Filmmaker Desiree Akhavan on being crowned ‘The Beast’ by fellow pupils – and how her parents suggested a radical solution
Remember HotOrNot.com? It was one of the most highly trafficked websites of my youth. The name pretty much says it all. People uploaded photos of themselves, and users would vote: hot or not. Back then, we had a huge Dell desktop that lived in my brother Ardavan’s room, and before I could even touch it I’d have to hassle my mom to get off the phone to free up the line. At the time, the very existence of the internet was surreal and a bit exhilarating. I chose to use my first precious hours with it doomscrolling HotOrNot. I was there to train my eye, and as I did a pattern emerged: skinny symmetrical white girls in bikinis = hot, the rest of us = not.
When I was 14, someone created a website where you could vote for the hottest girl at my school. I went to an elite New York City private school called Horace Mann. It was both famous and infamous; to explain why, I need to set the scene. New York City sells itself as a haven for weirdos: inclusive and radical. It’s not. You have to be a certain kind of hot, rich and successful to play – the rest of us are just extras. It’s a city built on hierarchies with a small town’s penchant for gossip. People make the pilgrimage to New York because they believe, deep in their bones, that they might be the very best at something. In turn, the city remains in a constant state of flux, perpetually measuring exactly who and what is “the best”. There’s always a best neighbourhood, a best handbag, a best restaurant, a best play, and so of course the schools were measured up against one another, and it was agreed by many that Horace Mann was the best of the best. Or at least that’s what our parents told themselves to justify the exorbitant tuition fees.
Continue reading… Filmmaker Desiree Akhavan on being crowned ‘The Beast’ by fellow pupils – and how her parents suggested a radical solutionRemember HotOrNot.com? It was one of the most highly trafficked websites of my youth. The name pretty much says it all. People uploaded photos of themselves, and users would vote: hot or not. Back then, we had a huge Dell desktop that lived in my brother Ardavan’s room, and before I could even touch it I’d have to hassle my mom to get off the phone to free up the line. At the time, the very existence of the internet was surreal and a bit exhilarating. I chose to use my first precious hours with it doomscrolling HotOrNot. I was there to train my eye, and as I did a pattern emerged: skinny symmetrical white girls in bikinis = hot, the rest of us = not.When I was 14, someone created a website where you could vote for the hottest girl at my school. I went to an elite New York City private school called Horace Mann. It was both famous and infamous; to explain why, I need to set the scene. New York City sells itself as a haven for weirdos: inclusive and radical. It’s not. You have to be a certain kind of hot, rich and successful to play – the rest of us are just extras. It’s a city built on hierarchies with a small town’s penchant for gossip. People make the pilgrimage to New York because they believe, deep in their bones, that they might be the very best at something. In turn, the city remains in a constant state of flux, perpetually measuring exactly who and what is “the best”. There’s always a best neighbourhood, a best handbag, a best restaurant, a best play, and so of course the schools were measured up against one another, and it was agreed by many that Horace Mann was the best of the best. Or at least that’s what our parents told themselves to justify the exorbitant tuition fees. Continue reading… Life and style, Family, Autobiography and memoir, Books, Culture, Cosmetic surgery