The Basics:
Late last night, an editorial by Angelina Jolie, entitled “My Medical Choice,” went live on the New York Times.
In the editorial, Jolie revealed that she had undergone a
double mastectomy as a preemptive protection from breast and ovarian
cancer. Jolie, whose mother died of breast cancer at 57, also revealed
that she is a carrier of the BRCA1 gene and, in her words, “My doctors
estimated that I had an 87 percent risk of breast cancer and a 50
percent risk of ovarian cancer, although the risk is different in the
case of each woman.”
In the editorial, Jolie vividly describes the specifics of the procedure:
My own process
began on Feb. 2 with a procedure known as a “nipple delay,” which rules
out disease in the breast ducts behind the nipple and draws extra blood
flow to the area. This causes some pain and a lot of bruising, but it
increases the chance of saving the nipple.
Two weeks
later I had the major surgery, where the breast tissue is removed and
temporary fillers are put in place. The operation can take eight hours.
You wake up with drain tubes and expanders in your breasts. It does feel
like a scene out of a science-fiction film. But days after surgery you
can be back to a normal life.
Nine weeks
later, the final surgery is completed with the reconstruction of the
breasts with an implant. There have been many advances in this procedure
in the last few years, and the results can be beautiful.
She also explicitly encourages women
to explore their options and closes with an explanation of her decision
to publicize her own surgery:
I choose not
to keep my story private because there are many women who do not know
that they might be living under the shadow of cancer. It is my hope that
they, too, will be able to get gene tested, and that if they have a
high risk they, too, will know that they have strong options.
What It Means:
Just to be clear, analyzing the release of
this news — and its effect on Jolie’s star image — does not take away
from the actual, lived experience of a mastectomy, the difficulty of
Jolie’s decision, or the power of her decision to write about it. I am
in now way attempting to trivialize Jolie or her decision.
But as star scholar Richard Dyer explains,
actors becomes stars when their images “act out” what matters to broad
swaths of people. For many years, Jolie acted out deviance and
rebellion; for many years after, she acted out motherhood,
multiculturalism, and philanthropic engagement. Those valences are all
still very much a part of Jolie’s image, but today they’re emboldened by
a very conscious decision to publicize a procedure that literally
removed a primary locus of her star power. And that decision — the very
fearlessness of it — is actually very much in line with her image up to
this point.
The first thing to note about the op-ed is
just how surprising it was. This wasn’t the culmination of weeks of
rumors of hospitalization. Rather, the entire procedure was kept under
wraps, even though it was performed at a clinic in Los Angeles. We’ll
likely never know how they leveraged that level of silence — most likely
a combination of non-disclosure agreements and capital — but what
matters is that the secret held. As a result, Jolie could release the
story completely on her terms. She set the narrative and the tone and,
in so doing, the way people would talk about her today and for years to
come. In publicist’s terms, she was able to “own” the story from the
very beginning.
Because of that ownership, the announcement
isn’t of an action star losing her breasts, but of a woman gaining
courage and acting on the desire to watch her children grow. It’s not a
tragedy, but a triumph.
If you’ve followed the history of Pitt and
Jolie, then you know that this type of control is nothing new — ever
since the photos of the pair playing with Zahara [EDIT: MADDOX] on the
beach first hit the cover of People, they’ve controlled the
narrative of their romance and their family. Whether or not you’re Team
Brangelina, the fact remains that they leverage publicity better than
any other high-profile star today.
When the gossip magazines pitted them against Jennifer Aniston, they sold those same magazines — well, specifically, People
— photos of them with their children…and then donated the millions to
charity. But those photos of companionship and familial bliss spoke the
language the minivan majority wanted to hear, and helped placate any
remaining resentment of the couple that supposedly broke the heart of
the girl next door. They sell art photos to W; Pitt talks about architecture to Architectural Digest and industry to Vanity Fair. They know where certain narratives belong and to whom they speak.
Which is why it’s no accident that this announcement appeared as an op-ed in the New York Times. The Times
screams “last bastion of serious journalism” — and, of all the
mainstream news publications, it’s the least enervated by celebrity
news. (Clearly there’s some, but far less than, say, the Los Angeles Times or Time). Most celebrity health stories / triumphs make the cover of People,
replete with photos of the star looking resilient and surrounded by
family. They are, in most cases, publicity: a means of keeping the star
in the public eye during his/her absence….or, more tragically, a
paycheck to leave behind to surviving family.
Choosing the Times has myriad benefits, publicity-wise. The audience dwarfs that of People or the audience of, say, the Today show. But it also de-feminizes the story: People, Us, and
the morning shows are all primarily directed at women. They are
“feminized” media products which, in our contemporary media environment,
means they’re considered fluffier, less legitimate, more trivial. (I’m
not saying I like this distinction, but so it is). But for Jolie, a
double mastectomy – and this decision in general — isn’t just a woman’s
issue. It’s a family issue, and one that requires societal support.
Because the implicit message of the op-ed is
stunning: Jolie is one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her
breasts, in no small part, made her a star. But she doesn’t need them
to be beautiful, or to be loved, or to maintain that stardom. Women
have been hearing this message for years, but with this editorial, Jolie
not only makes it available to men, but proves it through the very existence of her resilient, still sexual body.
And this is no tell-all interview, no banal
celebrity profile. There’s no fawning description of Jolie’s children
surrounding her, or how peaceful she looks in her bed. It’s a narrative
in her voice, with her story, her decision, her description. Because
of the length constraints of the op-ed, it’s unembroidered, to the point
and, well, persuasive. There’s no glossy photos attached,
nothing to distract you from Jolie’s words. It’s short enough that few
will skim. The lede might still be “Star Famous For Boobs Has Double
Mastectomy,” but because of the brevity of the piece — and the sheer
desire to read more about the procedure – millions are actually reading
her words, rather than simply seeing the announcement on the cover of a
magazine.
The op-ed persuades readers of the legitimacy
of Jolie’s decision. It also works to persuade others to consider this
decision for themselves, effectively legitimizing the option for
millions. But the op-ed also serves a secondary persuasive purpose, and
I dont’ think it’s trivial to highlight it. As I’ve watched thousands
react to this story online, I’ve witnesses an outpouring of support, of
course, but also respect, especially from women. Jolie has
never been a “girl’s girl.” She’s that girl who always did her own
thing, who hung out with the guys, who never had a ton of female
friends. She’s so beautiful that she alienates; she’s so different
that she intimidates. But this op-ed makes Jolie seem humble,
thoughtful, and conscious of the way that publicizing a private decision
can benefit more than just her career and image. Jolie has long been a
public advocate for peace and women’s rights on the global level, but
for many, that work seemed to exotic, too altruistic, only further
contributing to her distant, intimidating exoticism. Jolie was never
“just like us” — her life was nothing like ours.
There are still some elements of that exotic
otherness in the op-ed — “my partner Brad Pitt,” for one — but the
overall tone is one of warmth and identification. There’s not even a
photo to remind you of the beautiful symmetry of her face, or the
eclectic and overwhelming cuteness of her kids. It’s just a woman
talking about her breasts, her family, and her decision to sacrifice one
in hopes of holding on to the other. The two lines of the piece reads
“Life comes with many challenges. The ones that should not scare us are
the ones we can take on and take control of.” I’ve never seen Jolie use
a collective “we.” But this might be the moment in her star narrative
when fans began thinking of themselves and The Jolie in the same
sentence.
