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- <text id=91TT1479>
- <title>
- July 01, 1991: Why Don't We Like The Human Body?
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
- July 01, 1991 Cocaine Inc.
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- ESSAY, Page 80
- Why Don't We Like The Human Body?
- </hdr><body>
- <p>By Barbara Ehrenreich
- </p>
- <p> There's something wrong when a $7 movie in the mall can
- leave you with post-traumatic stress syndrome. In the old days
- killers merely stalked and slashed and strangled. Today they
- flay their victims and stash the rotting, skinless corpses. Or
- they eat them filleted, with a glass of wine, or live and with
- the skin still on when there's no time to cook. It's not even
- the body count that matters anymore. What counts is the number
- of ways to trash the body: decapitation, dismemberment,
- impalings and (ranging into the realm of the printed word) eye
- gougings, power drillings and the application of hungry rodents
- to some poor victim's innards.
- </p>
- <p> All right, terrible things do happen. Real life is filled
- with serial killers, mass murderers and sickos of all degrees.
- Much of the 20th century, it could be argued, has been devoted
- to ingenious production and disposal of human corpses. But the
- scary thing is not that eye gougings and vivisections and meals
- of human flesh may, occasionally, happen. The scary thing, the
- thing that ought to make the heart pound and the skin go cold
- and tingly, is that somehow we find this fun to watch.
- </p>
- <p> There are some theories, of course. In what might be
- called the testosterone theory, a congenital error in the wiring
- of the male brain leads to a confusion between violence and
- sex. Men get off on hideous mayhem, and women, supposedly,
- cover their eyes. Then there's the raging puritan theory, which
- is based on the statistical fact that those who get slashed or
- eaten on the screen are usually guilty of a little fooling
- around themselves. It's only a tingle of rectitude we feel,
- according to this, when the bad girl finally gets hers. There's
- even an invidious comparison theory: we enjoy seeing other
- people get sauteed or chain-sawed because at least it's not
- happening to us.
- </p>
- <p> The truth could be so much simpler that it's staring us in
- the face. There's always been a market for scary stories and
- vicarious acts of violence. But true horror can be bloodless,
- as in Henry James' matchless tale, The Turn of the Screw. Even
- reckless violence, as in the old-time western, need not debauch
- the human form. No, if offerings like American Psycho and The
- Silence of the Lambs have anything to tell us about ourselves,
- it must be that at this particular historical moment, we have
- come to hate the body.
- </p>
- <p> Think about it. Only a couple of decades ago, we could
- conceive of better uses for the body than as a source of meat
- or leather. Sex, for example. Sex was considered a valid source
- of thrills even if both parties were alive and remained so
- throughout the act. Therapists urged us to "get in touch with
- our bodies''; feminists celebrated "our bodies, ourselves."
- Minimally, the body was a cuddly personal habitat that could be
- shared with special loved ones. Maximally, it was a powerhouse
- offering multiple orgasms and glowing mind-body epiphanies. Skin
- was something to massage or gently stroke.
- </p>
- <p> Then, for good reasons or bad, we lost sex. It turned out
- to spread deadly viruses. It offended the born-again puritans.
- It led to messy entanglements that interfered with networking
- and power lunching. Since there was no way to undress for
- success, we switched in the mid-'80s to food. When we weren't
- eating, we were watching food-porn starring Julia Child or
- working off calories on the Stairmaster. The body wasn't
- perfect, but it could, with effort and willpower, be turned into
- a lean, mean eating machine.
- </p>
- <p> And then we lost food. First they took the red meat, the
- white bread and the Chocolate Decadence desserts. Then they came
- for the pink meat, the cheese, the butter, the tropical oils
- and, of course, the whipped cream. Finally, they wanted all
- protein abolished, all fat and uncomplex carbohydrates, leaving
- us with broccoli and Metamucil. Everything else, as we know, is
- transformed by our treacherous bodies into insidious,
- slow-acting toxins.
- </p>
- <p> So no wonder we enjoy seeing the human body being
- shredded, quartered, flayed, filleted and dissolved in vats of
- acid. It let us down. No wonder we love heroes and mega-villians
- like RoboCop and the Terminator, in whom all soft, unreliable
- tissue has been replaced by metal alloys. Or that we like
- reading (even in articles deeply critical of the violence they
- manage to summarize) about diabolical new uses for human flesh.
- It's been, let's face it, a big disappointment. May as well feed
- it to the rats or to any cannibalistically inclined killer still
- reckless enough to indulge in red meat.
- </p>
- <p> No, it's time for a truce with the soft and wayward flesh.
- Maybe violent imagery feeds the obsessions of real-life sickos.
- Or maybe, as some argue, it drains their sickness off into
- harmless fantasy. But surely it cheapens our sense of ourselves
- to think that others, even fictional others, could see us as
- little more than meat. And it's hard to believe all this carnage
- doesn't dull our response to the global wastage of human flesh
- in famine, flood and war.
- </p>
- <p> We could start by admitting that our '70s-era expectations
- were absurdly high. The body is not a reliable source of
- ecstasy or transcendental insight. For most of our lives, it's
- a shambling, jury-rigged affair, filled with innate tensions,
- contradictions, broken springs. Hollywood could help by
- promoting better uses for the body, like real sex, by which I
- mean sex between people who are often wrinkled and overweight
- and sometimes even fond of each other. The health meanies could
- relax and acknowledge that one of the most marvelous functions
- of the body is, in fact, to absorb small doses of whipped cream
- and other illicit substances.
- </p>
- <p> Then maybe we can start making friends with our bodies
- again. They need nurture and care, but they should also be good
- for a romp now and then, by which I mean something involving
- dancing or petting as opposed to dicing and flaying. But even
- "friends" is another weirdly alienated image. The truth, which
- we have almost forgotten, is that Bodies "R" Us.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
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