Middle-class voyeurism and the ‘rednexploitation’ of Honey Boo Boo

In North America, our caste systems might not be as apparent as in other parts of the world, but we certainly don’t live in a classless society. Defining yourself by your class seems like a rather anachronistic thing to do, but sometimes I can’t help but think about where I might fit in on the grand social hierarchy. Every time I step on a plane, I take a look at the business class executives enjoying champagne in their reclining cocoon seats and realize that I’m definitely a few rungs down the ladder.
Our underlying socioeconomic divisions are perhaps most evident in the world of reality television. Popular docu-lite programs such as Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding establish definite class boundaries between the viewers and the characters.
Best categorized as laugh-and-point programming, these shows feature ensembles of rednecks and gypsies who are portrayed in a way that captures our fascination but also works to marginalize their way of life. And while these shows might be entertaining at times, they also frame issues around poverty, bad nutrition, lack of education, violence and alcoholism — as punch lines rather than problems.
The worlds of child brides and pigs for pets are so far removed from our own that they provide us with a fixed point of reference from which to establish our own superiority. Viewers comfort themselves in the knowledge that we are in some ways “better” than the overweight hillbillies from America’s Deep South or the trailer-dwelling Irish Travellers of the British countryside.
These families are being exploited in the name of cheap entertainment as a way to satisfy our own middle-class curiosity. Urbane cable subscribers can slum it for an hour or so before going back to their regularly scheduled lives.
But you have to wonder if the individuals who appear on these shows are really being exploited or if they’re simply taking advantage an opportunity. Are Honey Boo Boo’s redneck clan and the Roma families of the U.K. cashing in on our fascination with the unknown and playing up their lifestyles for a profit?
Some argue that these reality stars enjoy the attention (even when it’s negative) and are happy to use their per-episode-paycheques to better their lives. So where’s the real harm in that?
While you could say it’s a win-win-win situation for all — the viewers, the reality stars, and most definitely the television networks — we can’t ignore the problematic aspects of these exploitative shows.
Frankly, all of the ‘sketti’ and hair spray is starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

From:http://metronews.ca/