Written by Andé Morgan.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last two weeks, you’ve probably seen Kim Kardashian’s butt.
Specifically, you’ve seen her PAPER Magazine cover shot. While this picture did not in fact break the Internet, it has prompted numerous think pieces, blog posts, and comment threads. Some have derided Kardashian for behavior that, in their ancient and wrong opinion, is unbecoming of a mother. Others have accused Kardashian of cultural appropriation. Still others have focused on photographer Jean-Paul Goude’s obvious (and admitted) fetishization of black women’s bodies as evidenced by a strikingly similar — and more overtly racist — series taken several years earlier.
Cultural appropriation — in this case the profitable co-opting by non-Black folks of features and styles typically associated with black women — is a thing, and it’s not new. Even before Kardashian’s cover, this year alone has seen appropriation called on Miley Cyrus’ VMA performance, Katy Perry’s big-butted mummies, Meghan Trainor’s “All About That Bass,” and J.Lo and Iggy Azeala’s “Booty.” Here are some quotes from pieces you should read:
Taylor P. wrote about cultural appropriation and fashion for XOVain:
“I understand the argument that they are only trying to admire and honor our culture. But here’s the reality: when the dominant culture picks up pieces of our world, we [black women] get fetishized or, even worse, erased in the process.”
Tressie McMillan Cottom wrote about Cyrus’s VMA performance for Slate:
“That is how black round female bodies become inferior. That is the inferiority Cyrus is ostensibly rooting against in ‘We Can’t Stop’ when she encourages ‘homegirls with big butts’ to reject the ‘haters’ because ‘somebody loves [them].’ Just who is that somebody is left unanswered, but I suspect it isn’t the white male audience for whom Cyrus performs her faux bisexual performance. That is choreographed for the white male gaze against a backdrop of dark, fat black female bodies and slightly more normative café au lait slim bodies because the juxtaposition of her sexuality with theirs is meant to highlight Cyrus’ supremacy, not challenge it. Consider it the racialized pop culture version of a bride insisting that all of her bridesmaids be hideously clothed on her wedding day.”
Nikki Gloudman wrote about Meghan Trainor’s “All About The Bass” at Ravishly:
“The problem with our pop cultural fixation on female body parts isn’t which body part is being focused on—it’s the fixation itself. These songs, which aim to celebrate the female form, still reduce women to the sum of their physical parts—and in doing so, propagate that damning social more of female competition…[the song] for its part, has already faced backlash from skinny girls who feel the tune disses them. Are they to feel inferior because they do wear a size two and don’t have the ‘boom boom that all the boys chase?'”
Blue Telusma, for The Grio, wrote about the connection between Kardashian and the exploitation of Sarah Baartman in the nineteenth century:
“All of a sudden, my correlation between these images and Saartjie’s treatment as a sideshow animal don’t seem so far-fetched, do they? The parallels are so literal and un-nuanced you’d have to willfully ignore what’s right in front of your face. This idea that ‘black equals erotic’ is fetishism in its purest form; it mocks ‘otherness’ while pretending to celebrate it and defines human beings by their genitals instead of seeing them as whole people.”
Joyce Wadler, writing for The New York Times style blog last week, took the opportunity to expel droll jokes that are only tongue-in-cheek in the most unfunny sense of the word. For example, Wadler writes:
“Then there’s the issue of copycats. I have no interest in having a behind like Kim’s — like I said, I live in a little New York apartment. But there may be impressionable women out there who right now are marching into the surgeon’s office and saying, ‘Gimme that’ — women with whom I am going to have to share a subway seat one day.”
Wadler is part of the same body-shaming fashion journalism industrial complex that spawned September’s “seminal” Vogue article, “The Dawn of the Butt” by Patricia Garcia. That piece effortlessly reduced millennia of cultural evolution to an Internet Age fad: “Perhaps we have Jennifer Lopez to thank (or blame?) for sparking the booty movement.”
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In Essence, Elizabeth Wellington writes:
“What’s difficult to digest is this ‘praise’ of all things black – from cornrows and large booties to acrylic nails, door-knocker earrings, and tribal fabrics – only becomes ‘chic,’ ‘trendy,’ and ‘epic’ when worn by white women. When these same cultural markers are on black women, they are ‘ghetto,’ ‘urban,’ and ‘ratchet’ – meaning, unpretty.”
As you’ve read above, there are important discussions occurring about appropriation and the questionable underpinnings of Kardashian’s PAPER Magazine cover. But what strikes me most is the more subtly racist backlash often delivered in the form of jokes by white comedians and commentators.
Wadler’s piece is relatively mild, and more exemplary of the lazy, mean-spirited humor often aimed at the Kardashian sisters. A better example of the subtle, casual racism inherent in these jocular responses comes from the Nov. 15 episode of the beloved NPR weekend quiz show, Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me! In it, host Peter Sagal makes several jokes alluding to the supposed grossness and abnormality of Kardashian’s body; in one he goes so far as to refer to her as a “greased pig.” (As an aside, Sagal also told a flat man-in-a-dress so-called joke about guest Ron Perlman. But transmisogyny on Wait Wait is another post…)
Such jokes describe women as less than, e.g., as non-human animals, inanimate objects, or anatomical abnormalities. Consequently, they dehumanize Kardashian and all women of color (and really, all women) with large buttocks. This is wrong, and the fact that Kim Kardashian lives in the public eye does not make it right.
Also on Bitch Flicks: Rosmary’s Baby: Who Possesses the Pregnant Woman’s Body? by Sarah Smyth
Andé Morgan lives in Tucson, Arizona, where they write about film, television, and current events. Follow them @andemorgan.
