engages with socio-sexual politics. Rather, I think the so-called ‘raunch culture’ is emblematic of a wider social decline. And also its the men’s fault. Well, chav men and media berks anyway.
The prevalence of chavs as a market force in Britain means that they are the target of most mass marketing, but your chav-about-town has the mental dexterity (and facial expression) of a boiled kipper. If you want to get through to them, its best to keep it simple and, I apologise for being crude here, they understand sex (just about).
So everything is presented to them wrapped in, well, a woman. This is nothing new; women have been a great way of selling a product since the Almighty invented procreation.
Where the malaise sets in is the aforementioned ‘kipper face’ worn by all chavs. Young Gary will lurch down the road wearing a constant expression of offended surprise. Aware, on some level, that he is uneducated, unemployed and thoroughly unpleasant, he subconsciously views the world as one big joke he doesn’t get. He feels every bit as excluded as David “Third Nipple” Cameron says he does.
A beautiful, well-dressed, lady of poise and intelligence would appear so unattainable as to inspire rage in the chav. He’d more like to mug her out of spite than to buy her product.
The original success of the Spice Girls (who kick-started the rot) was because,to the average oaf, they did look like the ‘girl next door’. (By this I don’t mean friendly, wholesome and cute; I mean gobby, cheap, easy, oddly shaped and common as muck.) This is the template image that we see today, in everything from “reality” television to the tabloid press to more or less every advert on the TV. Women made-up, inflated and on display, women mentally absent and conversationally bereft. Women who universally aspire to be blond and “bubbly” – a word which seems to convey nothing other than being a cheery vacuum.
Gary is not threatened, indeed he feels positively superior and as a result women remain second class in his mind and his hard-earned (HAH!) shilling is harvested.
Women, and feminists in particular, have a lot to answer for in the death of the Lady, but the gross sexual exploitation of girls in the media is, I blush to say, the work of men.