I know we talked about more important issues this week (interpreting the media in a contextual way, not just textually; equal opportunity in media not up to par with FCC recommendations), and we gave a lot more time to those issues because they were important. To be completely honest, trolling is a tangential subject that, while having to do with race and gender in the media, is barely worth a blog post here.
Barely. I have encountered a lot of trolling in my Internet-surfing days, and I've had a few personal run-ins with a troll in a Facebook group, so I'm not without experience on the subject of trolling. And, as it deals with the easiest form of participation in Internet-based media, the issue has a lot of implications beyond YouTube (online newspaper articles, community editing, etc.).
As a framework for this post, we go to YouTube (where else?) for a summary of all types of trolling. Following is a guide to help surfers identify trolls when they see them.
1) The attention whore ("First!", "Nobody can hear me! Nobody can hear my comments!") Draws attention to himself/herself by either bragging about something inconsequential or venting frustrations way too loudly. Often done with excessive use of exclamation points! or CAPS LOCK, a feature found in many trolls. Annoying, but relatively harmless, almost to the point of not being a troll. No implications.
2) The trash compactor ("Dick." "Asshole." "Douchbag.") Also known as The ad hominem fountain, flings insults succinctly and without regard for the argument or the target's feelings. Often misses the target (due to excessive compacting), leading to a domino effect of, "No, I'm right! YOU're a douchebag!" Debilitating for arguments. Without a moderator, a responsible fellow commenter, or a site admin who can delete the comment immediately, the thread devolves into a 80:20 Crap-Substance Ratio. (Caution: Use of the third option may lead to side two of The attention whore.)
3) The rain on your parade ("Photoshopped." "Simpsons did it.") Sole purpose is to diss the work being commented. Though some argue reasonably and thus avoid the troll designation, most simply try to make themselves look good by making your work seem inadequate. This strategy backfires, but it nonetheless derails conversation as you or others focus on re-establishing credibility seemingly lost.
4) The General Distractor ("I think we should discuss the new software platform." "I think we should discuss YOUR TITS!") A catch-all for those bent on either inserting sex into a conversation or airing bigotry. Such a troll attracts two kinds of responses: ones that fight fire with fire and end up burning the conversation to a crisp with "Go back to your outhouse" replies to "Make me a sammich, woman;" and ones that try to bring the conversation back with, "I think the real point here is..." and other cute attempts at civility.
5) The n00b ("What does 'pwn' mean?") Often met with scorn from other commenters (see The trash compactor and The General Distractor), who throw out "poser" and related terms. Legitimately doesn't show a lot of knowledge about the subject, and often tries to pretend to know a lot about the subject. Distraction potential can range from a simple "n00b" from someone else (end there) to corrections of egregiously wrong facts (variable duration, depending on how many commenters feel indignant or offended at the n00bness of the n00b). If a culture has developed around the thread or subject, a n00b can be perceived to ruin the delicate balance of a well-functioning Internet group that was getting along just fine before you screwed everything up, thank you very much.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
“Why are we bringing that into this space?” ... ... ... ... ... Why not?
As a white male, I don’t have to confront very many (if any) barriers to societal entry because of who I am. (Even my Catholic upbringing has been met with complete tolerance from Protestants and the random “And also with you” from fellow Catholics.) Short of whatever handicaps came with being a bit of a nerd in elementary and high school, I had to confront nothing on the level that Leah had to face.
When I look back at my childhood and adolescence, though, I realize that I haven’t seen much of what Leah describes in the people I know. It never appeared to me that my mom’s best friend had to face any difficulties as a black woman, and all the minority women I knew in high school didn’t encounter anything like Leah’s “cross-hatch” when I knew them. To be fair, I only significantly interacted with them within school, so if they met anything like that outside I never knew about it. (I found out about some things my male minority friends had to face, but that’s because I knew them outside of school.)
It might have just been that the conversation was never thought of as belonging in that space. Maybe we were too young to discuss it; maybe the Catholic part of “Catholic high school” pushed it to the side; maybe the environment was good enough that it didn’t need to be brought up, at least in discussions I could hear.
I doubt that, though. And after half a semester of this class, I wish those conversations had happened in the space I grew up in, both in high school and at home. Not as a result of the racial-sexual two strikes, but as part of something to deal with in real life. I'm glad I'm getting it now; I just wish I could have started earlier.
When I look back at my childhood and adolescence, though, I realize that I haven’t seen much of what Leah describes in the people I know. It never appeared to me that my mom’s best friend had to face any difficulties as a black woman, and all the minority women I knew in high school didn’t encounter anything like Leah’s “cross-hatch” when I knew them. To be fair, I only significantly interacted with them within school, so if they met anything like that outside I never knew about it. (I found out about some things my male minority friends had to face, but that’s because I knew them outside of school.)
It might have just been that the conversation was never thought of as belonging in that space. Maybe we were too young to discuss it; maybe the Catholic part of “Catholic high school” pushed it to the side; maybe the environment was good enough that it didn’t need to be brought up, at least in discussions I could hear.
I doubt that, though. And after half a semester of this class, I wish those conversations had happened in the space I grew up in, both in high school and at home. Not as a result of the racial-sexual two strikes, but as part of something to deal with in real life. I'm glad I'm getting it now; I just wish I could have started earlier.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Women will rule. In public relations, at least.
It’s too early to tell, but it seems women will both lead and dominate the public relations industry. In a decade or two.
From what I read in the Aldoory and Toth study (Journal of Public Relations Research 14:2, 103), the 70% of jobs that women hold currently has to get at least one woman through the highest glass ceiling. The human capital school of thought, while not working at the moment, will provide correct predictions when women receive equal opportunities to develop their portfolios as men. With how many women there are right now, and given that they will be able to give women below them every available opportunity to develop, it should be possible.
This seems to have happened already at Hirons & Co. Women hold almost every job, including most of the highest spots in both their Indianapolis and Bloomington offices. In time (if it hasn’t happened already) they will be able to guarantee those development opportunities and acquire as much human capital as men have.
One question is why the public relations industry has had a lot of success with it. This plays more into the sex segregation perspective mentioned soon after the human capital view. According to Aldoory and Toth’s reckoning of the theory, “employers (men) permit women to enter fields that are no longer of interest to me or because women are assumed to have specific characteristics (stereotypes) that make them better at the tasks” (107). The relevant “stereotype” in this case would be women’s better social skills compared to men.
If this system were built on an ill-founded stereotype, the system in the public relations industry would eventually fall into itself in the lie. From what I’ve seen, however, that isn’t the case. I can’t say all women are like this (or that no men are like this), but I’ve found the majority of women in my life to be very diplomatic and communicative. There are exceptions on both sides, as there always will be; and this pattern found in public relations should be able to spread to other professions, as it likely has. As “[w]omen appear to move into different occupations at differing rates, rather than into all occupations generally” (107), public relations may have been a good profession to move to.
From what I read in the Aldoory and Toth study (Journal of Public Relations Research 14:2, 103), the 70% of jobs that women hold currently has to get at least one woman through the highest glass ceiling. The human capital school of thought, while not working at the moment, will provide correct predictions when women receive equal opportunities to develop their portfolios as men. With how many women there are right now, and given that they will be able to give women below them every available opportunity to develop, it should be possible.
This seems to have happened already at Hirons & Co. Women hold almost every job, including most of the highest spots in both their Indianapolis and Bloomington offices. In time (if it hasn’t happened already) they will be able to guarantee those development opportunities and acquire as much human capital as men have.
One question is why the public relations industry has had a lot of success with it. This plays more into the sex segregation perspective mentioned soon after the human capital view. According to Aldoory and Toth’s reckoning of the theory, “employers (men) permit women to enter fields that are no longer of interest to me or because women are assumed to have specific characteristics (stereotypes) that make them better at the tasks” (107). The relevant “stereotype” in this case would be women’s better social skills compared to men.
If this system were built on an ill-founded stereotype, the system in the public relations industry would eventually fall into itself in the lie. From what I’ve seen, however, that isn’t the case. I can’t say all women are like this (or that no men are like this), but I’ve found the majority of women in my life to be very diplomatic and communicative. There are exceptions on both sides, as there always will be; and this pattern found in public relations should be able to spread to other professions, as it likely has. As “[w]omen appear to move into different occupations at differing rates, rather than into all occupations generally” (107), public relations may have been a good profession to move to.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Ron Artest turned out okay.
I was a huge fan of the Indiana Pacers when I was younger. I wasn't as big of a fan as my brother, but I still shared in the obsession, wearing a Reggie Miller jersey a lot and calling into the Indianapolis-Marion County Public Library to get the latest Pacer phone biography. (My brother and I would put that on speakerphone and listen to that over a lunch of baloney and cheese. Yes, we were that cool.) When the Pacers beat the Chicago Bulls in Michael Jordan's first return, I celebrated; when they made the NBA Finals in 2000, I bought a "mistake" shirt that claimed they won the Finals; and when Reggie retired, I cried. (And I still get a little teary every time I watch that video. I do the same at the end of Apollo 13.)
Then came The Brawl. The Malice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, coupled with Reggie's retirement at the end of the offending season, is firmly marked in my mind as the turning point in my Pacers fandom. After years of following the team's every move (I still recall the random statistic and keep a framed Reggie card), I simply stopped watching. I didn't want to follow a team that, to me, was going downhill. Besides, in my 16-year-old mind, I had more important and less morally ambiguous things to do, like watch the Indianapolis Colts.
And although Stephen Jackson played a large role in the brawl as well, I reserved my highest disdain for its second protagonist, Ron Artest. As he moved from the Pacers to the Sacramento Kings, Houston Rockets, and Los Angeles Lakers, I blamed him for ruining my fandom. Combined with his constant self-promotion, I wrote him off as someone unforgivable.
Artest drifted out of my consciousness for a while, until he won an NBA championship with the Lakers. His post-game interview, where he thanked his psychiatrist among others, brought him back into my good graces. He was frank about himself, he didn't gloat (like he had been known to do), and he seemed like a better person than he did in 2004. I'm not immaturely mad at him anymore.
This whole process had nothing to do with race. I'm not gonna make the Stephen Colbert claim that I'm completely color-blind, and subconscious judging may have pushed me toward blanket condemnation of Artest, but I never saw race as a compelling variable as this happened. I like to think that I would have thought the same thing if, say, Rik Smits had punched a fan. (And look at my adulation of Reggie.)
I guess that's the point I'm trying to make here. Artest may have influenced the black stereotype in the NBA for a lot of people, but not for me.
Then came The Brawl. The Malice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, coupled with Reggie's retirement at the end of the offending season, is firmly marked in my mind as the turning point in my Pacers fandom. After years of following the team's every move (I still recall the random statistic and keep a framed Reggie card), I simply stopped watching. I didn't want to follow a team that, to me, was going downhill. Besides, in my 16-year-old mind, I had more important and less morally ambiguous things to do, like watch the Indianapolis Colts.
And although Stephen Jackson played a large role in the brawl as well, I reserved my highest disdain for its second protagonist, Ron Artest. As he moved from the Pacers to the Sacramento Kings, Houston Rockets, and Los Angeles Lakers, I blamed him for ruining my fandom. Combined with his constant self-promotion, I wrote him off as someone unforgivable.
Artest drifted out of my consciousness for a while, until he won an NBA championship with the Lakers. His post-game interview, where he thanked his psychiatrist among others, brought him back into my good graces. He was frank about himself, he didn't gloat (like he had been known to do), and he seemed like a better person than he did in 2004. I'm not immaturely mad at him anymore.
This whole process had nothing to do with race. I'm not gonna make the Stephen Colbert claim that I'm completely color-blind, and subconscious judging may have pushed me toward blanket condemnation of Artest, but I never saw race as a compelling variable as this happened. I like to think that I would have thought the same thing if, say, Rik Smits had punched a fan. (And look at my adulation of Reggie.)
I guess that's the point I'm trying to make here. Artest may have influenced the black stereotype in the NBA for a lot of people, but not for me.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Antonio Banderas is not from Mexico. (And Shakira isn't from Spain.)
When one of Wednesday's groups began with a quiz on Latino actors and comedians, I thought to myself, "Haha! I'm gonna get more right than other people! Penelope Cruz is SO gonna trip them up!"
See, I had studied in Madrid last spring, absorbing everything I could about the culture. The biggest people-oriented thing I noticed was how many Spaniards had made it into American popular culture. Not only are there big sports stars (Rafael Nadal, Pau Gasol, Alberto Contador, the World Cup champion soccer team), but actors such as Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz, and Emilio Estevez. (And Spaniards love it.)
When I thought about it over there, I realized popular Spaniards in America have it both good and bad. The good is that they look European. They blend in well enough skin-wise to not raise many eyebrows or attract many lawncare-worker stereotypes (although the possibility is well known there). Some assimilate into the culture so well (I'm looking at you, Martin Sheen) that they don't seem any different at all and are not given any flak because of it.
The bad is that they still have a stereotype. Spaniards, when called out as Spaniards, are usually associated with the same fiery passion and lazy work ethic that Latinos often garner. Coupled with a penchant for bullfighting and the deep traditions that still permeate the country, Spaniards often get a too-romantic and insufficiently modern reputation. (The high-quality work that Almodóvar and Spanish doctors do counteract that, to an extent.)
The lumping-together of Spanish and Hispanic often results in some confusion as to where Spaniard Americans come from. Hence, I was proud to know where all the people listed above originated, and I was confident about the quiz at the start of the presentation.
Apparently, I overgeneralized. Shakira is from Colombia, for example. It's not Mexico (the default choice for many), but it's also not Spain (my default choice, judging by... how white she is). Thus, I cannot ever claim to be above Latino pre-judging, even if my variety goes in the opposite direction.
Main lesson: Everyone assumes. It doesn't matter whether you think that Penelope Cruz is Hispanic or Shakira is Iberian; they're both incorrect assumptions. I'll try to work on that.
See, I had studied in Madrid last spring, absorbing everything I could about the culture. The biggest people-oriented thing I noticed was how many Spaniards had made it into American popular culture. Not only are there big sports stars (Rafael Nadal, Pau Gasol, Alberto Contador, the World Cup champion soccer team), but actors such as Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz, and Emilio Estevez. (And Spaniards love it.)
When I thought about it over there, I realized popular Spaniards in America have it both good and bad. The good is that they look European. They blend in well enough skin-wise to not raise many eyebrows or attract many lawncare-worker stereotypes (although the possibility is well known there). Some assimilate into the culture so well (I'm looking at you, Martin Sheen) that they don't seem any different at all and are not given any flak because of it.
The bad is that they still have a stereotype. Spaniards, when called out as Spaniards, are usually associated with the same fiery passion and lazy work ethic that Latinos often garner. Coupled with a penchant for bullfighting and the deep traditions that still permeate the country, Spaniards often get a too-romantic and insufficiently modern reputation. (The high-quality work that Almodóvar and Spanish doctors do counteract that, to an extent.)
The lumping-together of Spanish and Hispanic often results in some confusion as to where Spaniard Americans come from. Hence, I was proud to know where all the people listed above originated, and I was confident about the quiz at the start of the presentation.
Apparently, I overgeneralized. Shakira is from Colombia, for example. It's not Mexico (the default choice for many), but it's also not Spain (my default choice, judging by... how white she is). Thus, I cannot ever claim to be above Latino pre-judging, even if my variety goes in the opposite direction.
Main lesson: Everyone assumes. It doesn't matter whether you think that Penelope Cruz is Hispanic or Shakira is Iberian; they're both incorrect assumptions. I'll try to work on that.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
"In Living Color" was really funny. Please laugh. Sheepishly.
I never know what to do when we're shown a funny clip in class.
Because senses of humor vary from person to person, laughter can turn into an intensely private matter. I wouldn't laugh at Whose Line Is It Anyway? while watching by myself the same way I would if I watched it with others. (Largely because I fall from the couch to the floor and get an ab workout in the process. At least, I did when the shows were new and not reruns on YouTube.) I would feel slight peer pressure if I showed a solitary reaction around others because I wouldn't know if they thought it was as funny.
The "as funny" factor plays a larger role in a course on race, gender and the media than it generally does on an improv show. The show's subjects can surely be racy, but in a course like this one you're guaranteed to see something that is meant to get laughs but shouldn't be funny. The clip's goal is usually to shock the viewer into laughter by playing to stereotypes, so an ill-fitting laugh is not only frowned upon, but often glared upon.
But a laugh will happen, no matter how hard the student tries to keep it in. And when the laugh enters the rarefied air of the classroom, it will find a partner in crime. At the least, the first one out will give the others the courage to announce their presence and will, if in large enough numbers, make everything more comfortable.
The "In Living Color" clip was the best chance to find that comfort. Yes, some "funny" clips shown in class deserve silent watching, but a guilty-feeling laughter was called for here. It's certainly appropriate with comedians like Jamie Foxx and Jim Carrey leading the skit, basically begging for a well-placed guffaw session from the audience.
Such a clip, both hilarious and outrageous (in a racial AND gender sense), brings everything to the table. Once a student finds that others think the clip is (inappropriately) funny, the discussion can turn to why it's perceived as funny and why people feel guilty laughing about it. This can lead to why we feel guilty, should we feel guilty, should we have laughed in the first place, etc. All of this accomplishes more than would silence, largely because it starts with a frank and honest, "Ha!"
(P.S.: I laughed sheepishly during the clip. ...Okay, it was more of a snicker, because I didn't want it to be too loud. To be completely honest, I laughed more often when I heard others laughing, especially women and black students. They made it for me; right or wrong, I felt that if they thought it was funny, my laughter was acceptable.)
Because senses of humor vary from person to person, laughter can turn into an intensely private matter. I wouldn't laugh at Whose Line Is It Anyway? while watching by myself the same way I would if I watched it with others. (Largely because I fall from the couch to the floor and get an ab workout in the process. At least, I did when the shows were new and not reruns on YouTube.) I would feel slight peer pressure if I showed a solitary reaction around others because I wouldn't know if they thought it was as funny.
The "as funny" factor plays a larger role in a course on race, gender and the media than it generally does on an improv show. The show's subjects can surely be racy, but in a course like this one you're guaranteed to see something that is meant to get laughs but shouldn't be funny. The clip's goal is usually to shock the viewer into laughter by playing to stereotypes, so an ill-fitting laugh is not only frowned upon, but often glared upon.
But a laugh will happen, no matter how hard the student tries to keep it in. And when the laugh enters the rarefied air of the classroom, it will find a partner in crime. At the least, the first one out will give the others the courage to announce their presence and will, if in large enough numbers, make everything more comfortable.
The "In Living Color" clip was the best chance to find that comfort. Yes, some "funny" clips shown in class deserve silent watching, but a guilty-feeling laughter was called for here. It's certainly appropriate with comedians like Jamie Foxx and Jim Carrey leading the skit, basically begging for a well-placed guffaw session from the audience.
Such a clip, both hilarious and outrageous (in a racial AND gender sense), brings everything to the table. Once a student finds that others think the clip is (inappropriately) funny, the discussion can turn to why it's perceived as funny and why people feel guilty laughing about it. This can lead to why we feel guilty, should we feel guilty, should we have laughed in the first place, etc. All of this accomplishes more than would silence, largely because it starts with a frank and honest, "Ha!"
(P.S.: I laughed sheepishly during the clip. ...Okay, it was more of a snicker, because I didn't want it to be too loud. To be completely honest, I laughed more often when I heard others laughing, especially women and black students. They made it for me; right or wrong, I felt that if they thought it was funny, my laughter was acceptable.)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Men aren't always hierarchical. Women aren't always democratic.
I about blew a gasket in class Wednesday. And the female IDS staffer sitting next to me might have supported me.
The discussion before Bob Zaltsberg concerned the stereotypes associated with newsroom leadership by gender. I could understand some of them, especially as they related to perceived distance between management and the rest of the staff; but others I thought were slightly uncalled for.
I’m cool with the conclusion, derived from the study of the Sarasota Herald Tribune that male-dominated and female-dominated newsrooms are run differently. Although I have a bone to pick with the contention that it could be a bad thing that males are associated with simple reporting of the facts (it sounds, at least on some level, to be a sensibly scientific approach to things), I can’t argue against the main premise from my own experience with IDS editors-in-chief.
I have more experience with female EiC’s than with male ones, but I’ve been able to tell differences between Michael Sanserino’s style in spring 2009 and Sarah Brubeck’s style this fall. Sanserino acted a bit more above the newsroom and seemed a little more cool and aloof; Brubeck, on the other hand, gets hands-on with every desk to make sure things are running smoothly and is not afraid of being close or showing she cares.
Though these differences exist, they can’t be applied as a rule like they seemed to be in class. Although I have those above-mentioned experiential differences, I also have personal evidence to the contrary, that the stereotypes can be switched. Natalie Avon, the fall 2009 EiC, mixed “typical” female caring with a healthy aloofness that might be construed as male in the present scheme. The IDS colleague I sat with in class could easily identify women journalists (at least on the sports side) who act with “typical” male ferocity. The current IDS photo desk, with Courtney Deckard and I at the helm, trade off between hierarchical assigning of photos and open-season democracy on who takes pictures of what.
The point I’m trying to make here is that Wednesday (before Bob came in; he seemed to make a lot of sense) was maddening. The fierce negatives fell mainly on the male side when they could apply to the female side in many cases; and the caring positives fell mainly on the female side when they could just as easily be found in males. I've seen those examples in everyone I know, male or female, including in positions of power. The stereotypes can be used as guidelines, but please, simmer down on the blanket generalizations.
The discussion before Bob Zaltsberg concerned the stereotypes associated with newsroom leadership by gender. I could understand some of them, especially as they related to perceived distance between management and the rest of the staff; but others I thought were slightly uncalled for.
I’m cool with the conclusion, derived from the study of the Sarasota Herald Tribune that male-dominated and female-dominated newsrooms are run differently. Although I have a bone to pick with the contention that it could be a bad thing that males are associated with simple reporting of the facts (it sounds, at least on some level, to be a sensibly scientific approach to things), I can’t argue against the main premise from my own experience with IDS editors-in-chief.
I have more experience with female EiC’s than with male ones, but I’ve been able to tell differences between Michael Sanserino’s style in spring 2009 and Sarah Brubeck’s style this fall. Sanserino acted a bit more above the newsroom and seemed a little more cool and aloof; Brubeck, on the other hand, gets hands-on with every desk to make sure things are running smoothly and is not afraid of being close or showing she cares.
Though these differences exist, they can’t be applied as a rule like they seemed to be in class. Although I have those above-mentioned experiential differences, I also have personal evidence to the contrary, that the stereotypes can be switched. Natalie Avon, the fall 2009 EiC, mixed “typical” female caring with a healthy aloofness that might be construed as male in the present scheme. The IDS colleague I sat with in class could easily identify women journalists (at least on the sports side) who act with “typical” male ferocity. The current IDS photo desk, with Courtney Deckard and I at the helm, trade off between hierarchical assigning of photos and open-season democracy on who takes pictures of what.
The point I’m trying to make here is that Wednesday (before Bob came in; he seemed to make a lot of sense) was maddening. The fierce negatives fell mainly on the male side when they could apply to the female side in many cases; and the caring positives fell mainly on the female side when they could just as easily be found in males. I've seen those examples in everyone I know, male or female, including in positions of power. The stereotypes can be used as guidelines, but please, simmer down on the blanket generalizations.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
I feel sorry for "All in the Family."
I haven’t watched very much of All in the Family, but the episodes I have seen made me laugh a bit too much for how real-life its topics are. (Were?) And that fact troubles me the most: It’s really, really smart politically, but that’s not what I (and most TV watchers) look for when they flop onto the couch.
The History and Discovery channels notwithstanding, I watch TV for relaxation and entertainment, not to have my mind changed. This does not rule out watching shows like The West Wing and House that make a concerted effort to be smart; in fact, I always try to watch them and stay away from vapid programming like Keeping Up with the Kardashians. (Search engine optimization!) And when I watch those “smart” shows, I can examine an episode all I want, especially if I set out to watch that show specifically.
But that’s not the norm for me. My norm is sitting there and letting it wash over me. I’m sure that’s how a lot of people want to watch TV: unchallenged, eyes wide open and mind relatively shut.
In that sort of mindset, I might be Archie. (Especially when thinking of Mike’s response to Gloria’s plea to see things from Archie’s side: “That would be impossible, Gloria. We’d have to close our minds first.” Season 3, episode 45) I don’t often look to have my mind expanded or opened when I watch TV, so if I were shown something that challenged what I believed previously, I might either ignore it or interpret it to fit my worldview.
Such a thing happened in Vidmar and Rokeach’s study from 1974. It’s already mentioned in the book, but the gist is that people who watched the show didn’t see Archie as a bigot and often saw him as making better sense. The “lovable” part outshone the “bigot” part, and what part of his bigotry showed was often condoned. In the words of the researchers, “many persons did not see the program as a satire on bigotry,” and highly prejudiced people saw “him winning in the end.” In other words, “the program is more liking reinforcing prejudice and racism than combating it.”
Given that the show’s creators meant to challenge what was thought, this is quite unfortunate.
Hence, I feel sorry for All in the Family. It fell into the media’s inherent (dis)ability to reinforce already-held attitudes. Damn.
The History and Discovery channels notwithstanding, I watch TV for relaxation and entertainment, not to have my mind changed. This does not rule out watching shows like The West Wing and House that make a concerted effort to be smart; in fact, I always try to watch them and stay away from vapid programming like Keeping Up with the Kardashians. (Search engine optimization!) And when I watch those “smart” shows, I can examine an episode all I want, especially if I set out to watch that show specifically.
But that’s not the norm for me. My norm is sitting there and letting it wash over me. I’m sure that’s how a lot of people want to watch TV: unchallenged, eyes wide open and mind relatively shut.
In that sort of mindset, I might be Archie. (Especially when thinking of Mike’s response to Gloria’s plea to see things from Archie’s side: “That would be impossible, Gloria. We’d have to close our minds first.” Season 3, episode 45) I don’t often look to have my mind expanded or opened when I watch TV, so if I were shown something that challenged what I believed previously, I might either ignore it or interpret it to fit my worldview.
Such a thing happened in Vidmar and Rokeach’s study from 1974. It’s already mentioned in the book, but the gist is that people who watched the show didn’t see Archie as a bigot and often saw him as making better sense. The “lovable” part outshone the “bigot” part, and what part of his bigotry showed was often condoned. In the words of the researchers, “many persons did not see the program as a satire on bigotry,” and highly prejudiced people saw “him winning in the end.” In other words, “the program is more liking reinforcing prejudice and racism than combating it.”
Given that the show’s creators meant to challenge what was thought, this is quite unfortunate.
“The program you are about to see is All in the Family. It seeks to throw a humorous spotlight on our frailties, prejudices, and concerns. By making them a source of laughter we hope to show, in a mature fashion, just how absurd they are.” (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ContentWarnings)
Hence, I feel sorry for All in the Family. It fell into the media’s inherent (dis)ability to reinforce already-held attitudes. Damn.
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