Good people of Tufts University, I would like to tell you why I'm wary of what I've read in the recent debate about the reality television show "Jersey Shore" (based on The Tufts Daily's Feb. 2 article, "New Jerseyans sound off on the traits of ‘Jersey Shore'"). Why has this particular show achieved such astonishing national popularity? And what does it have to do with the way the Tufts community, at least as documented in that article, has responded to the particular demographic that "Jersey Shore" defines and targets?
According to the article, ABC News reported "Jersey Shore" the "most−viewed program of the 12−34 age group during its nine−episode first season." I don't know about you, but I don't go much longer than a day without hearing it referred to in some way, anywhere from endearing references to the pre−clubbing and gym−tan−laundry routines, to encountering anti−"Guido" hate groups on Facebook.com.
Think about it. If Jews, women or Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) people were being so blatantly represented in this way, an outcry would be quick and loud — not to say it would resolve the controversy. I realize there are issues within most reality TV shows — and the media at large — that are problematic or worthy of exploration. I also realize that different histories of prejudicial targeting resist easy comparison. However, for the moment, let us focus on "Jersey Shore." "Jersey Shore" defines its target group, repeatedly and insistently, as "Guidos," which originated as a derogatory term that refers to culturally unsophisticated Italian−Americans, especially those whose dress and behavior are viewed typically as lower−class suburban, and most especially to Italo−American men who are aggressively masculine and vain about their appearance and possessions.
The argument that since the people on "Jersey Shore" are self−proclaimed "Guidos" it makes it OK is itself problematic, and it is irrelevant to insist that they are enacting free will to take part in the show since, as we know, exploitation can take multifarious forms and appearances. The free−willed participants in reality shows may not realize (or care, sure) that their stereotypes are being manipulated by big business. Who truly profits economically from the show, the shore−goers or the executives behind the scenes of MTV? And what about benefits and detriments unrelated to economics at all, like the pursuit of five minutes of fame above all else? Do you see a range of representations of "Guidos" in the media, from negative to positive?
Back to the term itself. In contrast to my hypothetical Jews, women and LGBTs, the identity of the target group in "Jersey Shore" is muddied by the fact that it is defined not only by national ethnicity but also by locale, not to mention the show's inclusion of many non−New Jersey natives and even non Italo−Americans. Because discrimination against the target — be it Italian−Americans or a definition of a certain culture associated by some combination of income bracket, style or fuzzy geography — is on the back burner of the contemporary U.S. public consciousness and conscience, viewers of "Jersey Shore" have little to guide their response to the show's aim at portraying "Guidos."
In the absence of this sort of community guidance, many viewers are thrown back on the fact that the show can be funny, a response that gains a blanket sort of sophistication when attached to the term satire. Everyone knows reality shows use clever marketing strategies to represent "reality" in exaggerated, fictionalizing and sometimes satiric terms. From this perspective, perhaps "Jersey Shore" isn't targeting real people at all but amusing stereotypes? If you take it literally, seriously or personally, you miss the point of satire, one might argue: lighten up, learn to laugh.
By my reading, the opinions recorded in the Daily article, whether from Italo−Americans, New Jerseyans, both or neither, don't typically resort to this argument. Instead, they tend to confirm its underlying message that a personal response to the show's attack is beside the point, while simultaneously acknowledging that real people are being represented.
These opinions can be divided into two seemingly opposite reactions: First, as a real person, I'm not offended by "Jersey Shore" because the show doesn't represent me. Second, as a real person I am offended, not because "Jersey Shore" represents me but because it uses negative generalizations to portray a group I associate myself with (example: Italo−American organizations opposing harmful stereotypes or New Jersey residents claiming the existence of "nicer" areas in New Jersey).
What strikes me is the way these two responses, although very different in the scope of awareness and concern they bring to the issue, seem to converge. I feel it's necessary to broaden the discussion from this so−called controversy surrounding the show, since both reactions — which involve distancing oneself from the targeted group yet conceding that "Jersey Shore" represents someone real, who presumably should take it personally — demonstrating that there is much to be examined about the show, its popularity and its implications within our society today.
Jonathan Swift describes satire as "a sort of Glass, wherein Beholders do generally discover everybody's Face but their Own; which is the chief Reason for that kind Reception it meets with in the World, and that very few are offended with it." Each response to "Jersey Shore" easily evades the ethical responsibility involved in personal response, as the comparatively safe nature of the target precludes the galvanizing connection that occurs when we viscerally feel that hate speech directed at others is also an attack on ourselves.
I guess my discomfort surrounding "Jersey Shore" lies somewhere in the following questions: Why are we all so insistent on separating ourselves from, while simultaneously voyeuristically steeping ourselves in, "the Guido aura," and what is suggested by the enjoyment in mimicking this way of life or culture? What exactly does the humor in the show rely on? Is the sensation of feeling separate from and superior to a targeted group integral to the show's popularity? Should one's own sense of identity play the only role in determining offense at stereotypes?
If I were simply attempting to moralize at you, good people of Tufts, this would be a different article. I'm not saying I never watch reality TV and before you tell me to relax and lighten up, I tell you that I am quite relaxed, thank you, but am interested in thinking about complexities surrounding the show, not in merely preaching against it. Instead, I urge you to take a step back and consider some of the questions I raise.
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Lucy McKeon is a senior majoring in English.
