Photo by Terry Richardson
When I tell people I heart Miley Cyrus, they tend to give me this disdainful look. Oh cool, you’re such an alternative hipster, with your ironic love for that raging slut muffin. When I set the record straight, expressing the sincerity of my love without a trace of sarcasm, the disdainful looks intensify. “You’re like, serious? You’re like, not joking?”
Uh yeah… My love is as pure as the San Pellegrino in #ItsLavishBitch’s toilet bowl. Don’t pass my infatuation off as some hardwired, unshakable childhood loyalty either; throughout most of my pubescent years I regarded young Miss C with nothing more than apathy (apart from rocking out pretty hard to The Climb a few times, don’t pretend you never did). No, my love for this free-spirited, twerking white girl is much more of a recent development, springing forth in full force like her buttocks in those white leggings.
As much as I wish on some level I could claim a more enduring love, dating back to my terrifying adolescence, I have to admit that even if I had felt the way I do now back then, I would surely not have sung it from the rooftops. Why? Let’s face it, in my high school peer group of Paramore princesses and All Time Low assholes (I was totally one of both), a Miley Cyrus obsession was not exactly a one-way ticket to popularity. Quite the opposite, in fact. I can vividly recall a number of occasions when the topic of then 14 year old Miley came up, and my peers vehemently expressed their distaste for that “filthy slut” whose talentless drivel made them want to commit.
Call me crazy, but I personally feel their venom was somewhat excessive, just as I observe in the widespread hatred of Bieber, 1D, Kristen and pretty much any excessively enthusiastic pop culture star not embraced ironically by the hip community. The same open-minded persons who consider themselves so feminist, or so liberal on issues such as gay marriage, quickly dish out their divine judgments. Don’t like gay marriage? Don’t get one. Extending the sentiment; Don’t think Kristen Stewart can act? Don’t watch her.
Back then the main focus of Miley hating was her supposed lack of talent, a theme that endures today.
She can’t act. Oh really? Believe it or not, I actually didn’t find her heart-wrenching portrayal of Hannah Montana Oscar-worthy either. You know why? Because it’s aimed at eight-year-olds, who sadly are often immune to the subtle nuances of a naturalistic portrayal and occasionally require a bit of melodrama to get the point across. Also, shut up. I cried like a baby in The Last Song, and if you haven’t taken the time to watch it, then you’re not one to judge.
She can’t sing. Again, shut up. Yes she can. Maybe she’s no Adele, but the girl got a little something, whether it’s your particular cup of tea or not.
She’s not even hot. Whoa. Whoa. In the everlasting words of Regina George: Shut up. Shut UP! Were her luscious locks too shiningly perfect for you? That sleek curly bob too classy? I understand if her newly short do is too aggressive for you, if you’re like, a little bitch, or something, but you seriously can’t deny that girl’s a babe. From those pearly whites to that pilates sculpted rig, one cannot escape her sex appeal. Go ahead and say she’s not to ‘your taste’ all you like, but call my bitch ugly one more time and I will gently kick your head in.
Having cleared up those three main points, I now come to the only remaining source of Miley spite; her recent behaviour. I’ll grant you, her recent VMA performance was easily as provocative as the dancing I see trotted out regularly by the vast majority of hypocritical youths in the nightclubs of the Gold Coast. The main difference being Miley simply had a much larger audience and a much (or rather, slightly) smaller costume. I make no excuses for Miley’s behaviour, although I’ll point out that if Lady Gaga did it we’d all be waxing lyrical about her powerful message surrounding gay pride or being yourself right now. However, I will argue that after years of being viciously hated on regardless of whether she put a single toe out of line, basically for being ‘too perfect’, we can hardly blame young Mizzle Cyzzle for deciding to ‘fuck this shit and just going to do whatever the hell she feels like; haters gone hate me anyway’.
And don’t trot out the bad role model card either. Bottom line is, parents are responsible for what their children are exposed to, not artists. Frankly, I would be delighted if my hypothetical daughter should someday grow up to be as successful, wealthy, influential, fit, talented, confident, attractive, stylish and sexually liberated as young Miley, as well as being in a healthy, committed relationship with another highly successful, clean living stud. Whatever her human flaws may be, you can’t deny it, that Miley chick’s got it all figured out.
Written by Georgia Hick.
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