Increasingly, as the challenges affecting my life, my health, and my work have intersected, and the issues plaguing the world have become steadily more complicated, I’ve been slowly releasing my role as a container. Feeling tasked to hold my family and community, I have often felt as though my biggest value was to be a container for others, finding ways to hold others’ grief, joy, or rage, and providing wise counsel and reassurance. But as the brilliant
has taught me, even the most expansive containers are not infinite vessels. When not being tended to, there always comes a boiling over moment, where a container can no longer hold everything within it, and instead, must overflow and release.For much of this year, I have been recalibrating, and releasing versions of myself that no longer serve me, while attempting to engage in the work of social justice at a speed and pace that’s more accessible. Though I can’t currently play the frontline responder, disrupter, and caregiver roles I’ve played in the past (borrowing once again from Deepa Iyer’s Social Change Ecosystem Map), I’m shifting into new roles I didn’t know were possible (more on this coming soon!).
In this spirit of release and self-excavation, over the course of this year, celebrity news has become a guilty pleasure that I’ve indulged. For better or worse, in between headlines on Gaza and the House Speaker race, reading about The Golden Bachelor or Will & Jada has brought me much-needed mindless entertainment. So when news about Britney Spears’s new memoir, The Woman In Me, started coming out a few weeks ago, I engaged with the content from a similar place of delight.
I can’t wait for this tell-all book! I wonder what kind of tea she’ll spill. Did she really like those matching denim outfits?
But, as snippets from Britney’s memoir were published, I realized that we’re witnessing release from someone else who has been a container. This time, the container is Britney, someone who has had to hold the world’s contempt, judgment, and misogyny, alongside her own pain. Now, on the world stage, she is publicly reclaiming her power, agency, and personhood, even if she’s imperfect, or her circumstances are messy and complicated.
The “Bubblegum Misogyny” of Pop Culture
While American pop music isn’t my favorite genre, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t familiar with most of Britney Spears’s repertoire. Since she first burst onto the scene in the 90’s, I have karaoked to Baby One More Time, and avidly consumed gossip and media about her most turbulent years. In the mid- to late-aughts, as a pop culture consumer, I also participated in Justin Timberlake’s rise in fame, mainly by watching and sharing his SNL sketches. Even as he traded on both Britney’s and Janet Jackson’s media vilifications, I unconsciously bought into the narrative the media was spinning. The nuance and depth I bring to so much of my work somehow never made it to Britney. I was unguarded, and didn’t spend enough time questioning the gratuitous and misogynistic treatment of Britney and other celebrities by the media and paparazzi.
But over the past couple of years, collectively, we’ve begun to reevaluate certain major cultural moments. Constance Grady captures some of these re-examinations well in her 2021 Vox piece, The Bubblegum Misogyny of 2000’s Pop Culture. But there are lots of other examples. For instance, in 2016, when The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story came out, seeing a more nuanced portrayal of then-prosecutor Marcia Clark allowed us to see and understand how she was treated (we really did her dirty!). Similarly, 2022’s Pam and Tommy, offered a similar reevaluation of the overt sexism and misogyny Pamela Anderson has faced throughout her career. Ironically, despite the series being biographical, Pam and Tommy’s creators never actually received Pamela’s consent (let alone blessing) for the series.
My own re-evaluation of my complicity in both judging Britney and consuming warped media about her came in 2021, when the New York Times/FX/Hulu documentary, Framing Britney Spears, came out. It was devastating to hear what she had been through, and how the conservatorship she was placed under controlled every aspect of her life, including what she could eat, how much of her own money she could access, how many hours she worked, and when she could see her children. She didn’t even have a choice when her IUD was inserted.
The Woman In Me goes into more detail about everything Britney has been through. But even just reading the book’s snippets, I’ve been struck by two things:
How fame, money, and whiteness didn’t protect Britney;
How many of the ideas we have about celebrities are formed by media outlets that weaponize racism and misogyny for entertainment, without regard for truth.
The renewed headlines about Britney have caused me to think more about our culture’s obsession with celebrity. So often, the fame and fortune that comes with celebrity seems to justify when celebrities are mistreated. After all, they’re out of touch rich people who don’t have to work that hard, right? That was the case for me anyway. I really thought that while Britney had been treated unfairly, ultimately, her money and whiteness would protect her from harm, and the stardom she amassed over the years would continue to translate into power, privilege, and agency.
But as it turns out, celebrity (and even whiteness) didn’t protect Britney. For the years she was under the conservatorship (but arguably even before then), she was exploited. And the more I think about it, the more I realize the ways in which every day consumers (like me) are complicit in some of the worst moments of her life. We may not have written the headlines ourselves, but our consumption of headlines about her, and our perpetuation of misogynistic gossip about her (however limited our reach may have been), allowed damaging narratives about her to persist. These narratives reached Britney, negatively impacting her physical and mental health. But it was these very narratives that were also used in 2008 to justify her conservatorship. When the worst moments of your life are recorded, they can be distorted from the truth, and strung together in a narrative that’s used to portray you as unfit to take care of yourself. Rather than giving her the support, help, and tools she needed to heal and get well, instead, Britney lost her power and agency. She lost control over her body and her future. And we all watched it happen.
Extending Grace
Britney is no longer under a conservatorship, and has a level of freedom and agency she hasn’t had in years. But public support tends to be fickle. Just as easily as we’ve rallied to her side, there is also so much judgment still in the air. Some comments I’ve come across in articles I’ve seen about her memoir this week:
She seems so erratic.
The conservatorship must have been in place for a reason.
Look how she’s alienated herself from her kids.
So often, in my own life, I have been reticent to do something because I’m uncomfortable with being witnessed. Too often, I’ve been afraid of people publicly seeing me work things out before they’re perfect. But the truth is, doing something in the face of fear, even imperfectly, is an act of bravery. It’s practicing courage. But more than that, how will we ever get to where we want to go if we don’t start in the first place?
Publicly reclaiming power, agency, and personhood is challenging. But everyone is deserving of these fundamental aspects of life, even if they struggle with mental health issues, even if they’re imperfect, and even if they’re messy.
This time around, perhaps we could give Britney more grace. To that end, below are some questions I’ve been thinking about:
Rather than simply witnessing, how can we actively support someone who is reclaiming their power and agency?
As people heal from traumatic events, what kind of collective care do they need?
What agency do we have in disrupting and rejecting misogynistic, exploitative narratives, both about people we know and about celebrities?
Misogynoir is a crisis impacting Black women and femmes, including Black women athletes and performers. What role do we have in building more nuanced, representative stories about Black folks (particularly Black women and femmes)? How can we extend this into narrative and cultural change work for Black people and people of color more broadly, and for transgender and non-binary people?
Musings
Things I’m thinking about: When Hasan Minhaj’s “Emotional Truths” came out in the New Yorker last month, I didn’t know what to think about his alleged embellished stand-up stories. I can’t condone the use of fake instances of racism or Islamophobia to further someone’s career. But ultimately, I filed it under “Things I can’t currently think about.” Then, this afternoon, Hasan posted his response to the New Yorker piece. As it turns out, the article left a lot out, including corroborating evidence he had given them about the specific stand-up stories in question. It turns out, he didn’t lie about instances of racism or Islamophobia. He just, as so many performers do, dramatized the incidents’ timing. Other than wondering why, with everything happening in the world, the specials needed fact checking to begin with, why are people of color disproportionately portrayed as dishonest and incompetent by our media? Assuming there isn’t more to this story, this is shoddy reporting from the New Yorker.
Things I’m watching: I’m watching season 3 of Apple’s The Morning Show. And y’all, I really dislike it! They have so many resources at their disposal, and a huge star cast. They could have made a thoughtful show that interrogates the American media industry, the ways that power and privilege dictate who is respectable enough to write about the news or have a news show, and the ways that money dictates what stories are reported on. They could have also portrayed nuanced storylines about the intersections of race, class, gender, and sexuality in a media setting. Instead, it’s a milquetoast series that superficially nods to current issues without diving into them substantially. I like to finish things I start, even series I don’t particularly like. Not sure I can do that with this one though…
Things bringing me joy: In two weeks, I’ll be going on a retreat/vacation to Costa Rica, my first international trip since the pandemic began! It’s a big milestone for me in my health journey. I’m excited to see the Pacific Ocean and mountains, to go ziplining, and to trot out my rusty Spanish. Travel is such a joyful adventure—I’m so grateful I get to do this!
Collaborate with Me
As folks know, I’ve just launched my own consulting practice, and I’m accepting new clients! My consulting practice has three main areas of focus: coaching & capacity building, philanthropic advising, and narrative & cultural change. You can read more about my offerings here. Let’s work together! Contact me at info@bymenonconsulting.com for more information.
That’s all for today! Hope you enjoyed this foray into a topic I wouldn’t normally cover. Upcoming posts will include: Palestine & Self-Determination, My Role(s) Within The Social Change Ecosystem, and more on my Radical Sabbatical.
Thinking of folks in Maine today and sending strength. The on-going terror of mass shooting incidents is a plague that we shouldn’t have to live with. May we continue to rise up against gun violence.
Thanks for reading and wishing you all lots of peace and ease as we close out this week.
In gratitude and solidarity,
Meenakshi
I so appreciate your questions on how to support someone collectively when they are reclaiming their power and agency. So powerful! Our patriarchal world likes to pin us against each other, but it’s been shown time and time again that we NEED each other in order to grow and heal. 🙏🏼
This! “Publicly reclaiming power, agency, and personhood is challenging. But everyone is deserving of these fundamental aspects of life, even if they struggle with mental health issues, even if they’re imperfect, and even if they’re messy.” 🙌🏾
So good.
As for TV shows, have you tried Lessons in Chemistry? I really like it. I’m also indulging in this season of the bachelor after a several year personal hiatus. Finally, some people truly seeking partnership and not to become influencers. I’m finding it all surprisingly endearing.
I’m so excited you’re getting some R&R time! Costa Rica here you come. In-joy 🌊