Dear Brit (The Hypocrisy of Pop Culture Obsession)

Dear Britney,

I hope you're recuperating from last night's performance. It must be really tiring to open for the VMAs and deal with the recent BS that has occured in your life. I mean, obviously I know these have been trying times for you, so I can only imagine what getting on stage half naked must do for one's energy.

I was UBER excited for your performance. I didn't even know you were performing until all the homo boys at my weekend gig mentioned that your new song (which is WAY hot) was going to be the opening act. You've opened for VMAs before, so no biggie for you, right? But, it's been awhile and it showed. It's ok. Fuck all the haters. Like my boy LL says, "Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years."

I wish I knew you in the beginning. I mean like "hit me baby" beginning. This could all be different. I could have warned you about the haters, the fags, the drama, the media, the bullshit. Your parents did a piss-poor job of telling you about the facts of life and the ways of the world. People always want to see someone suffer and that person is you. I swear Jesus had less people throwing hate his way when he was carrying his own cross!

And you have quite the cross to bear: you're young, blonde and white. You sing pop music. You are part of a echelon of women who are simultaneously worshipped and vilified for who they are: Marilyn, Anna Nicole, Paris, Madge, Greta, Joan, Bette, Liza, Judy, etc. These women are one minute Hollywood Goddesses, and the next second street whores. The media either loves you or hates you based on things as stupid as what you wore to the store this morning.

*Sigh* I will be honest and tell you that you've made some poor decisions in your life. But, sweetie: I. don't. blame. YOU. I blame your mama, your managers, handlers, JIVE records, stylists, baby daddy, boyfriends and most importantly: THE PATRIARCHY. No one told you that the men (Justin, Kevin, Wade, Jason) you chose to associate with were idiots not worth your time. No one told you about birth control or the responsibilities of parenting. No one told you about the perils of overindulgence. No one told you that an ounce of Jesus does a person good.

Perhaps if they did, you would have been more wary of the company you kept and stayed away from giving your bridesmaids velour jump suits at your wedding. You would have never associated yourself with Mr. Federline and made the even grosser mistake of procreating with him. Everyone makes mistakes, it just sucks that all yours were made in the view of the American public.

Now, I know I am coming off as pretentious, judgemental and condescending, but I am telling you things you need to be told. You may hate me for this now, but I know--down the road--you will thank me.

Oh yes, the homos. In case you didn't know, The Gays love you. They have made you the star you are today. Never forget that a pop stars career is built on the backs of 11-year old girls and gay men of any age. Never ever forget that. Fags finance your stardom. It is high time you start courting that demographic. Tour some gay bars. Donate to HRC. They can bless you with the "respect" you once had. And they can tell you when your weave looks bad (which it did last night). They can help you get back on track. However, be careful because they can turn on you like a cornered cat, slashing away at your image ("She's fat.), the men in your life ("K-Fed is a greasy tool."), and your work ("Crossroads was one big music video. Who told her she could act?"). It can be worse than a high school study hall period on a Degrassi High episode....worse than being on the shit list of the Plastics.

Suffice to say, watch your back.

Now some radical feminist perspective. You. are. not. fat. You are not fat. Even after two children and at your heaviest weight, you are skinnier than the average American woman. DO NOT let our country's fucked up weight ideals tell you that you are disproportionate or overweight. You look good. Seriously. I know plenty of women who would kill to have the body you put on display just last night. Of course, the patriarchy wants to hold you captive to the sweet tart high school image you introduced yourself with, while ignoring the fact that you are now 25 and the mother of two kids. You have been under constant stress and emotional duress. Why should we expect six pack abs and toned buttocks? Accept that you can't please everyone: you're either a fatty or dangerously thin (read: Nicole Richie). It was sorta OK when megastar Beyonce put on a few pounds. But eventually even she had to drop the weight. Look at what they're doing to poor Tyra and she's a supermodel! No one is free from victimization...unless you're a man.

The patriarchy celebrated your naughty girl status and then threw you to the dogs when you showed that you were human and you suffer from instabilities. The very men who drooled at your existence and shamed little girls into making them want to look like you, also dumped your cold, lifeless image in the dumpster when shit hit the fan. You shaved your head and lost the last indicator of patriarchal femininity. You are forced to wear ridiculous, ill-fitting wigs to please the naysayers and style watchers. You wore almost nothing last night, mimicking a stripper just to launch your career back into atmospheric proportions. Did Marlon Brando's fat ass have to dress as a stripper to jumpstart his career? What about Sly Stallone, Bruce Willis or Harrison Ford? All of them are making "comebacks" and their clothes are still on. They pulled some stupid shit in their lives and experienced some drama and they're not still paying for it. The patriarchy has us all so twisted that we measure female stars with a different, harsher ruler.

Bee, I am so sorry you haven't been "measuring up" to that ruler. I am sorry that we have been cruel to you. The look on your face last night tells me that there is a lot going on that we don't know. I am sorry that your pain is fodder for ratings. I am sorry that every. single. thing. that you do is analyzed, criticized, evaluated and talked about by people who don't even know you. Judgemental, close-minded people who are enslaved by standards of perfection that they themselves cannot meet. You, of course, chose to be a celebrity, so you must accept some lack of privacy, but you don't deserve to be treated with such disrespect. You deserve time to heal, reflect and to nurture yourself. You need time with your children. They need and deserve caring adults in their lives. You all, as a family, deserve time to bond, connect and celebrate life.

I wish I could give you that. I wish I could tell you how to do things differently. I wish you would understand the pawn patriarchy has made you out to be. But I know in the end, you will lose the "extra" pounds. Make more flashy videos. Release your album. The fags will buy it. People will trash it. And your life as a celebrity will go on. In a few weeks, your performance will disappear from our attention deficient minds and we will move on to ridiculing some other celebrity. But maybe, I hope, that you will take charge of yourself, accept some responsibility and cut the games out of your life.

In a world of Avril Lavignes and Kelly Clarksons, you're still a true star in my book, kiddo.

xoxo,
Moxie Lady

p.s. "It's Britney, bitch" is the best opening lyric to a song. Ever.