By Sarah Corridon
For the last two weeks there’s been one song playing in our ramshackle share house more than any other. That song is Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines and it’s successfully planted a recurring beat in all of our pliable minds. I hadn’t, until recently, paid much attention to the song’s lyrics, until I considered the song’s title. One viewing of Thicke’s video clip should make any well-adjusted person furiously mad.
Let’s get one thing clear, the lines are not blurred, this is sexism in its truest form. Thicke claims the angel of the song is ironic, designed to challenge the gender conventions we have in place and remove the barriers that divide men and women. With lyrics like “I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two,” I’m struggling to see how this is so.
As a child I wasn’t allowed Barbies or Bratz dolls in the house. My brother and I had to get up at 4am to watch Rage with the volume practically muted even when we had friends over. My Mum wasn’t some bra-flapping feminist, just a rational adult who could see the potential harm in watching near nude women dancing around men for hours on end.
Naturally I learnt all the lyrics to Eminem’s Stan in my own time and pierced my own ears. But upon reflection my mother taught me a great life lesson. The female body is not a commodity and should be marketed or sold in any form, including sexualisation in entertainment.
Objectifying the female form is no new phenomenon, its been happening for all of time. However it seems today we have officially crossed over to a place where this objectification is NORMAL. We are completely conditioned to the daily onslaught of women being sexualized in the media and it seems to be getting worse and worse.
My mum put up one hell of a fight to dismantle our impressions of gender positions as kids. I can only imagine how difficult that task will be for me and my imaginary future children.