Jade: A modern phenomenon
Back in the last millennium, there were comparitively few celebrities. A clear dividing line existed between famous people who did proper jobs that happened to put them in the public eye - be they sportsmen, actors, TV and radio presenters, whatever - and the general public. People who made a living out of being famous were either born rich or had accomplished something to earn their place in the spotlight. Now fast forward to Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway, which seems to have become an exercise in seeing how many micro-“celebrities” can be pointlessly shoehorned into one hour of programming.
In the midst of this maelstrom, Jade Goody is dying. In her own ordinary way, Jade has led an extraordinary life. After being thrust into the limelight as a naive teenager during her time in the Big Brother house, it seems like her entire existence has been documented on our screens and on the magazine racks ever since. Indeed, her return to the BB house, this time on the Celebrity edition, marks the precise moment when reality TV disappeared up its own arse.
Her relationship with the media has been curiously symbiotic. For all the regular kickings she’s been given, the interest in her has never really waned. As much as she depends on the papers and the TV networks to earn her curious living, they need people like her to keep their readers and viewing figures steady. To many people Jade is an everywoman, a shining example of someone who’s made the best of what they’ve been given from life.
The shifts in the media’s attitude towards her have been fascinating too. We’ve gone full circle from the morbid fascination when she first appeared on our screens (very few genuinely working-class people had been given such widespread TV exposure before), through the somewhat patronising proclamations of Jade as warts-and-all proletarian role model or savvy one-woman marketing machine, past the fury and indignation around the time of Shilpa-gate, all the way back to overwhelming sympathy and goodwill as she lives out her final days and weeks.
It’s difficult to know how to react to this daily bombardment of Poor Jade stories. I think the majority of people would agree that cancer is always tragic, whether they care for the sufferer or not. Some will argue that Jade is in their opinion not a particularly pleasant human being, and they resent the relentless coverage of her tragedy even more considering that thousands of others out there are similarly suffering in relative silence.
But it’s too easy to fall into the trap of labelling some people as more “deserving” of such fates than others. It was only when my mum died of cancer that I fully realised what a genuinely decent person she was, and how many people’s lives she’d affected in a positive way. Of course I found myself wondering on occasion why somebody else couldn’t have got the disease in her place - a bum, a criminal, hell, anyone different. Ultimately though, all mum’s death really proved is that such things are utterly arbitrary, and strike good folk and rotters just the same.
It’s also pointless to complain about the media feeding frenzy surrounding Jade in her dying days. You may not consider it a dignified way to die, but the PR men and the cameras and the tell-all stories have become an integral part of her life, as they will be in her death. If you wanted to be melodramatic about it, maybe this is her real tragedy. Whatever, her remarkable legacy will be that of a normal woman who became famous solely for her ordinariness. Ten years ago, you couldn’t have made it up.
In the midst of this maelstrom, Jade Goody is dying. In her own ordinary way, Jade has led an extraordinary life. After being thrust into the limelight as a naive teenager during her time in the Big Brother house, it seems like her entire existence has been documented on our screens and on the magazine racks ever since. Indeed, her return to the BB house, this time on the Celebrity edition, marks the precise moment when reality TV disappeared up its own arse.
Her relationship with the media has been curiously symbiotic. For all the regular kickings she’s been given, the interest in her has never really waned. As much as she depends on the papers and the TV networks to earn her curious living, they need people like her to keep their readers and viewing figures steady. To many people Jade is an everywoman, a shining example of someone who’s made the best of what they’ve been given from life.
The shifts in the media’s attitude towards her have been fascinating too. We’ve gone full circle from the morbid fascination when she first appeared on our screens (very few genuinely working-class people had been given such widespread TV exposure before), through the somewhat patronising proclamations of Jade as warts-and-all proletarian role model or savvy one-woman marketing machine, past the fury and indignation around the time of Shilpa-gate, all the way back to overwhelming sympathy and goodwill as she lives out her final days and weeks.
It’s difficult to know how to react to this daily bombardment of Poor Jade stories. I think the majority of people would agree that cancer is always tragic, whether they care for the sufferer or not. Some will argue that Jade is in their opinion not a particularly pleasant human being, and they resent the relentless coverage of her tragedy even more considering that thousands of others out there are similarly suffering in relative silence.
But it’s too easy to fall into the trap of labelling some people as more “deserving” of such fates than others. It was only when my mum died of cancer that I fully realised what a genuinely decent person she was, and how many people’s lives she’d affected in a positive way. Of course I found myself wondering on occasion why somebody else couldn’t have got the disease in her place - a bum, a criminal, hell, anyone different. Ultimately though, all mum’s death really proved is that such things are utterly arbitrary, and strike good folk and rotters just the same.
It’s also pointless to complain about the media feeding frenzy surrounding Jade in her dying days. You may not consider it a dignified way to die, but the PR men and the cameras and the tell-all stories have become an integral part of her life, as they will be in her death. If you wanted to be melodramatic about it, maybe this is her real tragedy. Whatever, her remarkable legacy will be that of a normal woman who became famous solely for her ordinariness. Ten years ago, you couldn’t have made it up.
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