Discussed: America’s Sweethearts, Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, female affect, emotion, smiling, not smiling, The Idol, Charli XCX, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, Doja Cat, authenticity, diet culture, anti-aging culture, ambition, talent, feminism.
In one of the most emotionally impactful scenes in America’s Sweethearts, Netflix’s recent docuseries on the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, we watch as one of the members of the team, who recently lost her father, performs for an entire stadium of fans. She looks so confident and poised that even the team managers, who hold their dancers to impossible standards of perfection, are shocked by her ability to conceal the depths of her mourning to put on a seamless show.
Our cultural imagination is filled with images of women required to smile through pain and a sunny affect is essential to the DCC brand. Like wearing makeup or heels, a broad smile is seen as an important accessory rather than an authentic expression of happiness. This attitude towards the female affect is certainly not unique to DCC as an organization. Women are constantly being told to smile, whether as a part of a job or just walking down the street. In the case of the DCC, where every talented cheerleader is seen as potentially replaceable, a lot is at stake in being willing to push through the pain. The dancers can be dismissed for gaining or losing weight, for having a bad day performing, for injuring themselves, or for simply failing to exude that “ineffable” quality that the judges want.
Much of the conversation about the docuseries has been about the DCC itself: many viewers have expressed outrage at the ways that sexism pervades the organization, from shockingly low salaries (the exceptionally talented women are paid outrageously little) to their obsessive quest for a type of mythic “perfection” that drives many of the women to injury or disordered eating. In fact, some viewers rate the show itself poorly simply because they don’t want to support the organization.
But the series is worth a watch, not just because it’s thrilling to watch the tremendously ambitious women go for their dreams. The women who try out for DCC not only showcase beauty and talent, but also tenacity, perseverance and grit. If the American cheerleader is an icon that is often assumed to be empty-headed or toxic, the real-life cheerleaders in America’s Sweethearts are taken seriously, not just as interchangeable smiling faces, but as flesh and blood women.
I’m fascinated by the smiling cheerleaders on America’s Sweethearts because their performance highlights the pressures that women face to perform specific affects for the comfort of others. I say this as someone who both genuinely enjoys being enthusiastic and who also feels like a smile is part of my professional uniform. I want my college classroom to feel warm and supportive and I do feel that genuine smile is a small way that I can try to convey that. Even during the pandemic, when I wore a mask to teach and no one could see me smiling, I took to waving enthusiastically at every student when they entered my classroom.
Over the years, I’ve been surprised by the number of people who have commented on my smile, often approvingly (“It’s always so nice to see your smile!”) but sometimes with distrust. I’ve gotten concerned questions like “Why do you smile so much?” and accusations like, “How can you always be so happy?” The smiling woman may be perceived as warm and affable but is just as likely to be read as ditzy. Sometimes she is even viewed as fake. Before I started teaching, I worked at Borders: Books and Music, and one of the other booksellers nicknamed me the “Border’s Sweetheart” because I came into work every day with a big smile. I could tell it was a backhanded compliment. She found my smile endearing, but she also didn’t entirely trust it.
Of course, there is no acceptable affect for a woman and, as someone who has an extremely expressive face, I’ve learned the smile is often the safest one to present. Tears mean you are unprofessional or hysterical. A frown makes you seem overly sad or rude. Let your features settle into neutrality and you suddenly have “resting bitch face.” In the opening scene of The Idol, we watch as pop star Jocelyn shifts between and among various emotional expressions on cue, moving seamlessly from mood to mood, starting with laughter and ending on a close up of her tears before panning out to show more and more of her half naked body as the cameras flash around her. A woman who can emote on command is a danger even when it is her job to do so.
Just as diet culture teaches us to be small, today’s fixation with anti-aging illustrates how few feminine affects are deemed acceptable. The genuinely emotive face, the one that leads to wrinkles and fine lines, is as unusual onscreen as cellulite. Tearful faces are softened. Smiles are muted. A lined face is evidence of unruly emotions: too many tears, too much pouting or worrying, and even too many hours spent smiling and laughing. The correct affect is reassuringly contained, a smile that lights up a room and leaves no trace of its appearance afterwards.
Our obsession with thinner bodies and smaller affects intersects at a time when, so we are told, women have become “anti-ambition.” We’re told that the “girl boss” is dead and that she has been replaced by the “trad wife” with her soft prairie dresses and days spent on gentle skin care routines and making cookies from scratch. Even the more counterculture “bimbos” and “brats” are said to be seeking escape over ambition.
While the aesthetic has certainly changed, today’s most fascinating performers are invested in exploring female affect and its impact. Charli XCX holds a hilariously deadpan gaze in “360.” Sabrina Carpenter gives a coy smile in her dreamy video for “Espresso.” Chappell Roan’s gives a playful and defiant come-hither stare in “Red Wine Supernova.” And Doja Cat’s talent and emotional breadth is showcased in all her music videos as she effortlessly moves from silly to sexy to scary to sweet.
The success of these artists points to a renaissance of female expression, yet also shows how a full affective palate is often reserved for the young. Perhaps that is the reason I found the final episode of this season of America’s Sweethearts, where DCC hosts a reunion performance with 200 alumni dancers, to be profoundly moving. Watching the veteran dancers take to the field is a thing of true joy. Unlike the current dancers who are held to absurd standards of “perfection,” the veterans, many of whom were cheerleaders in the ‘60s and ‘70s, are allowed more space to be themselves. There is no tiny uniform they all must fit into. The women can wear their hair and make-up exactly how they like. The dance routine is simpler and less hard on muscle, bone, and joints.
“Who cares if the choreography is perfect?” manager Kelli asks as generations of women gather around her and applaud. The camera lingers on one veteran cheerleader, currently in treatment for ovarian cancer, who is enthusiastically learning the routine. Her hair is blond with streaks of pink at the ends. She wears long dangly earrings in the shape of cowboy boots and a sparkly heart-shaped football necklace. "I’m not even supposed to be on this planet," she says, "so it means the world for me to be here." She holds her pompoms to her chest as she ends the interview with a warm and genuine smile.