Things that I cannot change
A while back, my little cousin Kassy, whom I adore, turned 5. For her birthday she got a helium birthday balloon that had Miley Cyrus on it. As I walked out on to my parents' porch, I watched as she gazed, mesmerized by the likeness of a young girl with make-up, done-up hair, tight pants and a low-cut blouse. "You are so beautiful," she told the balloon. My stomach sank.
"Kassy," I said. "You are so much more beautiful than that girl." I looked at her mop of rat nested hair, rosy cheeks dappled with various flavors of birthday deliciousness, shirt frosted from her dusty adventures with horses and dogs all day and her big, vivacious eyes. I was mortified to think that she was taking cues on what was beautiful from a marketing guru in L.A. when beauty abounds in the women who surround her in real life... and when she looks in the mirror.
I also, in that moment, immediately regretted every time I have drooled over an air-brushed model, in a way, validating my young cousin's instincts to idealize superficiality. I've regretted such behavior before for similar reasons: My associations, desires and self-identity have been an impediment to my maturation once or twice in my past, as they are to many. For example, it is difficult dating in a society where women believe that Meredith Grey is a functional personality, and thus behave like her. I imagine the same is true for women looking to find someone with more depth and substance than McSteamy. Understanding that fiction is not a viable path to happiness can be tough, but can really only be learned one way: Recognizing the effects of our actions.
Responsibility is antithetical to celebrity America. As I write this, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan are pushing viable news stories off my RSS feed. I could blame my frustration on them. Or I could blame the media that covers it. Or I could wag my finger in the general direction of everyone who cares about such things.
But then, what irony would that be to blame others for the effects of a negative influence. I can't keep balloon makers from putting Miley Cyrus on a balloon, nor keep someone from buying it as a present. At times like that, when I am tempted to take my cousin's balloon and pop it out of some moral imperative, I am reminded of the serenity prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Beyond telling Kassy how beautiful she was, there was not much I could do in that situation. I let her have her moment with Miley, and pretty soon it was over. Moments later, Miley was left to drift in the breeze, tied to a lonely chair while Kassy went to play "big, bad wolf" in the beautiful dirt.
It is inevitable that Kassy will idealize celebrity women. I would be unwise to try and change that. My parents refused to let me play with toy guns when I was a kid, so I turned everything else into one. In reality, there is more benefit than harm in recognizing the beauty in people... even celebrities. I just hope that the reiteration that she gets about her beauty will keep that recognition at a healthy arm's length. My role in all of this, like so many things in life, isn't to control her thinking, but to control my own.
Luke Malek is a home-grown Kootenai County boy currently in a voluntary exile in pursuit of a law degree that he hopes will empower him to battle objectionable compliance with the status quo.