Before We Reach for the Mute Button...

The recent shock and awe over Miley Cyrus's VMA performance has invoked a lot of strong opinions and vocal protests from a diverse audience. From the news to Twitter to Facebook and back, the reactions have been fast and furious: everything from "Miley can do whatever she wants. STOP TALKING ABOUT IT" to "Is this really what we should be focusing on right now?" to the idea that her scanty outfit and (arguably) outrageous twerking is one of the harbingers of the downfall of civilization.

What happened to our wholesome,
American family values?

Perhaps ironically, a large chunk of the commentary about the event is focusing on the reasons why we shouldn't talk about it. Jezebel had numerous articles speaking out against the slut-shaming* that was happening, defending Cyrus's right as a legal, consenting adult to express her sexuality however she damn well pleases. Meanwhile, enterprising bloggers created a tumblr account devoted to things we should have been paying attention to in Cyrus's stead. And with over 24 hours of non-stop media chatter over the event, more than a few individuals have just about had it. As Toula Foscolos wrote for Huffpost Canada, "Miley's not racist, not a whore, and not your punching bag." Isn't it embarrassing how easily we are caught up in the media hype of pop-culture and titillating, "shock-value" media ploys?

Actually, I'd like to argue that it isn't. At least, not all of it.

Yes, I would prefer it if we (in this case, being the assumed, generalized population of America) were more concerned with world news and the possible threat of a new war. But the fact that we, as an audience, are so obsessed with one twenty-something's performance has a lot to say. About our country. About what we value. And about how that conversation is developing in some fascinating and, I believe, vitally important ways.

For anyone who has been following the "War on Women" over the past few years (okay, centuries, but I'm talking recent legislation), the conversation about women's sexuality, agency, and a push against slut- and victim-shaming is crucial to how we respond to the world around us. As one of my fellow grad students pointed out, it's unlikely that the fallout would have been anything near as absolute if the offender had been, say, Drake or Kanye. Little has been said about Robin Thicke's participation in the duet, except in relation to Cyrus's agency. After all, boys will be boys.

The conversation has also raised up the voices of women of color, as in one black woman's response about how, in their rush to defend her right to her sexuality, white feminists completely ignored the blatant misappropriation of black culture, and the objectification of black, female bodies.

Cyrus's performance has also opened up conversations about any number of non-feminist topics, such as The Onion's bitingly comical summary of the interplay of publicity and "news," the objectification of child and teen stars, and a great deal of commentary and criticism about (what else) Americans' obsession with celebrity gossip.

I'll admit, I'm looking forward to waking up and seeing a stream of posts in my newsfeed that have nothing to do with VMAs, twerking, or the Cyrus family. But however much we want the conversation to change, I think it's important to note that it's these exact, uncomfortable, and seemingly-repetitive conversations that are the foundations of social change.

I doubt that Miley Cyrus's performance is going to bring about sweeping reforms in how we view celebrity, women, or race. But I do believe that, whether anyone intended it or not, she has become part of that discourse...and we do ourselves a disservice if we shut that down.