Miley Cyrus and a Whole Lot of Wrong

I have what I am going to term Miley fever.  It started when I began watching the VMA replays and there she was, in her horrible glory, an emblem of America’s worst social ills.  Then, what followed, an obsessive reading and re-reading of the articles meant to illuminate what we had just witnessed.  And one by one I realized the writers were themselves exhibiting subtle sexism and racism of their own.  Is Miley the social ill, or is she the catalyst to revealing our deepest issues?

It wasn’t just the sideways tongue, or the bad costumes, or the wannabe Katy Perry set.  It wasn’t the poor allusions to Britney, or the fact that there was little to no actual dancing happening on that stage.  It was the basic fact that first and foremost, not even naked and alone, not even on the most intimate of beds would anyone want to see or experience those lewd moves.  They weren’t sexy, they weren’t strip club worthy, they weren’t elegant, they weren’t really anything.  There was a kid on stage with a lot of stuffed animals dressed as black women, or black women dressed as stuffed animals, and she was acting out everything she learned and didn’t learn on TV.