Dove: Some Love

This ad is a lot like Passover, because it has answers for a variety of people.  And we’re all drunk by 7pm.

For the Simple Child, who does not even know that being a girl is really hard, Dove’s commercial poignantly conveys the overwhelming feeling many of us have to as we encounter hundreds of images a day telling us how we should be better, thinner, shinier.  I especially like the contrast between the slow opening and the rush of images, which get across how alarming and exhausting all of this can be.  Each image–both in the ad and in real life–is like someone startling you while you are thinking your own thoughts—Boo!  You’re slacking! The ad captures the intensity of being told over and over again that you must work harder—more times a day than you can count, and sometimes they come at you so fast you don’t even know to look out.  I try to identify some in this blog, but there are so many, and sometimes I’m doing other things, like sleeping or sprinkling Splenda on stuff.

The Wise Child sees this ad and thinks she’s cornered Dove, because Aha! How can you talk about the evils of The Beauty Industry when Hello, you are The Beauty Industry!??!??!?

First of all, stop yelling, and use less punctuation.

The Wise Child is on the right path by questioning things, except she is wrong and thus dangerously close to being the Simple Child.  Dove is not The Beauty Industry.  It’s important to distinguish between different Women’s Improvement products and brands.  Dove sells things women buy voluntarily to look nicer and more feminine, but that does not mean they are part of The Problem.  Not all cosmetic companies are the same.  Dove sells mainly shampoo, lotion, body wash, and sun block.  These are things that make you a more presentable, comfortable version of yourself.  (Lowercase self—we know The Self is a lie.)  You’re not bringing women down by washing your hair or not getting skin cancer.

The Wise Child’s way of thinking is the same kind of unrealistic stereotyping I face as a feminist who likes high heels, my hair, dating cute guys, and not being fat.  I’ve been told these preferences mean I’m not a real feminist.  But that argument only strengthens the stereotype that all feminists have hairy legs, wear clunky shoes, shave their heads, and hate men.  You can be pro-choice and pro-mascara, and feminists, too, can have fun, flirty lashes that won’t clump.

Moderation is possible, and it’s important—as is recognizing the many complicated differences between various ads, products, and expectations.  Only by analyzing those differences can we understand what we are up against and what we are involved in.

As for the other two children, the Wicked Child would probably say that girl should be bombarded by all those ads, because we wouldn’t want her to get fat, which could cause our health care payments to rise.  Then the Wicked Child would step on a kitten.

And the Child Who Does Not Even Know Enough to Ask—why are you even here if you don’t have a question?  You can’t just show up for the free coffee and maple walnut scones.  Get out of my office!