Models Have Problems Too

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Okay, full disclosure, I’m not necessarily a model. But I could be! (Hit me up, Dove.) And YOU could be a model! And you! [Insert Oprah impression here.]

In an environment ~renowned~ for its empathetic approach to certain people’s struggles (I won’t say where or who or when), a discussion arose surrounding stigma toward people’s bodies. “Overweight, obese, large, lard, wide load, heavy, curvy, plump, jiggly, lumpy, bubblebutt,” and just plain “fat” were all given as examples of terms used for bodies of a certain stature. “Oh the struggles overweight people face in such a CRUEL and ASSUMING society!” was the cry of the downtrodden.

“But wait,” offered a dissenter, “there’s definitely a trend of ‘skinny shaming’ going around as well. Just look at Robbie Tripp’s ridiculous post that included a claim that models and actresses weren’t ‘real.’ Pretty sure they’d beg to differ. It’s caught on, somehow, assuming superficially thin people can’t have their own problems, or they’re not as bad.”

“Oh yeah, models have problems. Like whether to eat a cherry- or mint-flavored Lifesaver that day.”

“I mean, sure, they have their own problems, right??” *index finger mimed down her throat* “Bleeechh. Ahahaha!”

Cue some more laughter.

Ooooohhhh was I irate.

Far be it for this behavior analyst to say the fashion and entertainment environments haven’t shaped some behavior and unspoken ‘rules’ about how people SHOULD look, men and women alike. Enter the growing number of campaigns (love you, Dove) aiming to shed a light that anyone medically ALIVE is a real person, whether she be a size 0 or 10 or 26. (No, they’re not paying me, but oh boy, wouldn’t I love them to)!

Real women ALSO have brains, would you believe it?? Shoutout, Tory Burch. Some campaigns have also pointed out that size isn’t the be-all, end-all determinant of perfection. A size 6, able-bodied woman would traditionally be picked over a size 0 woman confined to a wheelchair, or a size 2 transgender model. (Ahh! #AllMeansAll and I love all of you, SmartGlamour!) Especially in my field, I’m always advocating that “real people” exist by virtue of, ya know, being people.

And HERE were others, on the flip side of what entertainment and fashion industries have traditionally sold, reducing the problems of others who didn’t look like them to inconsequential quips. Or worse, reducing life-threatening issues to laughable pantomimes. Granted, this group has their own histories of being bullied and marginalized. But does that give them license to marginalize and bully back?

Spoiler alert: No.

Models and actors are people paid for jobs, like bankers or teachers. Last I checked, it’s our indulgence in their industries that’s kept them afloat. Some #woke organizations are also taking on a greater definition of the role itself — ‘plus-size’ models, special-needs models, LGBTQ+ models. Guess what, models literally come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and textures. Attacking (because that’s what they were doing) thin people as a whole, as a culture or type, does what Robbie Tripp so infamously did last week — objectifies and judges people based on their bodies.

In that room, I would venture to guess 0% of those people were ever personally victimized by an individual model on a set. (Except by Regina George, we’ve all been personally victimized by her.) But in all seriousness, ridiculing or invalidating “models” as a collective group of people whose issues range from “zero” to “meh” creates much of the backlash seen with the popular, but still problematic, “white people problems.”

What’s the behavioral contingency behind all this shaming? Attention from others? Self-soothing of our own problems by making others’ so much less problem-y? Escape from anxiety? Because yes, life is behavioral af.

Of course, the behaviorist in me acknowledges that empathy has so much of a greater response effort than ridiculing. If we feel we have little connection to people, we’re so much more likely to invalidate their feelings, as it raises OUR problems to a priority, both to ourselves and in our social circles. Here’s the thing, though — invalidating ANY problems of ANY group reduces empathy. Period. That’s it. Full stop.

“Nope, she’s a murderer.”

crime scene tape

I’m a lover of true crime.

“And the award for ‘Greatest Understatement in a Personal Narrative goes to . . .”

I have been one since I was a little pre-tween, sneaking into the kitchen to watch early episodes of CSI: on my family’s meager television set. Now, with a world of podcasts thrilling my ears to the sounds of secrets, screams, and murders most foul, I all but live in a world constantly reinforcing this cathartic hobby. Is it a hobby? We’ll say it is. My hobby is ‘staying sexy and not getting murdered.’

But as a true crime lover, a Murderino if you will, does my macabre interest also spell the end of my faith in humanity??

Okay, why the dramatics? Here’s what happened:

As a Behavior Analyst, I supervise behavior interventions for people with special needs and the therapists who run those programs. Today, my behaviorist underling and I went on a walk with our 10-year-old male client and his mother to Target. En route, our client (we’ll call him Tituss B.) began to have a meltdown. IN. THE. MIDDLE. OF. THE. STREET. He fell to the ground, started biting his hand, kicking his legs toward his mother, therapist, and myself, while he screamed FOR ALL THE WORLD TO HEAR, “No don’t touch me! Let me go!” Oh, and threw leaves at us (for good measure, I suppose). We were SO CLOSE, almost to the block where Target was, I could smell my money evaporating already.

The therapist and I went into “Safety before Sweetness” mode, bolstering him under our arms and carrying him across the street. Well, trying to. Little booger kicked his legs out in attempts to trip us as we walked along. Still screaming, by the way. And at that moment, a middle-aged woman driving toward us asked from the driver’s seat of her minivan, “If you want me to give you a ride, I can take you wherever you want, and you don’t have to worry about struggling with him.”

As the Supervisor—and the MOST legally liable person there—I immediately thanked the woman and rushed the entire party across the street as quickly as I could.

“Aww, that was sweet of her,” my therapist underling said, wiping sweat off his brow, clearly wishing I’d taken up the woman on her offer so we wouldn’t have to endure Tituss’ tantrum.

“Oh my gosh no, murderer in a minivan, tale as old as time.”

“What??” he asked, “but she’s just one woman, and we’re four people!”

“Yeah but she sees we care about Tituss and could easily control us by threatening to kill him!”

He looked at me like I’d pushed the Pope under a tractor.

In that moment I wondered, “Wait . . . was I overreacting??”

Most people who know me might say, “Probably most definitely.” But that’s what immediately came to mind! Murderous people and their murderous cars! I mean, haven’t we heard that story a million times?! Starts with “T,” ends with “ed Bundy?”

Or.

Had I been jaded by all the stories of murderers and unsuspecting victims? Had warnings about accepting rides from strangers gone WAY too far, and projected onto a situation that was simply altruistic?

Let’s think. What’s the likelihood that this woman IS a serial killer who wanted to kill the four of us? Two of the adults had clearly visible, official-ish looking badges. The mother was of average height and weight, and this 10-year-old boy was clearly in distress. And violently acting out. Would a serial killer take on such a risky situation, the definition of unpredictable, uncontrollable? Thinking back, I can’t imagine she would! If she were alone, that is . . .

Who knows. Has all this true crime made me see monsters under my bed, or was I simply more observant and in tune with a (more) potentially dangerous situation? In some ways, I’m glad I’ll never know the answer.

Hollywood Golden Girl!

Lord knows I can be dramatic.  That’s not news.  But who ever dreamed I’d one day be a Hollywood Golden Girl?!

Okay just kidding, that’s quite a stretch.  But I WILL be going on television—Autism Live! TV, programming efforts of the Center for Autism and Related Disorders (CARD) in Woodland Hills.  My high school friend connected me with her friend who heads programming for CARD (God bless Facebook) and, two messages later, I was booked as a guest THIS Thursday, August 27th, at 11:15am.  What’s more, he’s a USC School of Cinema alum!  What could be BETTER?!

I’m going to be talking about my book (Pieces—find it on Amazon!), about my non-profit efforts with the California Sibling Leadership Network and the Frank D. Lanterman Regional Center, and my work as an Applied Behavior Analyst with Behavior Frontiers (boy, I’m busy!).  I’m so excited to be getting the word out there and drawing attention to Siblings, autism, special needs, and . . . me!  (Just kidding . . . kind of . . . )

Hollywood here I come!!! (Maybe.)

See you on the other side of the camera, daahhling!

xoxo

Jackie