by Kimberly Watson
As young children, we are taught it is wrong to “point-and-stare” at those with obvious anomalies, such as an amputee, someone with a walking disability, someone covered in warts, etc. Our mothers tell us, “Shh, don’t stare.” It is rude to make a big deal about someone who is different.
Yet, we constantly give our money and utter attention to people who are different if they are willing to entertain us. On the other end, a good percentage of those who are different are willing to use the very thing that makes them different to their advantage—they are willing to entertain anyone who is willing to pay and stare. It is well-known that “circus sideshows”—attractions where humans with obvious physical anomalies were put on display like animals at the zoo—attracted heavy crowds and plenty of profit. People paid to watch the degradation of other humans, but, just as fascinatingly, these humans (for the most part) could not imagine any other life besides being a “freak” in a sideshow.
It used to be the mentally retarded, physically handicapped (or those with physical anomalies who were not otherwise handicapped), or emotional problems were kept hidden away from shame of the family. If the role of family is to produce offspring to continue the family line and carry on the family name, then it can be seen as a failure, or even punishment, that a family should produce offspring incapable of this act. Furthermore, the abuse or ostracism of these people was considered socially acceptable, often making it difficult for people with genetic defects but the ability to work to find jobs, or keep jobs without fear of bullying or abuse. For these reasons, a travelling circus was seen as acceptance among peers, because one would be surrounded by people with the same history; escape, because one would be free from their home life; and a way to make money, and, for the most part, the “freaks” in a travelling circus were treated well. There was a mutual advantage of people who came to watch “freak shows.” To pay to see someone who entertains us was and is socially acceptable. Therefore, our shame, fear, inquisitiveness, and other abstract emotions that comes with seeing a “freak” is abated. We can point and stare at the thing that willingly puts itself on display to be pointed and stared at, but we can be seen as cruel if we point and stare at the pitiable person walking down the street, minding his own business.
David Gerber, quoting Douglas Bicklen (a sociologist in the field of mental retardation), states, “the freak show is the ‘pornography of disability,’ a reprehensible, exploitive, and worthless indulgence in bad taste” (Gerber 16). This sentiment seems to be shared with the majority of our society today; it has been decades since the role and existence of the “circus sideshow” has all but disappeared. We look down upon people who would ridicule or abuse those with genetic defects because, now that we understand why people have these defects, we as a society understand that these people are still humans who deserve the same rights as “normal” people do. Therefore, the thought of placing a human behind bars for being hairy, overweight, missing limbs, or any other reason seems like ghastly torture of the unfortunate. But does this mean our naïve curiosity of and desire to see “circus freaks” has disappeared?
The young man in the video is named Johnnie Baima, a.k.a. Sandie Crisp, but for the purposes of this response, I will use his other stage name—Goddess Bunny. He is a child of the darker side of the foster care system in America, having been moved from foster home to foster home, enduring abuse from his foster families. He had polio as a child, and a botched surgery to fix his back actually exacerbated his physical problems. The video above sparked many discussions. Who is this person? Are they doing this willingly? What’s wrong with him? What is the point? Why does the video end as it does? Who, in their right mind, would film this and put it on the Internet? Among other things, though, it had sparked a brief Internet trend. Videos popped up of people imitating Goddess Bunny, or editing music in the video, or editing the video itself. I happened to find the video when another YouTube user re-uploaded and said he was filming his niece tap-dancing for the world. Typing “Goddess Bunny” into search fields of YouTube brings up pages of results, and even using a search engine like Google returns discussion about this video. Massive, almost rabid, interest in this person and his video made Goddess Bunny famous—on the Internet, at least.
The question presented is why, in a culture where we should know better, did we not stop staring at this video? If this were Shirley Temple, would it get as much attention? If this were a person free of genetic defects, would it have spread around the Internet as it did? Goddess Bunny wanted to film this video—the clip comes from a longer, rare video about him. This was filmed obviously during the time before webcams, but the same principles apply. As he would have danced for people back when there were circus sideshows, he let himself be filmed for others to pay money and watch him.
Thanks to the Internet, though, millions of people can see Goddess Bunny perform without having to track down his VHS, and of those people, others find ways to gain “Internet fame” by linking this video in their online communities to discuss, make new videos ridiculing him, or participating in online discussions on the YouTube pages broadcasting this video. Other than calling one back to the times when it was “all right” to partake of watching humans with genetic or physical deformities with just a small fee and a safe crowd, this video has become one of the many concrete Internet trends of yore. This relates to Zatz’s description of “sidewalks in cyberspace.” Online communities converge when watching and discussing the video. The video has been linked all over the place, removing distance between communities. Similarly, new communities on the Internet come about just to discuss the video. Like a hip new place to hang out, this video has for a while created its own hub on the Internet.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Shh, Don’t Stare
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1 comment:
I tried three times to edit in my bibliography, and it just has not worked out. Such newfangled technology...! Ha.
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