Everybody's talking about Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. I finally watched the entire segment last night, and I was seriously under-outraged. She's in a skimpy outfit, she's dancing around freely (which I loved, actually), and then for a few seconds she grinds on Robin Thicke. Big deal. If she were (a) a backup dancer, (b) Lady Gaga, or (c) really anyone other than Miley, it would have passed with hardly a raised eyebrow.
This is the problem with women and pop culture. We so quickly put a value on them, a certain identity, and then sit there and fling feces at them (sorry, I've been watching a lot of Big Band Theory with Amy Farrah-Fowler's monkey tests). We encourage the display of sexuality, and then criticize if it's not done just so: in just the right measure, just the right level of class or lewdness, just the right age even (because God forbid you try to be sexual one day past your expiration date *coughMADONNAcough*). Maybe we're hardest on the Britneys and Mileys because we knew them as teenagers. Everyone thinks Miley is rebelling against her Hannah Montana years, but, jeez, that was years ago. She's past it in her own mind; it's only us who won't get over it.
Frankly, I like Miley the more I see of her. She's not afraid to chop off her hair, dance around like a banshee, have fun with fashion (I especially liked her initial costume in the segment, very Bjorkish). She's not a drug addict or alcoholic. And she's navigating her young adult years in the spotlight of a very judgmental culture. I hope she had a blast at the VMAs.
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