empowerment in a flawed system

I'm obsessed with Miley Cyrus. There. I said it. Don't get me wrong; I am exhausted by the whole VMA conversation, like anyone else, but I have questions. When was the last time you paid attention to the VMAs? Can you name another recent performance? Can you name any other performance from the night of August 23, 2013?

For my money, she's kind of brilliant. We hear less about Justin Bieber and his status as a role model for children but he's doing drugs and dragging capuchin monkeys through airports (Seriously. Really?) and walking around shirtless at strip clubs with his underwear hanging out. Not to be dramatic, but I get kind of a rape-y feeling from him. Somehow that's okay because he's just a boy, but Miley Cyrus at roughly the same age, working within the same parameters of this screwed up system and walking around mostly naked with her tongue hanging out, that's not okay? She's been treated as an object her whole life. Of course she sees herself that way and of course she's going to capitalize on it.

I heard a story the other day about a high level female executive and her dealings with a female celebrity. I considered dropping names, but I heard this story from someone who heard it from someone who claims to have witnessed it. So, grain of salt and all that.

The celebrity in this story was asked to sign a wall of celebrity signatures after doing some live, national interview. All celebrities who arrive at the company sign this wall, apparently. The celebrity in question tagged the wall in hip hop graphics.

The company executive, a woman of the Lean In school, tried to get the celebrity to change it. She then tried to get her employees to erase it.

My friend telling me the story said, "Isn't that the point? When you empower women, you empower all women." For this celebrity, this was empowerment. This was her version of being in charge of her life. This was her version of taking control.

When I was a bartender, I was not above leaning deep into the beer cooler so my skirt would ride up. I was fully aware that certain gentlemen sat close to the sink where I washed glasses to look down my shirt and leer at my version of leaning in. And, though I played dumb when some fellas told me the beer taps were dirty, I knew full well what it looked like when I soaped up a sponge and ran my hands along the pull handles. Those fellas returned every night and spent money in my bar.

It's objectionable, sure. I should have been able to keep people around with my rapier wit and stimulating conversation--and don't get me wrong, there were some fellas who were in the bar for the chats--but I couldn't keep all of them around by keeping their minds interested. I may have cheapened myself by stooping to that level, but that the end of the day, I went home with my brain and a wad of cash. They went home with a head full of booze and a wad of nothing.

The way I was raised, I never thought about the difference between men and women. I didn't know a woman running her own company might be considered groundbreaking or that a woman at the conference table could be distracting. My older sister came home from work once--she was probably in her mid-20s, which would have made me a teenager--and she told me about a guy who had pulled her aside after a meeting to tell her he could see the lace from her camisole in her cleavage. She was outraged. I was confused.

My dad would make jokes about the "weaker sex" or complain he didn't like sharing a bathroom with three daughters, but he never taught me and it never occurred to me that I couldn't do something just because I was a girl. By the time I went to college, this was as the '80s were turning into the '90s, I didn't know there was a difference in definition between the words "feminism" and "feminine." I didn't understand the concept of women not being equal. If you were feminine, you were feminist.

By the time I left college, I understood. Not because I went to some liberal elitist university that pounded some lefty agenda into my brain--I didn't need that--but because a bunch of frat boys and male professors pounded me with the idea that I was an object and that I was only looking for a husband. I learned the difference after I was shoved into a bedroom at a college party and the door was locked. Someone much bigger than I was pushed me onto the bed and my foot got caught in the bottom of the bed frame so I couldn't get up. My ex-boyfriend came into the bedroom and put an end to things and I was extremely grateful because I was extremely scared. My ex-boyfriend, however, accused me of "asking for it" and wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the night.

I was drunk and I'm certain I was flirting with the culprit. But I wasn't asking for anything other than self-conscious, late teen attention. I learned that I didn't want to be in that situation again. I learned that even the kindest man can be seriously misguided about a woman's intentions. And, though I remain conflicted about it, I was finally outraged.

Over the years, I have found myself in compromising situations and I have gotten out of them, but I also pushed the parameters to see where the boundaries really were, to see if all men think that because a woman is alone with a man, she is asking for something. That's the world I lived in.

I believe now--and this is where my young self gets really angry at my old self--unless you want the attention, you shouldn't walk into a barroom of drunken men in a short skirt and expect nobody to hurt you. They shouldn't hurt you. And it's illegal. And anyone who does hurt you definitely deserves to go to jail, because assault is assault. And, while I don't have empathy for men who are distracted by cleavage or a low neckline or a short skirt, ladies, don't be tootching in some guy's face unless you want him to grab your hips. That's what happens. Once you understand those parameters, though my 40-something brain may disagree with your actions, you have a right to do what you want.

As a feminist looking at today's idea of feminism, I'm saddened by how some ladies feel empowered, but I understand it. Well, I still don't understand how taking off your bra for a day helps cure breast cancer or how writing the color of your underwear as a Facebook status update brings awareness to domestic violence, but that's another battle.

I wish I still believed what my younger self believed, that there is no difference between feminism and what society brands as being feminine or being female. I'd like to think there are young women today who don't know the difference, that our younger generation fully understands that women aren't objects, that men and women are equal, and there doesn't even need to be a debate about it. I'd like to think there are enough strong adults in the personal lives of many young girls so they learn that, while sex sells, brains make more money.

And this is why I'm obsessed with Miley Cyrus. I think she might be pretty smart and she's making a helluva lot of money exploiting a seriously flawed system. So, for now, more (em)power to her.

[I've been reading debates and talking to people about Miley Cyrus and sexual exploitation and feminism. No doubt, you've seen all the highlights, but here's one of Sinead O'Connor's letters to Miley after Ms. Cyrus released her Wrecking Ball video, which she claims was an homage to Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U video. (I have to admit, MC's response to the letters was immature.) And, here's Amanda Palmer's response to Sinead O'Connor, which spawned a pile of open letters and blog posts and ridiculous chatter (Yes, I know I'm one of those people now). And, finally, here's Miley Cyrus talking about the VMA awards with Ellen Degeneres and how her album skyrocketed to number one, big surprise.]