But isn't the impressive public concern over sexualizing young girls outweighed by the fact that most people seem to truly enjoy watching these videos until they go viral—even if they then turn around to condemn the inappropriateness?

As Sady Doyle wrote in this very space, on the Important Cultural Issue of How People Generally Regard Miley Cyrus:

A lot of it was just grown men (and women) being all, “I’m afraid this might turn me on! And I’m scared!” And, yeah, you ought notta be eroticizing the teenagers. But constantly monitoring this one specific female teenager to determine whether she’s inappropriately sexy is, like . . . Not that much less creepy?

I think young women’s sexuality is often put in that place of overtly well-meaning, covertly creepy monitoring. Like, we’re SO OBSESSED with young women not being sexual (which they really usually are) that we constantly evaluate how sexual they are. And then there’s all the teen-eroticizing that takes place ANYWAY, because it’s so taboo. And the result is Britney, America’s #1 Virgin, dancing in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, and later sort of cracking under the weight of how VERY many contradictions she was expected to represent.

Of course, there's a world of difference between what's deemed culturally appropriate for 17-year-old Cyrus and these 7-year-old dancers. But the monitoring of these girls is no less creepy, and their young age actually makes the fervor over the display even more suspect.

At some point, the outrage over the suggestive costuming and dance moves is just a convenient narrative for us to facilitate the distribution of the video to more gawkers. Somehow, those who had a hand in making the video are either exploited (the dancers) or sick (the parents and choreographers), but everyone who keeps watching the video (and forwarding it, and re-posting it on their blogs) are—what? Performing the valuable service of informing the world what displays are appropriate and inappropriate for young girls to parrot? Please.

I'm not writing this to throw stones—I re-posted the "Single Ladies" video on this blog, and I've watched it more than once. I'm writing it because I know as well as anyone that as much as this is about taking a stand for our nation's girls, it's also about the spectacle of watching a group of 7-year-olds dancing sexy. Somehow, my faith in humanity has not been restored.

"Think of the children" is an argument consistently used to justify adult insecurities. Hate gay marriage? Just argue that it erodes a "child's sense of innocence." Disgusted by sex workers walking the streets in "broad daylight"? Argue that a child could see them. Uncomfortable with people openly discussing alternate sexualities? A child could hear them. Explicit rock music? Think of the children.

The concern for kids here is disingenuous—"think of the children" is a convenient way for adults to protest stuff they just don't like. But let's step away from those earmuffs we've got permanently attached to our kids' ears for a moment and think about "thinking of the children." When can thinking of the children help to reveal aspects of adult society that are problematic for people of all ages?

Take, for example, the public reaction to the above video, which shows a group of young girls dancing to Beyonce's song "Single Ladies"—while imitating a very adult version of female sexuality.

Tiger Beatdown contributor Silvana has this to say of the display:

The performance has been roundly criticized, including some commenters saying that it is so bad that the adults in question shouldn’t have even allowed their daughters to participate. The way these little girls move their bodies is a surprisingly good imitation of how adult women who are performing “sexy” dance, and people DO. NOT. LIKE. THIS. Even worse, their outfits are supposedly more scandalous than the dance moves themselves. This is despite the plain that that they’re not particularly revealing and don’t show much more skin than a ballet leotard would. The discomfort isn’t because what the outfits reveal, but what they allude to. The lace, the stockings, the corset lacing on the “bodice” are, it seems, too much like what adult women wear when they are trying to evoke maximum sexiness. Doing this dance and wearing these clothes is, in our cultural estimation, firmly in the territory of not appropriate.

She concludes: "I think it’s pretty telling that when femininity is performed by non-standard actors, we either get really uncomfortable or laugh our asses off."

The general reaction to the above video is that these girls are growing up far too fast. But as Silvana points out—if we can stop thinking exclusively of the children for a moment—they're also growing up into a version of female adulthood that's marked by an absurdly hyperfeminine sexual performance. We know that little girls performing femininity is disturbing. About a decade down the road, though, this type of performance will be absolutely expected of these women, as Beyonce's latest video helps to reveal:

[youtube:v=FKqIgqJEH-o]

Kids are our second chances. They give us an opportunity to reassess what is means to be a man or a woman, and to try to change the bad parts before it's too late. It's not fair to focus our cultural insecurities on our kids, but it is easier. Let's take another example: Makeup. Last month, Douglas Quenqua delivered a New York Times trend piece on pre-teen makeup use:

It began for Alyssa Pometta, as these habits so often do, with the soft stuff. We are talking, of course, about lip gloss.

She began wearing it in fourth grade—Bonne Bell’s Lip Smackers, a girl’s rite of passage—after years of wearing ChapStick and pretending it was Revlon. But the thrill of flavored lip gloss was fleeting, and in January, 11-year-old Alyssa asked her mother, Phyllis Pometta, if she could graduate to the hard stuff: lipstick, eyeliner and mascara.

When the piece dropped, Salon's Margaret Eby accused the Gray Lady of "hand-wringing" and alarmism, writing:

The idea that painting your face leads to wanton acts of harlotry is downright Victorian. . . . The most popular birthday party activity for my fifth-grade class was visiting Priscilla's Beauty School, where I would inevitably come out with crimped hair and electric blue eyeshadow, looking like some sort of miniature '80s-inspired clown. Did I then fall down the slippery slope to TV-anchor levels of makeup? Not exactly."

Eby has accused Quenqua of Thinking of the Children in the most disingenuous way.  But if you read Quenqua's piece, he never intimates that experimenting with eyeliner will send girls down the road to olde-tyme prostitution. He doesn't say that Bonne Bell is a gateway drug to whorishness, or even to clownishness. When Eby sarcastically accuses Quenqua of a "slippery slope" argument, she misses the point, which is: When girls start wearing makeup, they will keep wearing makeup-–probably for the rest of their lives.

Of course, young girls don't deserve any extra scrutiny for applying concealers and colors to their faces—most women do this, and tweens don't need more eyes focusing on the way they look. Nevertheless, focusing on the cosmetic industry's point of entry—for American girls, around the tweens—is still a convenient way for us to reassess the expectation that women of all ages paint their faces. When girls stumble into the awkward tween years, they're introduced to a world of extreme body consciousness, vanity, and yes, beauty industry allegiance.

The point of entry is also the point when women's makeup use is at its most visible. When girls go from plain-faced to painted, we notice the change. Just as some sexy lingerie on a 7-year-old girl will show you immediately how ridiculous sexy lingerie is, a young girl with a full face of makeup can really make you think about lipstick, and why we put it on. One parent Quenqua interviewed said that makeup makes her daughter "look too old. It immediately ages her." But it's not just that tweens are entering the adult world of makeup application; it's also that they're not terribly good at it yet. They may be inexperienced in matching colors, blending blushes, or applying eyeliner without poking their eyes out. They may, like Eby did, emerge from a slumber party "looking like some sort of miniature '80s-inspired clown."

In short, girls are not very good at doing what adult women are trained expertly to do: Applying makeup, and then immediately obscuring the fact that they are wearing makeup at all. This is where Eby's critique really falls apart. For her, problematic makeup—the kind of makeup parents might really be concerned about—comes down to a question of gaudiness. Teenage makeup use is only a potential problem if it encourages women to perpetually paint their faces like olde-tyme harlots, or clowns, or TV anchors. Actually, the biggest danger of becoming a life-long consumer of the cosmetics industry is that women will learn to hide their beauty industry investment at all costs, to refuse to tip their hand and reveal that it's all an act.

When young women engage in overt feminine performance, we think of the children, but deep down, we're thinking about women, too. As these girls enter into adulthood, how do we deal with our discomfort at the version of womanhood they're taking on? We tell them to keep performing femininity, but by God, to just keep it to themselves. Makeup is to be worn "naturally," never garishly; sex is something to perform for men behind closed doors, never to be spoken aloud; plastic surgery is tacky, unless it's good plastic surgery, which is still better than looking old; extreme diets are to be kept private, in favor of of "I just keep in shape by running after my kids"; and feminine performance is in all cases an entirely personal choice, never a culturally-informed one. When we Think of the Children, we're not disturbed that girls are beginning to adopt feminine performance—we want them to do that. We're disturbed because they've forced us to to notice how ridiculous it is.

Last week, my post on the Top 5 Pseudo-Feminist Anthems inspired a spirited discussion over what the meaning of "it" is. The "it" in question appears twice in one pronoun-heavy line from Beyonce's "Single Ladies": "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it.

What is this "it"?

In the song, Beyonce uses the line to taunt an old flame who wouldn't make Beyonce his wifey. Beyonce shows this guy what he's been missing by dancing "up on" another man in the club as her ex watches on. That scenario is followed by the it-heavy verse:

If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don't be mad when you see that he want it
If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it

Beyonce's man wouldn't ring up; ergo, he is no longer treated to Beyonce's love in the club. The "it" refers to Beyonce—and more specifically, to Beyonce's sex. Even kids today know what doing "it" means; what else could a random guy in the club "want" from getting "up on her" while she's "up on him"?

But that's not all "it" signifies. Beyonce uses the dual "its" to objectify herself on two levels: first, as a sex object; second, as a wife. Beyonce asks her man to mark his territory by putting a "ring on it." Later in the song, Beyonce implores her man to "say I'm the one you own."

But that's just my opinion. Your theories are below.

Iris thinks "it" means "ring finger":

The “it” refers not to Beyonce as a person, but to her ring finger. You put a ring on a finger, get it. In a relationship, a ring also signals commitment. Otherwise, we wouldn’t symbolize engagement/marriage with rings, as a society in general. I suggest that you read the lyrics or listen to the song again. Because Beyonce is saying that she’s moving on with her life, even though she still has some feelings for the guy. But she is going to leave him because he won’t seriously commit to her. She’s telling the guy he had his chance, and he blew it. The song is not only a feminist anthem, it’s kick ass and infectious as a song can get.

Dave thinks "it" does not mean "ring finger":

So Beyonce is really saying “If you like my finger then you should have put a ring on my finger”? What does that mean? Is Beyonce’s boyfriend some kind of finger fetishist? Does he have photos of physically perfect fingers on his bedroom wall? Does he subscribe to Finger Monthly magazine?I think your interpretation of the pronoun subtext here is a little shaky.

Richard thinks "it" is beside the point:

On “Single Ladies”, I do not think what the pronoun refers to really matters. You can take the lyrics literally or not, but the point is clearly that the person should have committed to marriage or faced losing “it.”

I’m sure why this song would necessarily have to be considered feminist or anti-feminist. Its just about a guy who was unwilling to commit to the relationship and now is regretting it as the woman moves on. It might be misunderstood as feminist because a lot of women really empathize with and like this song.

Also just for fun to throw another interpretation of the “it” out there, I always thought “it” was the relationship. With the “put a ring on it” as a simple metaphor for committing to the relationship.

Gabrielle thinks "it" means "the relationship":

I take the “it” to mean the relationship or the woman’s ring finger. Regardless, it’s all about the guy should’ve committed to the relationship if he wanted Beyonce to stay in his life. Feminist fall in love and when a relationship isn’t working for them they get out it. I think that’s a very feminist approach to relationships.

i interpreted it as being addressed to her boyfriend’s ex though. hence “all my single ladies, put a ring on it!” not “all my single men, put a ring on it!” it’s saying “women, if you don’t put a ring on the man you love, eventually you’ll break up, and then you could end up watching him dance all sexy-like w/ someone like me and you’ll be steamed.”

I’m so glad I’ve inspired this lively discussion about pronouns!

This proves that Beyonce is a very grammatically challenging (not challenged) songwriter. The last time I heard a song where punctuation played such an important role was “Lola” by the Kinks.

“I’m not the world’s most masculine man/but I know what I am and I’m glad I’m a man/and so is Lola. L-O-L-A, Lola.”

Is Lola also glad the narrator is a man? Or is Lola, herself, also… A MAN!?!?!

Sorry for just blowing all your minds there.

Super hard, the Associated Press reports. Though the line-up for this Sunday's Obama inaugural concert at the Lincoln Memorial includes some of the nation's hottest performers, the notoriously lame "American spirit" promises to dampen each mammoth recording artist's luster. According to the AP, "artists won't be performing their big hits, but will be asked to perform material appropriate to the occasion."

Beyonce! U2! Bruce Springsteen! John Mellencamp! Usher! Stevie Wonder! Shakira! Sheryl Crow! Josh Groban! James Taylor! All stars whose performances will be rendered lame by the American "standards" they will all be forced to perform in honor of Barack Obama. Only John Mellencamp, Sheryl Crow, and Josh Groban will be spared, by virtue of being already pretty lame.*

"The list of stars is impressive," said executive producer George Stevens Jr., who is nevertheless bent on ruining all of them. "[T]his is not a show biz, glitzy occasion. It's going to be rooted in history, remembering the great president (Lincoln) who led us through difficult times."

Ugh, just tell it like it is: No "Single Ladies."

*possibly also James Taylor.

Here's one I hadn't seen before—some " fierce, fierce dancing" by a spirited and scantily-clad fan of Beyonce's Single Ladies video. Enjoy:

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