Recently, I hosted a Twitter chat via TheGrio’s Twitter account that discussed the ongoing assault on the image of black women in the media, specifically through reality television such as the newly-spawned hit Married to Medicine.
I went into this inaugural conversation entitled “From Julia to NeNe: Has Reality TV Destroyed the Image of Black Women in the Media?” with an open mind regarding the types of responses that we would receive from participants in the chat.
Many participants shared that they felt shows like Real Housewives of Atlanta, Love and Hip Hop, and Basketball Wives reinforce harmful racial stereotypes and teach viewers to disrespect black women. Concern was expressed not only about how these shows are influencing adult viewers, but also how they are impacting the minds of those who are not the targeted audience of these shows, such as children.
Now, I hate to burst a reality TV enthusiast’s entertainment-fueled bubble of denial, but kids are watching these shows. As much as many parents will insist “not in my house,” there’s a good chance that your child has swallowed reality show toxins.
Case in point: At a recent Girl Scouts event, I had a fifth grader tell me that Bad Girls Club was her favorite television show. Not Doc McStuffins. Not SpongeBob SquarePants. BAD GIRLS CLUB.
One person tweeted that it’s the parent’s responsibility to oversee their child’s television consumption habits. In an ideal world, that would great. But in the real world, it’s highly improbable, as it presumes the awareness or even a concern by all parents for how the media is influencing their child.
It’s true that a girl’s best role model should be a mother, or another family member: someone present and accessible to talk to, rather than a carefully manufactured larger-than-life character on a TV screen. But we can’t deny that as hard as some parents might work to be constantly present for their children, life has a habit of getting in the way.
Few of us can claim that they’ve never had a moment of divided attention when their television became the de facto babysitter. Yet, when we hire an actual childcare provider, it’s common practice to ask for references and qualifications. But when we think about the biggest, most omnipresent influence on a young person’s life — the media — why is it okay to turn it on and walk away?
And what about the parent who doesn’t allow their child to watch Love & Hip Hop, but still watches it herself? For years doctors have said that second hand smoke was killing the people who lived with smokers.
Research has proven that a child who grows up with a parent who smokes is twice as likely to start smoking themselves. If our children hear us gleefully sharing the latest exploits of their favorite reality show brawler with our girlfriends, doesn’t that send a message that fighting is okay? After all, Mommy doesn’t see anything wrong with the fighting on Married to Medicine. This is how these “second hand” images infiltrate the mind of a child.
Perhaps it’s because we think of television as entertainment, not as an influential guide to living. As adults, we’re sure that we separate the media from our real life. Cognitively, we recognize a separation between the two. But when we see images repeated time and again, we can’t help but internalize a negative ideology.
Very few will challenge the fact that centuries of propaganda extolling the superiority of the white race has been extremely damaging to the self-perception and identity of black people.
To this day, many still hold the Western definition of beauty as the ideal. (Just look at the billions of dollars that black people spend to make their hair straight through weaves and perms.) This phenomenon is what the legendary adman Tom Burrell calls the “Black Inferiority Complex.” For, the only reason black people would think that lighter skin and straight hair is more desirable is because that’s what we’ve been programmed to believe our entire lives, not only verbally, but also visually.
Visual cues are inherently different than mental ones. When we watch an episode of Bad Girls Club, we might be reminding ourselves mentally that the women’s actions aren’t representative of our community. But a repeated diet of these images eventually has an effect on our subconscious. Whether people are willing to admit it or not, many of us have internalized the message that black women really are “Sapphires,” “Jezebels,” and “Crazy Black Reality Show Chicks” — without ever questioning how these ideas have entered our minds.
The problem with the constant onslaught of dysfunctional cast members on negative reality shows is that there are very few alternatives in the media, which feeds our already negative inner messages. If you’re a black woman on a reality show, you have to be a neck rolling, finger waving, weave wearing, table throwing self-proclaimed b***h. Healthy ambition and conflict resolution are completely absent from this form of an entertainment that seems inextricably tied to the way society as a whole views the black community. Think about it. Outside of Olivia Pope on ABC’s Scandal and the stereotypical cast members on the highest rated reality shows, who comes to mind when you think “black woman”?
When the only representation we have on television is unilaterally stereotypical, how does this affect society’s view of black women and — even more importantly — our perception of ourselves?
A few tweet chat participants shared that women like NeNe Leakes of Real Housewives of Atlanta fame consent to be taped and “at least they’re getting paid.” Let me make sure I get this right. Exploitation is ethical as long as the exploited are willing? If we follow this train of thought, homeless youth who sell their bodies are NOT being exploited because they “choose” to prostitute themselves out of economic necessity.
And even when a reality show star is content with her representation (which is a risky bet given that many have admitted to being unhappy with their portrayal in the final, selectively-edited versions) the larger problem is that the handful of dramatic and violent women on reality television has invariably lead to the characterization of all black women as dramatic and violent.
One of the central questions that emerged from the Tweet chat was the question of responsibility. Does the blame for the teeming downpour of “ratchet” reality shows on cable television fall on the shoulders of the television producers? The reality “stars”? Or even the audience?
Exactly whose responsibility is it to change the way black women are being represented in media?
While there was no consensus, one thing is crystal clear. Change will not happen until society begins to understand how certain types of reality shows are indeed harmful to our health, and viewers make a conscious decision to change their media consumption habits. This is why I believe that media literacy, or the ability to analyze and dissect media messaging, is the first step towards creating change in the way that black women are being portrayed on cable television.
I don’t know about you, but I think it’s high time that we to stop pointing a finger at each other for the existing reality TV programming fiasco. Instead of playing the blame game, why don’t we unite in a true movement of social change in which individuals accept personal responsibility for doing their part to take a stand against all damaging forms of media?
Sil Lai Abrams is a writer, inspirational speaker, anti-domestic violence activist, and author of ‘No More Drama.‘ She is also the founder of Truth in Reality, a grassroots organization committed to changing the way Black women and interpersonal violence are portrayed on reality television. Follow her on Twitter at @Sil_Lai.