Chris Pratt recently said he’s been feeling “totally objectified” lately with all the attention on his transformation from dad bod to hot bod … and he’s totally cool with it. The actor went on to say he thinks equality means objectifying men even more to even out all that female objectification in the media.
When you think about it, the quest for equal objectification is pretty ridiculous. Pratt thinks a few lingering eyes over his albeit admittedly lovely chiseled chest somehow is the same as centuries of ladies enduring catcalls, office butt-grabs, rape and literal property owning of women as actual objects.
Granted, Pratt’s call for objectification equality wasn’t said with intense fervor; he wasn’t speaking in front of the UN Human Rights Committee campaigning for more global objectification of that gorgeous V-shape. He most likely was joking about all the recent ab-admiration he had received, reflecting on the general public’s idea that objectification is the traditional ogling of women’s tanned, oiled and usually photoshopped bodies and not men’s.
But the common, crude understanding of objectification needs a bit of a touch-up. Objectification is not just when a body is seen or appreciated but when that body, or body part, is substituted for the whole person. When a person’s body goes from being part of who they are, something they are in control of, to a thing that other people get to act on, comment or judge, that is when the objectifying man-meat line is crossed.
At its core, objectification is different from appreciating beauty, sexiness or the body. Let me be super duper clear about this: You can fully appreciate the glory of Pratt’s abs, Kim Kardashian’s butt or Michelle Obama’s arms while still recognizing these bodies belong to human beings who have a whole host of other assets. You can appreciate their sexy parts while still respecting the whole person.
The difference with how many women experience objectification is that it isn’t usually in a “Gee isn’t it fun that I’m on the cover of a magazine and people seem to like my abs” way but instead in a constant, omnipresent, “Everybody is looking, evaluating and determining my worth by how my body looks” way. Objectification for women has meant their worth, often in the media, primarily comes from how they look and not who they are.
In academia, scholars have theorized that swimming in this constant ocean of objectification leads to higher rates of eating disorders, depression and anxiety. Women also check their body position more, readjusting in public to make sure the ever-present eye sees their arms from the right skinny angle. This is what it means to be objectified. It means being more object than human, knowing your body is seen first and foremost, and believing that is the natural and unwavering status quo.
That’s not to say that some of the media landscape isn’t changing and becoming slightly more man-meat-friendly. This month the American people welcomed the second edition of “Magic Mike,” a movie primarily about sexy men being sexy, into our increasingly oiled up and bulked up world. Ladies went with their gal pals in gaggles to watch a movie that lacks any plot except for getting to the big strip show. This wave of male nudity is said to be catering to the new demanding female gaze. It seems Hollywood finally may be recognizing that women are rather visual as well, enjoying a fair share of tasteless nudity in their blockbusters just like their testosterone-driven male counterparts.
What Pratt and the boys of “Magic Mike” have discovered is that the media gaze is expanding, and women have been given permission to ogle and appreciate the beauty that is oiled muscle. But let’s be real. It is a few man-meat movies, not a cultural movement.
For centuries we’ve existed in a media world where men were valued for their humanness, i.e. their intelligence, wittiness, etc., while women were valued primarily for their attractiveness. (For evidence of this, see everything from “The Simpsons” to “The King of Queens” to “The Sopranos.”) As a society we are just starting to admit that women actually may like some sexy parts along with their male leads. It is going to take a lot longer before the media starts to acknowledge that there is more to women than their sexy parts. So, Mr. Pratt, enjoy your time in the man-meat spotlight, but know that because of your dudeness, we will love you just as much when you go back to your dad bod.
Niki Fritz is a RedEye special contributor.
