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Recently a friend of mine forwarded me an e-mail from the editor of Teen Voices, a magazine I have never seen, but which I'm told is all about empowering teenage women. According to the e-mail, Teen Voices is a non-profit that's having a lot of trouble raising funds, and they might have to stop publishing soon. The editor of Teen Voices also pointed out that just about every other magazine like it (Empowered, Blue Jeans, HUES) has also run into financial trouble. Apparently teenagers are not interested in social and economic issues.
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By
Tyler Valdez
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I just can't understand this. At school, I know a lot of people who care about society and its problems. Even my friend Maude, who only wants to party all the time, is always talking about how messed up the world is and how it could use a facelift. Sure, there are some girls in my school who seem like they can only think about clothes, makeup, and Joshua Jackson. How did they get this way? It's not like we're born wearing nail polish , and I'm sure that their mothers are not exactly fashion models, either. I mean, I like Dawson's Creek as much as the next person, but you don't see me hanging fold-out posters of Pacey in my locker.
Right when I started thinking about this, a story came out in the Boston Globe (my local paper) which said that girls who spend a lot of time reading fashion magazines are more likely to be insecure and shallow than girls who don't. The article talked about a study done by Brigham and Women's Hospital which revealed that when teenage girls get obsessed with fashion, it ruins both their bodies and their personalities. OK, fine. But my question is: Doesn't everybody already know that fashion magazines are stupid? What is it about these publications that sucks people in? What do they have that Teen Voices doesn't? I decided to go buy some magazines and find out.
As it turns out, once you start looking, there are about forty different magazines for teenage girls out there — for some reason, I didn't see a single one aimed at teenage boys, unless Teen People counts, which it doesn't — and I couldn't afford to buy them all. So I narrowed down my choices, and ended up in the check-out line with Twist, Girl, Jane, YM, Seventeen, and one from England called Sugar. The girl behind the counter said, "Those are all good, but you have to get Jump, too," so I did. It cost over $20, but my editor says he'll pay me back.
I spent that afternoon and evening reading them all. I tried to take notes, but my brain flat-lined after the fifth article about how to tell if a guy is flirting with you or not. (News flash, ladies: If he's giving you flowers, he's definitely interested.) I mean, these magazines are all exactly alike, in every detail, down to the last "review" of hair control products and Jennifer Love Hewitt-starring Neutrogena spread. The endless photos of skinny girls in skimpy outfits and push-up bras began to repulse me. These publications are supposed to be for young women, but when you start looking at the ads, they seem almost like porno instead. Maybe they should be behind the counter, sealed in plastic bags, with all the other smut. At the same time, though, I was strangely fascinated. Suddenly I wanted a De Laru dress with matching bag, just like Brandy said Moesha might wear to her prom. I wanted to line my lips with a neutral pencil, like Janet Jackson does. Yes, friends, I even started thinking that a date with one of the Backstreet Boys might actually be a good time. Even if he couldn't get that milk mustache off his lip.
The next day at school, I discovered that the conversations I overheard in the school cafeteria suddenly made sense. I realized that all it would take to transform myself into one of the in-crowd would be to start really caring about makeup brands and Alicia Silverstone's passionate commitment to animal rights and Polo jeans. It seems like a teenager can make one of two choices in her life: Be the kind of person who thinks for yourself, or try to turn yourself into some non-entity in a teengirl magazine who mouths a lot of junk about being her own person but isn't really one.
Are there any good publications for teenage girls that I could actually buy anywhere in my neighborhood? The answer is No. The only magazines that I can buy that are written for women my age assume that I am shallow, stupid, obsessed with how I look, completely ignorant when it comes to dating, unable to make my own fashion decisions, very easy to manipulate, and that I actually care what celebrities think about anything. In fact, even though they claim they're for teenagers, they seem to be written for someone much younger — for 10-year-olds, maybe. Maybe so-called adult magazines, like Vogue or Elle, are written for teenagers. Maybe the publishers of these magazines want women's minds to stay permanently stuck at the level of someone who is still figuring out who she is and how she should look. I guess that's how you sell some girl that 51st lipstick and yet another pair of unflattering capri pants.
As annoying as all these magazines are, especially because there are no alternatives to them, what really gives me the Claire Danes bulging eyeball is the way my supposedly liberal family newspaper wants it both ways. The photograph which illustrates their oh-so-concerned story about young women and their messed-up body images is of Jackie, a stunningly beautiful, 5'8" tall 14-year-old girl wearing what the Globe lasciviously describes as "a candy-pink top and thigh-high black skirt." Behind her, in the fuzzy background, stands a group of unhappy-looking heavier girls who have just realized that even though, like Jackie, they "really, really want to be a model so bad, oh my God," it's just not going to happen.
If those teenage women had been doing something else besides reading magazines like Seventeen and Girl maybe they would've found a more interesting thing to do with their Saturday than going down to a suburban mall and strutting around in front of a bunch of old department-store executives. All the Globe wants to say about teenagers is that we're a bunch of screwed-up chicks who only care about if we're too fat or not. It just shows why the Boston Globe is still in business, but Teen Voices is on its way out. I bet the people who manufacture and sell makeup are happy, at least.
—Tyler V.
Tyler Valdez doesn't read Vogue. This was the eleventh edition of her Mad Crib. Catch up on what you missed in Tyler's archive.
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