Reality TV, Media Imagery, and Self-Perception in Modern Culture

Introduction: Reality Television and Cultural Standards

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder—or is it? Reality television has become the dominant genre of television programming capturing the attention of American viewers. When sixteen people are stranded on a deserted island for nearly forty days, or when individuals compete for romantic attention in elaborate scenarios, modern culture becomes captivated. How does a person survive with nothing but their wits? Yet Americans remain glued to their television sets, engrossed in the drama as though they were present themselves.

Consider the numerous shows that add a cruel twist to love, dating, and romance. How realistic is it to spend months in a European castle while being jetted across the globe in hopes of finding love with one's host? Joe Millionaire proved to be a fraud; The Bachelorette forces contestants to compete against monetary prizes; and blind dates unfold while ex-partners broadcast commentary through exclusive feeds. Even the Television Emmy Awards created a category specifically for reality television, legitimizing the genre as a significant cultural force.

One particularly unique reality show, promoted as "the ultimate fantasy meets the ultimate reality," showcases modeling apprentices competing across the country. Hosted by Tyra Banks, the show whittles down the field over eight or nine weeks to crown a single winner who has outlasted, out-strutted, and out-endured the competition to claim a modeling contract. This voyeuristic program is as far removed from reality as Pluto is from the sun, yet viewers flock to watch and find vicarious connection with those who achieve success beyond their wildest dreams.

Susan Bordo's Critique of Media Ideology

Susan Bordo's essay "Hunger as Ideology" directly addresses this phenomenon in popular culture. She argues that the image of women's bodies as presented in the media has fundamentally changed how women view themselves. When assaulted with images of thin, beautiful women, these images become the standard. When the media portrays women as perpetually needing self-improvement—as though they need "a few good home cooked meals"—women throughout the culture internalize this image as normal reality.

At the heart of this sociological issue lies our understanding of ourselves outside media influence. The analogy is apt: when a person is hungry, almost anything tastes good. But after a satisfying Thanksgiving meal, an extra piece of pie is easy to refuse. Similarly, reality television shows and media images of women have access to our cultural psyche when we are emotionally hungry—unsatisfied and insecure. The images portrayed on screen exploit this insecurity, selling us a vision of what life "should" be, then selling products and services that reinforce that vision.

Bordo insists that the negatively charged messages of modern media—which subtly convey artificial contemporary advertisements regarding women, beauty, and food—are largely to blame for how we feel about ourselves. She is angered by the exploitation of females, which tends to create eating disorders in vulnerable young women. Simultaneously, she notes, contradictory messages are delivered to men. They are expected to enjoy hearty meals while maintaining a physique that appears chiseled from stone. Bordo points out that women are depicted as nurturing servers of food while men are shown enjoying it, thus perpetuating the image that women serve while men dominate. Though Bordo observes that fitness standards increasingly apply to men, she remains most concerned with the psychological implications for women. The advertisements create pressure that leads women to experience diet-conscious and figure-conscious anxiety, along with associated guilt surrounding food and lifestyle choices.

The Question of Consumer Agency

However, Bordo does not address a critical question: why do we accept the lie? Modern men and women understand the difference between the real world and artificial media-induced projections. We know that while television can resolve social problems—from teen pregnancy to social prejudice—in a sixty-minute sitcom, real life operates with far greater complexity. By blaming media moguls, Bordo misses a crucial point: we control the media. We do not have to accept the images presented as "normal." We do not have to bow to the idol of success, image, and prosperity, or define ourselves according to terms offered from a Hollywood soundstage.

Must our social consciousness not rise up and declare: "This picture of reality being force-fed to me does not satisfy. It is not palatable, and I will not consume any more of it"? We control the remote. We decide which movies to support and which to reject based on our moral and social standards. If Bordo offered a positive approach to the problem, she would not merely curse the darkness but light a candle and set a new example.

For decades, Hollywood and East Coast media centers have created images of the average American designed to facilitate sales. During the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s, cigarette companies paid movie producers to place cigarettes in the hands of their stars. As movie stars smoked on screen, cigarette consumption increased nationwide. Today, smoking on screen has become taboo because society came to understand the harmful nature of cigarettes and the danger they present to health. The people who drive demand simply said no—we no longer believe the lie, and we choose a healthier lifestyle.

Historical Roots: From Victorian Beauty to Modern Media

Bordo's essay, while insightful, gives the American consumer an easy excuse for their own insecurities. It is simpler to accept someone else's opinion and shape one's life by the opinions of others than to determine one's own opinions about culture, self, and the importance of personal values. It is easier to reach for comfort food than to engage life and uncover the emotional needs that cannot be filled by food or others' opinions.

Bordo traces the roots of beauty ideology back to a time when men dominated the cultural mindset. She notes that a few decades ago, the American mindset accepted a wider variety of images of beauty. She states: "If we survey cultural attitudes toward women's appetites and body size, we find a great variety—a variety shaped by ethnic, national, historical, class, and other factors." However, she continues: "In the 1980s and 1990s an increasingly universal equation of slenderness with beauty and success has rendered the competing claims of cultural diversity even feebler."

Bordo traces the history of modern female beauty to the Victorian Era, when gender-specific identities were characterized by "the same practical prohibitions against female indulgence." Women wore hour-glass shaped dresses, and when their bodies did not conform naturally, corsets were employed to push, pull, and contort the female form into culturally acceptable shapes. The result was a popular image of beauty remarkably similar to today's ideal: thin, shapely in specific places, and presented as an object for male enjoyment at women's expense. This historical continuity suggests that beauty standards have long been culturally constructed rather than naturally determined.