Where Are Our Heroes?

For almost a month now, we've be innundated with news about Anna Nicole Smith. I feel sorry for her to the extent that she was a human being who, despite her questionable choice of professions, felt joy and heartache like each and every one of us. I feel even more sorry for the infant who will either grow up believing that her mother did not love her enough to want to live or will be a hellaciously spoiled brat with no concept of reality. However, I cannot help but look at the media circus as further proof that we live in a culture of celebrity.

Look at the people who make the headlines every day: Paris, Lindsay, Britney, to name a few. They are living proof that a large portion of our society believes it is better to be famous than to be great. What are they famous for, anyway? Aside from Internet sex videos, drinking binges, and very public mental meltdowns, what have they achieved? While they are busy getting hammered and wrecking sports cars that worth more than my annual income, these people are still being held up as exemplorary human beings. I find it insulting as a young woman that I am told to emulate their behavior and that every man wants his very own Paris or Britney. I have had some of my male acquaintances accuse me of being jealous of these specimens and the lives that they lead.

It is not jealously that I feel. Rather it is a mixture of pity and contempt. I pity them because they are making all the mistakes of adolescence in the public eye. They, for whatever reason, believe that their only value lies in being decorative, arm candy for the next big thing to roll into Hollywood. My contempt stems from their lack of contrition and their apparent unwillingness to grow up. Rather than owning up to their mistakes, they either shift the blame or act as if they are normal and we're just the uncivilized hoi poli. As far as I am concern, people are free to live their lives as they see fit (so long as it does not cause injury to anyone else). What these women fail to see, however, is that we aren't laughing with them so much as at them.

What ever happened to being proud of excellence? When I was growing up, I remember reading stories about George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Betsy Ross, and Florence Nightingale. I learned about explorers and scientists and inventors. People who had ideas and believed in themselves and their God-given talents. Some of today's feminists will surely say "Those are antiquated examples of heroism. Men have oppressed us for so long there are no female role models! We weren't allowed to be heroes!" That sounds like a sexist cop-out to me. Why can't a girl have a man as a role model? And what's so wrong with wanting to be like a woman who put others before herself?

I have heard a few people say that American society's obsession with celebrity stems from a lack of aristocracy. Because we have no scandal-ridden royal family, we need to follow the lives of celebrities who are famous for fame's sake. I believe it stems from boredom; people now seem to live vicariously through the lives of their favorite celebrities, rather than living their own lives. So in death, Anna Nicole has secured her place in the annuls of pop culture. But what will she be remembered as? What will we tell our children and grandchildren when they ask why she is famous? You're on your own for that one.