Thanks, Britney - An Essay

I'm old enough to remember when Britney Spears appeared in a nude, sparkly bodysuit in her video and the whole world seemed to lose their collective mind.

Britney was not a girl, not quite a woman. But she was... indeed something.

"Oh the children!" the collective gasped.

"What is she teaching our young girls?" editorials cried. (This was before social media.)

When Britney was popular, there was also Christina Aguilera. Xtina to some. With that X saying it all - she wasn't Britney. And a host of others I vaguely recall, like Lil Kim, Mya, P!nk, Missy Elliott, Destiny's Child, Aaliyah, Monica, Brandy - just a whole host of singers. Britney, I guess, was the young, pure pop princess. Not allowed to age, not allowed to be sexy. But the others seemed to do what they wanted. For instance, Destiny's Child, TLC and other young female singers like them seemed to be over-sexualized in their videos and sang about, um, "very adult things" in all their songs.

Britney's white, and while P!nk is also, Xtina's technically not. The others are definitely Black or some shade of brown.

And yet, the collective was strangely silent about everyone else, especially anyone Black. Or maybe they just didn't care?

Still, there were some lamentations from a few Black folks about the young singers and what they sang about, how they were presented. But it didn't seem to register. Not in any substantial "we're changing the culture right now" sort of way.

But the gasps, the sighs, the cries? They were all about Britney.

I remember reading news reports that said girls were more insecure about their bodies and were even prone to be more suicidal, because their looks didn't match up to what entertainment media and magazines said they should be. For every story of this type, the image they paired with it was one of some cute yet distressed looking white girl child; there were never any images of girls that were black or brown.

The collective was so worried about this hyper-sexualization of children and yet, made no mention of black girls or Latin girls. What about them? Surely they were suffering too?

With no other articles to inform me, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I lived in a predominantly black area of Brooklyn at the time (gentrification was still in its nascent form and hadn't yet taken off and obliterated all in its path). I decided I would simply pay attention to the girls in the neighborhood as I walked around. I wanted to see how these girls were dealing with these expectations.

Like you can just look at a person and tell...

The first girl I saw had dark skin with white teeth flashing in the biggest smile. And the loudest laugh. Her hair was styled in a popular fashion. She had gold jewelry and wore a cropped top over a bulging belly and tight pants. She was laughing and calling out to a young man that was standing nearby.

OK. Here was exhibit number one: she was not displaying any signs of embarrassment or insecurity. But girl, what about all that belly you flashing in your crop top like it's cute?

I passed other girls and noted other fashion No-Nos. But all of them carried themselves with confidence. Like they mattered. I didn't notice any outward signs of them cringing or hiding themselves away.

And I noticed something else: guys responded. Some very positively.

Thoughts of Britney Spears and the suffering of little white children went by the wayside as I observed all these brown and black girls displaying a kind of outward confidence that wasn't being talked about by the collective, or anybody. And I noticed how people responded to them. So it made me wonder if I did the same as they did - specifically, carried myself with confidence (though wearing slightly more clothes than they did) - would it really make that much of a difference?

How much does confidence really matter? I asked my male friend.

He responded with a resounding yes - before I could even get the words out.

Confidence in women turns men on, he said.

I didn't believe him. Yet I couldn't completely deny what my eyes saw.

So, I decided I would walk around, acting confident. Back straight. Eye contact. I wouldn't cringe or curl in on myself. Not this time. I had to see this in effect for myself.

No one approached me, nor did anyone say anything to me. But they noticed me. I could tell. People looked me in the eye and I didn't look away. Not everyone was angry or too preoccupied as they passed by. Some nodded. A few even smiled. And yet, in every situation, I knew I was just acting. Just acting confident. Mimicking those girls. And I was seeing some positive results. I was also feeling some positive emotions as well. Not bold or arrogant, just...happy. Full. Feeling like I finally mattered enough to myself to stand up straight. Feeling like I could present myself in a new way, and it be okay.

I called him back and told him. I believed him. I couldn't deny what my experiences showed me.

So, strangely, I actually have a positive takeaway about the whole Britney hubbub. I learned some things, when I finally woke up and started paying attention to the world around me - about the world around me and about myself as well.

Confidence, even if it's faked, matters. It's better if it's real or becomes real, but in the beginning, you can fake it till you make it. Because it really does matter how you carry yourself. It matters how you see yourself. First, it should be important to you to carry yourself in such a way that shows you care about yourself.  Second, once that is observed, that carries over to others and factors into how they treat you as well.

I don't know how many little white girls suffered because they couldn't fit into society's ideals. I don't know how many little black girls suffer in ill-fitting clothes attracting cute boys. I wish none of them did.

I just know I wouldn't have really thought about any of that if weren't for Britney. So, in a weird sorta way I guess I owe her for that.

So, thanks Britney.