We Are All Susan Boyle

Okay, okay, my prickly friends, before you say, Not me, or begin lambasting me for the erasure of difference and privilege, what I mean is simply this: 

We all, at some level, know that the obsession with image and appearance is bullshit.  We know, as we sensed intuitively when we were children (before playground politics set in), that kindness, intelligence, and talent don't always come in a societally approved package, that appearances deceive.  Our looks are, by and large, a genetic crap shoot. 

Our exteriors have no inherent linkage to the decency of our hearts or the interest-value of our thoughts.  Only the people lucky enough to be born with the socially desirable appearance--and the wealth to dress it up--can deceive themselves that there's any connection.

Some of us are excluded entirely from the competition by some visibly unacceptable aspect of ourselves, an aspect over which we have utterly no control.  We are bald, or the wrong size, or the wrong shade, or we have unusual features.  People stare--or flinch and look away--or ignore us entirely, as if we're invisible.  We live with it.  And it's painful. 

Or perhaps there's nothing about us so obviously unacceptable, but we don't want, by virtue of some clothing or grooming error, to be the one that other people are snickering and smirking at, so we try to keep up with the moving target of what's stylish.  What Not to Wear!  Extreme Makeover!  What you are isn't good enough, we're told a thousand times a day (by people eager for our anxiety and dollars).

The public embrace of Susan Boyle suggests that many people--millions of people--are tired of it, exhausted by its falsity, saddened by all the varied beauty and interest it erases.   Buying into the myth damages not only those who are excluded.  It damages us all. 

This is why Susan Boyle is an international phenomenon.  Susan Boyle is not model-pretty; she is not young.  Her hair is frowsy.  But she can sing.  And the world is so happy about her.

But why do we need such a dramatic example to remind us?   What about all those frowsy folks who cannot sing, who have not been mysteriously blessed with wild gifts?  They deserve our respect, too.  They deserve everyone's respect.   We all deserve our own respect, no matter what the hell we look like.

I remember the outcry when the New York Times Book Review began including author photos with reviews some years ago.   Readers feared it would do to contemporary literature what MTV had done to the music world:  make looks and sex appeal paramount.  Suddenly authors had to be attractive, too. 

Now the inclusion of an author photo with a review is routine.  The work and the appearance are up for evaluation in one stroke.  As a result, writers expend energy on their photos and appearance that they'd rather be spending on their work.

Maybe the Susan Boyle phenomenon speaks to the zeitgeist.  Just as some of the delusions of wealth and greed have collapsed with the economy, perhaps the delusion of the worth of physical beauty and style is beginning to be punctured.  We are a visual culture now, and internationally so.  There's no going back, even if we wanted to.  But we can shift our attitudes, our priorities.  Wouldn't it be a relief if singers and actors and writers could focus on singing and acting and writing again, instead of on being gorgeous?  Wouldn't it be a relief if we could all refocus our attention on things that matter more deeply, things that go beyond form?