From Ron Lin's, "Intellectual Pornography," Fall '00 From Ron Lin's, "Intellectual Pornography," Fall '00The media undoubtedly exercise considerable influence upon our conceptions of ourselves and the world around us. Perhaps it's the media that sets our standards for what is beautiful -- slim, gaunt women and Abercrombie and Fitch men. Heroin chic, baby. Here at Penn, as everywhere, it is common practice to deride the many trials and tribulations faced by men and women alike who try to meet our standards of beauty and an acceptable waistline. Whether we're talking about black pants -- the butt of every Mask and Wig joke -- or the absurdity one is encountered with upon entering the Katz Fitness Center. There's something ridiculous about that stroll before endless rows of treadmills and Stairmasters populated by fitness drones, wearing far-too-serious faces. Is everyone constipated? It's like the maternity ward in a hospital -- I just want to stop, stare, point and smile. I guess I can't help it. I gawk at the cover of Cosmopolitan and Maxim but can barely keep a straight face in Gimbel. It is estimated that there are currently eight million anorexics in this country alone, mostly women striving for an unhealthy ideal. And rarely does this terrible affliction attract more than a roll of the eyes. I've heard accusations of anorexia tossed around casually, like a joke, and topped with a tinge of contempt. We can't help but stare at beauty, yet we laugh at the means by which some people pursue it. So what's the problem here? The pursuit of beauty is not very admirable, evidently, and the means of such a pursuit regularly turn us off. So the obvious conclusion I draw from this is that we cannot accept beauty as an end in itself. In other words, doing anything so that you look good is a disreputable and superficial objective, yet it is an objective we consistently uphold and endorse. It's like everyone wants to be a winner, but nobody wants to win. So how can one possibly reconcile this clear societal neurosis? Well, consider the following. In the 1930s, Mahatma Gandhi utilized his conception of civil disobedience to protest racial subjugation in India and ultimately promote Indian independence. He went to considerable lengths to do this, frequently resorting to the use of hunger strikes. Today, we don't ask if Gandhi had self-image problems. We don't wonder if he had self-destructive tendencies that should have been stopped. I have never seen photographs of Gandhi snacking on baby carrots. Gandhi had a familiar problem, but a spectacular motive. In the end, Gandhi is a hero; the anorexic down the hall is a pariah. Society insists that beauty requires a purpose behind it, full of sound and fury, signifying something. Wearing black pants for its slimming effect impresses no one. I know. This realization complicates matters. Muscles now need metaphysical meaning. DKNY needs to stir up a spiritual awakening, like WWJD. So don't wear black pants to look good; wear them to protest Russian militancy and aggression in Chechnya. Go to SaladWorks not just to inhale lettuce and divine frozen yogurt; go there to make a political statement for a free Tibet. Gandhi went on a hunger strike, essentially what I would call anorexia purposiva -- anorexia with a purpose. So maybe we should all stop looking good for the sake of looking good. If we had a social cause behind us, would that make our feeble attempts any more acceptable? I know. I wish things were simpler, too. Why can't everything be like it was in the '80s, frivolous yet unquestioningly good? But don't blame me, it's not my fault. We're all to blame. Every time we cared enough to make a joke about black pants or Kate Spade and every time we were obtuse enough to laugh about anorexia. The sad thing is that I remember my first fro-yo joke better than that time I lost my virginity. So maybe anorexics just need a ripe social cause behind them in order to be listened to, be it protecting sea turtles or railing against child poverty. When we hit the gym, a strongly worded T-shirt against Castro should do the trick. If we're all like the Buddha, a man who starved himself to achieve Nirvana, then we'll be exalted not only for our fine physiques, but also our consummate spirituality. We're all just a social cause away from being taken seriously.
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