Paglia's "Lady Gaga and the Death of Sex"

1.      What separates Gaga from the “tigresses of charismatic sensuality or gamines of buoyant charm - Beyonce, Shakira, Rihanna, Nelly Furtado” other than her personal opinion that their depiction of sexuality is appropriate but Gaga’s is not?

2.      Is the author’s problem more with Gaga or with the generation that admires her?

3.      Is the author genuinely offended that Gaga does not conform to her idea of “sexy?”

I understand finding her music annoying or recycled, and I understand finding her costumes and performances outlandish, tasteless, or even vulgar. What I can’t understand is what seems like Paglia’s deep, personal offence at the way Gaga goes about her own celebrity and sexuality. When she questions “[i]s it the death of sex?” I find it hard to understand if she’s implying that Gaga will inspire a generation of girls to abandon sexuality and sexual charm like that of, say, Madonna or Beyonce and devolve into the sort of sexual dysfunction she claims Gaga is a slave to, or if she’s actually afraid that the cultural standard for “sexy” will shift to a more Gaga-like image, as if sex is freedom and Gaga represents the dystopic totalitarianism of Orwell’s 1984.

“In fact, Gaga isn’t sexy at all - she’s like a gangly marionette or plasticised android. How could a figure so calculated and artificial, so clinical and strangely antiseptic, so stripped of genuine eroticism have become the icon of her generation?” I’m not sure what I find more difficult to believe—that the author feels there is one universal standard of “sexy” (“genuine eroticism”), or that she feels like “sexiness” is necessary to become an icon of a generation.

I’m not a personal fan of Gaga—like Paglia, I find her songs “catchy but depthless,” and quite frankly I get the impression of her that she might overstate her own importance. However, I try to give Gaga the same tentative respect I give all people who aren’t making an effort to harm people. I remember watching a TV special on LGBT bullying, and a young boy, maybe 10, who had been ruthlessly and malicious bullied because of his real or perceived homosexual orientation shared his story, then asked the host if he could sing a song that kept him inspired despite it all. He sang, in a heartbreakingly lovely and unrefined young voice, Lady Gaga’s “Born this Way.” That was the song that gave him courage through his difficulty. I remember being reminded at that moment that things can have profoundly different effects on different people. While Gaga’s songs might pass me by as unimportant or even annoying, to him they were a source of hope and strength. It was a reminder, to me, of the importance of respecting people’s differences.

I feel like Paglia may have missed this—she seems to view the “Gaga generation” as so emotionally dead from text messaging and the internet that she may not noticed that, surprise surprise, they are still human and if they find joy in something that, realistically, is not harming other people, then there probably isn’t a good reason to criticize them for liking it. The concept of “live and let live” seems increasingly difficult to an older generation viewing the younger one, with their new strange new fads and the ever-evil influence of the internet making them “fair game” in many eyes for what I believe is undue and ultimately counter-productive criticism.