'Race', Whiteness, Masculinities

ON WHITE MEN’S REPRESENTATIONS OF ‘RACE’, WHITENESS, MASCULINITIES AND ‘OTHERNESS’: A CRITICAL RACE STUDY OF MEN’S MAGAZINES, RACIALISATION AND ATHLETIC BODIES

STEFAN LAWRENCE

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS OF LEEDS METROPOLITAN UNIVERSITY, FOR THE DEGREE DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

January 2013

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all of those people who have helped me over the last three years or so. That is because the following thesis is much more than an attempt to fulfil the requirements of a PhD and has turned out to be symbolic of a journey, both intellectual and emotional, which has helped me grow and develop as an academic and as a person. Along my journey numerous people have supported me, both to reach the point at which I started and the stage I am at now, and for that I will be eternally grateful. The various kind words, wise words, intellectually stimulating words and sometimes uncompromising words, I have been given along the way have made the journey somewhat ‘easier’. Firstly, I would like to thank my family for their unwavering love, support and encouragement. Whenever the demands of a PhD have gotten too much you’ve always been at the end of the phone for me and have always welcomed me back home if I’ve ever needed it. The emotional support you’ve provided is just as valuable, if not more so at particular times, as any other resource I’ve needed to call upon throughout the past three years. I hope I will have the chance to repay you, one day. Secondly, I genuinely could not have asked for two better supervisors. Kevin and Jonathan, I can’t thank you enough for your time, patience, guidance and inspiration. You’ve always made time for me, despite your busy work and home lives, and because of that I’ve always felt respected and supported. It has been a real privilege to be able to work with two such well respected academics and, more importantly, genuinely good people. I hope one day to be able to offer PhD candidates the same level of care that you have given to me. As well as my supervisors, I’d also like to thank all those other members of the Carnegie faculty, form those who have smiled at me in the hallway, and politely enquired about my studies, to those that have had to endure considerably longer conversations about my thesis. In particular, Aarti, Scarlett, Milton and Te-Fang, PhD life without you would not have been the same. Lastly, I would like to thank all of my participants for their time and their willingness and openness when discussing sensitive issues with me. They have played a central role in the production of this thesis but have also helped me to see and experience the world in ways I had never considered before this study. After hours and hours and yet more hours of writing and philosophising, they remind me of why it is I love to do research.

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Student Declaration

By signing this form, I hereby confirm that this thesis is my own work. The thesis, or any part thereof, has not been previously submitted for any degree or comparable award.

Candidate Signature: Date:

Abstract

This thesis (1) explores the racialised aspects of media representations of athletic bodies in purposefully selected British men’s magazines; and (2) considers how these images influence white men’s perceptions of their own racialised and gendered identities and those of Others. The rationale for a study of this nature emerged from a reading of much recent literature which has suggested that black male athletic bodies, in particular, have become ever more ordinary features of contemporary sport and leisure media. Liberal commentaries have argued that many subjugated racialised social groups have utilised sporting and leisure stages in order to challenge the fallacies of psychological and biological inferiority propagated historically by patriarchal and bio-racist discourses. Thus, while Black women remain underrepresented in media spaces, images of their male counterparts, particularly those of African-Caribbean heritage, have accessed the realm of the popular en masse and have acquired almost superhuman status in late modern times. However, while some uncritical commentaries equate visibility with social progress and improvement, this thesis explores the nature of media representations of Black male bodies more critically and also illuminates the racialised aspects and privileges of the often invisible sporting body, the white male athlete. In order to do this Critical Race Theory (CRT) and elements of poststructuralist theory, were employed together as a theoretical framework that guided: (a) a semiotic analysis of the racialised aspects of male athletic bodies in British men’s magazines (Men’s Health, Sport and Jump); (b) observations of white men in gyms and while doing parkour; and (c) semi-structured interviews with physically active white men and the racialised and gendered aspects of their readings of media images of male bodies. Adopting a CRT approach to media analysis centres ‘race’, racism and whiteness while addressing the colour-blindness of previous studies of men’s magazines. The study highlights the importance of studying white male athletic bodies and masculinities while implicating them in perpetuating racialised processes in sport and leisure arenas. That is, this study argues that media representations of athletic bodies and masculinities contribute to a white male supremacist discourse and therefore must not be read in isolation from processes of racialisation. The thesis contends that, paradoxically, it is imperative to centralise white masculinities and make visible their privileges, assumptions and predilections, in order to distort and highlight white male supremacy. This is particularly important considering the frequency with which these discourses are made invisible by liberal academic and media institutions.

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Contents

Acknowledgements ...... ii Student Declaration ...... iv Contents ...... viii List of Figures ...... xiv List of Tables ...... xvi Chapter one: Introduction ...... 1 Becoming white: Stefan’s story ...... 2 Significance and purpose of study...... 6 Summary of Chapters ...... 7 Terminology ...... 9 Chapter two - Exploring Critical Race Theory and Poststructuralism as theoretical framework ...... 15 Poststructuralism ...... 15 Critical Race Theory...... 18 Poststructuralism and CRT: Identifying the major ideas for implementation within this research ...... 23 The paradox of ‘race’ ...... 23 Anti-essentialism/ Intersectionality and identity politics ...... 27 Social justice ...... 30 Activist-scholarship and positive action ...... 32 Critical friends: A mutually beneficial relationship ...... 34 Chapter three - ‘Race’, racism(s) and whiteness is sport and leisure ...... 37 Sport, ‘race’ and bio-racist discourse: Athletes are born, not made? ...... 38 Scientific racism and sport media ...... 42 Sensationalism and neo-racism in the sport and leisure media ...... 44 Whiteness, white people and sport and leisure ...... 46 Whiteness as normal and (in)visible ...... 47 Whiteness as privilege (and supremacy) ...... 49 Whiteness as contingent ...... 52 Whiteness as (embodied) performance ...... 54 Conclusion ...... 57 Chapter four - Male athletic bodies, masculinities and media representations...... 61 Theorising men and media masculinities...... 61

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Hyper-reality and the idealisation of the male athletic body ...... 66 Discourses of white masculinity in sport and leisure media ...... 69 Seen but not heard: Exploring media representation of black masculinities ...... 73 Out of control and in trouble: British Asian masculinities and media representation ...... 76 The pleasure of male athletic bodies ...... 79 Conclusion ...... 82 Chapter five - Methodology ...... 85 PART 1: Semiotic analyses ...... 86 Choosing Magazines...... 86 Men’s Health ...... 88 Sport ...... 89 Jump ...... 90 Semiotics as CRT ...... 91 Choosing images and articles ...... 94 Interpreting images and articles ...... 96 PART 2: Participant observation and sample ...... 97 Participant sample ...... 97 Participant observation ...... 100 Observation environments ...... 102 PART 3: Doing and interpreting interviews ...... 104 Identifying images for interview ...... 104 Semi-structured interviews: Towards a Critical Race media literacy approach ...... 105 Interpreting interviews ...... 107 Expanding on ethical considerations ...... 109 Chapter six - Establishing identities: A subjective interpretation of men’s magazines ...... 113 Men’s Health Magazine ...... 113 The same old story … ...... 114 Embodying perfection: Establishing “the right message” ...... 118 Self-discipline and the right to control: the philosophy of the disenfranchised ...... 122 ‘Tall, dark and handsome’: Differing interpretations of the “great white male” ...... 124 Men’s Health Summary ...... 126 Jump Magazine ...... 126 The glocal athletic body: The same but different ...... 127 “A struggle for freedom”: Post-racial athletic bodies? ...... 129 Xiong Di: The global fraternity of athletic bodies...... 131

Exploring the limits of niche media: “Girls can totally do [parkour]! … They just need to be extra careful to protect themselves” ...... 133 Parkour and Freerunning (PKFR) in Latvia ...... 136 Jump Summary: Selling resistance? ...... 138 Sport Magazine ...... 139 ‘Whiter than white’ ...... 140 Linford Christie’s packet: Sexualisation and the black athletic body ...... 143 White or ‘perma-tanned’? ...... 145 Juan Manuel Vargas: An athletic body of fear and desire ...... 147 Sport, female bodies and the policing of heteromasculine pleasure ...... 149 Sport Summary ...... 151 Chapter seven - Analysing common themes ...... 155 (Re)constructing the ‘great white male’ ...... 155 Peripheral whiteness: Exploring the notion of the white dissenter? ...... 159 The athletic body as resistive strategy: Contesting fixed racial identities ...... 161 Homoeroticism and anti-eroticism: Desiring black and white ...... 165 The fantastical imagination of Otherness: Lifestyle marketing, commodification and athletic bodies ...... 169 Conclusion ...... 172 Chapter eight: Athletic bodies, media images and white masculinities ...... 175 The perceived importance of “color, hair and bone” ...... 175 Most Like me … ...... 176 “They are not like me”: The ‘obviousness’ of racial difference ...... 177 “I feel like a kind of normal guy”: The great white male under siege ...... 181 Exploring ideal masculine types and corporeal insecurities ...... 182 What about me? The white man as ‘victim’ ...... 184 The threat of Black masculinity ...... 186 “I don’t feel worthless”: Down but not out ...... 188 Surveillance and self-regulation: White men and resistance...... 189 The pursuit of body and mind ...... 193 Conclusion ...... 195 Chapter nine: White men, media images and the Other ...... 199 Racialising the Other: From conceptual uncertainty to coded ‘race’ talk ...... 200 White men, colour blind racism and talking about Others ...... 203 Disturbing the peace: The dangers of (public) denials of ‘race’ ...... 207 ‘Explaining’ the underrepresentation of British Asian male athletic bodies ...... 209

The pleasures of ambiguous ethnic male bodies ...... 211 Karim Aun: The pleasurable Other ...... 212 Juan Vargas and the racialised connotations of tattoos ...... 214 White men and the performance of Otherness ...... 217 Beyond the racialised Other: Otherness as a complex project ...... 218 Emasculine athletic bodies ...... 218 “I’m not gay or anything”: Homosexuality and Otherness ...... 219 Negotiating peripherally white masculinities: The defence of white racial identity ...... 221 Conclusion ...... 223 Chapter ten: Discussing major themes and future challenges ...... 227 Critical Race Theory, poststructuralism and media analysis ...... 228 Racialised representations and interpretations of Black male athletic bodies: (Re)establishing and challenging racial stereotypes ...... 230 Shades of white male athletic bodies: White (Anglo) supremacy and peripheral whiteness ...... 233 White male (dis)association: Embracing new ethnicities, re-evaluating the importance of ‘race’ and old racisms ...... 237 Becoming a different kind of white man? Becoming ‘race’ conscious and an activist-scholar ...... 241 Bibliography ...... 249 Appendix A: Extract from research diary ...... 276 Appendix B: And the Winners Are… (article taken from Men’s Health magazine) ..... 277 Appendix C: Best Entertainer (article taken from Sport magazine)...... 281 Appendix D: Made in China (article taken from Jump magazine) ...... 283 Appendix E ...... 293 Appendix E1: Brief biography of those participants attending Barristers gym...... 294 Appendix E2: Brief biography of those participants attending The Public gym ...... 294 Appendix E3: Brief biography of traceurs ...... 295 Appendix F ...... 297 Appendix F1: Normative White – Jonny Wilkinson ...... 298 Appendix F2: Normative White – Kirk Miller ...... 299 Appendix F3: Normative White – Daniel Ilabaca ...... 300 Appendix G ...... 301 Appendix G1: Normative Black – Yakini (Men’s Health)...... 302 Appendix G2: Normative Black – (Sport) ...... 303 Appendix G3: Normative Black – Sebastian Foucan (Jump) ...... 304 Appendix H ...... 305

Appendix H1: Transformative – Karim Aun...... 306 Appendix H2: Transformative - Philips Idowu ...... 307 Appendix H3: Transformative – Thanda Mutero ...... 308 Appendix H4: Transformative – Dolce & Gabbana ...... 309 Appendix H5: Transformative - Dimitar Dimitrov ...... 310 Appendix H6: Transformative – Cristiano Ronaldo ...... 311 Appendix I: Interview questions ...... 312 Appendix J: Using Nvivo ...... 313 Appendix K: Gym Poster ...... 314 Appendix L: Consent Form ...... 315 Appendix M: Leeds Metropolitan University – Research Information Sheet ...... 316

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List of Figures

Figure 1: David Haye (source: Men’s Health November 2010, front cover)...... 115

Figure 2: Two black Senegalese wrestlers during a bout (source: Men’s Health, Jan/Feb 2011, p. 135)...... 116

Figure 3: Yakini (source: Men’s Health, Jan/ Feb 2011, page 136) ...... 117

Figure 4: Male and female cover model finalists (source: Men’s Health, October 2010, 144- 145) ...... 119

Figure 5: Cover model winners, Kirk Miller and Laura Muirhead (source: Men’s Health October 2010, front cover)...... 122

Figure 7: Jason Mello (source: Jump magazine, February 2011, page 38-39)...... 127

Figure 8: Dimitar Dimitrov (source: Jump magazine, April 2010, page 64) ...... 129

Figure 9: Mohammed Al-Meebar, a Bahraini traceur, flips outside of a high-rise building (source: Jump magazine, May 2010, page 10)...... 131

Figure 10: Cao Cao, a Chinese traceur from Kunming, also flips outside a number of multi- storey buildings (source: Jump magazine, June 2010, page 19) ...... 132

Figure 11: A traceuse is ‘helped’ across a small gap while performing a two legged transfer (from Jump magazine, December 2010, pages 38-39) ...... 135

Figure 12: England rugby player, Jonny Wilkinson is photographed with a Sport rugby ball to promote his ‘new’ affiliation with the magazine (source Sport, 5th February 2010, pages 18- 19)...... 140

Figure 13: Ex-Great Britain sprinter Linford Christie endorsing Kleenex Pockets...... 144

Figure 14: Cristiano Ronaldo (from Sport, 18th December 2009, page 36)...... 145

Figure 15: Peruvian footballer, and captain of the national team, Juan Vargas in Umbro’s ‘AFTER THE 90 THERE ARE STILL 1350 MINUTES LEFT TO PLAY’ advertisement campaign...... 148

Figure 16: Sport readers ‘favourite girl’ competition (source: Sport, 11th March 2011, pages 56-57) ...... 150

Figure 17: Sebastian Foucan (source: Jump magazine, September 2010, page 77-78) ... 162

Figure 18: Philips Idowu (source: Sport, 18th December 2009, page 38) ...... 163

Figure 19: Thanda Mutero (from Jump magazine, August 2010, page 26) ...... 164

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Figure 20: Three Mexican traceurs (source: Jump magazine, March 2010, page 33) ...... 166

Figure 21: Traceur, Daniel Ilabaca appears on the front cover of Jump, in a manner not too dissimilar from Men’s Health (source, Jump magazine, November 2010, front cover)...... 176

Figure 22: Karim Aun (source: Men’s Health, November 2010, page 58)...... 178

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List of Tables

Table 1: Magazine articles selected for analysis ……………………………………………………………………………………………………....96

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By trying to figure out what is happening with race in situations I'm in, I've embarked on a journey that I now realize is not headed toward innocence or winning or becoming not white or finally getting it right. I don't know where it leads, but I have some hopes and desires. I want to find an antidote to the ways that whiteness numbs me, makes me not see what is right in front of me, takes away my intelligence, divides me from people I care about. (B rub , 2 : 2 )

I must invite critique of my work from scholars of color, among other scholars who have connections to marginalized groups. I can put my work out in the discourse on race … but must check my assertions with the understandings of colleagues that have experiences and perspectives different from my own. In this way, I hope I can continue to engage in critical race theory and practice so as to work towards racial equity at least in some small way. (Blaisdell, 2006: 166-167)

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Chapter one: Introduction

In recent years, the body has emerged as an ever more central component of contemporary Western societies. No longer can the body be dismissed as a mere “absent presence” (Shilling, 1993: 9) since, amongst other things, commodity culture and consumerism, various political movements, governmentality and technological advancement have brought the matter of embodiment to the very fore of late modern social relations (Shilling, 2007). Contributing significantly to society’s infatuation with all things bodily has been the shift of mediated sport and leisure from the peripheries of popular culture to its very centre. The overhaul of the BBC’s two main television stations, during the London 2012 Olympics, and the mass hysteria which surrounded the thirtieth Olympiad, clearly exemplifies the sporting body’s contemporary importance for mainstream British audiences. In this sense, not only is it safe to argue sport and athletic bodies reflect British society’s distinct politico-cultural milieu, it may also be suggested that they emerge as key institutions which help shape contemporary lifestyles and our relationships with bodies and body culture, more generally (Frost, 2010). Athletic bodies in media then, whether well-known or otherwise, have saturated popular culture to such an extent they have become the normative standard by which many people measure their own embodiment, their identities and those of others. As with all populist social developments, the rise of the athletic body, signified by its omnipresence in contemporary sport and leisure media, has thus become an increasingly important political tool which in turn has led some to argue that the triumphs of particular athletic bodies ‘evidences’ the fruitfulness of a neo-liberalist, (assimilatory) multiculturalist political ideology (Carrington, 2002a; 2002b). Many subjugated racialised groups and bodies, for instance, have used the stages offered by physical culture(s) to challenge the fallacies of psychological and biological inferiority, residual vestiges of colonialism and imperialism (Messner, 1993; Carrington, 2002a; Hylton, 2009). Evidently, while Black female athletic bodies remain underrepresented in media spaces (Knoppers and Elling, 2004), black male athletic bodies have entered mainstream media en masse which is a development that would not have been thought possible at the turn of the twentieth century (Carrington, 2010). Indeed, media consumers now only have to open a magazine (Hylton, 2009), switch on the television (Carrington, 2002b) or visit the cinema (Giardina, 2003) to be confronted by ‘a bit of the Other’. However, before we are falsely charmed by some gloriously liberating homily of absolute social improvement, it is the intention of this thesis to explore the instrumentalism of these developments more critically, by interrogating whiteness and masculinity, so as to understand better the racialised aspects of mediated athletic bodies and their influence on and reflection of a late modern identity politic.

At this moment it will suffice to say that throughout this thesis I will use Critical Race Theory and poststructuralism as guiding frameworks, which I deliberate in more detail in Chapter two, and so will begin by utilising a technique termed by Critical Race Theorists as counter-narrative storytelling (Bell, 1992; Crenshaw et al., 1995; Delgado and Stefancic, 2000; Dunbar Jr., 2008). I do this to locate myself from the very beginning as a social actor, a researcher and an activist-scholar as well as to offer some insight into how I came to undertake this study. By utilising this technique I provide a very brief overview of how I have come to experience the world, and the bodies in it, as a ‘white man’ and thus how I have come to understand matters of ‘race’ through my own interpositionality. Furthermore, I also set out in this Chapter to introduce the significance of this study, in a broader context, so as to demonstrate why this research is particularly relevant in more ways than simply being a journey of self-discovery. In turn, I provide the background, purpose and significance of the study as well as a section detailing how it is that I use particular terminology.

Becoming white: Stefan’s story

The day started like any other. Our year two primary school teacher would take the register, we’d say a morning prayer and then we would sit down to work. After we’d taken our seats however our teacher told us that she had some exciting news: a new boy, Leon, who had just moved to my hometown from a nearby, densely populated multicultural city, was waiting outside the door to meet his new classmates. “Do come in Leon”, our teacher shouted in the direction of the door, gesturing to him to enter the room. The class fidgeted with excitement. Slowly, the door opened and a timid figure emerged from the corridor. “He’s black!” a surprised voice exclaimed. The room fell silent, the class stared and Leon did exactly the same back at the class. In the stillness, my parents’ words sounded in my head: “everyone should be treated equally regardless of colour”. But as a child seeing a black face for the first time, the only thing I can remember thinking was how different this dark body, juxtaposed against a sea of white bodies in a classroom, bathed in bright natural light, was to me and all that I had come to know about bodies in my world. Maybe it was because Leon’s body was ‘new’ and with all ‘new’ bodies there is a sense of excitement and intrigue, but somehow, for me at least, there was something particularly captivating about this particular body.

Leon and I would eventually become extremely good friends; we would play in a band together and would ride the bus to school every day, up until the day we finished high school. Nonetheless, my memory of our first encounter is dominated by a sense that there was something ‘different’ about Leon, which conflicted with what my parents had told me about the colour of person’s skin that it “means nothing” and “we are all equal”. This particularly powerful memory of an otherwise mundane event could easily be dismissed for

my own convenience as a typical reaction of a child whose innocence and inexperience had sheltered them from the corporeal varieties of our world; however, since no other childhood friend evokes such a vivid recollection of our first encounter, it is more appropriate to accept that my uncertain feelings towards Leon were a consequence of the failings of colour-blind racial ideology to teach children about their own whiteness (MacNaughton, 2005). Living in a small semi-urban English town in the West Midlands where most of the inhabitants were/ are white, working class, I was raised to be colour-blind toward matters of ‘race’. However, because of the ideology’s obvious failings, inasmuch as it does not really teach us not to see ‘race’, rather it teaches us to ignore it, I did occasionally notice that certain members of my immediate social network were racialised. My school friend, Leon, and my football playing mates, Nate and Sean, and their dads’, Norrece and Vincent, for example, were marked out, by an older member of my family in the 199 s, as “black” or “half-caste”. I, on the other hand, had never learnt about my social location as a raced being. I was never told that I would be perceived as having a racial identity and I certainly was never informed by anyone that I would be able to call upon a number of privileges that my “black” and “half-caste” friends would have difficulty accessing. After all, as my parents’ well-intentioned colour-blindness had taught me “everyone is equal, regardless of colour”. Not once was I made to feel that my childhood or teenage achievements were a result of anything other than hard work and not ever was I made to feel that I was ‘minority ethnic’ or told I could not consider myself ‘properly’ British, despite my dad’s family having emigrated from Sicily in the early 1950s. And so, although I was aware of my own ethnic identity, which sometimes caused me mild discomfort when negotiating belonging as a teenager, I was never marked out as having a racial identity or as being significantly different from the majority of my peers, by my peers, family, teachers or football coaches. Thus, colour- blindness taught me to overlook the importance, or otherwise, of ‘race’, when grappling with the politics of identity, my own white privilege, and the realities of racism which my Black friends and their families would/ do experience. I carried this colour-blind naivety with me into my leisure time and it was through sport that, as a teenager, ‘knowing’ ‘race’ was of marginal importance, I fostered many positive relationships with other boys from a variety of different ethnic backgrounds. In this way my connections with Black peoples, from an early age, had largely been positive. Therefore, during my time as an undergraduate student, after taking a particular interest in matters of racial equality in sport and leisure, I graduated as someone who would have considered themselves ‘anti-racist’ and passionate about tackling inequality. However, before sounding too self-righteous, on reflection, and despite my best intentions, my understanding of ‘race’ and racism was often guided by a traditional view that assumed these matters were a problem for ‘non-white’ people. Thus, even as one of the fortunate few that both attain a

university degree and are taught about racial inequality, I gave very little, if any, consideration to white people’s/ my role in perpetuating racialised hierarchies. It was during my time as a Masters Student, as I explored my own ethnic identity and the history of Italian migrants in Britain, that I would first consider the complexities of whiteness, white people and their relationship to racism(s). At first, I was reluctant to understand myself as white, even if others did, since I wished to distance myself from the white (Anglo) majority, whose attitudes towards ‘race’ and politics, particularly while I was growing up, often conflicted with my own. The term ‘white’ was a phrase I equated with power and I thus preferred to identify as Anglo-Sicilian partly because this enabled me to avoid asking myself more awkward questions about my role, as a person who is perceived as white, in effecting racialised injustices. Hence, when I used to write about ‘white people’, I always preferred to think that I was not writing about myself. As I will argue during this thesis, white men dominate sport and leisure, media, higher education and politics, and because of my past involvements with moderately influential positions in sport and leisure, as a personal trainer, sports coach, journalist and youth worker, in addition to my current status as a PhD candidate/ associate lecturer, I too have been one of those white men who have (consciously or otherwise) taken advantage of white male privilege, regardless of my own politics or ethnic affiliation. And so, while in many ways I will not be writing about myself when I refer to the dominance of white men, because to do so would be to allude to a narrow and essentialist definition of the social category ‘white people’, in many other ways I cannot avoid being implicated in what I write about them and whiteness discourses, more generally. The following counter narrative story, not only hopes to draw out a key moment for the inception of this study, it also hopes to demonstrate how the performance of my whiteness has been more reflexive and critical which in turn avoids reifying the social category ‘white people’ and highlights the complexities of ‘doing’ whiteness:

In my role as a personal trainer, which I undertook in order to fund my Masters degree, I became accustomed to my white male client base asking for help with achieving a ‘[Men’s Health] cover model physique’. Of course I put them under no illusion that to achieve such a body would be an extremely difficult, if not impossible, task, but it would be something I could help them “work towards”. During one particular consultation, as was usual, when I asked a client what it was they were looking to achieve, he replied “something you see on the cover of Men’s Health. Y’know not too big, but toned”. As we stood on the gym-floor, chatting about how we could achieve this goal, the client suddenly pointed towards the leg press machine which was being loaded with a large amount of weight by a very muscular black man. “Wow”, the client said, “I wouldn’t fancy trying that!” “Me neither”, I replied. “Then again, black blokes are more powerful than white blokes aren’t they?!” the client asserted, “so getting like the guy on the front cover of Men’s Health is easier for them than it is for us, ay!”. At this

moment I paused and looked around. “Well, that’s not quite accurate”, I said and pointed to a more slender looking black man using the chest press machine who the client had conveniently overlooked. “Yeah but they are renowned for being more cut and toned and that, I mean, think about it, you see loads of ‘em in adverts or doing sport on the TV and they’re all really stacked!”, he said more forcefully this time. I went on to argue against the client’s logic and politely informed him that his views were “scientifically problematic”, not to mention simplistic given that gym-goers and sportspeople tend to be more athletic than the majority of the population. “Anyway it doesn’t matter”, he said. Needless to say, after that initial consultation, the client never rang back to book in for a second visit with me.

After I challenged the man’s blissful ignorance, breaking the unwritten code of backstage ‘race’ talk, wherein white people feel free to speak openly and crudely about Black people to one another (Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Feagin, 2010; Hughey, 2011a), I considered the client’s reference to the media. I pondered the influence media had had on the client’s understanding of black athletic bodies but also what was more implicit in his logic – the perceived physical inferiority of his and other white bodies. As I sat in the gym office after seeing the client off, flicking through a copy of Men’s Health, I deliberated how it is that white men use media to inform their ‘knowing’ about the ‘racial differences’ between athletic bodies, despite what the deciphering of the human genome tells us about the fallacy of biological ‘race’ (McCann-Mortimer, 2004). For me, this story revealed, as Omi (1989: 114) reminds us, how,

[p]opular culture has been an important realm within which racial ideologies have been created, reproduced, and sustained. Such ideologies provide a framework of symbols, concepts, and images through which we understand, interpret, and represent aspects of our “racial existence”.

And so, bodies, particularly athletic bodies, given their centrality in contemporary popular culture, provide an important framework of signs and symbols through which racial ideologies and myths are constructed and sustained. Arguably, after the successes of ‘Team GB’ at the London 2012 Olympics, and the subsequent glorification of athletic bodies, a study that investigates the racialised elements of athletic bodies has never been timelier. Both of the above stories demonstrate how bodies, whether mediated or lived, are among the first pieces of information we gather when making assumptions about an individual’s cognitive and physical capabilities. Thus, as I hope to demonstrate throughout this thesis, the “techniques of boundary inscription between ‘us’ and ‘them’ begin with the body: ways of looking, ways of sounding, and ways of being” (Valentine, 2010: 531). For instance, as my first story reveals, although I came to understand Leon to have been a confident, religious and musically gifted individual, meaning we shared many similarities, my

initial assumptions about him, as different and intriguing, were provoked by my reading of his body. The second story, too, is also able to reveal the importance of the body, particularly the athletic body, insomuch as it reveals how many people still come to ‘know’ about other people via how they perceive the racialised aspects of bodies. And so, the following thesis emerges, not from a belief in media that brainwash its audience but, from an interest in how athletic bodies, in mediated and lived contexts, contribute to an understanding of whiteness and masculinities and how they are contested, (re)produced and embodied by white men.

Significance and purpose of study

According to Mintel (2 1 ), the market in Britain for men’s magazines was estimated to be worth £76 million in 2009, which was when I began this study. The same report suggests that sixty-five million men’s magazines were circulated during this year which is a statistic that indicates, given the current centrality of images of human bodies in mainstream media, a significant proportion of the UK’s population is exposed to countless representations of bodies. In turn, although the paid-for men’s magazine industry on the whole has fallen into decline, titles such as Men’s Health, Healthy for Men and Men’s Fitness (Mintel, 2010), which offer “a more middle-class aspirational discourse of body maintenance” (Whannel, 2002: 36), are bucking this trend and emerge as the only publications increasing monthly circulation figures. This trend is particularly interesting considering the pictorial focus of these titles is of semi-naked (mainly white) male athletic bodies. Thus, taking the men’s magazine industry as a purposive sample of the kinds of images men consume via the media, the gaze of more and more men is shifting away from semi-naked female bodies, as seen in previous market leader, FHM, and is moving onto the bodies of other men. This is not to say heterosexual men have never looked at men’s bodies before but it is to suggest that it is becoming all the time more ‘normal’ and increasingly socially acceptable. While in recent times male bodies have started to draw considerable scholarly attention from those interested in health studies and men and masculinity studies, “researchers have not identified the racial features of the ‘ideal masculine body’” (Azzarito, 2 9: 21) and have thus underplayed the significance of ‘race’ as a defining feature of ideal male athletic bodies. And so, while research has begun to express notable concern about the impact of mediated athletic bodies on men’s senses of their masculine identities, exacerbating a ‘masculinity in crisis’ discourse, this concern has not been extended to encompass matters of racialisation, despite it being earmarked as “the process by which ‘race’ becomes meaningful in a particular context” [emphasis added] (Garner, 2 9: 19). Moreover, despite the overall lack of research documenting the racialised aspects of sport media imagery, the white male athletic body has emerged as a particularly neglected area of

study. This is certainly not to suggest that white men or white male athletic bodies have never been studied by social scientists in sport and leisure, quite the contrary, but it is to say they have rarely been understood as raced bodies, meaning they have “become the default, unmarked, normative position through which much work in [the sociology of sport] is produced” (Carrington, 2 8: 42 ). The danger here then is that, not only is the white athletic body represented as aracial, the experiences of white men are not named as such, meaning knowledge can often be rooted in the everyday embodied experiences of a particularly privileged cohort of people. In order to attend to these concerns, the aims of the research were:

 To produce a critical account of how media images of ethnically differing (male) athletic bodies are represented and interpreted by white men.  To gain a better understanding of how media representations of athletic bodies influence the embodied (ethnic and masculine) identities of white men and their conceptualisation(s) of Othered bodies.  To explore the importance of moving toward an understanding of racialisation as a productive process of identity formation so as to offer a more nuanced reading of white male privilege.

Critical Race Theory (CRT) and poststructuralism are used as guiding frameworks in order to address the aforementioned aims. And so, in exploring the racialised aspects of athletic bodies, and by centralising the experiences of white men within a critical whiteness studies tradition (see Delgado and Stefancic, 1997; Nayak, 2007), the privileges of 'the powerful' – as well as the disadvantages of 'the Other' – are brought to the fore rendering them visible and available for critique. I will go on to argue that making visible what is often invisible enables a more complex understanding of how white male privilege and racialisation operate within our late modern times which in turn contributes to a deeper understanding of social justice in sport, leisure, and media. In this sense, such a study of the sport and leisure media is highly relevant, “because the media play a key role in the social construction and interpretation of reality, especially the reality of social attitudes, beliefs, and race and power relations” (Odartey-Wellington, 2 11: 9 ). In other words, media ‘reality’ can often be transposed as the reality.

Summary of Chapters

The Chapters that follow then explore the ways in which media images of athletic bodies influence white men and the various ways in which these men both contest and reproduce media representations of whiteness, blackness and Otherness. And so, before I undertake the empirical investigation, Chapter two first explores and details the theoretical framework

that this thesis employs. Here, Critical Race Theory (CRT) and poststructuralism are introduced as guiding frameworks that provide the philosophical foundations for this study. This Chapter provides an epistemological context for the knowledge claims that are made in the remainder of the thesis and outlines how CRT sponsors pragmatically the anti- essentialism and critique of positivism provided by poststructuralism. Following the theoretical framework, Chapter three reviews literature that has considered matters of ‘race’ in relation to sport, leisure, and media. The purpose of this Chapter is to understand how discourses of and attitudes toward ‘race’ and body have both been entrenched and changed over time in order to appreciate the complex and evolving nature of contemporary racisms and processes of racialisation in current sport and leisure media. Chapter four then, which also centralises relevant literature on ‘race’, sport and media, considers the importance of understanding the intersections between ‘race’ and masculinity. This approach thus contextualises and highlights the relevance and importance of a CRT intersectional approach when considering the complexities of media imagery, racial identity formations and the intersections of gender and sexuality. Chapter five considers how other studies have investigated media representations of ‘race’ and gender, the practicalities of the fieldwork and also discusses why the three magazines, Men’s Health, Sport and Jump, were selected for special consideration throughout this study. This Chapter consists of three parts, considering in turn (1) semiotic analysis; (2) participant observation; and (3) the doing and interpreting of interviews. Part one proposes that semiotics is a valuable method when analysing and interpreting media imagery since it allows a rich, detailed and descriptive mosaic of racialised and gendered meanings to be set forth as the starting point for critical debate about the representation of racialised masculinities. Part two discusses the various uses of participant observation and begins to explain why it is the study’s human sample includes only those men who identify as white. Part three then goes on to address how this study utilises semi-structured interviews, elements of dialogic performance and photo–elicitation to consider how other white men understand and interpret the same images which I subjected to a semiotic analysis. Framing the methodology then is a non-traditional approach to research inasmuch as it purposely grapples “with the reflexive, problematic and sometimes contradictory nature of the data and with the tremendous, if not unspoken, influence of the researcher as author” (Fontana and Frey, 2008: 141). That is, as opposed to eradicating researcher bias from the research, this study’s methodology advocates alternative ways of knowing outside of narrow epistemological traditions. Chapters six and seven address this study’s first aim of producing a critical account of how media images of ethnically differing (male) athletic bodies are represented. More specifically, Chapter six documents the outcomes of the semiotic analysis of Men’s Health,

Sport and Jump, in order to illustrate each magazine’s distinct identity. In doing this, the differing ways in which magazines represent athletic bodies are explored which, in turn, highlights how masculinities are constructed and idealised in media. Chapter seven considers the three magazines, collectively, and, in so doing, deliberates the multiplicity of media masculinities, but also explores the comparable ways in which magazines represent differing male bodies. This Chapter thus conducts a nuanced investigation of the racialised aspects of athletic bodies but does not lose sight of the broader political importance of seeking out common, negative racialised representations, so that their adverse social consequences may be countered. In Chapters eight and nine particular attention is given to the testimonies generated from in-depth semi-structured interviews. These Chapters seek to gain a better understanding of how media representations of athletic bodies influence the embodied (ethnic and masculine) identities of white men and their conceptualisation(s) of Othered bodies. Chapter eight focuses on white men and the ways in which they use media imagery to understand themselves, how they view their bodies and how they negotiated racialised notions of inclusion and exclusion. Chapter nine on the other hand focuses on the ways in which these same men use the same sample of images to discuss, construct and circumscribe notions of Otherness. Finally, Chapter ten then concludes with an exploration of how my readings of images, offered in Chapters six and seven, can be considered in relation to the interpretations of imagery offered by this study’s participants in Chapters eight and nine. Thus, considering both my readings of images and those of other white men, this Chapter highlights the critical dissonance between scholarly and everyday interpretations of media imagery but also suggests that there is pedagogical value in confronting one with the other. In light of this, Chapter ten also considers how the ideas proposed throughout this thesis can be translated into practical approaches that work toward social justice. It thus proposes that the producer-consumer dichotomy, in relation to print media, should be rethought to accommodate the notion of two-way communication, that the cultural centrality of the body can be utilised to challenge racialised stereotypes and that by encouraging sport and leisure media practitioners and consumers to act with a ‘race’ consciousness they are better equipped to navigate matters of ‘racial’ inequality.

Terminology

The intention of this final section is to outline how I am using key terminology. The following will help the reader be clearer about why and how particular terms are being used and in what context. Furthermore, the purpose of doing this is not simply that it acts as a guide for the reader; it also challenges me to be precise and critical with my scholarship,

particularly given that language and meaning do not have a stable and coherent relationship with one another. More specifically, this section is to pay particular attention to the terms used to refer to differently racialised individuals and groups. However, when attempting to understand the racialised nature of bodies there is always a danger that this practice may be misconstrued as a form of essentialism or reification. It is thus important to make clear that the terms which will appear most frequently throughout this study, British Asian, black, Black and white, refer to the ‘racial’ identities that are attributed to bodies, often by the owners of bodies, themselves, and by others. Thus, in order to avoid reification I expand in further detail on how these terms, as well as terminology such as ‘the Other’ and representation, are being used and to whom or what they refer. British Asian is a term used to describe those people whose ancestry lies within India, Pakistan and Bangladesh but who are born in Britain or hold a British passport (Alexander, 2000). It is clear that British Asian identities are heterogeneous, multiple and changing; hence, where applicable I use more specific terms such as, for instance, British Pakistani- Muslim. Although there is absolutely a need to recognise how the category ‘British Asian’ is fractured by a myriad of ethnic, religious, national, class and gendered practices, it remains useful, in some instances, in a socio-political sense when referring to more inclusive, less religiously specific, fluid forms of identity and when attempting to deal with the cumulative effects of racialisation for people of South Asian descent. The term black is used to refer to those bodies and/ or groups of bodies whose ancestry lies in Africa or the Caribbean. This term is at times used to refer to those bodies and peoples who either recognise themselves to be or are recognised by others as black. However, to avoid using this term in a narrow and essentialist fashion, where applicable I use more specific terminology to acknowledge the differences between black identities such as African American or black British. Moreover, this term should not be confused with the word Black (with a capital ‘B’) since this term is intended to be inclusive of both African- Caribbean and British Asian bodies, the two most numerically significant ‘minorities’ in Britain, not to deny intra and inter-racial difference but, to recognise both groups’ common experience of oppression under white supremacist systems. In this sense, the term will refer to those who are affected negatively by colour racism (see Mac an Ghaill, 2001: 179) and thus, as the study developed, it became useful to include other emerging racialised groups such as Latino/a within this category. Importantly, this is not to suggest that only those individuals and groups who are perceived to be black, British Asian or Latino/a experience racism, or that Black = powerlessness, but it is to suggest that ‘colour racism’ (i.e. the colour of a person’s skin) remains an important factor in the persistence of ‘racial’ discrimination and that a sense of collective political identity, concurrent with a distinct

sense of ethnic identity, helps mobilise bodies within the late modern cultural imperative of a new politics of difference. In a similar fashion to the other terms, the term white should not be understood to denote a neat, formal, decipherable social category of people; rather it is used to refer to those people who either perceive themselves to be white or are perceived by others as white (Kivel, 2002). In this sense, the term is a racial identity, an external label which in many instances is internalised by individuals as a meaningful way to understand a sense of self. However, using this term does not deny the porous nature of the category ‘white people’ or that it is “fractured by the myriad ethnic practices of Russian Jews, Poles, Italians or Irish people” (Nayak, 2 6: 41 ). I go on to deliberate the notion of white people and whiteness, and the differences between the two, in more detail in Chapter three. Moving away from terminology which clarifies the racialised location of bodies, the Other, although tied to notions of racialised inclusion/ exclusion, is a term that is used to refer to a body or group of bodies who, at any given moment, are discursively constructed as being different to the ideals of dominate white (Anglo) masculinities. However, it must be made clear that the “[t]he place of the Other must not be imaged … as a fixed phenomenological point, opposed to the self” (Bhabha, 2 8 [1986]: xxx), meaning the Other of white men is not necessarily the black male body nor is necessarily the female body; at any particular moment, it may be both, and equally it may be neither. In this sense, the Other is a concept that is neither completely fixed to a particular body nor completely unfixed inasmuch as context plays an important role in defining who is and who is not Othered. The final term in need of clarification is the term representation, which will appear throughout the rest of the thesis with the prefix re- (meaning: again or back) in italics. This is so that the repetitious nature of representing, particularly media representation, is continually and strategically underlined, which in turn emphasises that media ‘realities’ are repeatedly signified (Bignell, 2002: 59). In other terms, placing the re in italics serves to remind us that “reality does not precede [media] representation but is constituted by it” (Lather, 2003: 258). Thus, while the literal meaning of the word is not amended the partial italicising of the word does require the reader to consider consciously the processes associated with presenting. At this point, there are still some notable concepts and terms, such as ‘race’, racism and racialisation, that are excluded from this brief deliberation of terminology. These terms are particularly important for this thesis and will thus be discussed in the following Chapter wherein I outline the theoretical framework. And so, by the conclusion of Chapter two all of the terms and concepts that are deemed particularly important for this research will have been deliberated in detail. When this has been established, it will be the purpose of the

remaining Chapters to contextualise the key concepts within sport and leisure and sport and leisure media.

Chapter two - Exploring Critical Race Theory and Poststructuralism as theoretical framework

This Chapter outlines how poststructuralist theory can be adopted by Critical Race Theory (CRT) to aid the latter’s innovative trans-disciplinary approach to research. In doing this, this Chapter will explore any potential discordances between the two but will also identify points of reconciliation and collaboration. In order to guide a discussion of this sort it is first important to ask essential questions that help establish the philosophical position of the research and the theoretical framework (Lincoln and Guba, 1994). I begin by briefly introducing the main principles of both perspectives, in a generic context, but I then move on to a discussion of the main theoretical tools and ideas, derived from CRT and poststructuralism which I employ throughout the thesis. The main purpose of this Chapter is not to provide a history of CRT and/ or poststructuralism or to spend too much time repeating the main ideas of both movements; rather it is to outline how and why I have utilised particular ideas and theoretical tools in order to develop a framework that is philosophically rigorous, historically relevant and politically conscious. This Chapter then addresses three fundamental questions, as set out by Lincoln and Guba (1994), so as to consider the theoretical framework. First, the ontological question: are ‘race’, social justice or masculinities, for instance, entities that exist (what is the form and nature of their ‘reality’)? Second, the epistemological question: what can this research claim to know about the identities of white men or the messages that are communicated by sport and leisure media imagery (what is the nature of the relationship between the knower or would-be knower and the subject of inquiry)? The methodological question is one which is considered in Chapter five but is nonetheless relevant to appreciate here: how can the researcher investigate effectively and interpret the images and testimonies which have been generated by the philosophical positioning of the researcher? The theoretical tools which are outlined below form the basis of the methodology and subsequent analysis.

Poststructuralism

Until recently, post-structuralism was greeted with much uneasiness by many operating within the sociology of sport (Andrews, 2000: 107), however, increasingly sport and leisure sociologists have utilised poststructuralism, in its many different guises, to explore the intersections between “contemporary sporting formations, language, power and subjectivity”. Those wishing to explore the role of embodiment as a sporting and leisure practice (Andrews, 1993; Cole, 1993; Markula, 1993, 1995, 2003; Markula and Pringle, 2006; Pringle and Markula, 2005; Pronger, 1995, 1998), as well as a number of sport and leisure media

scholars concerned with representation (Andrews, 1998; Hokowhitu, 2003), for instance, have demonstrated poststructuralist theory has been able to provide new insights into the “political relations of power, domination, oppression, resistance and struggle” (Rail, 1998: x). That is, poststructuralism has become a legitimate alternative to more established frameworks, employed traditionally by the sociology of sport community (Andrews, 2000; Markula and Pringle, 2 6), which has challenged the nominal ‘truths’ about the body rooted in dominant (i.e. scientific) ways of knowing (Markula and Pringle, 2006). Although poststructuralism emerged as a critique of structuralism, the two traditions cannot be easily separated. Many of its key writers such as Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault and Jean-François Lyotard, to name a few, have all had their structuralist moments (Agger, 1991) and even Jacques Derrida, who is broadly agreed to be a poststructuralist, would not consider himself as such. In this sense, searching for a neat, cohesive definition of poststructuralism is an impossible task, a recognition with which poststructuralists would be most satisfied. The very nature of this tradition then and its unwillingness to offer an essentialist definition of itself reflects its commitment to and contentedness in ambiguity and difference (or différence). However, Strohmayer (2005: 7) does identify certain features and ambitions which would broadly be understood as poststructuralist:

‘Post-structuralism’ should be seen as an attempt to create the ultimate distance from the unfulfilled longings of the nineteenth century and their often catastrophic consequences during the twentieth century. It questions the key underlying notions of any postulation of ‘progress’ and ‘optimism’: the assertion of stability embodied in the concept of ‘structure’.

In other terms, poststructuralists see the world as being in a perpetual state of flux, unstable and unpredictable. That is, the nature of being is problematised to the extent that our ability to know about ‘reality’, ‘ideology’ and ‘human nature’ is shaped by the discursive workings of various historical and socio-cultural processes of power and regimes of truth. In sum, perhaps the most important hallmark of poststructuralism “is its aversion to clean positivist definitions and categories” (Agger, 1991: 112). Poststructuralism is indeed a complex paradigm, critical of modernist conventions, but it should not to be confused with postmodernism, although the two can often overlap and are, at times, erroneously confused. This is an important distinction. Thus, for the sake of clarity, poststructuralist ideas, such as “power/ knowledge” (Foucault, 1972, 1973, 1977, 1980b, 1981) and “deconstruction” (Derrida, 1972, 1974, 1978, 1981, 1990, 1993, 1998), are used in this study as a way to explore the complex nature of identity politics and processes of Othering. The work of Derrida has been particularly useful in exposing how all modernist assumptions and categories have the ability to be critiqued, exposed and deconstructed to

reveal a montage of différence (see Derrida, 1978). That is, when one probes deep into social science, hidden complexities, such as the politics of language and the multiplicities of power and discourse, sometimes overlooked by positivist and/or ‘common-sense’ approaches, can be unravelled yet further: “[w]henever deconstruction finds a nutshell a secure axiom or a pithy maxim - the very idea is to crack it open and disturb the tranquillity” (Caputo, 1997: 32). This playful dictum on deconstruction illustrates neatly, the paradox of an important endeavour of poststructuralism, “to puncture the balloon of those who believe that language is simply a technical device for establishing singular, stable meanings instead of the deeply constitutional act that it is” (Agger, 1991: 114)1. Davies (1993: 148) explains:

Poststructuralist theory has particularly emphasized the coercive nature of text. However, the emergence of poststructuralist theory has been powerfully liberating precisely because it has made that coercion visible … The innocence of language as a transparent medium for describing the real world is undone in poststructuralist theory revealing a rich mosaic of meaning and structure through which we speak ourselves and are spoken into existence.

In opposition to structuralist traditions then, and the essentialism and certainty espoused by grand narratives, poststructuralism rejects the search for a singular or explicable ‘truth’ regarding the essence of things or reality, by way of a critique of language, and challenges the ontological claims made by humanist and enlightenment discourses about the ‘natural’ order of things (Foucault, 2001). Poststructuralism is thus particularly useful in the context of this study because it forces a consideration of the politics of the body and its representation, the discursive nature of ‘truth’ and the multiplicity of meaning. For instance, poststructural concepts are useful in order to disrupt and critique essentialist definitions of ‘race’ that attempt to categorise neatly (and thus control) people by sorting them into harmonious social and/ or biological categories. This realisation evokes a consideration of Foucault’s theory of power and the body - another particularly important concept for this thesis. According to Foucault, “[p]ower is everywhere ... because it comes from everywhere” (Foucault, 1978b: 93). From this perspective, modern social power is thought to be devolved from one central possessor, body or group, which produces and incites (Foucault, 1978a) a complex web of power relations that “operates on and through the creation of different subject identities” (Gillborn, 2005: 490). In this sense, each body and its multiple subjectivities are then “caught up in a power situation of which they themselves are the bearers” (Foucault, 198 a: 2 1). In other terms, power “is dispersed, decentralized and diffused throughout society” (Newman, 2 5:

1 For example, schadenfreude (feeling happiness at someone else’s misfortune) is a German word which has no direct translation in English; thus, are those in the Anglophone world incapable of

51), meaning it is more subtle and cooperative in its functioning: “If power were never anything but repressive, if it never did anything but to say no, do you really think one would be brought to obey it?” (Foucault, 1980a: 119). Thus, it is not the case that certain bodies/ institutions have power and others do not. Consequently, in this thesis power is treated as a relation, not a thing, capable of producing and legitimising multiple outcomes and effects, which cannot be essentialised as being essentially either bad or good. Although ‘true’ poststructuralists may never see meaning or ‘truth’ in the words we use or the categorises we construct, the simple ‘fact’ the likes of Derrida and Foucault continued to write and to use logic and reason to make their arguments says much about their reluctance/ inability to completely reject the structures and traditions which they criticise. In this way, while poststructuralism is often criticised for being idealist (Messner, 1996), marginalising the importance of ‘race’ and leaving readers in a place of “absence, difference, fragmentation and rhetoric” they nonetheless remain “connected to the traditions they criticise” (Benton and Craib, 2 1: 168). Importantly, it is this inability to completely escape the limits of language and structure which enables me to utilise poststructuralist ideas and theoretical tools in conjunction with Critical Race Theory. And so, far from damning humanity forever to know nothing, poststructuralists have contributed to an epistemological debate which allows sport and leisure sociologists to highlight both the constraints imposed by language and discourse on our ability to ‘know’, the role of sporting bodies in relations of power and the importance of embracing alternative methodological strategies which allow us to ‘know’ about our world in a more complex and nuanced fashion.

Critical Race Theory

Critical Race Theory is an intellectual movement that is both particular to our postmodern (and conservative) times and part of a long tradition of human liberation and resistance. On the other hand, the movement highlights a creative - and tension-ridden - fusion of theoretical self-reflection, formal innovation, radical politics, existential evaluation, reconstructive experimentation, and vocational anguish ... Critical Race Theorists put forward novel readings of a hidden past that disclose the flagrant shortcomings of the treacherous present in the light of unrealized - though not unrealizable - possibilities for human freedom and equality. (West, 1995: xi-xii)

Critical Race Theory (CRT) is often described as a movement and/ or framework (West, 1995), rather than a theory (Hylton, 2010; 2012), which has sought to examine the liberal ideologies and agendas of contemporary Western (particularly American) societies more closely. It is a movement that emerged in the United States in response to Critical Legal Studies, in the mid-1970s, as more and more scholars, lawyers and activists realised that

the headway that was made during the civil rights era had begun to stall and, in some instances, become undone (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001). In light of this, early CRT scholars such as Derrick Bell, Alan Freeman, and Richard Delgado became increasingly critical of colour-blind racial ideologies, and their inflexible conceptualisation of racism as overt and bigoted, since, for them, this approach fails to recognise the more subtle discriminatory practices that have evolved in light of anti-racist policy (Bell, 1980; Bell, 1992; Delgado and Stefancic, 1995). Since then, CRT has been successfully applied when exploring matters of ‘race’ and subordination in numerous fields, outside of law, such as education (Bergerson, 2003; Blaisdell, 2006; Gillborn, 2005; Hayes and Juárez, 2009; Ladson-Billings, 1998; Nebeker, 1998; Solórzano, 1997; Warmington, 2009; Zamudio, 2011), media (Baynes, 2002; Odartey-Wellington, 2011; Yosso, 2002) and sport and leisure (Anderson and McCormack, 2010; Arai and Kivel, 2009; Burdsey, 2011a; Douglas, 2005; Hylton, 2005, 2009, 2010; Massao and Fasting, 2010; Singer, 2005;) in a number of different geographic contexts, from Norway to China, where it has evolved (and continues to evolve) as a trans-disciplinary framework, encompassing a number of different philosophies. Rollock and Gillborn (2011: 2-3) state that CRT scholarship is characterised by a common approach to research that begins with a belief in (1) the pervasive nature of racism in contemporary Western societies; (2) white supremacy; (3) the privileging of the voices of black (or minoritised) people; (4) interest convergence; and (5) intersectionality of various systems of subordination. I explore these tenets, and their relevance for this research, in further detail below. First, CRT contends that racism in society is endemic. Ladson-Billings (1998: 11), for example, asserts that racisms are not fleeting, trivial or occasional happenings but rather they are a “permanent fixture” of contemporary societies, which act covertly and overtly to order a racialised hierarchy of peoples. By this she means that far from racism being an unusual occurrence racism(s) operate, more commonly, in covert, every day forms, particularly in sport and leisure media (Brooks and Hébert, 2006; Hylton and Law, 2009; Lawrence, 2011; van Sterkenburg et al., 2010; van Sterkenburg and Knoppers, 2004;). Back et al. (1998: 85), for example, suggest that it is now in fact unhelpful to explore racism as an exclusive belief with which only a “fully paid up card carrying Nazi” will affirm, since in reality these people are few and far between. Rather, they invite the possibility that “[c]ontemporary racisms have evolved and adapted in new circumstances. [Their] crucial property ... is that they can produce a racist effect whilst denying that this effect is the result of racism” (Solomos and Back, 1996: 27). In other terms, these racisms, which are more subtle and cooperative in their functioning, are only made visible by the outcomes of policy, processes and/ or governance such as the lack of British Asian football players (Burdsey,

2004b, 2004c, 2006, 2007a) and Black sport and leisure managers (Cashmore and Cleland, 2011; Hylton, 1999). Second, CRT also argues for the importance of understanding white supremacy in order to tackle racial inequality. From a CRT perspective, white supremacy should not be conceptualised in narrow terms as a feature of contemporary neo-Nazi politics (Gillborn, 2 5); rather it should be understood as a concept that is “a political, economic, and cultural system in which whites overwhelmingly control power and material resources, conscious and unconscious ideas of white superiority and entitlement” [emphasis added] (Ansley, 1997: 592). A fleeting glance into the boardrooms of all of the UK’s national governing bodies for sport, for instance, reveal an underwhelming lack of Black directors and chief executives (King, 2002, 2005; King et al., 2007). Moreover, Gillborn (2006: 318) states that white supremacy in the context of CRT refers to “a comprehensive condition whereby the interests and perceptions of white subjects are continually placed centre stage and assumed as ‘normal’”. In simpler terms, white supremacy refers to the day-to-day privileging of white interests over those of Black people. White supremacy is thus closely linked to the notion of white privilege which holds that white people take advantage of a number of daily, invisible, unearned privileges, not available to Black people, which they are not conscious of and thus unwilling to accept (Ansley, 1997; Ignatiev, 1997a; McIntosh, 1997 [1988]). In this sense, calling whiteness to attention allows for an exploration of the white athletic body, a sparsely investigated entity, which in turn addresses the tendency for those working in sport and leisure, and ‘race’ and ethnic studies more generally, to focus disproportionately on black athletic bodies and their disadvantages (Hylton, 2009; Long and Hylton, 2002; Mac an Ghaill, 1999, 2001). Third, CRT wishes to privilege the voices of black (or minoritised) people with the aim of providing a counter narrative to mainstream and everyday discourses about ‘race’ and racisms (Bell, 1992; Crenshaw et al., 1995; Delgado and Stefancic, 1995, 2000) such as those advanced by media. In turn, CRT centralises the importance of experiential knowledge and uses a technique known as story-telling, “a method of telling the stories of those people whose experiences are not often told” (Solórzano and Yosso, 2 2: 26), to challenge dominant, stories and epistemologies (Scheurich and Young, 1997; Mills, 2007) which are advanced mostly by those occupying and reinforcing the default position of whiteness. In this sense, these ideas are particularly useful in legitimising critical and alternative stories and voices, which highlight the pervasiveness of racisms and sexisms and challenge the dominant notion sport media discourses are objective, neutral or apolitical (Knoppers and Elling, 2004). Fourth, CRT contends that gains in racial equity are only authorised should they benefit white elites (see Bell, 1980). This practice is known as interest convergence and

holds that white people have little incentive to work against racism unless it serves their own ends. This concept implies “racial injustice will decline only when White policy makers believe it is in their best interest” (Closson, 2 1 : 2 ); meaning change is often slow and incremental. Hence, this is particularly relevant for this study in that it allows us to further deconstruct the so called ‘positive’ framing of Black male bodies that are appearing in mainstream media, in order to question the socio-political legitimacy of these representations (Giardina, 2003; Hokowhitu, 2003) and the extent to which people’s attitudes towards racialised athletic bodies have shifted. Moreover, it is equally as useful to understand antiracism in football. That is, while it serves the best interests of football’s (white) elite to speak forcefully and disapprovingly about racism, in order to satisfy popular liberal opinion, the punishments which are actually handed out, such as the measly £65,000 fine handed out to Serbia after their fans racially abused Black England players in an under twenty-one international (UEFA, 2012), rarely endorses the rhetoric. It is thus little wonder why Black footballers are increasingly disillusioned with anti-racist movements and the upper echelons of the footballing hierarchy for their lack of meaningful action. Last, CRT recognises that racial oppression works on and through intersections between ‘race’ and a person’s multiple subject positions (Anderson and McCormack, 2010; Closson, 2010; Crenshaw, 1995; Delgado and Stefancic, 2000, 2001). Intersectionality is thus a key tenet of CRT and is used in order to investigate the intricacies of racialised experiences and relations of power. In this way, racisms are understood as complex and work in differing and nuanced ways. The result is that there is no ‘one size fits all’ policy or approach to tackling outcomes of racialisation and racism(s) since each person’s experience of ‘race’ and racism is inflexed differently by their gender, sexuality, class identities, and so on. I return to this particular tenet of CRT later on in this Chapter since it plays a particularly important role in this study’s approach to anti-essentialism. Underpinning the key tenets of CRT is their notable dissatisfaction with the political ideology of liberalism and its common application across and within a number of institutions, including the sociology of sport and leisure and media studies. CRT is particularly concerned by this ideology’s predisposition toward colour-blindness and incrementalism, meaning CRT scholars challenge liberalism’s philosophical underpinnings, such as Enlightenment rationality and modern notions of neutrality/ objectivity and meritocracy (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001: 2), because they insist “on treating all persons alike, regardless of their differing initial positions and histories” (Delgado, 2 11: 124 ). In short, liberalism’s dogmatic loyalty to traditional ways of knowing and conducting research is thus often derived from a narrow epistemological standpoint (Carrington, 2008; Garner, 2007; Mills, 2004, 2007; Scheurich and Young, 1997). CRT thus criticises these “mainstream methodologies for being apolitical, and reinforcing oppressions whilst subordinating the

voices and values of those rendered invisible through conventional modes of thinking” (Hylton, 2012: 26). In turn, poststructuralist critiques of Enlightenment meta-narratives (see Lyotard, 1984) have become particularly useful for CRT’s critique of liberalism because they help clear intellectually legitimate spaces wherein ‘new’ epistemological inquiries can explore the notion of ‘human progress’, and whether it is inevitable or not, and the credibility of ideology as a political device, particularly when it is used as a short-hand term which implies there is indeed a ‘best’ way to approach any given issue (see Malesevic and Mackenzie, 2002). CRT therefore understands liberalism as a political system which marginalises matters of ‘race’ in our late modern world because of its adherence to a colour-blind politics of equality. Bonilla-Silva (2002: 42) explains the working of colour-blindness and interprets it, not as a strategy by which everyone can be treated equally, but conversely as a form of racism. For him colour-blind racism (which I adapt to fit the context of sport) is characterised by:

(1) the extension of the principles of liberalism to racial matters in an abstract manner: for instance, the wearing of anti-racism Nike wristbands may be rarely followed up by meaningful anti-racist action (Hylton, 2009). (2) cultural rather than biological explanation of minorities’ inferior standing and performance: As evidenced by the attitudes and ‘explanations’ of the lack of British Asians in football because of ‘cultural differences’. (3) naturalization of racial phenomena: a process relentlessly applied to those people of African-Caribbean ancestry inasmuch as they are often believed to be ‘natural athletes’. (4) the claim that discrimination has all but disappeared: the successes of Jessica Ennis and Mo Farah, in the London 2012 Olympics, for instance, where hailed by some in the media as a triumph of British multiculturalism and ‘evidence’ of how Britain has effectively eradicated racism.

Thus, the inherent problem with liberal colour-blindness is that it only acknowledges intentional, obvious and unequivocal types of racism (Blaisdell, 2006). Bergerson (2003: 53) offers a particularly telling example of colour-blind racism in praxis, in an educational context: for instance,

a teacher may say that she treats all of her pupils the same regardless of their race, while at the same time referring to students of color as slow learners or educationally disadvantaged.

And so, on the one hand the teacher may profess to be oblivious to the importance of ‘race’ but in the same breath they may contradict themselves by acknowledging there is indeed a relationship between ‘race’ and academic performance, therefore suggesting skin colour is

a barrier to achievement. That is also to say, in protesting ‘race’ neutrality, liberalism and colour-blindness are constrained from exploring meaningfully relations of power, social justice and the political nature of all human interactions, such as the research process, teaching and sport and leisure practices (Long and Hylton, 2012), precisely because they are faithfulness to the idea that everyone should be treated equally, regardless of the differing social positions that racialised and gendered bodies occupy. CRT then, in the context of this research, should then be seen as a framework which is motivated by achieving increased human freedom and equality and an epistemological strategy that embraces radical critiques of methodological neutrality, colour-blindness and liberalism in order to grapple with the nuances of our late modern times. Thus, by following these guidelines this thesis’ “unapologetic but strategic centring of ‘race’, racism and anti- subordination translates the best of … theory from late modernity whilst pragmatically sponsoring the anti-essentialism of post-structural and post-modern ideals” (Hylton, 2 5: 83). In this sense, CRT acknowledges the need to adopt an anti-essentialist epistemology (the specificities of which are considered later in this Chapter) and a methodological approach able to grapple with the complex nature of racisms and sexisms.

Poststructuralism and CRT: Identifying the major ideas for implementation within this research

My argument here is simple. Both CRT theorists and poststructuralists recognise that ‘race’ has no ‘real’ foundation and both seek to understand better how processes of subordination, relationships of power and historical inequalities act to racialise and disadvantage particular groups and people differently, in differing contexts. I also consider how these frameworks, which are both critical of political discourses of liberalism, narrowly defined social categorises and the domination of Western positivist modes of knowing, are useful to guide the intellectual, political and conceptual projects of this thesis. In order to do this, I identify four key ideas and concepts that are used widely throughout this study: (1) the illusion of ‘race’; (2) anti-essentialism; (3) social justice; and (4) activist scholarship. I explore these concepts in further detail below.

The paradox of ‘race’

As the idea of biological ‘race’ has now become less convincing (I expand on this debate in more depth in the following Chapter) and noting the obvious harm taxonomies and hierarchies of ‘races’ have done (and continue to do), then, if ‘race’ is no longer a credible scientific idea, why are social scientists still discussing it? This is indeed an important question. For Miles (2000) the term ‘race’ is inextricably linked to and emergent from

nineteenth century biological discourses which declared distinct ‘racial categories’ existed and were ‘knowable’ because of a body’s phenotypical characteristics (commonly skin colour). Yet, for many scientists as well as social scientists, particularly in light of the mapping of the human genome, biological ‘race’ has been declared a scientifically untenable concept (Gannett, 2004; McCann-Mortimer et al., 2004; Stepan, 1982). According to Miles (2000: 135):

There are no ‘races’ and therefore no ‘race relations’. There is only a belief that there are such things, a belief which is used by some social groups to construct an Other (and therefore the Self) in thought as a prelude to exclusion and domination, and by other social groups to define Self (and so to construct an Other) as a means of resisting that exclusion. Hence, if it is used at all, the idea of ‘race’ should be used only to refer descriptively to such uses of the idea of ‘race’.

In other terms ‘race’ is a “useless” concept and should be confined to the “analytical dustbin” since, if it has no utility in scientific analysis, it also has no use in social scientific analysis (Miles and Brown 2003: 90). This position contends that if scholars continue to discuss ‘race’ they reify and legitimatise its usage in everyday discourse and also risk overlooking and/ or marginalising broader matters of inter-racial poverty and classism. That is, holding on to the notion of ‘race’ prolongs the existence of racism(s) and only through the term’s extinction from both academic and everyday vocabularies can we hope to achieve ‘racial’ equality. Silverstein (2005), however, suggests that notwithstanding recurring critiques of biological ‘race’ as analytic model, a belief in ‘race’, as both a biological and social ‘fact’, remains salient for many. Carrington (2 6: 9), too, while sympathetic to Miles’ intentions, challenges what he perceives to be his dogmatic Marxist framework which infers “that the struggles of black peoples against racism ... are misguided efforts which do not further the ‘real’ political needs of the black population which ultimately lie within the wider class struggle”. In adopting a class based politics, Miles’ argument has been interpreted as one which assumes ‘race’ is simply the racialisation of labour and a mere “ideological effect, a phenomenal form masking real, economic relationships in a manner analogous to a mirage” (Gilroy, 198 : 22). Miles’ position then is a stance against the socio-political utility of ‘race’ which grants too much authority to biological and anatomical spheres in leading debates about ‘race’ (Carrington, 2 6). These standpoints, while agreeing that ‘race’ has no biological or scientific utility, thus highlight the need to better understand the processes through which all people become labelled, racially. Delgado and Stefancic (2001: 154) argue that this process, better known as racialisation, is the “process of creating a race” and is therefore key to understanding how

‘race’ is socially constructed and given meaning. Silverstein (2005) prefers to focus on the deterministic nature of the concept and suggests racialisation “refers to the processes through which any diacritic of social personhood - including class, ethnicity, generation, kinship/affinity, and positions within fields of power - comes to be essentialized, naturalized, and/ or biologized”. Importantly however this is not to suggest that racialisation happens in a consistent, predictable manner since it is inherently a differential and pluralistic social dynamic which affects different people and groups, in different ways (Chang, 1993; Bonilla- Silva, 1999; Delgado and Stefancic, 2001). To use a sporting example, Marqusee (2004: 165) describes how black West Indian cricketers were traditionally described as “colourful”, “unorthodox” and “lovably unthreatening”, at least until the West Indies began beating their white English counterparts on a regular basis. Concomitant with success, the terminology employed by journalists and English officials in order to describe the West Indies style of play changed from “joyous and uninhibited” to less congenial forms which implied achievement was a corollary of “boorish aggression” (ibid.: 166). In this sense, the outcomes of racialisation (i.e. stereotypes, folklores and mythologies) are not only plural; they change over time and are also dependant on geographical location and cultural context. Racialisation is thus a far worthier, theoretically rigorous concept than are “the rather ‘flabby’ … terms ‘race’ and ‘racism’” since it “is dynamic, dialectical, trans-historical and reflective of a diverse poststructural society in a postmodern time” (Hylton, 2 9: 6). In other words, understanding racialisation(s) as plural as well as culturally and historically specific enables us to capture the discursive and changing nature of bodies and how they are raced. CRT’s ontological standpoint is based upon a historical realism which holds that realities are “shaped by social, political, cultural, economic, ethnic, and gender factors, [which are] crystallized (reified) into a series of structures that are now (inappropriately) taken as “real” (Lincoln and Guba, 2 : 165). In this sense, ‘race’, although it has no biological basis, is nonetheless a central organising principle of modern collectives of people (just as is gender, sexuality, class, nationality and so on), due to histories and centuries of racialisation (Bonilla-Silva, 1999; Leonardo, 2005). Bonilla-Silva (1999: 902) asserts that those who thus continue to use and understand ‘race’, as socio-historically relevant, do not reify its existence by merely employing the term; rather, his view directly opposes the likes of Miles in that he argues “races are not things but relations” which are the result of a “historical process of racialization, the particularities of the racial formation at any point in history, and the regional variations of this formation within a country”. It is precisely because of racialisation, the very process which Miles identifies as helpful for understanding a belief in ‘race’, that Bonilla-Silva (1999: 899) comes to suggests that the dismissal of ‘race’ as an analytical concept is premature:

[R]ace is not an essential category (no social category is essential) and in fact is highly malleable and historically-bounded (as all social categories are), it is nonetheless a central principle of social organization … race is a ‘social fact’ similar to class and gender and, accordingly, race is a real and central social vessel of group affiliation and life in the modern world.

Hence, understanding that ‘race’ remains a folklore, clung to by many, highlights the need to move from the midst of an ontological paradigm war towards a discussion of the very real, everyday consequences of ‘race’ (Crenshaw, 1991; Hylton, 2 9; Lawrence, 2011). As Gates Jr. (1992: 37–8), asserts:

It’s important to remember that “race” is only a sociopolitical category, nothing more. At the same time—in terms of its practical performative force—that doesn’t help me when I’m trying to get a taxi on the corner of 125th and Lenox Avenue. (“Please sir, it’s only a metaphor.”)

And so, this personal testimony from a prominent African American scholar demonstrates that to acknowledge racialisation but to ignore its outcomes (i.e. ‘race’) is to risk marginalising the real injustices that operate along racialised lines. In other terms, while academics may sit in ivory towers debating the nature of ‘race’ and whether it is a useful term or not, racialisation processes will continue to ignore these debates and will continue to have real effects on real people in their everyday lives. Mac an Ghaill (1999) employ a poststructuralist understanding of ‘race’ and ethnicities to remind us that while racialisation has definite effects for black people it is not “something to do with blacks” (ibid.: 69) per se. In other terms, it is also a process that white people are subjected to with equal ferocity, although the outcomes and effects are very different. And so, while he praises the ability of materialist conceptions of racialisation to examine the cumulative institutionalised effects of ascribing reified meaning to minorities, he also suggests that the “shifting processes of racialisation” be used to problematise the notion that people occupy “fixed hierarchical positions, such as dominant/ empowered (white people) and subordinate/ oppressed (black people)” (ibid.: 12). In this sense, Mac an Ghaill advocates adopting a theoretical framework which does not deny the possibility of a simple “dominant/ empowered (white people) and subordinate/ oppressed (black people)” dichotomy but does warn that a more critical and nuanced debate should be had when attempting to understand processes and outcomes of racialisation when exploring racialised systems. Nayak (2005; 2006), for example, argues for the importance of acknowledging racialisation as a process of signification, which is not simply empowering or repressive: “rather than viewing racialisation as an inherently negative sign, absent of power for those subjects it is said to oppress, post-structuralists point to its multidiscursive and polysemic

value across a number of sites” (Nayak, 2 5: 145). In other words, racialised processes are not concerned exclusively by matters of structural, hierarchical and institutional governance, and to treat them as such is to simplify the complexity of racialisation(s). Accordingly, racialisation can be used as a tool of deconstruction which helps understand how individual bodies are empowered and disempowered differently, in different moments and in different environments. Crucially then, because post-structural accounts of racialisation understand ‘race’ to be socially constructed, they also recognise that racial categories can be deconstructed which in turn exposes the fatalism of those social constructionists who fail to endorse the productive aspects of racialised bodies. In sum, while social constructionists see the political usages of holding on to the concept of ‘race’ insomuch as it enables “members of the "them" categories to change the world” (Bonilla-Silva, 1999: 905), post-‘race’ theory helps demonstrate how racialisation, or “the process of creating a ‘race’” (Delgado and Stefancic, 2 1: 154), must be understood as a plural and historically contingent process and thus highly malleable. In this way, the philosophical tensions between the two positions reminds us of the dangers of mobilising politically around the myths signified by phenotypical characteristics - particularly at the expense of matters of inter-racial poverty and inequality (Gilroy, 2000) - but, at the same time, they also require us to recognise the consequences being thought of as belonging to a particular ‘race’ have for individuals. The implication here for scholars of ‘race’ and ethnicity is that, if we accept that ‘race’ remains useful in its political capacities, anti-racist scholars and policy makers should be prepared to explain how they wish to use ‘race’ as a means to “change the world” (Bonilla-Silva, 1999: 905) with more rigour than simply arguing against conditions which they do not want. And so, while ‘race’, and gender for that matter, are fictive, illusory and discursive constructs we must also recognises that a significant majority of people in our late modern societies still do organise around racialised and gendered categories and continue to value them as ‘real’ and meaningful.

Anti-essentialism/ Intersectionality and identity politics

One of the great achievements of the poststructuralist ‘tradition’, and what perhaps is its defining feature, is its critique and rejection of essentialism (see Newman, 2005). However, Benton and Craib (2001: 172) have criticised poststructuralists for overemphasising “a sense of falling, a sense of vertigo at the speed of change, a sense of falling out of control and a sense of disconnection”, as they navigate their critique of essentialism, which consequently leaves us with a sense of nothingness. These concerns with poststructuralism are shared by CRT theorists, however, according to Chang (1999: 105) these critiques of

poststructuralist anti-essentialism are rooted in a misunderstanding of one of its major principles, the Derridean notion of deconstruction:

Part of the problem lies in the word "deconstruction" which implies a breaking down or breaking apart … It reveals things to be historically situated and socially constructed, but this realization in no way changes the current construction of the category except to remove any foundational claims. Deconstruction simply reveals the potential for change; a category could be constructed differently in the future, or perhaps our present could be reconstructed differently by revising or reinterpreting our past.

For example, when building a model aeroplane there is no correct starting place and thus no foundation. However, when the model is put together and painted, and displays its form in all its splendour, the illusion of solidity, wholeness and rootedness is achieved (a process comparable to outcomes of racialisation). In other words, although the model can be taken apart (or deconstructed) to expose its complexity it can also be put back together again to once more create an illusion of singular, essential unity. And so, if one decides to inspect the completed puzzle more closely, it becomes apparent it is put together by a multitude of different pieces, in order to make one whole; in addition, depending on where one is positioned (akin to a person’s social location) when viewing the finished model its nature and form is perceived differently. While some move around to see the complexities of the model of ‘race’ and racial identities, from numerous angles, which allows them to see its fictiveness, others remain stationary, keeping their distance, and are more likely to passively accept the illusion of wholeness and certainty (i.e. the essentialism of social categories) as meaningful, whole, ‘real’. For the overwhelming majority then, who will not be au fait with these esoteric arguments, debating about the realness of social categorises will do nothing to address their racialised experiences of everyday life and the very real consequences which reified categories have upon them. As is discussed earlier, central for CRT theorists and their approach to intersectional research, which distinguishes them from poststructuralists, is their strategic centring of ‘race’ (Hylton, 2005, 2009). It is important to address this matter since “the CRT emphasis on centring ‘race’ can be misconstrued as essentialism” (Hylton, 2 12: 29). Crenshaw (1991: 1297) explains why this is not the case, by establishing a CRT approach to anti-essentialism:

One version of antiessentialism, embodying what might be called the vulgarized social construction thesis, is that since all categories are socially constructed, there is no such thing as, say, Blacks or women, and thus it makes no sense to continue reproducing those categories by organizing around them … But to say that a category such as race or gender is socially constructed is not to say that that category has no significance in our world. On the contrary, a large and

continuing project for subordinated people - and indeed, one of the projects for which postmodern theories have been very helpful - is thinking about the way power has clustered around certain categories.

Crenshaw is able to make a distinction between CRT’s use of anti-essentialist theorising and the projects of other more hard-line postmodern and poststructural theorists, whose theses on deconstruction and anti-essentialism serve only to argue for the need to move away from the notion of ‘race’, and other social categories, completely. Here, Crenshaw argues that while all categories are socially constructed, the categories per se are not the most pressing problem; rather, for Crenshaw, it is how and why categories are constructed and what (negative) values are attached to them which make some social categories more significant for social inquiry and political mobilisation than others. Crenshaw’s (2 12) thesis indeed asks us to acknowledge that late modern subjects harbour a plethora of difference, meaning a myriad of identities are all subjected to relations of power; however, she asks that we recognise some differences (i.e. between male/ female and white/ black/ British Asian) play a more prominent role in the fragmentation of society than others (i.e. between sportsman/ music fan). In simple terms, all differences matter; however, some differences matter more than others. CRT theorists thus argue that social justice should be sought, predominantly, but not exclusively, in racial terms (see Crenshaw, 1991, 1995). In this way, ‘race’ and racism are purposefully placed onto the research agenda as starting points but, importantly, researchers are not confined to producing research which ignores the discursive importance of other social identities and dominations vis-à-vis relations of power. Williams (1991: 256), for instance, demonstrates how it is vitally important to consider ‘race’ in relation to other subjectivities, and notes

… while being black has been the most powerful social attribution in my life, it is only one of a number of governing narratives or presiding fictions by which I am constantly reconfiguring myself in the world.

Williams makes a key observation that is at the heart of CRT’s intersectionality thesis. She explains that while there are a number of other social identities which she has to negotiate in her social world, ‘race’ has been the most prominent feature of her everyday lived experience, which implies that some subject positions have a greater impact on people’s lives than do other. Similarly, Crenshaw (1995: 358) has argued in relation to her work that focusing “on the intersections of race and gender only highlights the need to account for multiple grounds of identity when considering how the social world is constructed”. Indeed, these observations make it abundantly clear that CRT does not suggest that ‘race’ and racism are the only medium through which power operates; quite conversely it suggests that

‘race’ and racism work with and through other social identities, in unique ways, to produce multiple outcomes (Hylton, 2012). However, while maintaining this position it does maintain that ‘race’ is a particularly divisive category which is worthy of further detailed consideration because of its historical marginalisation (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001), absence in policy discourses (Gillborn, 2005) and in light of recent post-racialist ideas about the declining significance of ‘race’ (Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008). CRT scholars are indeed concerned by an ontological debate about the nature of social categories, however they are not prepared to circumvent the “most pressing problem” [emphasis in original] (Crenshaw, 1991: 1297), which they believe to be the fight for social justice, in favour of a paradigm war, which has a tendency to oversee and ignore the life stories of marginalised peoples. In this sense, CRT’s strategic centring of ‘race’ and racism should be understood as a means of focusing social inquiry and equality work, on those divisions in society which have particularly insidious outcomes. And so, while ‘race’ and racism are major focuses for this study - insomuch as it begins and ends by considering the importance of ‘race’ in identity formations and processes of Othering - its centrality fluctuates, along the research journey, allowing for a detailed exploration of its intersections with masculinities and sexuality, for instance. In this way, ‘race’ is not adhered to, dogmatically, as the defining aspect of any discussion but at the very same moment, neither does it ever become inconsequential.

Social justice

CRT theorists and their overt political agendas presuppose that racism is not aberrational and that racial oppression is immoral. In this sense it takes a clear, unambiguous ethical stance. Matters of justice, ethics and morality, however, are closely scrutinized and questioned by poststructuralists whose contentedness in ambiguity may pose difficult questions for those interested in matters of equality. Furthermore, the idea of absolute equality for those influenced by poststructuralist ideas is often dismissed as a “utopian fantasy” (see Markula and Pringle, 2 6: 8). For instance, Chang (1993: 1279) observes that for poststructuralists “all standpoints are equally validated (or invalidated), [thus] there is no longer any compelling reason to privilege any viewpoint”; and so, this position has often led to criticisms of anti-foundationalism and/ or nihilism. Thus, critiques of this ontological stance suggest that this not only denies a culturally objective delineation of justice and morality, it even refuses a distinction “between the current conception of justice and a better one” (Mohanty, 2001: 809). Hence, if Osborne (1998: 99) has any credibility when he suggests a defining aspect of anti-foundationalist theory is its challenge to “authority … with regard to the very existence and desirability of ethics”, then the overt political and moral

judgments being made by this thesis and by CRT scholars, concerning the immorality of racism(s), could appear to pose difficulties for any synthesis with poststructuralism. In other terms, should there be no universal truth, then how can I claim the supremacy of one ideological position (racism is bad) over another (racism is good)? How can any notion of justice be considered (un)ethical or (im)moral if there is no political ontology underpinning the critical voice or humanist rationale to measure it against? Or, more pressingly for this thesis, how can I argue that particular racialisation(s) and racism(s) are indeed fundamentally negative or wrong? Characterising the criticisms offered by the likes of Mohanty (2001) and Osborne (1998) is a fear of moral relativism (Chang, 1993). For Hanssen (2000) this, emerges from a fundamental misconception about the nature and purpose of poststructuralist historical genealogies. That is, while poststructuralist theory rejects the existence of normative values, it does not deny the cultivation of a “redefined, historicised notion of ethics” (Kintz, 2 : 344). In other words, the purpose of historical genealogies are certainly not to deny the social importance of morality; rather, its purpose is to emphasise the importance of cultivating historically rooted conditions, contexts and settings in which individuals are encouraged,

to give oneself the rules of law, the techniques of management, and also the ethics, the ethos, the practice of self, which would allow … games of power [i.e. racism and sexism] to be played with a minimum of domination” (Foucault, 1987: 17)

In this sense, the challenge for researchers, since there is no "objective" standard of morality, is to be the most persuasive (Chang, 1993: 1286). Therefore, being conscious of the socially constructed nature of morality, or in accepting that different people understand morality in different terms, does not mean that poststructuralists are any less political or any less sympathetic to matters they recognise as wrong or immoral. Often, quite the contrary is the case. Tompkins (1987: 172) explains:

Knowing that my knowledge is perspectival, language-based, culturally constructed, or what have you does not change in the slightest the things I believe to be true … I still believe what I believe and, if you differ with me, think that you are wrong ... Believing that what I believe comes from my being in a particular cultural framework doesn't change my relation to my beliefs. I still believe them just as much as if I thought they came from God, or the laws of nature, or my autonomous self.

Thus, by acknowledging the socially constructed nature of reality, and conceding there is no universal notion of justice or morality, but only culturally and historically specific constructed

regimes of truth, is certainly not the same as arguing that an individual can no longer be concerned by the things that s/he perceives to be wrong, immoral or unjust. In other words, an acceptance of moral relativism has no influence on my belief that racism, sexism and other modes of domination are wrong or that I should continue to fight against them. At this point, I depart from more hard line poststructuralists and their contentedness to languish in esoteric ambiguity. That is, although poststructuralism has a tendency to be ambivalent to matters of ‘race’ in its epistemologies, paradoxically, and precisely because it is a paradigm which is at ease with moral relativism, it is able to accommodate my political desire to evoke (what I deem to be) positive social change. And so, while poststructuralism offers many useful conceptual tools to explore the politics of morality and ideology, CRT can be applied as the metaphorical chef’s steel capable of sharpening the poststructuralist knife, which not only allows a detailed exploration of social justice but also provides a pragmatic approach to confronting the dominations which it so aptly recognises.

Activist-scholarship and positive action

According to Dillard (2008: 279), activist-scholarship responds to the notion of research for research’s sake, “mandating research and educational practice that are concrete physical actions in service to community and beyond solely researcher theorizing”. In other words, as Ladson-Billings and Donnor, (2008: 74) note,

scholars who take on the challenge of moral and ethical activist work cannot rely solely on others to make sense of their work and translate it into usable form … scholars must also engage new forms of scholarship that make translations of their work more seamless.

CRT activist-scholarship is then, not a mere standpoint of opposition to Western epistemologies but, is an ethical, pragmatic and moral approach to research in itself. That is, in being committed to social justice, and in acknowledging “research is always already moral and political” (Denzin and Lincoln, 2008: ix), scholarship can develop as a means to achieve greater human liberation. Nonetheless, one of this thesis’ key influences, Michel Foucault (1996: 380), freely admits that his “books don’t tell people what to do”:

It is absolutely true that when I write a book I refuse to take a prophetic stance, that is, the one of saying to people: here is what you must do—and also: this is good and this is not. (Foucault 1996: 262)

And so I depart from poststructuralism and, more specifically, from Foucault at this point since he refuses to offer any strategy for overcoming the ‘major dominations’, such as racism(s) and sexism(s), which his work clearly identifies (Markula and Pringle, 2006: 38). Conversely, CRT theorists argue in explicit terms the centrality of political and positive action to promote a more proactive, transformative scholarly agenda “in the fight against racial injustice” (Bergerson, 2 : 51). However, this should not be considered a call to reject Foucauldian or poststructural tools to work against racism and sexism. Markula and Pringle (2 6: 195) explain that Foucault’s scholarly ambition was not

… to overthrow the ruling classes or free people from the exploits of consumer capitalism but, and perhaps more radically, aimed to disrupt the knowledge foundation of modernism to change how people govern themselves and others. Through aiming to change people, he aimed to change how people interact and to promote less domineering relations of power [emphasis in original].

Rather than reading poststructuralists, such as Foucault, or Derrida for that matter (see Beardsworth, 1996), as apolitical, we should certainly not conflate their unwillingness to suggest a ‘better’ social model for society with a lack of political imagination or passion (for a more detailed argument see Markula and Pringle, 2006: 9-23). Foucault (1982: 779), for instance, openly and explicitly attacks, what he views as, the “pathological forms” and “diseases of power” such as fascism. Unquestionably, these statements derive from a firm philosophical, moral and political consciousness and demonstrate his intolerance of racism, homophobia and sexism, precisely because he condemns totalitarian and socially repressive regimes (read: Nazism and Stalinism). With this in mind, I thus argue that, Foucault’s subject-centric approach to changing how people govern themselves and others can be incorporated into my use of CRT by way of how the methodology incorporates elements of dialogic performance, thus asking others to understand imagery differently, as well as how the final Chapter outlines the uses of this thesis in practice. That is, while I do agree with CRT’s activist-scholarship approach to research, I do also suggest that it is not the remit of this thesis to be “prophetic” (Foucault, 1996: 226). This is a subtle yet important distinction to make. In other words, for those adopting activist-scholarship as an important element of their work, like me, it is vital that it is not pretentious, dictatorial, authoritarian or veiled in objectivity, as this would risk merely (re)centring and celebrating a narrow and deterministic epistemology. Rather, in using activist-scholarship, as a white male scholar, my thesis intends to work in some small way toward social justice by being reflexive in nature, which in turn exposes my precise political intent. Hence, I must invite a broad array of scholars, particularly those whose interests are less well inferred in society than my own, to scrutinise and critique my approach to reducing

racial discrimination. In this way, this thesis can act as a useful starting point for future work on racialised representations in sport and leisure media. One particularly important approach to activist-scholarship for this thesis is that of positive action (or affirmative action as it is better known in American CRT scholarship), which is a concept that is defined as “a means of addressing and overcoming injustice and inequities based on racism and discrimination” (UN Commission on Human Rights, 2004: 2). This perspective in equality work requires researchers, policy makers and media workers to recognise the persistence of ‘race’ and racism and to reject the popular myth of colour- blindness, so the complexities of racialisation can first be centralised and then disrupted (Hylton, 2009; Leonardo, 2005). This approach is relevant simply because it is absurd to suggest that “a post-racial (or colour-blind) situation has been achieved. Globally, race practices remain integral to social and political formations” (Warmington, 2 9: 28 ). In other words, while those who subscribe to the social constructionist thesis would seemingly not stand in the way of the dawning of a post-racial epoch, they see post-race theory as more of an aspirational discourse than accurate condition present in a contemporary British context. And so, because being thought of as belonging to a particular racialised group has real everyday consequences, for real people, paradoxically, if we are to eradicate its cultural relevance as a maker of structural superiority/ subjugation we must first “get real about race” (Bell, 1992: 5). In other words, a frank discussion about ‘race’ needs to be more forthcoming in various political and social spaces. As opposed to being at odds with post-race theory and the declining significance of ‘race’ theory then positive action, or acknowledging that ‘race’ remains a salient issue, might emerge as a means to achieving a less racially divided society.

Critical friends: A mutually beneficial relationship

This Chapter has demonstrated how poststructuralist ideas and concepts can be applied to CRT to (1) explore the nexus of ‘race’ and gender (and other social differences); (2) dismantle, deconstruct and decolonise dominate Western discourses and research methods; (3) challenge the liberal political agenda of colour-blindness for the good of social justice; (4) provide an alternative narrative to mainstream ideas about the significance of ‘race’ or to critique the voices of the powerful (Bergerson, 2003: 52); and (5) ensure CRT scholarship remains trans-disciplinary and radical and keeps evolving to reflect the intricacies of changing late modern societies (Treviño et al., 2008). And so by challenging the essentialism rooted in Enlightenment traditions; by embracing methodological techniques which challenge positivist traditions; in asking questions about dominant discourses such as rationality and objectivity (Derrida, 1976, 1978; Foucault, 1972, 1973) and its relationship to

dominant modes of knowing (Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008; Mills, 2004); through acknowledging intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1991, 1995) and the complex self (Mac an Ghaill, 1999; Nayak, 2005; 2006) while continuing to acknowledge the social significance of ‘race’ as more than simply an ideological illusion (Crenshaw, 1991; Gillborn, 2005, 2006, 2011; Hylton, 2005, 2009; Ladson-Billings, 1998; Warmington, 2009), CRT and poststructural frameworks are able to provide theoretical devices capable of addressing the domination of particular groups and individuals by others, exploring racialised relations in wider society and, more specifically, in the context of sport and the sport media. This theoretical framework adopts a trans-disciplinary approach to research and is able to draw upon CRT and poststructuralist ideas so as to better understand the historical relevance of old times, in relation to our contemporary times as well as the beginning of new times. In addition, this synthesis between poststructuralism and CRT has served to identify the theoretical position of the research and has also highlighted some of the key theoretical tools that are applied throughout. In this way, this theoretical framework, which emerges as a theory of late modernity, is able to grapple with the philosophical tensions of our late and (post)modern times in order to better understand which differences matter the most and how do we work more effectively towards human liberation. The following Chapters are thus guided by the theoretical tools, outlined above, and also provide the basis for analysis and subsequent discussions emanating from the fieldwork.

Chapter three - ‘Race’, racism(s) and whiteness is sport and leisure

In 1684, French medical doctor and traveller, François Bernier, became the first person to offer a taxonomy of ‘race’ when he wrote A new division of the earth according to the different species or races of men (Bernasconi and Lott, 2 ). The publication of Bernier’s musing on ‘race’ marks an important moment in the concept’s history since it signals a noticeable transition from sacred history to natural history and from a fascination with innumerable nations and tribes to a division of bodies into a limited number of only four or five ‘racial’ categories (Hudson, 1996; Bernasconi and Lott, 2000; Stuurman, 2000). Hereafter, Bernier’s highly subjective Eurocentric ethnography would prove to have cleared an intellectually legitimate space in which future explorations of ‘race’ could justify biological investigations of the differing biological ‘types’ of humanity. Racialist science then persisted for centuries after Bernier and established as a credible area of study. Bolnick (2008) notes that as recent as the early twentieth century, anthropologists, embracing the monogenist traditions of Darwinian theory, remained convinced that because of long periods of separate human evolutions - when human groups were largely isolated from one another by topographical monoliths, such as mountain ranges and oceans – differing ‘races’ had consequentially emerged. And so in their attempts to separate bodies into ‘racial’ categories, racialist scientists proved to be ever more concerned with measuring and quantifying the visual characteristics of the body, scholars of the skull and interpreters of skin colour (Stepan, 1982). Thus, with the backing of science, it became popular to assume that all human bodies either belonged to a particular ‘race’ or were a mixture of ‘races’ (Stepan, 1982; Miles and Brown, 2003; Marks, 2009). Nonetheless, after the Second World War because of scientific advances which resulted in increasingly heterogeneous scientific definitions of ‘race’, the notion of biological ‘race’ was declared to have no scientific utility (UNESCO, 1978). The idea of biological ‘race’ then, a scientific concept which operated for nearly 300 years, during the 1950s, encountered a number of serious, authoritative and confident challenges to its ontological basis and thus its utility as a scientific concept (Miles and Brown, 2003: 44). Marks (2009: 112), discussing the notion of ‘racial’ difference, outlines the commonly held position of contemporary science:

[d]ifferences between human groups do exist, but they do not sort the species into a small number of biologically discrete groups.

What this brief discussion of the history of ‘race’ has highlighted is that a lengthy and significant relationship between ‘race’, biology and the capabilities and deficiencies of the body has persisted for centuries. In other words, it has only been one hundred years or so

since the notion of ‘race’ operated as both a scientific and popular reality, which may help us understand why the myth of biological ‘race’ is so difficult to exterminate from our contemporary epoch. In light of this inability to dispose of the concept of ‘race’, this Chapter explores how sport and leisure cultures have not only failed to distance themselves from the pseudo- science of the nineteenth century but how athletic bodies have contributed to the persistence of popular conceptions of ‘race’ and racism(s). My intent is to address three main topics: the dominant discourses of ‘race’ and racial difference in sport and leisure; the influence and conduct of the sport and leisure media vis-à-vis matters of racialisation and racism; and the operation of the separate but related notions of whiteness and white people within sport and leisure. This Chapter then will outline an approach to sport and leisure theorising that recognises ‘race’ and racism to be complex projects, modernist markers of ‘race’, such as skin colour, remain important and the more productive and deconstructive elements of processes of racialisation must be further explored.

Sport, ‘race’ and bio-racist discourse: Athletes are born, not made?

Bio-racist science has often drawn upon the widely disparaged field of eugenics in order to ‘explain’ how and why certain bodies are more athletic than others. Yet despite the emergence of a no-‘race’ consensus, across a number of academic disciplines, a small minority of bio-racist scientists continue in their quest to find biological ‘race’ (Gannett, 2 4; Marks, 2 9; Miles and Brown, 2 ; Nayak, 2 4; Witzig, 1996). And since the body’s physicality is made obvious in most sport and (physical) leisure disciplines, elite and physically active bodies are often hijacked by racialists who have used individual sporting achievement as ‘evidence’ of racial difference, for their own politically motivated ends (Hoberman, 1997; Hylton, 2009). Hoberman (1997), for instance, discusses the historical significance of sport as racial competition which highlights its obvious linkages to Darwin’s “survival of the fittest” thesis and therefore also illustrates the appeal of the athletic body to racialists. In the early twentieth century athletic bodies were thus encouraged, in the name of Empire and colonialism, to defend and promote imperialist ideologies of white physical and mental superiority, which were theories advanced by the eugenicist movement of the time (Carrington, 2010). However, on the sporting stage black bodies began to excel (see Carrington, 2010) which was a development that challenged the notion white men were the standard by which all other ‘races’ could only strive to attain. Miller (1998), for instance, describes how subsequent to the successes of black athletic bodies, racialised ‘explanations’ emerged, provided by both journalists and anthropologists, which inferred

“natural ability”, “physical prowess” and “physiological advantages” (p.124-125) accounted for their sudden sporting excellence. Thus, rather than individual achievement being attributed to a corollary of dedication and commitment to a disciplined training regime, colonial folklore and tales of innate racial differences often accompanied (particularly) black athletic success. Indeed, if participation statistics are used to substantiate the idea of the ‘natural athlete’, the number of elite black male bodies occupying the elite sporting sphere appears to offer support. Cashmore and Cleland (2011), for example, report 20-25% of professional football players in England and Wales are black which clearly expresses an overrepresentation of footballers of African-Caribbean descent within a historically white sport and nation. This is also evident elsewhere: in the United States - the cultural breeding ground of the West - men of African-Caribbean ancestry have been over-represented in the National Basketball Association, National Football League and Major League Baseball for a number of decades (Coakley, 2001). These superficial observations have encouraged racialist science to retreat to the body so as to offer ‘explanations’ of black sporting success (Entine, 2000). Rushton (2000: 7), for instance, claims racial variability in sporting performance is inevitable since for him,

… Blacks have narrower hips which gives them a more efficient stride. They have a shorter sitting height which provides a higher center of gravity and a better balance. They have wider shoulders, less body fat, and more muscle. Their muscles include more fast twitch muscles which produce power. Blacks have from 3 to 19% more of the sex hormone testosterone than Whites or East Asians. The testosterone translates into more explosive energy.

While many have criticised the likes of Rushton and his work as being poorly sourced (Cain and Vanderwolf, 1990; Cernovsky, 1995; Lynn, 1989) and have challenged his personal motivation for promoting a theory which actively incites racism (Doob, 2002; Fairchild, 1991; Jackson, 2006 Weizmann, 1990) - and despite mainstream science’s marginalisation of racialist science – nonetheless, racialised discourses of ‘natural’ physicality continues to dominate everyday discourses of ‘race’ and athleticism (Hoberman, 1997; Hylton, 2009: St. Louis, 2004). Consequently, bio-racist science clearly exemplifies what Todorov (1993: 114) coins “the subordination of ethics to science” since the implications of promoting such a widely disparaged thesis are that they feed the vulture like propensities of racism(s) and inform the politics and polices of the far right and white separatist ideologies (Doob, 2002). However, more worryingly a belief in innate racial difference are not only harboured by those on the far right; they are also rehearsed, albeit discreetly, by those on the political left whose ideological standpoints supposedly reflect their commitment to multiculturalism and

liberalism (Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Hughey, 2011a; 2011b; Hylton, 2009). What unites these seemingly polar political positions is what St. Louis (2004: 24) calls ‘common-sense racial logic’. He sets out four central principles upon which this discourse operates in sport and (physical) leisure:

(1) sports are based on structural principles of equality; (2) the results of sporting competition are unequal; (3) this inequality of results has a racial basis; (4) therefore, given the equality of access and opportunity, the explanation of the unequal results lies in racial physicality.

St. Louis (2004) criticises these principles on a number of accounts. Firstly, he suggests that the scientific method uses a naïve inductivist approach: for example, while it may be so that all of the 100 metre finalists at the London 2012 Olympics are perceived as black, there is no logical guarantee that this phenomenon is absolute or will continue. Secondly, while sporting events, such as the 100 metre final, may well occur on a level playing, in theory (even this is debatable with the use of legal and/ or illegal ergogenic aids), the road to the final is certainly not gloriously meritocratic and is littered with social, cultural, ethnic, geographical, gendered and economic hurdles. Thirdly, and most fundamentally, the very notion of ‘racial physicality’ cannot deny these aforementioned hurdles and thus must acknowledge and accommodate socio-environmental explanations in order to have any serious scientific credibility. Thus, for racialist scientists, at worst these criticisms falsify, once again, the fallacy of biological ‘race’ or at best highlight the deeply contested and complex nature of doing research into sport, ‘race’ and biology. In attempting to find biological grounds upon which to define the Other, bio-racist science overlooks, amongst other factors, the socio-economic barriers to certain sport and leisure arenas faced by black and minority ethnic people. Contrary to their white counterparts, a lack of provision, access and role models, financial difficulties associated with class and institutional racism all obstruct participation in certain sporting spheres for Black bodies (Coakley, 1998). The counter story offered by black British sprinter Julian Golding (quoted in Otchet, 1999: 27) is noteworthy here:

Golding studied hard at school, filling his free time with tennis, track and trampoline activities. But at 16, his school director took him aside for a chat. “Why not pursue running as a career? You’ve got talent.” The same encouragement came from his physical education (PE) teacher. There was no mention of his academic opportunities. Golding began weighing his options. “I was a better tennis player than a sprinter,” he says, “but there was no-one to look up to. No black tennis idols. So I thought about trying to be the first” until his first visit to the local tennis club. “The courts were packed but there wasn’t one black person. I didn’t feel comfortable. I started asking about the subscription

and coaching fees,” says Golding, calculating the expense for his parents who had five kids to support. “I thought, ‘No way!’ And walked out”.

Golding’s story centralises the importance of environmental and cultural factors that affect absolute individual agency and guide black and minority ethnic people into more ‘acceptable’, accessible and affable sport and leisure pastimes, and away from others such as, in Golding’s case, further/ higher education and tennis. Golding’s discomfort is also worthy of note insomuch as it reveals a sense of feeling like a body out of place (Ahmed, 2000). Golding recites how being the only black person at the club made him feel uneasy. Thus, Golding’s awkwardness, a consequence of a definite lack of black cultural markers, illustrates how blackness is a discourse which regulates and adopts subjectively formulaic ‘truths’ regarding how and where black bodies belong (Gilroy, 2002; Modood, 2003). In other terms, dominant racialised discourses operating in Western cultures have also succeeded in convincing some Black people they are indeed the Other (Hall, 1998 [199 ]). Rosenwasser (2 ) sees this acceptance of Black people’s position as Other as a result of internalised racism, which he defines as “an involuntary reaction to oppression” whereby people (who are perceived as) belonging to certain racialised groups begin to believe the falsities which they are repeatedly force-fed. To illustrate this, to be a black person involved in sport and leisure often evokes narrowly defined typecasts of a basketball player, a sprinter, a boxer, or a football player (who is only useful in particular positions) but hardly ever a coach, manager or owner (see Cashmore and Cleland, 2011; Ladson-Billings, 1998; Sartore and Cunningham, 2006; Smith and Hattery, 2011). In this way, myths of black sporting superiority not only operate within white (Anglo) dominated spaces and institutions, such as media and education, as discursive ‘truths’, they also operate within the psyche of some Black people. Feagin (2010: 190), speaking with reference to the American context, explains:

Because they too are constantly bombarded with the white-framed negative images of themselves, African Americans and other Americans of color are also influenced by it, though variably and often subtly. They too are under heavy pressure from whites to adopt the dominant white framing of racial matters, and when they do that and act from that white frame, they too help to reinforce … systemic racism and its continuing racialized advantages for whites.

Ex-American sprinter, Michael Johnson, during a recent Channel 4 documentary, entitled Michael Johnson: Survival of the Fastest (2012), is a particularly high-profile example of the pervasiveness of this myth. The overly simplistic premise of the program was that because Johnson was a remarkable athlete, and because he was a descendant of slaves, the former was a result of the latter. Thus, while there has been much resistance to essentialist black

athletic representations in scholarly work and through other forms of artistic expression (see Thomas, 2008), the black athletic body can often be said to be a product of the “reiterative power of discourse to produce the phenomena that it regulates and constrains” (Butler, 1993: 2).

Scientific racism and sport media

Their means have changed not their ends, which are the same as they always were, to exploit racialism for their own comfort and convenience. (C.L.R James, 1980: 65)

As is suggested in the previous section, the scientific explanation of ‘racial’ differences in sport is at very best highly contested; nonetheless, the legacy of bio-racist science, which draws heavily on racialist eugenics and Darwinian evolution, still persists in sport and leisure media in various guises. For instance, the aforementioned Channel 4 documentary, Survival of the Fastest (2012), in attempting to revive the ‘debate’ about natural black physicality replayed a most significant moment in bio-racist and sports broadcasting history by giving airtime to the infamous ramblings of Jimmy ‘the Greek’ Snyder. In 1988, the well- known American betting expert and media pundit, Jimmy ‘the Greek’, was relieved of his commentary duties with American sports broadcaster CBS after declaring– via a televised broadcast – that African American success in sport goes all the way to the Civil War ... when during the slave trading ... the owner, the slave owner would breed his big black to his big woman so he could have a big black kid, you see” (Snyder quoted in Fields, 199 : 95). While this outburst demonstrates most clearly the influence bio-racist science had (and continues to have) on people’s perceptions of athletic bodies, more significantly, Wiggins (1989) points to the importance of what Snyder did not say and suggests that black intellectual inferiority was as much inferred as was black physical superiority. This moment is particularly important in that it signals a significant shift in popular understandings of African American bodies as physically inferior to white bodies (Carrington, 2010) but it also highlights the willingness of some in media circles to systematically revisit long disparaged racialist arguments. Another watershed moment in the on-off relationship between overt racism and the (sport) media happened in 2004 when sixty-five year-old, ‘Big Ron’ Atkinson, while broadcasting to viewers outside Britain described – black Chelsea footballer - Marcel Desailly, after a UEFA Champions League match, as “what is known in some schools as a fucking lazy, thick nigger". Atkinson’s comments highlighted the persistence of a racial discourse, fostered by bio-racists, which assumes black footballers are intellectually inferior and do not work as hard as their white counterparts. In the subsequent BBC documentary,

in which Atkinson was offered a platform to defend himself - What Ron Said (2004) - a brief politico-historical exploration of the word “nigger” was offered to audiences. However, less cerebrally, the program also represented racial bigotry as an issue confined to Atkinson’s generation which underplayed the endemic nature of racism in contemporary society and fed the populist notion that racial bigotry is merely an unwanted historical relic of yesteryear (Ruddock, 2005). Nevertheless, what failed to be explored in any depth was Atkinson’s reference to black footballers as “thick” and “lazy”. This failure to question the racialised connotations of black embodied feeblemindedness and indolence failed to address the more subtle, and hence dangerous, racial myth making processes which surrounded the whole episode. What connects these two incidents and what was ultimately responsible for both men losing their jobs was how Snyder and Atkinson fell outside the socially acceptable boundaries of ‘race’ talk (Bonilla-Silva, 2 2; Hylton, 2 12). That is, although Atkinson’s outburst was a more obvious example of an especially nasty racist insult, Fields (1990) suggests that what cost Snyder his job was not his acceptance of black athletic superiority, since she asserts that this practice is relatively commonplace in safe, private white spaces, but rather it was his willingness to assert his beliefs in public in such a blunt and tactless manner. In this sense, because both men had contravened a central principle of liberalism, by injudiciously evoking skin colour in public, albeit to differing extents, both broadcasting networks were obliged to condemn and discipline. However, the dismissal of two elderly media pundits has not ridden bio-racist pseudo-science from media representations of sport and leisure since bio-racism has found more subtle, surreptitious and systematic ways of persisting (Billings and Eastman, 2002; Carrington, 2002a; Jansen, 1994; McCarthy et al., 2003; Sabo et al. 1996; Whannel, 2002). Numerous scholars have thus suggested that references to black athletic bodies as erratic but strong, physical and quick (Carrington, 2002; McCarthy et al., 2001; Wiggins, 1989) and to white athletes as intelligent, diligent and hardworking (Hall, 2002; Stone et al., 1997), continue to dominate sport and leisure media commentaries, features and reports. And so, whereas obvious bigotry has rightly been outlawed, what is arguably more worrying is that media commentators and producers continue to racialise athletic bodies and abilities with much the same bio-racist logic as yesteryear but now encounter very little recourse for their actions and utterances because of the coded ways in which racialised messages are delivered (Billings and Eastman, 2002; Carrington, 2000, 2002b; McCarthy et al., 2001, 2003; Sabo and Jansen, 1994; van Sterkenburg et al., 2010) - different means but the same ends. This section has sought to expose the inherent problems with colour-blind conceptions of inequality because it illustrates that colour-blindness, or ignoring the social significance of ‘race’, only elucidates or acknowledges intentional, obvious and unequivocal types of racism

(Blaisdell, 2006). This is certainly not to suggest that all media workers are intentionally racist as this would be to misunderstand the nature of the phenomenon. On the contrary, in some instances sports media commentators have reacted to criticisms of racial stereotyping by reporting in a less racially biased manner (Sabo et al., 1996; van Sterkenburg et al., 2010). Nonetheless, because media is not a homogeneous institution that has been universally successful in distancing itself fully from bio-racist sentiments, and also noting the similar failures of liberal colour-blind ideology, often a steadfast component media producers’ professional practice in contemporary sport and leisure newsrooms (Knoppers and Elling, 2004), it remains important for scholarly investigation to highlight unhelpful racialised representations, regardless of whether or not racist outcomes are intentional.

Sensationalism and neo-racism in the sport and leisure media

Sabo et al. (1996: 13) report that, during their study of American television coverage of international sporting events, in the late 198 s early 199 s, they “did not find solid evidence [sic] that commentators constructed a negative representation around Black athletes. In fact, Black athletes were least likely to receive negative comments”. This finding leads the authors of the study to remark rather optimistically that,

[t]he lower use of physical descriptors and negative evaluations with reference to Black athletes suggests a heightened sensitivity, maybe even a guardedness among commentators, concerning negative representations of Black athletes. (ibid.: 13)

While these assertions are taken by the authors as reason to be optimistic about the nature of progress, the analysis employs a rather out-dated theoretical conception of racism insomuch as it only recognises forms of racial prejudice which are perceived to be ‘negative’. As a consequence the research oversees the possibility that, so called ‘positive’ or ‘neutral’ representations, can produce as equally racist effects as can ‘negative’ representations. Back et al. (1998: 85) warn that it is now rather unhelpful to explore racism as an exclusive belief with which only a “fully paid up card carrying Nazi” will affirm, since in reality these people are few and far between. Rather, they invite the possibility that “[c]ontemporary racisms have evolved and adapted to new circumstances. [Their] crucial property ... is that they can produce a racist effect while denying that this effect is the result of racism” (Solomos and Back, 1996: 27). This approach to understanding emerging forms of racism illustrates that new or neo-racisms are able to manifest in (what could be perceived as) positive, as well as negative, discourses (Cashmore, 1997; Giardina, 2003;

Hokowhitu, 2003; Majors, 2001; Solomos and Back, 1996). These ‘new’ racisms function in subtle and complex ways in order to counter anti-racist policy and the onset of increasingly liberal moralities and politics. Hokowhitu (2003: 21) drawing upon Foucauldian conceptions of decentralised power suggests that new forms of racism are characterised increasingly by their reliance on “positively framed cultural clich s”. He explains that the racialised athletic body

soaring above adversity into the echelons of sporting success is a powerful symbol of freedom and hope, but ironically, it shackles people of colour to the physical realm and prevents them from being self-determining. (ibid.: 21)

Gardiner (2003: 242) also demonstrates this when he identifies how the Aboriginality of Australian athletes, Cathy Freeman and Nova Peris-Kneebone, while presented as a valued element of modern, multicultural Australia, is often reduced to “the elements of fire, rock, desert, and sky”, alluding to the supposed primordial nature of Aboriginal culture. Although the celebration of indigenous Australian athletes could be perceived as positive, the way in which their bodies are linked with the scala naturae bears significant resemblances, to the ways in which other indigenous peoples of the region, such as the Maori, were described by invading Western imperialists “as the link between the ape and civilised human beings” (Hokowhitu, 2003: 26). Giardina (2003: 66-67) is also sceptical of seemingly positive representations of Black people when he explains how these depictions are not only far less positive than they would first appear, they are often at odds with the everyday lived experiences of the communities who are being represented. These concerns are supported by Cashmore (1997) and Majors (2001) who, in making similar arguments, claim that while a small number of black athletic bodies have been able to partially escape the constraints imposed by racism(s), by way of sporting or musical success, the majority are locked into low-status societal positions by the very same forms of performative behaviour that liberates a fortunate minority. In other words, the so called positive representations of Black sporting bodies - who themselves are only conditionally granted access to privileged positions, should they be able to serve as ‘suitable’ role models or representatives of ethnic minority communities - fosters the illusion that sport and music are the most realistic pathways to success. As outlined previously, Black athletic achievement is indeed often celebrated and admired. However, for some, media representations of Black sporting achievement have paradoxically served to marginalise attainment, dehumanise Black athletic bodies and prolong a racialised order (Carrington, 2002b, 2010; Pinn, 2003;). Carrington (2002b; 2010), drawing upon the work of Gilroy (2 2) argues ‘positive’ media representations of the

black sporting body, in particular, are implicitly linked to discourses of black people’s (in)humanity. For instance, BBC athletics commentator, Paul Dickenson most clearly demonstrated this tendency when, after witnessing African American sprinter Michael Johnson break the world record over 200 metres in Atlanta 1996, he exclaimed: “This man surely is not human!”. Thus, for Carrington, in the space of a decade, the discursive construction, particularly, of the black athletic body has shifted relatively swiftly from subhuman to superhuman; neither older nor emerging discourses vis-à-vis representations of black bodies have attempted meaningfully to consider their regular, universal or unspectacularly human character.

Whiteness, white people and sport and leisure

Whiteness and white people have become ever more cognisant in contemporary research on ‘race’ and ethnicity. That is because, as opposed to simply focusing upon the oppression of black bodies, a focus on whiteness provides an obverse view of racism(s) which aims to understand the privileges afforded to white people, and how these privileges are sustained. However, as Nayak (2007: 752) warns us,

a tension that the current ‘white studies’ field needs to resist as it makes its stake for legitimacy is a tendency towards a creeping essentialism that conveys whiteness is an exclusive and reified category.

Before a conversation about whiteness is explored further it is thus important to make the distinction between whiteness as discourse and white people (Hylton, 2009): while the former is not a thing but a process (Frankenberg, 1993), the latter refers to those individuals who, because of skin colour, hair texture, nose shape, culture, language, and so on, either consider themselves to be or are labelled by others as white people (Leonardo, 2004: 137). This turn towards studying whiteness has been encouraged by, amongst others, bell hooks (1991: 54) who, after witnessing countless white scholars begin to consider blackness, has challenged “all those white folks who are giving blacks their take on blackness to let them know what's going on with whiteness”. While this Chapter has hitherto centralised the issue of racism(s) and the strategies through which black people are disadvantaged, it is equally important to consider how it is white people benefit from current relations of power and what role whiteness plays in reproducing racial inequalities. While whiteness studies has begun to grow, those involved in sport and leisure research, although they have long engaged with matters of ‘race’, racism and ethnicity, have been relatively slow to explore whiteness and the importance being perceived as white has on everyday experiences of sport and leisure (Carrington, 2008; Hylton, 2010; Long and

Spracklen, 2010, 2012b). In this way sport sociologists have risked making knowledge claims which are derived from epistemologies of ignorance (Mills, 2007). This section then explores whiteness as a multifaceted concept that cannot absolutely be defined by a singular, stable definition, precisely because there is no such thing as ‘race’, so as to understand more fully the effects of racism(s) for all people. To do this Hylton (2009) suggests whiteness in the context of sport and leisure be explored in a number of different ways: as normal, as (in)visible, as privilege or resource and as contingent. Following Hylton, I too investigate these discourses of whiteness but I also wish to engage with the notion of whiteness as performance.

Whiteness as normal and (in)visible

As is outlined above, whiteness should not be thought of as a biological category but as a cultural process which contributes to the social construction of the porous and unstable category ‘white people’. An important characteristic of this construction is that whiteness and white people are often perceived to be ‘normal’. To demonstrate, Muhammad Ali (1967, cited in Hauser, 1996: 76) brilliantly picks out the pervasiveness of whiteness as a common, inconspicuous and everyday feature of contemporary Western cultures:

We were taught when we were little children that Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow. Then we heard about Snow White, White Owl cigars. White Swan soap. White Cloud tissue. White Rain hair rings. White Tornado floor wax. White Plus toothpaste. All the good cowboys ride white horses and wear white hats. The President lives in the White House. Jesus was White. The Last Supper was White. The angels is White. Miss America is White. Even, Tarzan, the King of the Jungle in Africa is White!

These observations suggest that whiteness, in most aspects of contemporary life is not a strange, bizarre occurrence which is out of place or unusual; on the contrary, it is a taken- for-granted feature of contemporary Western societies, which is not only ‘normal’ but is also attributed with many positive connotations. Garner (2007: 47) argues that the universality and dominant status of whiteness, intentionally or otherwise, has thus resulted in it coming to signify the “Greenwich Mean Time” of normativity. And so, the dominant discourse which constructs whiteness and white people as normal simultaneously positions the Other and Otherness as staunchly abnormal, queer and out of place (Feagin and O'Brien, 2003). The consequences of not being perceived as ‘normal’/ white are highlighted by Long and Hylton (2 2: 9 ), in particular, who note that media commonly mark “[r]epresentations of ‘black’ crime, black entertainers, black sportsmen/ women … while their ‘white’ equivalents go unremarked”. They suggest that

rarely is “the white footballer, David Beckham” or “the all white team, Everton” (ibid.: 9 ) ever described in such terms since, because whiteness operates as a default racial position, the lack of racialised terminology already implies whiteness. Furthermore, Hylton (2009: 66) argues that this inherent, unspoken whiteness regularly underpins representations of “‘our’ [read (Anglo) white] news, ‘our’ television, important dates in ‘our’ calendar and ‘our’ sport”. In this sense, because of the implicit yet omnipresence of a ‘white = normal’ discourse, not only does whiteness “become the default, unmarked, normative position through which much [academic] work … is produced” (Carrington, 2 8: 42 ), blackness is made obvious and emerges “as the a priori object for debate where ‘race’ and racism are concerned” (Hylton, 2009: 65). In this sense, while Others are marked, racialised and made visible, white people and whiteness processes are normalised and thus they invite neither explanation nor qualification. Numerous authors have identified white ethnocentrism as an important aspect of the operation of whiteness as ‘normal’ in contemporary Western democracies (Dyer, 2003; Eriksen, 1997; Frankenberg, 1993; Garner, 2007; Hartigan, 1997; Hylton, 2009; Long and Hylton, 2002; McIntosh, 1997 [1988]). White ethnocentrism refers to standards and values that derive from white European histories and epistemologies about ‘our’ world but which also ignore and disparage Other cultural or ethnic paradigms and lived experiences (Thompson, 2001). Dyer (1997: 3), for instance, has noted that white people do not believe they are “a certain race, they are just the human race”. From this privileged position of normality and humanity, rather than being considered as an element of the human family, whiteness is assumed to be the most ‘natural’, fundamental or intended expression of it. These everyday discourses of whiteness and white people as ‘normal’ prepare the appropriate conditions in which whiteness becomes invisible. Long and Hylton (2002), for example, document the invisibility of whiteness when they describe the difficulties those white people, who are involved in sport and leisure, have in defining themselves as ‘ethnic’ or understanding the ways in which they too are racialised. So convincing is the ‘whiteness as invisible’ thesis, Eriksen (199 : 4) has argued it should be well documented that the white (Anglo) ethnic majority are no less ‘ethnic’, nor racialised to any lesser degree, than ethnic minorities. For Garner (2 ), this inability to recognise or see themselves as ‘ethnic’ emerges from an acceptance that white people are ordinary, normal individuals, whereas racialised Others belong to groups. And so, in the white mind, white people see themselves as singular, unexotic, non-ethnic and cultureless (Hughey, 2011b; Myers, 2005; Perry, 2001; Rodriquez, 2006); it is Others, with their supposedly homogeneous collective identities that have an easily identifiable culture or ethnic background. It is in this way, whiteness, with its dominant position within our society, is racialised as aracial which prevents an everyday

discourse being established that could help shed light on the operation of whitenesses so they can be ‘seen’ and interrogated (Garner, 2007; Phoenix, 1996). The invisibility of whiteness, at least to white people, is a particularly insidious aspect of ‘whiteness as process’ since it is then able to parade not only as ‘normal’, but as ‘natural’, ‘right’ or ‘truthful’. Feagin (2 1 ) suggests that white people are thus uncomfortable if this blissful ignorance is disrupted or challenged since not only are white people then required to acknowledge they too are ‘ethnic’, they are also asked to understand that, because white people have played a central role in the current constitution of Western politics, science, history and philosophy, central knowledge producing institutions are not aracial, normal or ‘truthful’ but are often heavily influenced by epistemologies of ignorance (Mills, 2004) and/ or Eurocentric methodologies (Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008). However, because this is a particularly difficult task which would expose systems of white supremacy – a notion to which I shall return - then obliviousness and denial are usually welcome strategies capable of maintaining the myth of a functionalist, colour-blind, meritocratic society (Blaisdell, 2006; Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Delgado and Stefancic, 2000; 2001; Gardiner and Welch, 2001; Guinier and Torres, 2002; Hylton, 2010 Rodriquez, 2006).

Whiteness as privilege (and supremacy)

while some people are straining to get the ball uphill others are easing it downhill. The significance of white privilege is that when doing nothing the ball continues to roll in the direction that favours … white males … (Long and Hylton, 2002: 91)

Considering the observations documented hitherto, Frankenberg (1993) suggests that whiteness is directly linked to a societal position of power which affords those perceived as white with invisible privileges that are unavailable to Othered bodies. In this sense, whiteness can be thought of as a form of property or resource (Harris, 1993). Similarly, Bonilla-Silva (1999: 899) contends that “the race ascribed with the superior position enjoys social, political, economic, and psychological advantages over the group or groups ascribed with inferior positions”. In a seminal text on “what it is like to have white privilege”, McIntosh (1997 [1988]: 291) draws a list of forty-six separate privileges which she describes as “an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, assurances, tools, maps, guides, codebooks, passports, visas, clothes, compass, emergency gear, and blank cheques”. For McIntosh, white privilege, which can be as trivial as finding a plaster that closely matches white skin colour or as significant as being sure in a court of law ‘race’ will not work adversely against them, is invisible to white people since they are taught not to recognise that the knapsack is even there. A particularly useful analogy of white privilege is provided

by (Scheurich, 1998, cited in Leonardo, 2004) who likens it to walking down the street and having money put in white people’s pockets without them ever even knowing. Thus, for Hartigan (1997: 496) the study of whiteness is

demonstrating that whites benefit from a host of apparently neutral social arrangements and institutional operations, all of which seem to whites at least to have no racial basis.

To be white then is a privilege white people cannot ‘see’ but most importantly find it difficult to acknowledge (Garner, 2007). In the context of sport and leisure, Carrington (1999, cited in Otchet, 1999) suggests that white working class males retain the privilege not to have the skill of dart throwing or snooker playing attributed to some genetic advantage; this is as opposed to black athletic bodies who are frequently subjected to scientific and popular enquiry which aims to ‘explain’ success. Moreover, as is mentioned above, white athletic bodies are more frequently described as hardworking and intelligent, in comparison to their Othered counterparts, which implies their achievements are somehow more remarkable, more human, more esteemed. Thus, they are able to exist as physiologically unique athletic bodies, propelled to athletic stardom by exceptional circumstances, distinctive characteristics and individual endeavours (Hylton, 2009; Long and Hylton, 2002). And so, because of this uniqueness, white athletic bodies are able to succeed in sport and leisure spheres without being held as exemplars or representatives of ‘racial’ groups who are deemed to be in need of such role models (see Burdsey, 2007b; Hylton, 2009). Thus, sport and leisure are important contexts into which white privileges are transferred, making a study of this nature increasingly relevant. Garner (2007), too, argues for the importance of understanding white privilege but he also suggests that any consideration of white privilege must also engage with the closely related notion of white supremacy. Leonardo (2004: 137) concurs:

a critical look at white privilege … must be complemented by an equally rigorous examination of white supremacy, or the analysis of white racial domination. This is a necessary departure because, although the two processes are related, the conditions of white supremacy make white privilege possible.

Drawing upon the work of Mills (2004), Garner suggests that white supremacy differs from the notion of white privilege in that the former alludes to the existence of a system which not only conveniences white people but, more importantly, supports conditions which actively benefit them. Importantly, white supremacy should not be understood in narrow terms as a feature of contemporary neo-Nazi politics (Gillborn, 2005); rather it is suggested that the concept be theorised as “a political, economic, and cultural system in which whites

overwhelmingly control power and material resources, conscious and unconscious ideas of white superiority and entitlement” (Ansley, 199 : 592). And so, in many respects white supremacy has very little to do, if anything, with a hatred of Black people. In fact, hooks suggest that white supremacist systems are made possible predominantly by liberal white people who “affirm the very structure of racist domination and oppression that they profess to wish to see eradicated” (hooks, 1989a: 113). That is, in some instances, liberal white people’s belief in upholding meritocratic, fair and colour-blind socio-political ideologies can support unwittingly the status quo. In the context of sport, King (2000) asserts that powerful white people in sport, such as coaches, administrators, managers and owners, often conduct themselves in ways which support white supremacy since, for him, “the individuals who occupy and dominate these positions cannot see themselves as racial beings, taking advantage of the privileges of whiteness” (ibid.: 15). From this perspective, white supremacist systems are allowed to continue because white people fail to accept that their whiteness privileges them and/ or their actions and decisions are influenced by an often unconscious desire to preserve the status quo in their own self-interest. Thus, the result of white people’s inability or denial of their white privilege is that white supremacy remains invisible which allows cultural and social norms to present themselves in seemingly ‘race’ neutral policies, words actions and institutions (Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008; Hartigan, 1997; hooks, 1992). Fletcher and Spracklen (2012), for example, document how post-match drinking rituals, a predominantly white (Anglo) tradition, systematically exclude British Asian-Muslim cricketers from mainstream competition. Malcolm (2002), on the other hand, has revealed that white cricketers believe it is often British Asian-Muslim players’ ‘choice’ to exclude themselves from social rituals and therefore white players believe segregation in the club house is, not the result of white players’ unwillingness to change their behaviour but, a voluntary action based on the choice of individual Asians. This brief example highlights the operation of white supremacy inasmuch as it reveals how white British interests and traditions are upheld to the detriment of British Asian-Muslim players. While the failure by white people and institutions in cricket to do very little about exclusionary practices is not new (Long, 2000; Malcolm, 2000; Williams, 2000; Malcolm, 2001; Long and Hylton, 2002; Williams, 2003; Marqusee, 2005), this example neatly illustrates how “the taken-for-granted routine privileging of white interests … goes unremarked in the political mainstream” (Gillborn, 2005: 485). In other terms, the matters of ‘race’ and religion are marginalised, to maintain the façade of equality, so that the ‘real’ issue appears to be that certain players, who happen to be British Asian-Muslim, choose not to drink. In this way, the exclusion of

those British Asian-Muslim players, who choose not to drink, preserves the (white) post- match drinking ritual and ensures its prolongation. When reading literature on this matter, one may be forgiven for assuming white supremacy is something ‘whites do to blacks’ since the likes of King et al. (2007) discuss colour-blindness as “a recoding of white power” whereby whites secure and take pleasure in securing difference. This argument positions all white people as the main perpetrator of new emergent forms of racism, which not only perpetuates an unhelpful black-white dualism but it also overlooks the contingent nature of whiteness. Mac an Ghaill (1999) is thus critical of reading racism(s) from within a black-white paradigm and warns against the homogenisation of whiteness: although broadly, anti-racist arguments may offer a single explanation of racism and white supremacy, to ignore the multiple subjectivities of white persons and complex social and cultural transformations, indicative of late modernity, is to seriously oversimplify the role of white people in processes of racialisation and racism(s). The following section thus explores these nuances.

Whiteness as contingent

Although white supremacy is a system which is supported chiefly by white people, this is not to suggest whiteness or white people are anything other than contingent, or that white supremacy is maintained only by white people, since this would be to offer essentialist definitions that undermine the complexity of whiteness as racial discourse and the complex identities of those who identify as white (Garner, 2006; Hylton, 2009; Mac an Ghaill, 1999, 2000). Nayak (2 6: 41 ), for example, points out that “[w]hiteness is not homogenous but fractured by the myriad ethnic practices of Russian Jews, Poles, Italians or Irish people (to say nothing of the individual ways they may ‘live’ ethnicity)”. Satzewich (2000: 276) agrees and also notes:

Whiteness is not regarded as a monolithic, permanent, and enduring racial category and identity, but rather as a category and identity that is historically, geographically, and socially contingent and made up of various gradations and meanings.

In short, these observations highlight the philosophical tensions with which scholars of minority white ethnic communities are battling in order to have their voices heard so as to address the injustices which face certain white communities. Mac an Ghaill (1999; 2000; 2001), for example, is keen to point out the danger associated with a homogenisation of whiteness since for him this practice overlooks the persecution suffered by minority white communities, such as the Irish, who are often the largest minority ethnic group in contemporary Britain. Mac an Ghaill (2001: 179) also warns against what he sees as the

“Americanisation of British race-relations” by which he means the over emphasis of approaching matters of ‘race’ and racism from the “colour paradigm”. These assertions are certainly not to be read as a call to ignore the needs of Black communities in Britain, quite the opposite, but understanding how whiteness is indeed contingent suggests the need for a more critical exploration of practices, representations and policies which fails to adequately recognise racism simply because the recipients are deemed to be white. In turn, Long (2012) has responded to this call to recognise the unique position of minority white communities and has highlighted how the experiences of white Polish migrants, in sport and leisure in the United Kingdom, negotiate belonging in these spaces in differing ways to the white British majority. He reports that language and command of English as well as ethnic and cultural differences impact heavily on how included members of Polish communities feel in sport and leisure spaces. Although this is an important study, able to highlight the pervasiveness of intra-racial as well as inter-racial racism, very few have begun to seriously consider the differential experiences of minority white communities in the context of leisure in Britain. As well as differentials existing between differing white ethnic and religious groups whiteness has been shown also to be divided by other social factors such as class (Evans, 2006; Teixeira and Rogers, 2000; Reay, 2002; Roediger, 1991), sexuality (B rub , 2 ; Teunis, 2007) and gender (Dyer, 1997; Frankenberg, 1993; Travers, 2011; Ware, 1992). Despite these assertions, King and Springwood (2001: 160) are nonetheless keen to emphasise the dangers associated with a deconstruction of whiteness:

Whiteness is simultaneously a practice, a social space, a subjectivity, a spectacle, an erasure, an epistemology, a strategy, an historical formation, a technology, and a tactic. Of course, it is not monolithic, but in all of its manifestations, it is unified through privilege and the power to name, to represent, and to create opportunity and deny access.

King (2005) further qualifies these concerns and points out that those conducting research on whiteness in sport and leisure, and its inevitable acknowledgement of heterogeneity, also should be careful not to inadvertently (re)centre whiteness and white epistemologies or inflate its antiracist political usages. Moreover, Feagin and O’Brien (2 ) accord and suggest that while white ethnic and religious identities, for example, are important for recognising more subtle differences between how different people construct and do whiteness, this should not be at the expense of a detailed consideration of the instrumentalism of white racial identity in privileging bodies that are perceived to be white. In short, this study attempts to reconcile these theoretical and philosophical tensions by contributing an analysis which grapples with the political problematic of fragmenting

whiteness and white people, but it also offers a more nuanced interpretation of the differing shades of whiteness.

Whiteness as (embodied) performance

The discursive and embodied signification of race is forever incoherent and can only approximate … identity through socially recognizable signs, symbols and motifs. In this reading race is something that we ‘do’ rather than who we are, it is a performance that can only ever give illusion to the reality it purports. (Nayak, 2006: 426)

Inherent to Nayak’s understanding of ‘race’, racial identity and racialised processes is Butler’s (199 : 12) notion of performativity, which she defines as:

not a singular "act", for it is always a reiteration of a norm or set of norms, and to the extent that it acquires an act-like status in the present, it conceals or dissimulates the conventions of which it is a repetition. Moreover, this act is not primarily theatrical; indeed, its apparent theatricality is produced to the extent that its historicity remains dissimulated.

In simpler terms, performativity is the perpetual repetition, reproduction and re-enactment of dominant discourse which serves paradoxically to conceal the fictiveness of social identities such as ‘race’ and gender. Thus, for Butler, “identities are constructed and constituted by language, which means that there is no gender identity [for instance] that precedes language. If you like, it is not that an identity “does” discourse or language, but the other way around - language and discourse “do” gender” (Salih, 2 : 56). Taking these ideas and applying them to the matter of ‘race’ then allows an exploration of whether “a new cluster of ideas around performativity, identity and the body are crystallizing into an identifiable post- race lingua franca” (Nayak, 2 6: 414). Acknowledging the usefulness of these concepts, particularly in relation to emerging social identities and body projects, enables this study to engage with the political concerns associated with the deconstruction of ‘race’, noted above, but also evokes a number of questions: if whiteness and white people are merely illusions, discursive constructs and products of language, then how is whiteness performed? How do our bodies ‘do’ ‘race’ through the modalities of other social identities? What are the markers, signs and symbols, other than modernist categories such as skin colour and hair texture, through which whiteness is elucidated? And what are the implications of doing this? These are a number of issues I wish to explore in the following section, and throughout the remainder of this thesis. Nayak (2005: 153) sees the performance of whiteness as a process of (dis)embodiment in the sense that ‘doing’ whiteness “involves an intrinsically different body

schema than those adopted by African Caribbean or Asian” people. This is not a simple allusion to skin colour; rather, it is a reference to a way of conducting, acting, dressing, speaking, being and living with and through a racialised body. In this way, understanding whiteness as performatively constituted points to the possibility that any body can ‘do’ whiteness (or blackness or Asianness, for that matter). And so, for Gillborn (2005: 489):

[d]escribing whiteness as a performance can operate as a shorthand means of drawing attention to the importance of actions and constructed identities — rejecting the simplistic assumption that ‘whiteness’ and ‘white people’ are one and the same thing

From this standpoint whiteness can be likened to a copy without an original since, because there is no white ‘race’, it cannot be tied to bodies which are racialised as white in search of some singular, authentic performance (Foster, 2003). Indeed, as the previous section demonstrates whiteness is slippery and continually shifting precisely because it is inflected differently by a multitude of different people, all holding a number of different subject positions. Thompson (2001) suggests that recognising whiteness is not linked to phenotype enables us to understand how racialised performances are a particularly important feature of white supremacy. That is, because whiteness can be ‘done’ by any body, if it is performed successfully, certain ‘deserving’ ‘non-white’ bodies can also ‘cash in’ on white privilege which helps support the notion of a just and colour-blind society and enables whiteness as discourse to remain allusive, invisible. In turn, this allows us to recognise that racialised performativity is indeed a reiterative behaviour which makes ‘race’ appear as-if-real but it also acts as a measure of “who is worthy of inclusion in the circle of whiteness” (Ladson- Billings and Donnor, 2008: 68), meaning that phenotype does not equal privilege. To this end, while some Others are included within whiteness circles, equally it may be the case that some white people refuse to do whiteness. According to Ignatiev (1997a), for instance, the consequences of not doing whiteness positions certain white people as ‘race traitors’, although such white people are usually hard to find because challenging established discourses of whiteness is not greeted with gusto by those who embody dominant whiteness discourses (Gillborn, 2005). Furthermore, Carrington (2 8) argues that embodied performances of ‘race’ are not only slippery and contestable, to further complicate their instrumentalism they are constituted by an individual’s nationality, regionality, generation, and sporting preference. For instance, Carrington’s (ibid.: 4 8) use of his body for football and cricket, for some of the black cricketers he played with during his PhD research, impacted upon their perceptions of his blackness. He recalls:

For Freddie there was a fundamental difference between the older Caribbean born blacks and the younger British-born black players — which of course included myself — who at best, and no matter how successful we might perform, could only ever be “made up cricketers.” Even within this exchange there is a marking of boundaries, the emphasis, almost to the point of disdain on football as if the sport has somehow corrupted the (cricketing) soul of British blacks … The notion that deep down, inbred/embedded (an interesting conflation) into the soul of every black person there is a real cricketer struggling to come out if only they (the assimilated British blacks) would acknowledge it. My presence at the club simply embodied these issues for Freddie.

Performances of racialised identities are thus constantly challenged, inscribed and confirmed and undermined by an individual’s involvement in sport and leisure activities, in a myriad of ways, in a plethora of contexts and by countless different bodies. This serves once again to reveal further that there is no correct, authentic way or ‘doer’ of whiteness/ blackness, only differing bodies’ reiterations and interpretations of the racialised discourses they associate with it. Nonetheless, although racialised performances may indeed be understood in part as discursive constructs, or a way of (reiteratively) acting, that is not to deny that some people are not “both born white and become white” [emphasis added] (Cooks and Simpson, 2 : 6). This observation thus alludes to the ways in which corporeal characteristics and processes of racialisation determine how others perceive us. Hence, it is worth noting here that some bodies do ‘do’ whiteness more convincingly than others, implying that the way in which a body is perceived (in)validates the performance of the racialised self. King (2002: 2), for example, has argued that “in order to belong [in football, black players] have to behave like white players, or at least act on ‘their’ terms”, which implies whiteness is performed, to various degrees, by black bodies, however, the act of playing the “white working-class man” does not completely legitimise the position of black bodies since, as Fanon (2008 [1952]) so infamously demonstrates, white and black bodies are inscribed with very different politico-historical meanings, regardless of their racialised performativity. Whiteness as performance is thus a cultural process which functions to privilege as well as disadvantage; regardless this is not the same as to argue that whiteness as performance never has negative effects. Ladson-Billings and Donnor (2008: 64), for instance, demonstrates that, despite the acclaim they have received in the white dominated space of higher education, implying a partial ‘doing’ of whiteness, they describe constantly “waiting for the call”. By this they refer to particular events in their life, regardless of how high they may rise, or how well they may ‘pass’, which serve to remind them that they do not fully belong. Furthermore, Harris (1993: 1711), who in telling a story about her grandmother’s experiences of working in a white workplace, wherein she was able to “pass”

as white, documents the emotional toll of performing whiteness, often omitted from post-race theorists accounts of racialised performativity:

Each evening, my grandmother, tired and worn, retraced her steps home, laid aside her mask, and re-entered herself. Day in day out, she made herself invisible, then visible again, for a price too inconsequential to do more than barely sustain her family and at a cost too precious to conceive. She left her job some years later, finding the strain too much to bear. From time to time, as I hear, she would recollect that period, and the cloud of some painful memory would pass across her face. Her voice would remain subdued, as if to contain the still remembered tension. On rare occasions she would wince, recalling some particularly racist comment made in her presence because of her presumed, shared group affiliation. Whatever retort might have been called for had been suppressed long before it reached her lips, for the price of her family’s well-being was her silence. Accepting the risk of self-annihilation was the only way to survive.

As opposed to treating the performance of whiteness as a postmodern quirk, or as an act of self-liberation, Harris’ story details the more sombre side of racialised performativity. Her analogy of a mask, a reference to Fanon, is not to allude to the essence of who her grandmother ‘really’ was, but documents how her performance of whiteness was a means of passing, a way of surviving. Indeed, while there are culturally and ethnically hybrid body projects and identities which draw upon whiteness/ blackness/ Asianness, equally the performance of racialised identities cannot always be assumed to be evidence of a resplendently liberating post-race lingua franca and thus must be treated as a concept which produces unequal and unpredictable outcomes.

Conclusion

This Chapter has examined how ‘race’ has developed, manifested and reproduced itself as a central principle of contemporary society and as a significant field of study for sport and leisure (media) scholars, professionals and policy makers. I have sought to highlight the persistence of bio-racism and racial logic in sport and leisure, and media in general, since despite the cross-disciplinary consensus, which agrees there is no biological basis to ‘race’, the discourse of, in particular, black racial physicality remains a stubborn and unwarranted feature of contemporary understandings of the athletic body. Moreover, I have also wished to give considerable attention to the role of whiteness and white people in sport and leisure so as to consider the role of processes and people in harbouring conditions in which racism(s) operate covertly.

What is missing from the literature is an appreciation of how differently racialised athletic bodies, particularly white and British Asian athletic bodies, contribute to processes of racialisation, representation and late modern identity formations/ body projects. While research has considered extensively the role of black athletic bodies, particularly their contribution to racial myth making, representations of whiteness and white people, not to mention white athletic bodies – despite their omnipresence in contemporary British sport and leisure media - have largely been ignored by sport and leisure sociologists. Indeed, this Chapter also reveals there to be an under appreciation of British Asian athletic bodies and Black female bodies. And so, as Page (1995: 21) remarks,

One of the most important things to be done is to ... seriously study white people. Here is a population that has achieved dominance. How did this happen and what are the lessons? ... We shouldn't stop studying the 'Other', but we need to study those who are reproducing themselves as dominant groups.

Thus, in order to address these concerns, the following Chapter explores further the complexities of contemporary (media) representations, racialisation and relations of power, which are highlighted in this Chapter, and examines them, in more detail. Moreover, the following Chapter addresses the gaps identified in sport and leisure research, such as the lack of appreciation of the intersections between ‘race’ and gender and the racialisation of the white male athletic body. By understanding better the importance of conducting research into the complexities of racialised identities, particularly by incorporating an analysis of masculinities, the following Chapter is able to document and contribute to existing literature regarding the social significance of differently racialised representations and athletic bodies.

Chapter four - Male athletic bodies, masculinities and media representations

The previous two Chapters have centralised the notion of ‘race’ and its relevance as a social issue in sport and leisure and sport and leisure media, however, it is equally important to consider matters of ‘race’ in relation to other social identities if we are to understand more fully the conditions which make white privilege possible (Crenshaw, 1995). And so, since this study is particularly interested in those social identities which operate and reproduce themselves as dominant, this Chapter considers men and masculinity in relation to ‘race’ so as to consider the nuances attributed to relationships of power and the complex ways in which both ‘race’ and masculinity are inflected differently through one another. Continuing with a theme I wish to pursue throughout this thesis, I start by deconstructing masculinity in order to expose the ambiguous, plural and complex meanings attached to late modern manhoods and their representation in media imagery and, in particular, men’s magazines. During this Chapter, first, I explore how men and media masculinities have been theorised in recent studies and then move to consider the usefulness of the concept of hegemonic masculinity by offering a poststructuralist critique. Second, I problematize the nature of mediated male bodies by considering their hyperreal representations. Third, I explore how differently racialised male bodies are represented in media so as to offer a detailed account of media masculinities. Lastly, in light of the recent cultural turn towards the male body, which has made male embodiment particularly topical, the final section explores the meaning of pleasure and how it relates to differently racialised male bodies. This section thus explores the potential held in media images of male athletic bodies in terms of their capacities for homosocial exploration.

Theorising men and media masculinities

One of the most popular ways gender identities have been understood, in the recent past, is as fixed and polarised, meaning masculinity and femininity are treated as ‘natural’ expressions of the sexed body (Butler, 1990; Haywood and Mac an Ghaill, 2003). Psychological and biological paradigms have been particularly influential in popularising (and regulating) this way of understanding men and masculinities. From within this paradigm men and women are treated as polar opposites which assume the source of womanly oppression is located within the male body (Haywood and Mac an Ghaill, 2003; Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2007). However, in recent times numerous theorists have encouraged a rethink of the binaries of sex and gender, which has led to a more complex debate about the nature of masculine identity (see Butler, 1990; Connell, 1995, 2005; Jackson, 1998; Kimmel 1987, 2003). The work of Butler (1993; 1999) and Connell (1987; 1995; 2005), in particular, has

demonstrated gender identity to be more than a mere expression of sex. Thus, much work done under the broad umbrella of gender studies has subsequently considered the role of human agency in performances of gender, historical and cultural shifts in the ideals of gender and the intersections between gender identities and other performances of self. In light of this, Brooks and Hébert (2006: 308-309) argue

[m]asculinity … must be uprooted from essentialist thinking that understands gender — as well as race, class and many other constructs of personal and collective identity — not as biologically determined or subject to universal laws of science or nature, but as products of discourse, performance, and power.

In other words, masculinity cannot be understood as a measurable, innate, monolithic personality (Carrigan et al., 1985); rather it must be recognised as being constituted of and by the wider cultural and social transformations occurring in late modern societies (Haywood and Mac an GhailL, 2003). In light of this, Whannel (2 2: 2 ) asserts that “we need to think in terms not just of masculinity but of masculinities; recognise that masculinities change over time, and consequently there are, always dominant residual and emergent masculinities”. Masculinities are thus far from static, are plural and are performed differently by different people. This approach advocates a multiple masculinities paradigm which allows for a discussion of the power relationships between men and other men, as well as women (Connell, 2005; Whannel, 2 2). Connell’s (1995) theory of hegemonic masculinity has been particularly influential in popularising a multiple masculinities paradigm since it provides a less essentialist framework through which to explore the power relations operating between normative and dominant forms of masculinity and more marginal and subordinate types (Connell, 1987, 2005). Ricciardelli et al. (2010: 64-65) document the discourses which constitute hegemonic masculinity: “appearances (e.g., strength and size), affects (e.g., work ethic and emotional strength), sexualities (e.g., homosexual vs. heterosexual), behaviors (e.g., violent and assertive), occupations (e.g., valuing career over family and house-work) and dominations (e.g., subordination of women and children)”. However, Connell (2 5: 185) reacting to criticism of hegemonic masculinity suggests that these seemingly objective features do not essentialise the nature of the concept rather, she argues, “masculinities come into existence at particular times and places, and are always subject to change”. In other words, as masculine ideals change over time, and when hegemonic ideals are contested and challenged, the discourses and features which constitute hegemonic masculinity adapts to take on new hegemonic forms (Ricciardelli et al., 2010). Despite its historical and cultural dependence, hegemonic masculinity is often assumed to be aspirational form of manhood, an ‘ideal’ that is in reality never achievable for

the vast majority of men; nevertheless, regardless of the concept’s unattainability, it continues to function as the yard stick of ‘normativity’ by which men are repeatedly required to measure their own masculine identities (Connell, 2005). Connell (2005: 68-70) asserts that mainstream media are particularly influential channels through which essentialist representations of masculinity and ‘normative’ exemplars of manhood are broadcast and celebrated. In the context of sport and leisure for instance, Davis (1997) goes as far as to suggest that the primary function of sport magazines such as Sports Illustrated is to establish, promote and embody hegemonic masculinity. Thus, as opposed to merely providing sports news she suggests that a privileging of the white (as opposed to Black), heterosexual (as opposed to homosexuality) male (as opposed to female) gaze reveals the operation of a discourse that attempts to privilege certain masculinities whilst subordinating others. In true Gramscian fashion then, Davis sees this particular medium as employing a coercive strategy, which entrenches and idealises particular hegemonic ideals of sexuality, gender and ethnicity, in the minds of its consumers. Such has been the influence of hegemonic masculinity, Connell and Messerschmidt (2005) report that the term is found in over two-hundred academic papers, according to database searches, and has been used to analyse such diverse areas as education, criminology, media representation, men’s health, professional practice and sport. In this sense, it has become one of the most popularly applied, and critiqued, concepts across the field of men’s studies. More specifically for this research, the notion of hegemonic masculinity has been particularly useful in highlighting “that some sportsmen enjoy greater ability to exercise power than others and that sporting practices contribute to inequitable power relations between males and females” (Pringle, 2 5: 26 ). However, whilst hegemonic masculinity provides one means of exploring the domination of certain masculinities in the media over others, poststructuralist accounts of masculinities have been helpful in exposing problems with the universal application of hegemonic masculinity. For instance, Ricciardelli et al. (2010) utilise a hegemony framework to study a cross section of men’s magazines and report that “different men’s magazines represent different forms of masculinity”. Hence, while they go on to suggest that “elements of hegemonic masculinity … are woven throughout” (ibid.: 64), a poststructuralist critique points to the failure of this framework to account for the multiple, contradictory and polysemic nature of contemporary media masculinities. Hegemonic masculinity has thus been criticised by poststructuralists as a term of “generalization” (Pringle 2005: 267) which does not fully appreciate human agency or the fluidity of contemporary gender identities or their contradictory nature. Thus, using a Foucauldian framework, Pringle (2 5: 266) has argued that “the hegemony theorists have tended to draw generalized conclusions that represent male athletic bodies as either embodiments or exemplars of hegemonic masculinity and male sport as a prime producer of

masculine hegemony”. In this sense, the paradigm has difficulty in understanding sport and media institutions as enabling and democratising or avoiding “bipolar conclusions and narrow representations of sportsmen’s subjectivities” (Pringle, 2 5). Mac an Ghaill and Haywood (2007: 5) suggest poststructuralists understand men and masculinities as gendered processes that are “more contradictory, fragmented, shifting and ambivalent than dominant public definitions of these categories suggest”. In other words, poststructuralist accounts of masculinities and femininities have illustrated that the gender boundaries and power relations existing between individuals are increasingly disorderly and porous (Haywood and Mac an Ghaill, 2003). In this way, the hegemony paradigm is unable to explain how representations of masculinity can be interpreted as hegemonic and marginal, at the same moment. For instance, Donaldson (1993) and Miller (1998) both raise concerns regarding the usefulness of understanding images of athletic bodies as consistent exemplars of hegemonic masculinity:

A football star is a model of hegemonic masculinity. But is a model? When the handsome Australian Rules football player, Warwick ‘the tightest shorts in sports’ Caper, combined football with modeling, does this confirm or decrease his exemplary status? When Wally (‘the King’) Lewis explained that the price he will pay for another 5 years playing in the professional Rugby League is the surgical replacement of both his knees, this is undoubtedly the stuff of good, old, tried and true, tough and stoic, masculinity. But how powerful is a man who mutilates his body, almost as a matter of course, merely because of a job? When Lewis announced that he was quitting the very prestigious ‘State of Origin’ football series because his 1-year-old daughter had been diagnosed as hearing impaired, is this hegemonic? (Donaldson, 1993: 647)

Can hegemonic masculinity allow for theoretical diversity and historical change, and for those times when men are not being men, when their activities might be understood as discontinuous, conflicted, and ordinary, rather than interconnected, functional, and dominant—when nothing they do relates to the overall domination of women or their own self formation as a gendered group? (Miller, 1998: 433)

For many, the most prominent media athletic body of recent times has been that of English sportsman, David Beckham. In particular, Beckham is a footballer who is often pictured in basketball apparel; a white man receptive to Black cultural forms; the perfect husband and father and an alleged adulterer; a political activist who is apolitical; an infectious personality with little personality; the boy-next-door and a global mega star; a fashionista often ridiculed for his sense of style. In true postmodern fashion, Beckham’s media representation surfaces as an assembly of contradictions in so much as it encompasses the “hero” and “villain” all at

once (Harris & Clayton, 2007). Hence, do these competing and confused representations position Beckham as being more or less hegemonic? Beckham is many things and embodies a multitude of identities, from racialised to gendered, and all in between. In this sense, bodies such as Beckham’s contest the usefulness of the terms masculine, feminine and hegemonic when attempting to understand and challenge male privilege. Furthermore, he illustrates perhaps most vividly the ambiguity of late modern representations of ‘race’, ethnicity, gender and sexuality, the discursive construction of identities and the decentralisation of power. This is not to imply, and indeed it cannot be implied, hegemonic masculinity is a concept of structural determinism (see Connell and Messerschmidt, 2005: 843), but it is to suggest that it is a theory of masculinities that considers power relations as hierarchal (i.e. some men have more power than women and subordinated men), first, and as ubiquitous, more secondarily (Holub, 1992). In other words, since it is a concept formulated upon the Gramscian notion of hegemony – its primary function is “to explain how a ruling class establishes and maintains control of subordinate groups” and how “the rulers … convince the ruled of the legitimacy of their system of beliefs” (Pringle, 2005: 259). This leaves little room to consider the agency of consumers or the myriad of interpretations that images of media bodies can produce. Studies relying upon hegemonic masculinity as their theoretical framework thus have a tendency to understand media representation as disabling, regardless of their local hegemonic forms and can unintentionally present the media as a homogenous institution. And so, while media are indeed responsible for inaccuracy, coercion and partiality (themes aptly illustrated by the hegemony paradigm) it is equally important to evoke Thorpe’s (2 8: 200) Foucauldian inspired appeal to understand the media as a productive site of embodied identities and as an institution which empowers and contests, as well as regulates:

the media [are] not only repressive, but also enabling and productive. Indeed, the media are not simply a judicial mechanism that limits, obstructs, refuses, prohibits, and censors.

Rahman (2004), for example, highlights the noncompliant and transgressive nature of some media imagery of Beckham when he describes how men’s magazine GQ published imagery of “Beckham’s naked torso … [covered] in baby oil” as well as others of him clothed “in unbuttoned cut-off denim shorts on a weights bench – very 19 s gay” (ibid.: 16). However, in the same image those ‘very gay’ signs are juxtaposed with more recognisably ‘macho’ markers such as football and tattoos (ibid: 16). This representation of Beckham, whether deemed as feminine or masculine, straight or gay, is deeply equivocal in terms of its intended message to consumers. In this way, by appearing in a number of similar images, Beckham has managed to achieve the formerly insurmountable feat of becoming a global

mega star (Whannel, 2002) precisely by disturbing normative, hegemonic forms of masculinity. Thus, as opposed to neatly categorising Beckham as ‘metrosexual’, as some theorists have tried to imply (Parker and Lyle, 2008; Ricciardelli et al., 2010), poststructuralist traditions recognise that he is neither hegemonic nor marginalised nor ‘metrosexual’ but is rather a complex collection of mediated subjectivities whose multiple gendered and sexual identities are forever evolving, regressing and fluctuating. This is not to deny male hegemony altogether, but it does suggest we “need to be attentive to the specific patriarchal uses and effects of various discursive practices and remain creative in imagining how these practices may be reworked to develop new masculine subject positions” (Toerien and Durrheim, 2 1: 51). This section has demonstrated that it would be erroneous to understand the representational practices of sport and leisure media as merely reinforcing traditional masculine ideals and patriarchal domination since this is to ignore the more contradictory and progressive discursive aspects of media imagery of athletic bodies. In turn, Thorpe (2008: 201-202) describes how media critiques should not seek to establish a truthful or essential representation, be it perceivably positive or negative, rather an examination of multiple and competing discourses, omitted by the media image, should be central to any study aiming to analyse media representations of gendered and racialised identities. And so, while hegemonic masculinity is useful in helping to understand macro accounts of domination, its effectiveness is limited when attempting to understand the multiplicity of meaning and the contradictory ways in which men’s subjectivities and identities are represented in men’s magazines. Thus, the implication for this study is to move beyond a simple ‘Black men are powerless and white men are powerful’ paradigm, which is not that same as to argue that this may never be the case (Mac an Ghaill, 1999), so as to understand better the socio-historical circumstances and cultural conditions in which particular men and identities are (dis)empowered.

Hyper-reality and the idealisation of the male athletic body

Men have long been visible in contemporary sport and leisure media and magazines (Sabo, 1988). However, the naked flesh of male bodies has become ever more commonplace, which is a trend that would not have been possible only a few decades ago (Mishkind et al., 2 1). Whannel (2 2: 6) has suggested that men’s magazines have significantly contributed to “the growing centrality of sport” but, more interestingly, the relationship between the two has had a considerable effect on “body-image awareness amongst men”. According to Whannel, Men’s Health has been a particularly significant title that has helped popularise “a more aspirational discourse of body maintenance”, which has in turn

encouraged men to measure their ‘manliness’ in terms of their physicality. Grogan and Richards (2002: 224), for instance, report that men now understand the ideal male body to have a “shaped jaw”, “perfect pecs” and “[d]efined stomach muscles”. And so, media images of male muscularity (particularly of arms, abdominals and pectorals) bodily leanness, youthfulness and muscle tone (Mishkind et al., 2001) are not only bombarding men but are increasingly accepted as being “an aesthetic norm” (Connell, 1995). White and Gillett (1994: 20) suggest that men are subsequently using media representations of other men as forms of “truth games” whereby some attempt to understand their own embodiment in relation to muscular mediated male bodies (Elliot and Elliot, 2005; Leit et al., 2001). This recognition makes it increasingly important to investigate, not just the kinds of bodies men are comparing themselves with but, the very nature of late modern media imagery and the processes by which athletic bodies are made visible to modern image consumers. Here, it is important to flatly reject the “naive realism [that] sees the photographic representation of reality as realistic” (Bourdieu, 1996 [1965]). Long (n.d. quoted in Wheeler, 2002: 42) warns that it is important to make a clear distinction between media imagery and reality:

photography has always been subject to certain manipulation, but we have imbued the … photo with verisimilitude beyond its nature. It looked like reality so we equated it with reality. In truth, the photograph is only a two-dimensional piece of paper ... a photograph symbolically represents reality; it is not in itself reality.

What is more, Wheeler (2002) extends this argument and suggests that as photography evolves terms such as ‘the photo’ are soon to be archaic given that computerised technologies and the digital image gradually begin to monopolise how we interact, store and manipulate the images we consume and own. Therefore, if authenticity was ever in question when a photograph was a tangible piece of paper, the fact we cannot hold a JPEG, GIF or PNG in our hands, since they are rather “a long series of ’s and 1’s that are more like an idea than a crystal of salt” (Kelly, 2 2: p. xiii), must surely confirm the loss of all claims to authenticity and realness? In this sense, media imagery can never be objective. Poster (1995: ) specifically draws attention to the centrality of the digital image to the “second media age” — an epoch defined by “two-way decentralised communication” — insofar as the digital image has fundamentally changed the nature of, not only media imagery but, who can ‘report’ (or share) images and how. The dawning of this new era is thus characterised by a cultural shift away from modernist concerns with the ‘few producers-many consumers’ media model and to a paradigm of increased interactivity, manipulation and consumer autonomy.

The consequence of these technological advancements upon society has been described as one of hyper-reality, which provocative postmodernist Jean Baudrillard (1983) defines as the simulation of something which has never really been in existence. The concept of hyper-reality is here intended to be interpreted as one of the confusion of reality: what is real and what is not? Or indeed for Baudrillard has the real ever existed? Pivotal to the disturbance of the real is the role of the media and the ever more powerful forms of representation and manipulation available to both professional and personal image producers, which continues to shape people’s experiences of their worlds. For instance, the sporting bodies which are visible in magazines and on television are continually fabricated and refabricated at every junction, from the moment a moment is captured (Wheeler, 2002). This by no means suggests that, should an athletic body be subjected to processes of representation, the real person is somehow unreal or fictional; yet through this process the printed, mediated image alters the subject in the image to be something she/ he never was in actuality. Implicated in the furtherance of the hyper-reality of athletic bodies is the current trend of digital retouching as a means of ‘correcting’ physical ‘flaws’ (Martin, 1991; Reaves, 1991): for example, “a patch of sky or grass or even skin can be ‘cloned’ and used as a ‘paintbrush’ of sorts, to enlarge, reproduce, or mask elements within the frame” (Wheeler, 2 2). Feminist scholars have been particularly critical of digital manipulations when used with the intention of ‘retouching’ female bodies, particularly within popular magazines (Duncan and Messner, 1998; Hargreaves, 1994; Mikosza and Phillips, 1999). For instance, white American actress Tori Spelling was reported to have had a series of virtual ‘surgeries’ performed on digital images of her body: a manipulation of her lips to make them appear fuller; a breast augmentation; a lengthening of her legs; a reduction in waist size; and an increase of nipple size were all procedures performed by a digital touch-up expert (Wheeler, 2002). In spite of such drastic alterations, artistic freedom for photo editors remains a stalwart and cherished precept of the profession (Reaves et al., 2004). Most digital images, particularly in non-news articles such as features, advertisements and magazine covers, thus very rarely appear to the consumer ‘warts and all’ and often serve as exemplars of the hyper-real insofar as the collusion between human and computer/ artificial intelligence renders manipulation completely imperceptible. Diedrichs and Lee (2010: 219), too, mark the significance and prevalence of airbrushing and digital manipulation in removing the athletic body from “biological reality”, but warn that research in this area has largely been conducted with a concentration on women. While a growing number of studies have begun to explore the influence of men’s magazines on their body-image and self-identification (see Choi and Pope, 2001; Elliot and Elliot, 2005; Gillett and White, 1992; Grogan and Richards, 2002;Hargreaves, 2007; Miller, 2001; Philips

and Drummond, 2001; Pope et al., 1999) very little is known about the racialised aspects of digital manipulation and its reception by, particularly, sport media audiences (van Sterkenburg and Knoppers, 2004). Carrington (2002b) illustrates the importance of further research into this area as he points out that although white male athletic bodies are often “air-brushed” and are photographed in “soft focused light” – techniques which supposedly create a more delicate and feminine mood (Hedgecoe, 2006; Milburn et al., 2002) – conversely, black male athletic bodies are “usually shot with a high intensity film … showing veins, pores, and sweat gleaning from the dark skin” (Carrington, 2002b: 22). In this way, differential treatment of white and black male flesh serves to represent white male athletic bodies as divine, flawless and as Heat (2002, quoted in Rahman 2004: 14) magazine commented about a semi-naked David Beckham) “macho and absolutely beautiful” [emphasis added] while their black counterparts appear as raw, hyper-sexualised and organic. Therefore, by ignoring the matter of ‘race’ and ethnicity when investigating men’s body image/ media representation scholars risk trivialising the effects of differential racialisation - allowing racial stereotypes to go on unchallenged. As collages of male athletic bodies and flesh become an ever more regular feature of mainstream media and popular culture (Kirk, 2004), the need to focus on the complex intersections of ‘race’, masculinities, media, bodies and sexualities becomes increasingly important. That is, as ever more complex and digitised media seeps gradually into more and more aspects of contemporary life, understanding the complex nature and kind of representation becomes increasingly more vital, especially if we are to counter the inevitable negative effects of media manipulation. The following sections then explore the complexity of mediated athletic bodies and begin to unpack the nuances of gendered and racialised media representation. In this way, the research is better able to investigate the differing power relationships that exist between differently racialised groups and peoples and the varying degrees to which they can signify or access male privileges.

Discourses of white masculinity in sport and leisure media

The narrative of the white hero or white knight overcoming the dark villain has dominated folklore and story-telling in mainstream Western cultures dating back to Ancient Rome (Hoch, 2 4). Moreover, a cursory glance at “Hollywood”, the cultural breeding ground of contemporary stories, reveals an over-representation of white leading men, in the guise of the white knight, overcoming some kind of repressive circumstance or another (Brooks and Hébert, 2006). From Inglourious Basterds (2009) in which Quentin Tarantino rewrites history by depicting an archetypal white male American, played by Brad Pitt, as the man who almost single-handedly ends World War II, to Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino (2008) which tells the

story of a ‘reformed’ white racist (played by Eastwood) who sacrifices his life to protect an American-Chinese family (Jalao, 2010), white (Anglo) masculinity is racialised and framed as noble and moral — a technique that has functioned historically in film to represent the white self and in doing so also represent the Other (Vera and Gordon, 2001). Furthermore, this narrative is also notable in a sporting context when, British tennis player, Tim Henman’s white-skinned body, clad in all-white tennis apparel, was juxtaposed against a dark, robed Black boxer, Mike Tyson (importantly, this counterposing occurred in the midst of a media storm vilifying Tyson for biting a bloody chunk from Evander Hollyfield’s ear) under the caption: “Beauty and the beast: Britain’s Tim Henman brings a smile to Centre Court while Mike Tyson descends to new levels of savagery” (Carrington, 2 1 : 121). While the behaviour of Tyson was indeed barbaric and savage, the decision to juxtapose and forcibly intertwine these two bodies/ stories, despite the obvious racialised connotations, reminds readers of the colourised nature of tales of ‘good versus evil’, in that “whiteness is associated with goodness and innocence” and “darkness and blackness often carry connotations of evil and menace” (Delgado and Stefancic, 2 1: 5). In addition, Henman then is indeed an interesting representation of a particular white (Anglo) masculinity in that despite his dreariness, benign personal life and lack of grand-slam titles, he remained at the epicentre of the British sports media’s coverage of tennis until the emergence of Andy Murray (Whannel, 2000; 2009). In turn, although it could certainly be argued that Henman’s glorification was simply because he was, at the time, the British number one tennis player, Henman’s representation as ‘whiter than white’ - a symbolic and ideal form of Englishness/ whiteness - offers a different raison d’être for the British media’s nationalistically biased coverage. That is, Henman’s embodiment of masculinity signifies the modern version of the classical white knight who, in the pseudo pre-industrial village green milieu of Wimbledon, would compete heroically and lose humbly, all whilst carrying the hopes of his ‘kingdom’ — white, middle England — on his shoulders. In light of this, perhaps Murray’s turbulent relationship with the English-based, British press is in part because of his inability/ refusal to replicate the caricature of the white knight in quite the same manner as Henman. White male athletic bodies have long been represented as exemplars of morality and rectitude. Historically, these men, characterised by their brute strength and sportsmanship, were said to embody the ideals of muscular Christianity - the most divine and godly form of manhood (Judge, 1982). However, as a result of the feminist movements of the 1970s and 1980s, classical notions of pious masculinity, and the metaphorical ‘stiff upper lip’, have been replaced by the New Man, who is a character more willing to accommodate his ‘feminine side’. These New Men, of which Gary Lineker and Jonny Wilkinson have been recent sporting examples, are defined as those “who had responded to and taken on aspects of the critique of masculinity offered by feminism. Such men endeavoured to

become more involved with domestic labour and childcare. They got in touch with their emotions and tried to combat their own sexism” (Whannel, 2 2: 5). Jackson (1994) claims that images of the New Man are commonplace in up-market men's magazines such as Gentleman's Quarterly and Esquire which, considering the content and target audience of these titles, implies the New Man has important links to socio-economically privileged men. In this sense, New Men are often caricatured and represented as “upwardly-mobile young male executives who have significant disposable income to spend on clothing, cosmetics and other fashion accessories” (Jackson, 1994). Thus, although research has often been colour-blind when conceptualising the ideals of the New Man, implicit within much theoretical debate, because of its connotations of wealth and corporate success, is that the New Man is also ideally a white man. If the New Man was a reaction to feminism, then the New Lad has been interpreted as a reaction to the New Man (Bell, 1980; Newman, 2012). Benwell (2002: 151) documents that New Laddism largely exists as a media phenomenon which celebrates the “average lad” who likes to “have a few beers, watch the footie [whilst] trying to … pull a few girls”. Loaded and FHM are magazines of particular significance in promoting this form of manhood, since their content resembles an amalgamation between sport and popular 90s TV show, Men Behaving Badly (Whannel, 2002). Carrington (1998: 106) argues the television show Fantasy Football epitomises this particular performance of masculinity and describes how the hosts and guests of the show “quite literally, sit on a couch, drink beer, talk about football, and tell jokes about women”. White footballer Paul Gascoigne, too, has been held as an especially noteworthy embodiment of New Laddism. That is because despite his excessive drinking, regular anti-social behaviour and assault on his wife, ‘Gazza’ has remained the darling of many white English football fans (Giulianotti and Gerrard, 1998). Similarly, New Lad, Robbie Fowler, so called for taunting heterosexual - but articulate, cultured and family orientated - player Graeme Le Saux about his sexuality, during a Premier League game between Liverpool and Chelsea, in 1999 (Ismond, 2003), helps demonstrate further New Laddism’s overt and crude rejection of liberalism and equality laws and its renunciation of self-responsibility and glorification of risk. Furthermore, Carrington (1998: 106) is keen to draw out the racialised nature of the New Lad and suggests that this particular discourse of media masculinity rather than restructuring class boundaries, as is sometimes argued, transcends them through discourses of nationality and ethnicity. For instance, exemplars of the New Lad such as Ian Botham, Paul Gascoigne, Colin Farrell and George Best (Ricciardelli et al., 2010; Whannel, 2002) are all perceived as white men. In turn, Carrington (1998: 108) has thus argued New Laddism is an attempt “to redefine white English masculinity, even though it is rarely labelled as such”. This is not to say however that only white male bodies can perform New Laddism

and it is equally worthy of note that because the New Lad is argued to be a white racial discourse black athletic bodies are equally capable of performing masculinity in this manner. Recent examples such as Ashley Cole and Ian Wright thus serve to remind us that there is no authentic “‘doer’ behind the deed” (Salih, 2 : 5 ) but also highlight the kinds of cultural arrangements which define belonging in football (King, 2000: 26). For Carrington (1998), a particularly important feature of New Laddism is that it contends racial discrimination should be appropriated within the white male supremacist institution of sport as a ‘joke’. To further this assumption, Carrington (1998) points to the abuse suffered by black footballer Jason Lee - who was targeted by the show Fantasy Football, and its two white male presenters, because of his dreadlocks – as being emblematic of the New Lad’s approach to racial prejudice. Lee was subjected to a series long ‘joke’ that ‘playfully’ suggested that his hairstyle looked like a pineapple. However, the failure not only to recognise the cultural and historical significance of dreadlocks as embodied markers of black cultural defiance, and the extent to which the ‘joke’ was embraced by white audiences and football fans, served to position those who ‘did not get the joke’ as outsiders, separatists and as ‘having a chip on their shoulder’ (Carrington, 1998). This example serves to remind us that the discourse of New Laddism operates with a central defensive mechanism of white racism, or microaggression, at its centre in that racial prejudice should be dismissed as merely harmless banter or as a joke (see also Burdsey, 2011b) and if it is not, then, far from it being interpreted as a racist act, the victim of the abuse is further vilified! Thus, continuing to refuse to name New Laddism as a predominantly, but not exclusively, white male racial discourse, whiteness tactfully avoids being implicated as a key component of this inherently homophobic, misogynistic and racist ‘doing’ of masculinity which allows it to retain an unmerited innocence. During this section I have argued that the white knight, New Man and New Lad are dominant discursive constructions of white masculinities in sport and leisure media. This is not to deny the operation of other discourses but it is to suggest that some representations of white masculinities appear more frequently than others in contemporary media. And so, while the white knight, New Man or New Lad cannot exist in any stable or knowable form inside media, since the essence of each concept is anti-foundational, they most certainly cannot exist outside media discourse because real people cannot function in such deterministic, essentialist manners. The relevance of this for the remainder of the thesis then is to understand both how these discourses overlap with one another through contemporary media representations of athletic bodies and how they are embodied or not by different men.

Seen but not heard: Exploring media representation of black masculinities

… when we forgo blind celebration of the exploits of black athletes we might see new paths for racial progress. (Hill Collins, 2010)

Black male athletic bodies have become highly visible in mainstream media, however, too often have they been racialised in a manner which emphasises their physicality and athleticism. Sabo and Jansen (1994: 153) suggest that black men in sport media are thus usually “seen but not heard”; importantly, this is as opposed to Black women who are largely neither seen nor heard. And so, the increased visibility of black male athletic bodies must be accompanied by a critical narrative which explores the various types of black athletic representation, and their wider social consequences, particularly in light of liberal commentaries that equate visibility with progression. Although the inclusion of black male athletic bodies in sports and leisure media has become more and more unexceptional, the representations of these particular bodies often contribute to an essentialist everyday discourse of black manhood as inherently angry, violent, stupid and sexually aggressive (Orbe, 1998). Carrington (2002b, 2008, 2010) thus likens popular representations of black male athletic bodies to those of animals. That is, for Carrington, sport media imagery often implies black male athletic bodies are ‘animal-like’ because of the ways in which their bodies are photographed, directed and digitally manipulated. In turn, these representations function to exacerbate myths of black physical excellence and emotional and bodily indiscipline; they allude to the supposed uninhibited and savage temperament of black men and their proneness to succumbing to embodied desire. Thus the visual presence of black men per se may create the illusion that black male athletes are celebrated for their successes; however, it is their silence, against a backdrop of bio-racism and white supremacy, which denies these same men a voice and thus access to “intellectual, political and economic sources of power and opportunity” (Sabo and Jansen, 1994: 153). In other words, the overemphasis of black male athletic bodies as physical and ‘animal-like’ (Hall, 199 ) not only refuses them a voice but also denies them the right to self- determination (Hokowhitu, 2003). In this way, black athletic bodies occupy a narrow representational schema which portrays them as “having bodies but not minds” (Mercer, 1994: 138). Black masculinities, from this standpoint, are represented in subordination to white masculinities as Othered and incomplete. As well as discourses of animalism and physicality, representations of the black male body have become increasingly sexualised. Carrington (2002: 20-21), for instance, describes how a reading of popular media reveals how black athletes always appear heavily defined, never “soft”:

the muscled black male torso as a commodity-sign has achieved almost iconic status within the Western media, within both popular cultural and high art spaces, in replaying, at the connotative level, colonial fantasies about the perceived sexual excesses of black masculinity. From the continuing interest in the photographs of Robert Maplethorpe, to advertisements for Nike and other sports companies, to the cinematic constructions of Steven Spielberg’s Amistad, to the covers of black athletes’ autobiographies, the black male torso as object of visual desire is everywhere. We might suggest then that the ‘passive sexualization’ of male (largely white) bodies during the 198 s, when advertising and marketing discourses produced the ephemeral ‘New Man’, is now displaced by an active sexualisation of black male bodies.

For Carrington then the black male athletic body exists ubiquitously in sport and leisure media. However, his reading of black bodies, as sexualised and feminised sites of desire and envy, highlights a much more ambiguous relationship between contemporary media and the symbolic value of black masculine embodiment inasmuch as it is positioned as both marginal and desirable, at the very same time. Nonetheless, this line of argument does raise interesting questions for this thesis to consider. That is, Carrington’s theoretically founded musings invite further empirical investigation into the contemporary omnipresence, or otherwise, of the black athletic body in sport and leisure media and its complex outcomes and meanings for consumers. While it is imperative to comment on the more regressive and essentialist representations of black men, as is alluded to above, it is increasingly important to state that media imagery is not monosemic and thus representation can function to represent black male athletic bodes in a number of ways other than as a primordial racialised Other. Hall (1997: 272-273) points to the socio-political importance of this acknowledgement:

This approach has the advantage of righting the balance. It is underpinned by an acceptance – indeed a celebration - of difference. It inverts the binary opposition, privileging the subordinate term, sometimes reading the negative positively: ‘Black is Beautiful’. It tries to construct a positive identification with what has been abjected. It greatly expands the range of the racial representations and the complexity of what it means to ‘be black’, thus challenging the reductionism of early stereotypes.

Brooks and Jacobs (2001), too, consider the importance of identifying the multi-discursive potential of media imagery, in order to resist domination. For them, operationalising the notion of interpositionality, or intersectionality, by way of evoking a body’s multiple subjectivities, is an effective way to endorse non-stereotypical and anti-essentialist representations of black male athletic bodies. In particular, Gilligan (2008: 171), suggests

that African American actor Will Smith's representations in the films I am Legend and I, Robot “both follow and disrupt existing discourses of sexualized black masculinity” since they frame the black male body as “fashionable and aspirational, rather than simply objectified via sexualized visual discourses”. In this way, Smith, the much beloved “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and poster child for Philly’s harmless suburban rap”, is constructed as a particularly “safe” embodiment of black masculinity (Mills, 2 ) who is able to challenge and reconstruct early essentialist stereotypes. Thus, while Smith may not transcend ‘race’, he does own the potential to shift and distort more regressive discourses on black masculinities and black athletic bodies. In a sporting context, Carrington (2002: 24-25), too, flirts with the notion of the media image as “potentially transgressive” [emphasis in the original]. To illustrate this, he draws attention to the front cover of Dennis Rodman’s (2 1 ) autobiography, Bad As I Wanna Be, which pictures a fully naked Rodman – whose modesty is covered only by a basketball - sitting back-to-front on a Harley Davidson motorbike, staring unabashedly at the viewer. While the image can be as read as signifying barbarism and sexual promiscuity, Rodman’s body is also symbolic of a “refusal to fully endorse the heterosexist parameters of mainstream sports cultures” (ibid.: 25). Tucker (2 : 21), too, recognises

Rodman’s chameleon-like construction (or destruction) of his Black athletic body disrupts the celebration of beautiful bodies in sport and re(con)textualizes it as something other than “an active hegemonic agent”

And so, through a utilisation of Hall’s (199 : 2 ) notion of “reversing the stereotype”, which is not always or necessarily achieved by an outright subversion, Rodman’s body - as muscled, tattooed, pierced and adorned by a crop of red hair - subsequently challenges and invites a deconstruction of the hard racial, gendered and (hetero)sexual tropes which most commonly operate in mainstream sport and leisure media. And so, while the latter part of this section should not be misconstrued as a move aimed at shifting debate away from more regressive and/ or reoccurring constructions of the black male body, it is to suggest that one must be equally open to the possibilities of media representation as enabling and disobedient. Indeed, this may be so, but as Giardina (2003) notes this project of deconstructing racialised representations must be handled with a degree of reflexivity. That is, analysis wishing to engage with and promote the more progressive and ‘positive’ aspects of racialised representation must not deny that “popular iterations commonly wash over and efface harsh realities witnessed in the everyday interactions between and among diverse segments of a population” (ibid.: 67). This statement thus offers suitable warning for this thesis seeing that it calls for a critical and comprehensive exploration of, so called, transgressive media imagery and its effectiveness

in challenging media audiences to think differently about ‘race’ and gender. In other terms, while representation can be theorised as productive, progressive and distorting, by the very recognition that meanings are multiple, this does not mean they cannot also reproduce the effects that are alleged.

Out of control and in trouble: British Asian masculinities and media representation

While African-Caribbean athletic bodies appear ubiquitously in the media, British Asian bodies are rarely visible in sport and leisure media. We might say of British Asian men then, as we say of Black women, that they are rarely seen or heard in sport and leisure media. While British Asian people do have a conditional place in other areas of mainstream media (Giardina, 2 ), the title of Bains and Patel’s (1996) work, Asians can’t play football (similarly Asians can play football: Another wasted decade (Bains et al., 2005) allude to some of the attitudes and stigmas which obstruct British Asian bodies accessing sport and leisure spaces (Amara et al., 2005; Brettingham, 2007; Burdsey, 2004a, 2004b, 2004c, 2007, 2010; Farooq and Parker, 2009; Hargreaves, 2007; Ismond, 2003; Malcolm et al., 2010; Ratna, 2008), which in turn impacts upon their invisibility in sport and leisure media. Sabo and Jansen (1994) note it is important to investigate the invisibility of certain ethnic groups in the sport media as much as it is to explore the visibility of Others. Historically, scholars such as Anwar (1986) have adopted a culturalist perspective in order to understand the experiences of South Asian people in Britain. He argues that first and second generation British Asian males are ‘caught between two cultures’ implying that their masculine identities are trapped in liminality, as one’s family heritage pulled East whilst the desire to ‘belong’ pulled West. This argument was derived from Turner (1969), who builds upon the assertions of Arnold van Gennep (1960 [1909]) made in Rites de Passage who suggests that this process is “essentially a phenomenon of transition” (ibid.: ). While this position is able to highlight how identity is mediated and influenced by differing cultural norms, Brah (1996: 41-42) has suggested that it is extremely contestable to categorise young British Asians as ‘liminal’ since this would imply that they are “disoriented, confused and atomized individuals”. Furthermore, when claiming an individual is “caught between” cultures, the implication is that those cultures (in this instance: ‘British’ and ‘Asian’) - either side of the individual’s ‘liminal’ position - are settled, monolithic, stable identities. There has thus been a shift from theorising British Asian masculinities as liminal and toward a conceptualisation of masculinity as increasing emergent, hybrid and dialectic (Alexander, 2000; Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2005). This literature points to the need to acknowledge the continuities and differences in constructions of British Asian masculinities and the distinctly local manifestations of identities (Burdsey, 2004).

Although ‘British Asian’ masculinities rarely appear in sports and leisure media, they are certainly not invisible in all strands of media. The media images of 7/7 [July 7, 2005 London bombings] and “the summer of violence” have served to frame young Asian and Muslim men as disaffected, disillusioned and, most worryingly, as the ‘enemy within’ (Abbas, 2005). Giardina (2003) offers a counter narrative and argues the social disturbances in the north-west of England during the summer of 2001 should be seen as symbolic of the inner frustrations felt by lower-class British Asians (particularly Muslim groups) across the nation: these were people who were “deprived of futures, hemmed in on all sides by racism … and unwilling to stand by as first fascists, and then police officers, invaded their streets” (Kundani et al., 2001: p. 105). Despite this scholarly narrative, media and politicians did not seem to understand how an invasion of one’s home and one’s community could be anything but simply the result of white and British Asian groups living ‘parallel lives’ (Phillips, 2 6). Consequentially, media representations of particularly British Pakistani-Muslim men then have thus focused upon hypermasculinity, physicality and instances of nihilistic violence (Alexander, 2000, 2004; Burdsey, 2004a), which is in stark contradiction to the weak and feminine perceptions of first-generation South Asian migrants to Britain (Hopkins, 2006) and to the imagination of Asian bodies, more broadly, as medically problematic (see Banerji et al., 1999; Lip et al., 1995). As is illustrated above British Asian men’s identities cannot be easily categorised (Jacobson, 1997), but it is important to acknowledge that this is how they have been commonly represented in various media and political discourses (Alexander, 2004; Lawrence, 2011). The rapid rise to fame, and sporting success, of the most prominent British Asian- Muslim athlete of recent times, Amir Khan (a second-generation British Pakistani Muslim), has gone some way to challenging the populist cultural stigmas attached to British Asian male bodies. Khan, often pictured competing in shorts that display both the British and Pakistani flags, demonstrates how, it is now suddenly “possible to be British, Muslim and a success” (BBC Radio, 2 5 quoted in Burdsey, 2 ). Other notable British Asian athletes who have received much jovial coverage in the media include English cricketer “Monty” Panesar (born Mudhsuden Singh Panesar). Panesar, for instance, has been described after being signed on as the face of British car manufacture Jaguar as “a great ambassador for British sport” (Weissberg, 2 8); moreover, even the notoriously right-winged British newspaper, highly critical of all types of immigration, the Daily Mail affectionately exclaimed, after Panesar picked up a three-wicket haul: “Monty’s magic gives England the edge” (Newman, 2012: 97). These assertions would thus suggest that sport and leisure media indeed provide spaces in which British Asian male bodies are at the very least in part celebrated and recognised as valued members of Britain’s elite sporting landscape.

Nonetheless, Burdsey (2007) warns of a need to exercise caution over media portrayals of, particularly, Khan’s successes given the socio-historical context in which the young boxer has risen to prominence. For instance, Burdsey (2007b: 623) suggests that in a highly Islamophobic, post-riot and post-7/7, climate there has been a measured and deliberate portrayal of Khan as a leading light able to fill the “lacuna in [British Pakistani- Muslim] communities that are believed to lack positive role models”. Moreover, Malcolm et al. (2 1 : 215) suggest that “representations of Islam and Muslims in sport-related coverage, just as in “mainstream” reporting, tend to be negative and hostile”. Thus, Khan would appear to be an unusual case. In this sense, Khan is discursively constructed, through the cycloptic and pseudo-panoramic lens of the media, as a British Pakistani-Muslim male body who, “through his hair style, clothes and speech patterns” (Millward, 2 8: . ), functions as a tangible measure of a ‘good’ British Asian-Muslim man, as opposed to a ‘bad’ Muslim terrorist. Promoting Khan in such a manner thus awards him role model status. In this way, British Asian and British Pakistani-Muslim men who come to resemble Khan’s attitudes towards national identity and his religious faith are thus considered ‘with us’ (but importantly, still not quite ‘us’), while those who are unable (or refuse) to emulate representations of Khan are positioned as obdurately ‘against us’. Numerous images of Khan in the British media see him caped in the Union Flag which, on a symbolic level, signifies his (conditional) embrace of his homeland and is therefore allowed to appear as an acceptable British Asian-Muslim. And in this way, Khan serves a very significant political purpose for liberal and conservative white elites, who dominate Western politics and sport media (Weaver, 1998; Knoppers and Elling, 2004). In other terms, it is in the best interests of the white elites to represent Khan, positively, insofar as he acts as a valuable political device who provides ‘evidence’ of politicians’ and media’s ‘commitment’ to (an assimilatory) multiculturalism, wins medals for Britain in the Olympics and embodies acceptable British Asian-Muslim manhood. Thus, rather than favourable representations of Khan emerging from any moral or ethical consciousness, they signify an interest convergence, which is a term used to imply that gains in racial equity are only authorised should they benefit white elites (see Bell, 1980). And so, Khan not only serves the interests of, particularly, British Asian-Muslim communities, inasmuch as he challenges stigmas and racial mythologies about British Asian-Muslim men in general, he simultaneously functions as a (white sponsored) role model who aptly supports the myth of a colour blind, meritocratic society.

The pleasure of male athletic bodies

As has been discussed hitherto, the semi-naked male body has become an increasingly common occurrence in contemporary men’s magazines. Thus, the representation of the male body, whose intended recipient is largely the male gaze, has certain homoerotic implications. For Foucault (2012: 157), practices understood as homoerotic ought not to be concerned with “sex-desire” but should rather be equated with “bodies and pleasures”. Foucault (quoted in James, 1980: 93-94) opposed desire as a category of knowledge about sexuality since “[d]esire is not an event but a permanent feature of the subject: it provides a basis onto which that psychologico-medical armature can attach itself”. In other words, because of the term’s association and implementation as “a grid of intelligibility, a calibration in terms of normality”, the term is complicit in the formation and regulation of the subject. Foucault prefers the term pleasure since for him it “is virgin territory, unused, almost devoid of meaning ... it is an event 'outside the subject', or at the limit of the subject, taking place in that something which is neither of the body or soul, which is neither insider nor outside”. And so understanding homoeroticism, not as a desire per se but, as a form of pleasure, enables an exploration of the male athletic body as more than a measure of an individual’s (homo/hetero)sexuality. That is also to say finding pleasure in the male athletic body does not necessarily infer (homo/hetero)sexuality or sex-desire. Even though the male athletic body is an unremarkable feature of sport and leisure media, the unspoken pleasure attained from looking at and playing with male athletic bodies, for heterosexual men, has resulted in what Pronger (199 ) calls a “homoerotic paradox”. Pronger (1990: 27) explains:

Because homoerotic desire focuses on manhood but ignores the sexual acts that bring about manhood, homoeroticism reflects a paradoxical sense of what it means to be a man. Because it both embraces and violates masculinity, homoeroticism is a paradoxical eroticism.

In other words, Pronger sees what he calls “orthodox masculinity” as the source of much ambivalence for many men inasmuch as they are expected to both idealise and measure their own bodies against the male athletic body while continuing to deny that it is the source of any sort of pleasure or gratification. In light of this, Beynon (2002) has argued men’s magazines, particularly those whose primary content are male bodies, such as Men’s Health, have employed various techniques in order to counter those aspects of homoeroticism that challenge the sexual certainty of heteromasculinities. In this way, Alexander (2003) describes how Men’s Health functions as a “branded masculinity” which indeed generates insecurity and ambivalence but also provides reassurance and guidance

as to how to overcome potential discordances with heteromasculine identity formation – for a fee of course. Kennedy and Hills (2009: 100-104), in particular, assert that content such as banter, direct and forceful instruction, regular references to eating red meat and alcohol consumption thus all serve as masculine signs that counter any reading of Men’s Health as something other than a safe heteronormative space. The success of Men’s Health, Healthy for Men, and Men’s Fitness, in spite of the challenges posed by its obvious homoerotic content, indicates that the gaze of heterosexual men has reallocated to the male body. However, what is lacking from the conversation about representations of media masculinities and male athletic bodies is how racialisation informs processes of normalisation and constructions of ideal body aesthetics. That is, a reading of this literature during this Chapter reveals there is little consideration given to the differing representational aspects of differentially racialised athletic bodies: for instance, do white, black or British Asian bodies function as equally suitable homoerotic visuals? What is the nature of white men’s perceptions of Othered male bodies? Do these representations/ perceptions serve to inform processes of racialisation positively or negatively? To begin to consider these questions, Hall (1997: 225) has documented, what he calls, the “spectacle of the ‘Other’” as a significant representational strategy of (white) Western media. By this Hall refers to how popular conceptions of racial difference have been worked through a fascination with and fetishisation of the Other. hooks, for instance, has suggested that the pleasures of Othered bodies function as the “seasoning that can liven up the dull dish that is mainstream white culture”, implying an excavation of racialised representation is absolutely necessary. More specifically, hooks (2004 [1992]: 368) explains that, for white men, encountering and engaging the bodies of Others is a particularly pleasurable “experience”:

I walked one bright spring day in the downtown area of New Haven ... and found myself walking behind a group of very blond, very white, jock type boys ... Seemingly unaware of my presence, these young men talked about their plans to fuck as many girls from other racial/ ethnic categories as they could “catch” before graduation ... To these young males and their buddies, fucking was a way to confront the Other, as well as to make themselves over, to leave behind white “innocence” and enter the world of “experience”. hooks offers a story in which white men are far from repulsed by Otherness. Indeed, engaging sexually and physically with “the body of the Other, was seen as existing to serve the ends of white male desire” (ibid.: 68). In this instance, the racialised bodies of Others become a channel through which white men’s “innocence” can be escaped partially in that “an encounter with the Other, does not require that one relinquish forever one's mainstream positionality” (ibid.: 6 ). In this sense, Otherness is but only a momentary affliction, a crude

and shallow form of displacement whereby the “innocence” of whiteness is salvaged at the expense of the body of the Other. The pleasure attained through this act, for hooks, has negative and coarse implications for relations of power between white men and Others. And so, since little research has focused on the racialised aspects of pleasure in men’s magazines, this raises interesting questions for this thesis to consider: for instance, do the bodies of Othered men act in similar ways, for white men, as sites through which pleasure is acquired for one’s own narcissism or is it that the bodies of Othered men produce more complex experiences which do more than simply belittle and repress? Young (1990: 239-240), in particular, is keen to address the latter of these questions and adopts a more productive conception of the pleasures of Otherness:

In the ideal of community, people feel affirmed because those with whom they share experiences, perceptions, and goals recognize and are recognised by them; one sees oneself reflected in others. There is another kind of pleasure, however, in coming to encounter a subjectivity, a set of meanings that is different, unfamiliar. One takes pleasure in being drawn out of oneself to understand that there are other meanings, practices, perspectives … and that one could learn or experience something more and different by interacting with them.

From this perspective the appeal and fascination with the Other extends far beyond the fantasies of jock-type university students and their misogynistic fantasies. In this sense, the pleasures of Otherness point to the male body’s “multidiscursive and polysemic value across a number of sites” (Nayak, 2005: 145). In other terms, the spectacle of the Other is more than a repressive strategy since it also infers productive cultural and ethnic dialogue and exchange between bodies. And so, the implications of this, particularly for this thesis, are that the media image of athletic bodies can potentially also function in a similar way. The two differing readings of Otherness indicate that the meaning of pleasure ‘floats’ and can never be finally fixed as empowering/ oppressive, homosexual/ heterosexual or philogyny/ misogyny and so on; moreover, in some respects, pleasure can mean all of the above, at the same time. However, for Hall (1980), there is always an intended message hidden within the multitude of meanings - implying meaning is also never completely unfixed, either. Hall (199 : 25) notes it is then more appropriate to ask of the media image “which of the many meanings does the magazine wish to privilege?” And in what form is the intended message received and by whom? And so, the homoerotic pleasures of mediated athletic bodies, and their racialised implications for the heteronormative gaze, must be investigated as sites which produce multiple meanings, and allow a plethora of contradictory emotions to be evoked, but at the same time does not deny the conscious intent of the sender.

Conclusion

This Chapter has outlined how media representations of male athletic and muscular bodies indeed influence men’s everyday perceptions of their gendered identities. It has also sought to highlight the ways in which media influences how men experience their own bodies and the bodies of other men. And so, while I have explored the ways in which masculinities are deeply complex, contested, plural and subjective, I have also argued that media representations do not reflect this diversity and are thus increasingly unrepresentative of the ways in which many men live their bodies and their lives. Moreover, I have also outlined that the literature, while clear about the need to understand media representations of the male body through discourses of health and gender, has been less distinct in addressing how it is mediated male athletic bodies are complicit within processes of differential racialisation and thus important catalysts for racialised identity formations. Indeed, the broad field of men’s studies has done much important investigation into the impact mediated male bodies have upon men’s perceptions of themselves; yet my concern is that few studies have given serious attention to the racialised aspects of mediated athletic bodies, racial myth making and the complicity of media in proposing hard racial binaries which privilege white male athletic bodies. Research has persistently been colour-blind and has subsequently marginalised the matter of ‘race’. For this reason, very little is known about how sport and leisure media and men’s magazines influence white men’s perceptions of themselves, and racialised Others, in relation to a ‘race’-gender nexus or about how media imagery contributes to broader gendered and racial inequalities in sport, leisure and more broadly. Another particularly relevant theme which has been discussed throughout is that of the media image as productive. That is to say, media imagery of male athletic bodies cannot be theorised dogmatically as hegemonic or marginal, black or white, privileged or subordinated since to do so would be to ignore the multiple possibilities that are held within media. However, it is also important to note that while sport and leisure media may indeed communicate progressive and alternative discourses vis-à-vis representation of minority ethnic sportsmen, and sports people, more generally, this should not be taken as the dawning of a gloriously egalitarian colour-blind, post-racial epoch without a detailed critical analysis accompanying any such claims. This warning calls for an analytical exploration of the politics of representation, and the motives which underlie so called ‘positive’ representational strategies, when conducting research on ‘race’, gender and representation. And so, the remainder of this research will investigate the racialised aspects of mediated male athletic bodies, their reception by white men and in turn how discourses of white male supremacy are rehearsed, (re)constructed and challenged through sport and leisure spaces and media. The intricacies of how I approach this task are outlined in the following Chapter.

Chapter five - Methodology

The first part of this Chapter demonstrates how the methodology builds on Hall’s (199 ) and Carrington’s (2002a; 2002b) approach to understanding media representations of ‘race’ which they conduct in a semiological tradition. That is, both recognise semiotics to be well suited for exploring the politics of representation, the plurality of racialised meaning and that purposive sampling is a useful method when exploring the complexities of the racialised athletic body. In other terms, because semiology rejects the textual and visual determinism, often associated with content analysis, it prefers to recognise the subjective nature of interpretation, which allows a rich detailed, descriptive and subjective mosaic of racialised and gendered meanings to be set forth by the semiologist. In this way, an analysis can emerge which persuades as opposed to proves and convinces rather than confirms (Richardson, 1990). However, whereas Hall’s and Carrington’s approaches to understanding racialised representation focuses on the black body as the a priori object for inquiry, the semiological methods I use are also guided by Hylton’s (2 9: 89) use of a CRT methodology which is particularly useful for addressing the invisibility and undertheorising of the white male athletic body in addition to the black body In order to contextualise these aims, the first part of the method then goes on to explain, in more detail, the rationale behind selecting the twelve images and eight articles, from Men’s Health, Sport and Jump magazines, that are analysed in Chapters six and seven. The second and third part of this methodology was designed to address sport and media scholars’ relative lack of engagement with the audiences of men’s magazines, particularly the reluctance to mark the racial and ethnic characteristics of audiences. More specifically, while the second section addresses the role of participant observations, which acted as a means to access suitable interviewees, and the nature of the human sample, the final part of the Chapter addresses the use of semi-structured interviews, elements of dialogic performance and photo–elicitation. Following this, I conducted semi-structured interviews to explore matters of ‘race’, gender, identity and Otherness. The purpose of the interviews was to build on the work of others in sport and leisure media studies, by holding my own and other scholarly interpretations of images against those of other white men so that the similarities and differences between scholarly and ‘common-sense’ readings can be further dissected. Moreover, the analysis of media imagery also served a broader purpose which was to explore the operation of white masculinities. As outlined in the first Chapter, part of the rationale for undertaking a study of this nature stems from my professional experience as a personal trainer and the failure of my training to address racialised events. In this sense, this research, like all research,

originates from a particular perspective (Stiles, 1993) – that is, all research methodologies are influenced by the lived experiences of an individual or group of individuals – implying any knowledge claims cannot be separated from the researcher’s political position (Lather, 1986; Guba and Lincoln, 1989; Tuhiwai Smith, 1999, 2006). Recognising that all research is political is an important epistemological consideration: namely, if all research is political, then non-traditional methodologies, which do not attempt to deny political intent, allow us to ‘know’ in ways which challenge Western positivist empiricism’s stranglehold on knowledge production (Conquergood, 1991; Denzin and Lincoln, 2005; Tuhiwai Smith, 1999, 2006). In adopting this position, we might then begin to address the methodological elimination of ‘race’ (Bonilla-Silva, 1999, 2002; Carrington, 2006; Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008; Marks, 2008; Hylton, 2009, 2012), in sport and leisure and media studies, by purposefully centring it during research. Hence, before the practicalities of the fieldwork are detailed further, it is important to make clear this methodology, in utilising an intersectional approach, employs a philosophically robust approach that centralises ‘race’ and racism, and challenges the dominance of whiteness, so as to acknowledge marginalised peoples “as holders of legitimate sources of knowledge where Eurocentric epistemologies consistently fail” (Hylton, 2012: 25). In order to address the issues outlined above, the aims of the research were: (1) to produce a critical account of how media images of ethnically differing (male) athletic bodies are represented; (2) to gain a better understanding of how media representations of athletic bodies influence the embodied (ethnic and masculine) identities of white men and their conceptualisation(s) of Othered bodies; (3) to explore the importance of moving toward an alternative understanding of racialisation as a productive process of identity formation so as to offer a more nuanced reading of white male privilege. This Chapter describes the practicalities of the research process, for the sake of clarity, in three parts. This is not to imply that the research followed any linear, neat or strictly ordered course, whereby one stage precisely developed into another; rather they should be understood to have been interlocking and overlapping stages, which better reflects the practicality of how this study was conducted.

PART 1: Semiotic analyses

Choosing Magazines

As established in Chapter four, it was during the 198 s that men’s bodies became particularly noticeable in media. Since then, those interested in understanding the mediated male body, the social construction of masculinity in media and the implications of this for

men’s health and identities have reacted to this phenomenon and have used quantitative content analysis (Kolbe and Albanese, 1996; Labre, 2005a, 2005b; Ricciardelli et al., 2010) semiotic analysis (Ryu, 2005) or a mixture of both (Bell and Milic, 2002; Wheaton, 2003) to investigate media representations of men and masculinities. In order to frame analysis, Foucauldian inspired theories of the body (Crawshaw, 2007b; Dworkin and Wachs, 1998; Gill, 2003; Toerien and Durrheim, 2001) and Connell’s theory of hegemonic masculinity (Davis, 1997; Hardin et al., 2009; Maas and Hasbrook, 2001; Ricciardelli et al., 2010; Sabo et al., 1992; Stibbe, 2004) have been the most popular theoretical frameworks through which male bodies and masculinity in men’s magazines have been theorised. Moreover, while there has been much valuable research considering men’s magazines and the influence they have upon contemporary masculinities, the literature has rarely extended to racialised representations and has thus not explored nearly enough the racialised aspects of media imagery of men’s bodies (Azzarito, 2 9). Thus, considering the omnipresence of racialised events, bodies and experiences within our world, and the failure of previous sport and leisure media research to thoroughly reflect this, a ‘race’ centred methodological approach is required when sampling magazines to confront this discrepancy. A purposive sampling technique was used in order to select magazines since this afforded “the most productive sample to answer the research question” [emphasis added] (Marshall, 1996: 664). It is here important to assert that purposive sampling should not be confused with convenience sampling. Although there are certain elements of convenience to purposive sampling, it is certainly an intellectual strategy inasmuch as it enabled this research to engage with a broad range of bodies or critical case samples which provoke the most interesting and provocative discussions (Marshall, 1996: 664) around the intersection of ‘race’ and gender. Men’s Health, Sport and Jump magazines2 were deemed most purposive because of their reliance upon images of (male) athletic bodies, the magazines’ specific target audiences as well as each titles individual content, style, popularity and circulation (all of which I explore further below). At times images of women are also used to contribute to understanding contemporary notions of male embodiment, desire and behaviour. This proved especially insightful because masculinity and femininity are relational discourses. In short, those images judged most capable of providing insight into each magazine’s differential construction of masculinities were analysed in the semiotic analysis. Moreover, following Thorpe’s (2 8: 2 4) distinction between “mass media” and “niche media”, in

2 When referring to ‘a magazine’, this includes the entire portfolio of the title – including both online and hard copies.

relation to snowboarding, this study makes similar observations: that is while, neither category is homogeneous, she recognises,

[i]n contrast to the mass media, which typically portray female snowboarders and women’s snowboarding as a hetero-sexy style or activity to be consumed, the discourses of female snowboarders in the niche media are diverse.

In this way, Men’s Health and Sport were acknowledged as mass or mainstream media because they cater for normative socio-cultural ideals of gender and ‘race’. Jump, on the other hand, was considered to be an example of niche media which would provide alternative and subversive expressions of racialised and gendered bodies (see also Ryu, 2005). An exploration of these differing types of sport and leisure magazines allowed this study to investigate the shifting social and cultural meanings of athletic bodies, within differing contexts, and is thus able to better capture the complexity and fragmentary nature of the ways in which athletic bodies are racialised, represented and interpreted.

Men’s Health

Men’s Health, Healthy for Men and Men’s Fitness are the only mainstream publications which at the time of the research boasted increasing monthly circulation figures (Mintel, 2010). This is interesting insofar as the pictorial focus of these titles is of semi-naked (mainly white) male athletic bodies, as opposed to semi-naked (ideally beautiful, white) female bodies. Currently, Men’s Health is the UK’s bestselling monthly paid-for men’s magazine and is estimated to sell 228,478 copies per issue (ABC, 2012c). Other titles such as Healthy for Men (distributing 47,770 copies per issue (ABC, 2012a) and Men’s Fitness (distributing 68,123 copies per issue (ABC, 2012b) were considered but since their content was similar to Men’s Health but did not reach as many consumers, they were disregarded. And so, I collected a year’s worth of Men’s Health magazine (twelve issues), from January/ February 2010 to January/ February 2011, to form my sample of Men’s Health. In terms of the magazine’s content, Alexander (2 ) describes how Men’s Health advances a particular brand of masculinity which celebrates consumer capitalism; she suggests the magazine sells customers a version of manhood which is measured against an individual’s muscularity, fashion sense and financial or material success. This draws parallels with what Kimmel (2 ) calls “marketplace masculinity” which he sees as being the most normative expression of masculinity in contemporary society. For Kimmel, this most common performance of manhood is expressed and enacted in the marketplace – a sphere which Men’s Health provides significant ‘help’ in navigating. In this sense, the “branded masculinity” offered for consumption by Men’s Health neatly supplements,

reproduces and promotes the interests of dominant, mainstream institutions through its complicity with normative, capitalist understandings of manhood. Significantly though, the success of Men’s Health has coincided with the decline in popularity of the so called ‘lads mags’, such as FHM, Zoo and Nuts, which were renowned for their laddish character (see Benwell, 2003). These developments clearly signal a shift in consumer attitudes (Mintel, 2010) and masculine desire. Furthermore, Gill et al. (2005: 38), note that this shift in style and focus, typified by the increased visibility and eroticisation of semi-naked men’s bodies, is certainly worthy of further attention: for them, Men’s Health is coded in such a way that, contrary to traditional notions of homosocial behaviour, the magazine actively encourages men to desire the often inactive, muscular (but not necessarily literally athletic) bodies of other men. And thus considering the magazine’s popularity, as well as its success, not in spite of its content but because of it, Men’s Health emerged as a relevant cultural artefact, emblematic of popular and emerging conceptions of ‘normal’/ ideal masculinities. Men’s Health has been the focus of a number of different studies. However, these studies, following in the broad tradition of other studies of men’s magazines, have often overlooked the racialised aspects of representation when attempting to understand the gendered messages emanating from Men’s Health, preferring instead to focus on notions of embodiment. And so, much research on Men’s Health is reflective of the general lack of engagement with matters of ‘race’ and whiteness more broadly and has thus failed to realise that embodiment is as much a racialised performance as it is gendered. In this sense, including Men’s Health in the sample can build further on the work of Alexander (2003), Bloom (1997), Crawshaw (2007), Labre (2005) and Stibbe (2004), who all identify the cultural centrality of the male body, by providing a racialised reading of the various signs and codes contained within imagery and text.

Sport

Sport is the most widely circulated sport and leisure magazine, aimed at men, in the UK; it circulates 306, 217 paper copies, on a weekly basis, all of which are available free to consumers (Mintel, 2010). Its circulation figures suggest that this title has potential to reach a substantial number of people. More recently, Sport has revamped its website and has also created an electronic version of the magazine for the mass produced, popular Apple iPad. This not only extends the reach of the magazine, in terms of its potential to attain new readers, its imagery and technical mechanisms also represents a transition from ‘old’ types of media to more contemporary forms (Poster, 1995). Further indication of the magazine’s capacity to reach potentially broader audiences than Men’s Health is found in the recognition that 71% of its readers do not read paid-for men’s magazines and thus reaches a

demographic who would not otherwise read mainstream magazines. I thus collected twelve issues of Sport magazine by gathering the first issue of the month from each month of the year. In terms of content, Sport is a magazine which centralises codified sport. It is dominated by images of professional and elite athletes performing their sport as well as staged photo shoots. As with Men’s Health, Sport utilises imagery and narrative which reinforce mainstream discourses of heterosexuality, masculinity and femininity; however, Sport is different from Men’s Health inasmuch as its focus is on elite level sporting competition and stars, such as football(ers), rugby (players) and cricket(ers). The term ‘personality’ is frequently used when attempting to understand the actions, behaviours and public perceptions of sporting bodies (Giulianotti and Gerrard, 2001). In this way, the bodies of elite sporting athletes thus offered a further layer of interest to the sample of images used in this study inasmuch as they “[preserve] not the unique aura of the person but the ‘spell of the personality’” (Benjamin, 19 2 [19 1]). Sporting celebrity can thus influence the way we interpret bodies. For instance, Hoechsmann (2 1: 2 ) argues Michael Jordan’s transformative “black personality” is able to both reshape a reading of his body and of Black bodies, more broadly. In other terms, Smart (2005: 10) refers to Jordan’s body as a “social and cultural signifier that has become a brand” and is no longer read as a purely physical entity; Jordan’s body thus becomes emblematic of a collection of ideas and lifestyles which are capable of distorting common-sense notions of ‘race’ and blackness. In other words, known sporting bodies require consumers to consider how media representations of the body fuse with what they already ‘know’ about the athlete which may shift and contradict preconceptions of racialised bodies. And so, the inclusion of known sporting bodies offered the research an opportunity to engage with the stories of athletic bodies in action and with sorts of mainstream sporting and leisure cultures, traditions and discourses different from Men’s Health.

Jump

Saville (2008) observes that although parkour and freerunning (PKFR) came into the public consciousness via various commercial media channels such as films, advertisements and television it is undoubtedly a subcultural activity. That is, PKFR can be described as a subversion of normalcy (Hebdige, 1979). Jump magazine is an online-only magazine which serves a truly global PKFR community and offers numerous images and articles dedicated to PKFR. Jump proclaims itself to be “the World’s number one Parkour and Freerunning publication” (Urban Freeflow, 2 12) and bases such claims on the premise that over the course of its twenty-two issues (to date) it reports to have had over seventeen million views.

The magazine is published by an organisation called Urban Freeflow whose self-appointed leadership of PKFR and commercial partnerships have caused tension within the movement. Nonetheless, Urban Freeflow’s website, which hosts Jump, is reported to have over one million registered users (Urban Freeflow, 2012) worldwide. Additionally, while it is an organisation that is based in the United Kingdom its online platform reflects new and emerging forms of media and therefore engages with a genuinely global audience. Although Jump is recognised as an alternative sport/ lifestyle magazine, it has similarities with the other titles insofar as it too pictures the (often semi-naked) male athletic body. However, as opposed to Men’s Health and Sport, Jump is a form of niche media which serves a community whose ideologies about the athletic body and how they use it are in many ways subversive to those of more traditional and mainstream media (Marshall, 2010). And so, including niche media, and particularly imagery of traceurs3, offered alternative (gendered and racialised) representations of athletic bodies to those found within mainstream leisure magazines (Thornton, 1996; Thorpe, 2008a): “[alternative media] have created new spaces for alternative voices that provide the focus both for specific community interests as well as for the contrary and the subversive” (Silverstone, 1999: 1 ). Thus, collecting a year’s worth of Jump magazine (from February 2010 to February 2011), offered a number of alternative images of athletic bodies that evoke different cultural connotations to those found in mainstream magazines, such as Men’s Health and Sport. This was especially significant in order to recognise the media as heterogeneous and to identify imagery that does not merely (re)inscribe hegemonic gendered and/ or racialised ideals.

Semiotics as CRT

“Pardon me, but, as a geologist, you would prefer to resort to some special work on that science, not to a few pictures”. “Oh not necessarily. For a picture may instantly present what a book could set forth only in a hundred pages”. (Turgenev, 2005 [1862]: 114)

Those conducting research into the relationship between ‘race’ and gender in sport and leisure media, more broadly, as opposed to one or the other, have been more forthcoming than those analysing men’s magazines and many have adopted a content analysis approach as their method of choice (Sabo et al., 1996; McCarthy et al., 2001; McCarthy et al., 2003; Elling and Knoppers, 2005; Hylton and Law, 2009; van Sterkenburg et al., 2010). These studies have made a valuable contribution to understanding better racialised representation,

3 A male practitioner of parkour is known as a traceur while a female practitioners is called a traceuse. Both terms are derived from the French verb 'tracer', meaning 'to trace' or ‘to trail’.

particularly when analysing extensive samples of material and analysing the amount and/ or frequency of media coverage. That said, content analyses potentially can have difficulty in accounting for the contradictory nature of racialised and gendered meaning and addressing ‘why’ questions (Knoppers and Elling, 2004). While this is certainly not always the case, Sabo et al. (1996: 12) do illustrate the limits of this method. After fitting bodies and language to preconceived deterministic categories, their “content analysis showed that Black athletes were not more apt then other racial and ethnic groups to be described in physical terms”. Thus, attempting to meet predetermined objective standards and categories, while at the same time employing “highly subjective” (ibid.: 1 ) measures of ‘race’, can inadvertently promote a “declining significance of ‘race’” thesis (Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008: 148). In other words, overly precise, predetermined categories can sometimes overlook the more subtle, emergent and nuanced functioning of contemporary racisms. In order to address these concerns I thus employed poststructural semiotics, a form of modern hermeneutics, alongside a CRT guiding framework, since this approach contends that intricate subthemes, which expose the complexity of media messages, should emerge from the broader focus (i.e. ‘race’ and gender) of the research when analysing images and articles, rather than being predetermined beforehand. In this sense, Barthes (1967: 9) notes

semiology aims to take in any system of signs, whatever their substance and limits; images, gestures, musical sounds, objects, and the complex associations of all of these, which form the content of ritual, convention or public entertainment: these constitute, if not languages, at least systems of signification.

I take this as my philosophical starting point since it offers this study a means of exploring how systems of non-linguistic and linguistic communication influence a person or group of people’s (i.e. white men) ascription of value to an object, person or character (Peppin and Carty, 2009: 340). Moreover, while the primary focus of this research are the messages conveyed by images, written text also plays an important role in contextualising the message attempting to be communicated. In order to explore more fully the complexity of media messages, the linkages between text and image were also considered. Barthes’ (19 ) methods of ‘anchorage’ and ‘relay’ thus informed an understanding of the ways in which the image and the text work with one another to create meanings. While the former refers to how the text offers an association between the image and its context (in other words, the text attempts to contextualise the image), the latter refers to the reciprocal relationship between text and image, whereby each contributes its own facet of the interpreted message. Media semiotics is one particular area of semiology which is concerned by how media use signs in order to convey meanings and ‘reality’. Representation, a key concept for this research, is one particularly important system of signification through which meaning and

‘reality’ is signified (Bignell, 2 2: 59). That is also to say, “reality does not precede representation but is constituted by it” (Lather, 2 : 258). And so, a CRT perspective interprets this statement as one which recognises the racialised aspects of media representation construct and perpetuate myths of ‘racial difference’. However, it also contends that meaning is not encoded (by media workers) and then decoded (by media consumers) in an unproblematic and straightforward manner (see Hall, 1980). For Derrida (1978: 25), for instance, when a person interprets a sign its signifiers are perpetually elevated into “freeplay”. In other words, signifiers are not fixed to their signifieds which suggests that, when an individual decodes an image, its meaning is endlessly deferred elsewhere. From this perspective we cannot properly know about reality or meaning outside particular social and historical circumstances: or in simpler terms, “there is nothing outside the text” (Derrida, 19 6: 226-227). Careful to distance himself from the literal interpretation of this well (often mis)quoted phrase, but not necessarily from the work of Derrida, Hall is keen to express that while reality cannot be signified through representation, meaning is generated when it ‘stops’ being deferred (see Procter, 2004). In other terms, meaning is not entirely free-floating, neither is it ever fixed, since people (apart from hard-line postmodernists) in various ways do ‘stop’ deferring meaning elsewhere in order to make sense of their ‘realty’ and surroundings. Consequently, meaning-making is to be considered an activity of groups and individuals, and is shaped by “local and specific constructed realities” (Lincoln and Guba, 2 : 165-167), and cultural context, which prevents meaning from becoming altogether arbitrary and disorderly. Meaning is, or meanings are, given to the text by the reader. Perhaps more importantly, one of Hall’s (199 ) most pressing concerns however is not with the existence of categories or the search for the meaning but is found in the politics of representation. Of primary interest to Hall is how and why different people and groups stop at different points, for different reasons, in order to construct various meanings for her/ his own political and ideological purposes. Thus, for Hall representations always have an intended message; but at the same time he also maintains that, because this intended message is not always received in a linear, coherent fashion, meanings are constantly being remade. This is important for this methodology for three reasons. First, this position highlights my positionality and various social positions and subjectivities will affect the understanding of an image or article, meaning that gathering other readings of the same images is a vital methodological consideration. Second, being perceived as white and being male, as are the participants of this study, will have a distinct effect on how these images are read and can thus provide an insight into the operations of white masculinities. Third, because media imagery produces various racialised meanings, semiology can be used as a form of counter narrative, which can “challenge, displace, or mock pernicious … [racialised]

narratives” (Delgado and Stefancic, 2 1: 4 ); this then “has the advantage of righting the balance” (Hall, 199 , 2 2). This approach then will not claim to have deciphered the meaning of media texts or make bold truth claims regarding whether or not representations are ultimately either ‘positive’ and/ or ‘negative’; however, it does intend to illuminate and be critical of the overt and covert racialised connotations of imagery which may be overlooked by particular subjectivities and conventional methodological approaches.

Choosing images and articles

The first approach to be considered, in order to select suitable images from magazines, was that of ‘representational’ sampling (a method more commonly associated with quantitative research). This technique was rejected after considering the methods used by Andersen and DiDomenico (1992), Kolbe and Albanese (1996) and Cusumano and Thompson (1997), who used systems of coding to identify ‘representational’ media images for their studies. The aims of these studies were to address matters of “magnitude”, “rate”, “incidence”, and/ or “prevalence” of the amount of coverage particular bodies receive in media, which are issues best addressed by quantitative methods. Marshall (1996: 522) suggests that quantitative methods, such as those used in the aforementioned studies, are able to offer important insights relating to “mechanistic 'what?' questions”: for example, in the case of Andersen and DiDomenico (1992), what is the relationship between exposure to body size ideals and measures of body satisfaction? And so, while useful in certain circumstances, this approach sheds little light on matters of “meaning”, “human value”, “social processes” and “the perceptions and traditions of social groups” (Inu, 1996: ) and thus has difficulty in addressing “'why?' and 'how?'” questions (Marshall, 1996: 522): the aims of this study for instance are to understand how media representations of athletic bodies influence the (ethnic and masculine) identities of white males and their perceptions of their own and Othered bodies? Why it is that certain racialised athletic bodies appear more frequently than others? Why do the words ‘abs’ and ‘biceps’ appear more or less often than other muscle groups? And so on. To further demonstrate the limits of representational sampling, for use in a study of this nature, Andersen and DiDomenico (1992) report that despite “considerable time and effort” being allocated to the “conceptualization and measurement” of images of bodies they encountered rather substantial methodological problems. They suggest that they were hindered from including certain images in their sample, because of the limits imposed on them by predetermined categorises and criteria, which in turn limited their discussion with participants, about the research question, and the conclusions they drew. These assertions thus also have implications for this study’s use of semiotics as a form of counter narrative in

the sense that representational sampling may impose limits on the extent to which racialised representations can be understood to inform racialised mythologies and systems of privilege. It is important to assert that critiquing the quantitative methods of other studies is not to say their methods are never useful; on the contrary, as outlined above, they are more useful in certain circumstances. However, it is to say that for a study of this nature, quantitative methods may not offer the sample the most productive and/ or purposive images with which to address the research question and may inadvertently diminish the significance of racialisation. And so, the selection of images did not attempt to adhere to positivist methods and a purposeful sampling method (Marshall, 1996: 664) was once again employed to select images and articles. It is once again relevant to reaffirm purposive sampling as a suitable technique for selecting images since it enables this research to engage with those images that are well suited to addressing the research aims. That is certainly not to say this is a convenience sampling technique since as Denzin and Lincoln (1998: xiv) note:

Every instance of a case or process bears the stamp of the general class of phenomena it belongs to. However, any given instance is likely to be particular and unique. Thus, for example, any given classroom is like all classrooms, but no two classrooms are the same.

Contextualising these observations within this research thus allows a consideration of all magazine images and articles as valuable but, paradoxically, since no two images are the same, there are certain images which may be more useful, provocative or purposeful for addressing issues of ‘race’ and gender than others (Denzin and Lincoln, 1998). The work of Hall (1997), Carrington (2002a, 2002b) and Hylton (2009) provides further support for this method since their approaches, to greater or lesser degrees, draw upon purposefully selected images, which in turn illustrates the importance of ‘race’ centred analyses and the persuasiveness of strategies which convince rather than verify. Therefore, the most purposive images were taken as the ones that expanded the range of racial and gendered representations and that challenged or reinforced the reductivism of stereotypes (Hall, 1997). After establishing a suitable sampling technique, I read all thirty-six magazines (twelve of each title), cover to cover, and made substantial entries into a research diary (see Appendix A), regarding my thoughts and feelings about each individual magazine, and any particularly thought provoking imagery, so as to document an account of each title’s identity. During this process I also identified numerous articles and images I believed to be most purposive for addressing this study’s primary research aims. Although my analysis of Sport, Jump and Men’s Health is in part informed by my research diary, the semiotic and content

analyses are based primarily around a discussion of sixteen images (which I discuss in further detail later on p. 104) and eight articles: three from Men’s Health, Sport and Jump (see appendices B, C and D for an example of an article from each magazine):

Magazine Articles ‘And the winners are ‘Battle stars of Africa’ ‘Behind every great …’ (source: Men's Health man man…’ (source: Men’s Health (source: Men's Health, Jan/Feb 2011, p. 134- Men's Health, October October 2010, p. 144- 140) 2010, p. 149) 149) ‘Ronaldo: Best ‘Good as new’ ‘Extra time: Pick n mix’ entertainer’ (source: (source: Sport (source: Sport Sport Sport magazine, 18 magazine, 5th magazine, 11 March December 2009, p. February 2010, p. 18- 2011, p. 56-57) 36) 22) ‘Welcome to Latvia: ‘Made in China’ ‘Pink Parkour’ Let’s hang out’ (source: Jump (source: Jump Jump (source: Jump magazine, June 2010, magazine, December magazine, September p. 10-27) 2010, p. 26-41) 2010, p. 40-105)

Table 1: Magazine articles selected for analysis

In this way, the research was able to focus on both specific images and articles, which provided empirical support for the study’s observations, while also utilising general observations that were documented in the research diary.

Interpreting images and articles

In order to explore the politics of racialised representation, which the work of Hall (1980, 1992, 1997) identifies, I apply and amend Yosso’s (2 2: 5 ) approach to Critical Race media literacy, which draws upon Solórzano’s (199 : 6-7) five basic tenets of CRT, to guide the semiological inquiry:

(1) The intercentricity of race and racism: how matters of racialised representation intersect with issues of gender, class, immigration, phenotype, accent, and sexuality. (2) Challenge to dominant media ideologies: critiquing and exploring white supremacist discourses and the mantra of media workers who claim to produce ‘race’ neutral, meritocratic and objective content. (3) The commitment to social justice: CRT semiotics is motivated by a desire to expose the negative effects of racialised representation. (4) The centrality of experiential knowledge: the decoding of imagery is dependent upon the subject positions of the semiotician/ decoder (i.e.

gathering readings from differently racialised groups, or by employing counter-narrative techniques when researching dominant groups, such as white men). (5) The transdisciplinary perspective: a multi-method approach to semiology recognises the need to reject unidisciplinary approaches to ‘race’ and racism and thus prefers to engage with less traditional methods such as (counter)storytelling and dialogic performance.

I apply these five theoretical ideas accordingly to Kress and van Leeuwen’s (1996) framework for approaching visual semiotics. They identify three principal dimensions to media imagery: (1) the representational dimension is divided into the representation of narrative processes (i.e. ‘what’s happening’) and conceptual processes (or (racialised) ‘ideas’) within the frame of the image; (2) the metafunction, or in other words, the interaction between the viewer and the image (i.e. what sort of engagement with the image is it requiring); (3) the layout or composition of the image (i.e. the position of bodies and their features, bodily movements, muscularity (of particular muscle groups, for instance), body positioning in relation to camera and/ or props, dimensions of eye contact (if any), clothing styles, style of accompanying narratives and types of adornment (Kolbe and Albanese, 1996). In this sense, Kress and van Leeuwen’s approach offered an established method onto which ideas were mapped.

PART 2: Participant observation and sample

Participant sample

… if we, together with our friends and allies, can figure out how … whiteness works, we can use that knowledge to fight the racism that gives our whiteness such unearned power. (B rub , 2 : 2 5)

Labre (2005) suggests that, although research has begun to document the effect media imagery has on men, more nuanced inquiry should be conducted in order to understand better how particular groups of men receive, interpret and are influenced by media imagery. While she makes this point in relation to embodiment, her concerns identify a need to adopt a more intersectional approach to media research which considers the complex male self. Feagin and O’Brien (2003: 1) report that, in particular, the views, perspectives, and proclivities of [white men] have received relatively little detailed attention in research literature or in popular magazines and periodicals”. This should come as little surprise given that mainstream sociological research has at times played down or ignored the significance of ‘race’ (Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi, 2008; Marks, 2008). Hence, while a great deal of social

research has been conducted on white men, authors have often failed to acknowledge this explicitly. Thus, the epistemological context of colour-blind research can produce racialised knowledge rooted in whiteness (Carrington, 2008) and, more specifically, white maleness without acknowledging it. CRT is a framework which supports the airing of stories and counter stories through the challenging of dominant ideologies (Thomas, 1995; Solórzano, 1997; Delgado and Stefancic, 2000, 2001; Hylton, 2012). And so this research aims to present testimonies and subsequent discussion within a Critical Whiteness Studies tradition - a movement born from CRT (Ansley, 1997) – enabling the stories of white men to be treated within a framework that is critical of white privilege and other forms of domination, more broadly. Following Yancy (2012: 107) then, the purpose of observing and later interviewing whiten men is

to name whiteness, to mark it, to undo its invisibility, to share a critical way of looking, and thereby encourage a new way of discerning and hopefully a new and unflinching way of bringing attention to what has become normative and business as usual.

Consequently, this research contends that the magnification and centralisation of white men’s stories, within a critical tradition, particularly because of the invisibility of ‘race’ in past sport and leisure media research, is essential to confront, distort and disrupt those discourses which operate to deny and normalise white male supremacy. Interview participants were selected during observations. The participants were accessed through the networking ability of the researcher while observing people in gyms or while they were doing PKFR. Patton (1990: 169) suggests the sample should be one which will provide “information-rich cases … from which one can learn a great deal about issues of central importance to the purpose of the research”. Thus, following Frankenburg (199 ), who provides a seminal text on the social construction of whiteness, this study identified a range of white men, of differing political leanings, marital status, class strata, education, sexuality, region of origin, age, economic background and marital status, to be recruited to take part in the study. This ensured that a wide range of white men’s experiences, views and attitudes are represented in the following discussion Chapters. Each willing volunteer was required to fill certain criteria: the participants were all to identify themselves as white, male, between eighteen and forty-five4 and were/ had been actively participating in sport and physical recreation. Those who took part in the study, including the venues and places, have all been given pseudonyms to protect their identity: Sebastian, Terry, Jason, Scott, Paul and Preston all attended Barristers gym (see Appendix D1); Cameron, Ian, James,

4 Mintel (2010) reports men aged between eighteen and forty-five are the most likely people to buy men’s magazines.

Neil, Karl, Cris and Sam trained at The Public gym (see Appendix D2); and Ashley, David, Calvin, Karol, Dan, Bradley and Jamie were all traceurs (see Appendix D3). Even when the research was in its infancy simple but important questions were asked by colleagues: why only study men and why only study white men, in particular? Firstly, Women’s Studies has drawn considerable attention to the historical and contemporary conditions of male dominance which in turn details the instrumentalism and commonplaceness of male privilege. However, McIntosh (1997 [1988]: 291) suggests that white women, like her, are not subjugated by male privilege in a blanketed fashion:

Thinking through unacknowledged male privilege as a phenomenon, I realized that, since hierarchies in our society are interlocking, there was most likely a phenomenon of white privilege that was similarly denied and protected. As a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something that puts others at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts me at an advantage.

Here, McIntosh recognises how the nexus of ‘race’ and gender distributes privilege and advantage to differing groups in differing ways. For instance, Critical Race Feminism has been particularly interested in the intersections between ‘race’ and gender and how multiple identities produce unique circumstances for an individual’s lived experiences (Crenshaw, 1991, 1995; Carbado, 2000). Carbado (2000), for instance, suggests that all men, regardless of colour, are major beneficiaries of an invisible system of unearned male privilege but to what extent these privileges can be ‘cashed in’ (McIntosh, 1997 [1988]: 291) is dependent upon factors additional to gender, such as class, ‘race’ and sexual orientation. In short, although Black men enjoy certain privileges not afforded to women they are unlikely to be granted the same privileges as white men. In light of this, white men emerge as a particularly privileged, dominant, but notably underresearched, social group. After establishing that white men are the major beneficiaries of both white privilege and male privilege, for some, it is appropriate to ask whether white men are indeed knowable to us at all. Nayak (2004: 417), for instance, raises concerns about Frankenburg’s (199 : 5) decision to sample “white women in particular” since, for him, this collapses the practice of whiteness into the social category ‘white people’:

Frankenberg’s study is ultimately grounded in the corporeal certainty of her respondents, so-called ‘white women’. By conflating whiteness as a social process/ fluid, malleable and endlessly reconstituted with a secure, apparently knowable object, ‘white women’, we are left with the tangible irreducibility of race. Evidently, whiteness cannot escape the body politic. (Nayak, 2004: 416)

Nayak’s position is that whiteness is not something which is confined to the body but is rather a performance further disturbed by a myriad of ethnic, cultural and religious practices. Also, concerning Nayak is the way in which he interprets Frankenberg’s definition of “white culture” since he sees this to be “all too solid, concrete and securely bound to the object of ‘white individuals’”; he suggests “cultures are far more porous and promiscuous” and constitute “a thoroughly chequered cultural tapestry of sustained black-white interaction” (ibid.: 417). In other work, Nayak is able to demonstrate that “acting white” or “acting black” is an embodied practice which can undermine old corporeal certainties (see Nayak, 2005). At this point it is once again important to assert that white people and whiteness are not to be treated as one and the same, or as absolutely knowable objects; while the former is a racial identity the latter is racial discourse. Nayak offers a sophisticated and valuable argument, adding further complexity to the politics of identity formation and processes of racialisation; however, he underplays the importance people place on phenotypical characteristics as markers of privilege and as real ways through which people, rightly or wrongly, organise, socially and politically (Bonilla- Silva, 1999). Thus, a number of scholars understand that those people who are perceived to be white retain particular privileges because of their historical dominance of major institutions, which normalise their culture and the privileged societal position of whiteness (Bonilla-Silva, 1999; Garner, 2006, 2007; Hughey, 2009; Hylton, 2009; Long and Hylton, 2002; McIntosh, 1997 [1988]; Spracklen, 2012a). This is not to say that white people are a homogeneous group, precisely because there is no such thing as biological ‘race’ and also because whiteness is divided by a multitude of ethnic practices (Nayak, 2006: 417). However, Feagin and O’Brien (2 ) do warn that while it is common for white people to identify with their ethnic or religious heritages, ignoring whiteness as a racial identity does little to disturb its position as the benchmark of normality by which other ‘races’ are measured. And so, studying and naming those people who are perceived to be white, not only allows an investigation of the ethnic and cultural specificities within whiteness, but it also allows the study to observe the commonalities which privilege white men, as a collective. This is not to deny that women or Black men cannot ‘do’ white masculinities but it is to suggest that how their bodies are perceived, in terms of ‘race’ and or gender, does not allow them to exercise the same privileges as those perceived to be ‘white men’.

Participant observation

Observations ran concurrent with both the semiotic analysis and semi-structured interviews and served four main functions: (1) to be more familiar with the study’s context; (2) to build

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rapport and trust with potential interviewees; (3) to select suitable interviewees; and (4) to provide additional data which was recorded in a research diary. First, in order to appreciate the context in which the study operates participant observation was used to become intimate with the differing ways in which white men use, discuss and negotiate their bodies, identities and sporting and leisure environments. Conquergood (1991: 180) identifies the usefulness of participant observation because the researcher’s body is immersed into the context of research for a significant period of time allowing them to experience “an intensely sensuous way of knowing”. In this way, participant observation was more than simply a surveillance of ‘objects’/ subjects; it was an embodied practice that drew upon all of the senses when attempting to understand how and why the body is performed in particular contexts, in particular ways. In this sense, participant observation allows the researcher to empathise with participants (Long, 2007: 94) given that it requires the observer to “live” what it is they are attempting to understand. And so, participant observation researchers are firmly located as social beings inside the research and, from this position of privilege and experience, are able to represent subversive, resistant narratives (Denzin, 2003: 243) on matters of ‘race’ and masculinities. Second, participant observation allowed rapport and trust to be built between the gym goers and traceurs and me (Denzin and Lincoln, 1998) and thus acted as a means to access potential interviewees. I entered into the research environments as a participant-as-observer (Gold, 1958; Burgess, 1991; Long, 2007). And so, as opposed to acting as a complete observer or observer as participant, I trained alongside others, doing the same activities, exercises and movements in such a way that, not only could I feel and know in an intensely embodied fashion, I was also able to establish credibility with people of whom I would potentially be asking sensitive and personal information. Moreover, following Blaisdell (2006), I used CRT as dialogic performance as a means of addressing my orientation as participant-as-observer. Conquergood (1991: 10) sees value in the notion of dialogic performance:

Dialogic performance is a way of having intimate conversation with people and cultures. Instead of speaking about them, one speaks to and with them. The sensuous immediacy and empathic leap demanded by performance is an occasion for orchestrating two voices, for bringing together two sensibilities. At the same time, the conspicuous artifice of performance is a vivid reminder that each voice has its own integrity.

In this way, dialogic performance encourages us to open up a space for dialogue which, as Hylton (2 12) puts it, encourages us to ‘talk the talk’ and ‘walk the walk’. That is, rather than understanding the participant-as-observer role as a mere framework or technique or methodological requirement, using CRT enabled me to move away from traditional

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authoritative scientific viewpoints of participants as “subjects” to participants as “collaborators” (Angrosino, 2 8: 16 ). Thus, while I employ CRT and dialogic performance in a more overt sense in semi-structured interviews (a detail to which I shall return), it is important to note here the technique’s more implicit usage, which was deliberately tempered so as to not undermine the task of establishing rapport and trust, enabled me to react to racist and or sexist utterances and events in subtle and understated ways. I did however record any events of this kind in the research diary. Third, presenting myself as participant-as-observer also allowed me to gain an idea of an individual’s background so that I was able to ensure that I followed Frankenberg in her sampling of a diverse range of white people. As Duneier (2004: 92) states simply, in relation to ethnographic studies of ‘race’ and racism, “one good way to find out about people is to get to know them first hand”. And so, as is outlined above, my active participation enabled me to talk casually with gym goers and traceurs, about themselves, in a manner which was less formal than had I entered as a complete observer. Thus by, talking, training and finding out about gym goers and traceurs before interviews I was able to make an informed decision as to which persons would be most purposive and/ or suited to talking with at length about matters of ‘race’ and masculinity. As Merriam (1988: 48) states “[p]urposive sampling is based on the assumption that one wants to discover, understand, and gain insight; therefore one needs to select a sample from which one can learn the most”. That is also to say, while all men will have insights into mediated male athletic bodies, and all will be equally (ir)relevant, some will be more opinionated, articulate and expressive than others. Lastly, participant observations presented an opportunity to add further detail to the research diary by documenting the observations I made. These entries documented how I and other white men felt and acted in sport and leisure environments. Furthermore, Phoenix (2 4) suggests in any study that is utilising interviews, a focus on the participants’ verbal responses per se, in some instances, is problematic as their actions can often contradict their opinions; rather, a consideration of practice should also form part of any methodology which seeks to understand identity, power relations and social processes. Accordingly, I recorded my experiences and observations in a research diary in a narrative style so as to argue, persuade and represent ‘goings on’ as intimately as possible (Conquergood, 1991; Delamont, 2004; Ellis, 2004).

Observation environments

First, gyms were identified as suitable venues for this study since they complemented the content of Men’s Health and Sport. Both titles advocate the usefulness of gyms insofar as they often include programmes and exercises that would be hard to replicate outside of a

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gym, housing specialised equipment. In addition, just as Men’s Health and Sport were identified as mainstream sport and leisure magazines, gyms were considered mainstream leisure environments because of their popularity and their instrumentalism as spaces in which bodies are regulated and normalised by their users (Hoverd, 2004; Monaghan, 2001). Two suitable gyms were identified and approached through personal contacts. Barristers, a private-sector facility, was selected because of its location in Hill Top, an area of a major, multicultural English city. According to Keith (2 9: 552), “the sites of the city that display the most intense forms of intolerance are commonly also those that demonstrate the potential for the most intimate forms of cultural dialogue”. And so, Barristers gym was believed to offer this research access to a number of white men whose everyday exposure to multiculture would shape how they interpreted images of differently racialised athletic bodies in particular ways. This gym was also selected because of its high membership subscription and thus provided access to a specific economic class of white men. In contrast, The Public, a public-sector facility, located in a small semi-rural, working-class town in the West Midlands, called Charred Forest, provided access to a different type of participant. The cost of membership to The Public was circa £35 per month, circa £45 cheaper than Barristers, which would imply that the economic class of people using The Public would be different at this facility. Moreover, because of Charred Forest’s overwhelmingly white population it was thought that The Public would provide access to people whose relative lack of everyday encounters with racialised Others would influence their attitudes about ‘race’ and gender in different ways to those living in Hill Top. Second, Gill et al. (2005: 50) support the notion that gym-going is a relatively mainstream activity, and describe how non-gym-goers perceive the gym to be “conformist”. In contrast, PKFR communities, allowed the research to recruit mainly younger, white men who use the body to “resist late modern capitalist modalities of life through forms of athleticism” (Atkinson, 2 9: 1 ). The particular community which I entered is based in a major city in the North of England and contrasted with conventional gym and sporting communities in that its members operated as an assemblage of “anarcho-environmental resistance” (Atkinson, 2 9: 18 ). Thus, as opposed to the static, motionless and detached bodies in Men’s Health, who are merely spectators of the phantasmagoria of the new urban spectacle, the traceur is a body that is politically resistant to the commonplaceness of docile bodies (Marshall, 2010: 166). Whereas the numerous restrictive machineries (e.g. bench press and leg press) and other chiefly single purpose objects (dumbbells and barbells) constrain and control the actions of gym-going bodies, PKFR provides access to people whose philosophical approach to the conditioning of the body was radical, unconventional

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and quite literally shaped by the political geography of late modern cities (Atkinson, 2009; Bavinton, 2007; Stapleton and Terrio, 2010)5. The duration I spent in each environment varied. I trained at The Public for circa thirty- six hours (three hours, three days a week) over a four week period, at Barristers for circa thirty hours (three hours, five days a week) over two weeks and spent circa forty hours (five hours, one day a week) with the traceurs over the course of eight successive weekends. While the amount of time spent with each group was relatively similar, this time was spread across shorter/ lengthier periods since (1) the traceurs only trained on weekends and (2) while I had no trouble accessing The Public, despite speaking to a number of clubs, private facilities were less keen for me to use their facilities for research purposes. For this reason, while I did gain access to Barristers, a private-sector gym facility, my admission was granted via a free two week pass that I acquired from a contact who worked there. I therefore did not conduct participant observations here because I was unable to post signs in the gym, meaning I was unable to gain ethical clearance.

PART 3: Doing and interpreting interviews

Identifying images for interview

As is stated above, an important part of the analysis of magazines was to identify suitable images for interviews so as to investigate empirically how others interpret imagery. Thus, after part one of the research, twelve sample images were selected as critical cases, on the premise that their representation of athletic bodies possessed the potential to reinforce and/ or challenge racialised stereotypes:

Normative white: Jonny Wilkinson, Kirk Miller, Daniel Ilabaca (Appendix F1, 2, 3) Normative Black: Yakini, Juan Vargas, Sebastian Foucan (Appendix G1, 2, 3) Transformative: Karim Aun, Phillips Idowu, Thanda Mutero, Dolce and Gabbana, Dimitar Dimitrov, Cristiano Ronaldo (Appendix H1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6)

Separating these images into three categories ensured an ethnically diverse sample of athletic bodies. First, the ‘normative white’ category included images which reinforced

5 Importantly, and as with any community, the philosophical approaches to PKFR were individual and varied

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stereotypes of white athletic bodies; second, the ‘normative Other’ category similarly included images of athletic bodies which reinforced stereotypes of Black athletes; finally, the ‘transformative’ category, included six images of athletic bodies – twice the number of the previous two - which challenged racial stereotypes. The decision to have as many in the last category as in the previous two combined was made to ensure that this research did not reinforce the stereotypes it purports to critique.

Semi-structured interviews: Towards a Critical Race media literacy approach

In total twenty-two participants were interviewed. I stopped recruiting at this particular number since no new themes were emerging from interviews. This point is known as theoretical saturation: when “no new information or themes are observed in the data” (Guest et al., 2006: 59). All of the participants were presented with the twelve images identified above and, following the techniques used by Markula and Pringle (2006) and Frankenberg (1993), I did not attempt to remain neutral or passive during interviews. That is, during semi- structured interviews (see Appendix I) I presented myself as a social actor as well as a researcher which cultivated the interviewees’ interpretive abilities. I go on to outline this in more detail below. During interviews then photo-elicitation was employed to investigate issues of ‘race’, ethnicity, masculinity and the engagement between notions of the self and the Other. Curry (1986: 204) describes photo-elicitation to be “a technique of interviewing in which photographs are used to stimulate and guide a discussion between the interviewer and the respondent”. Hence, talking with the researcher about specific images proved to be valuable to the extent that it helped participants articulate their views and opinions, on certain (sensitive and difficult) matters more easily than had they not been there (Radley and Taylor, 2003). For instance, Kvale (1996a) notes, during interviews, participants often respond to stimuli (such as visual images) by creating stories and thus narrate episodes in their lives in order to disclose their experiences relating to a specific topic. Storytelling is key for expressing emotions and feelings (Dirkx, 2001) which in turn offered partial insights into the a posteriori knowledges of participants. Or in other words, “stories can name a type of discrimination; once named it can be combatted” (Delgado and Stefancic, 2 1: 4 ). Thus, media images, themselves stories and texts, enable and facilitate dialogue that contextualises white men’s stories and thus makes them available for scholarly critique and examination. Following Blaisdell (2006), once more, this research used CRT as dialogic performance in order to facilitate meaningful and individual discussions about the ways in which white men in sport and leisure may think and act from colour-blind perspectives, how

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they construct their racial and gendered identities and how they view and imagine the Other. Importantly, Hylton (2012: 36) suggests that techniques such as heuristics and dialogic performance do not lead participants but rather encourage “an inclusive and participative approach”. In turn, the techniques of interviewer self-disclosure acted as useful method (Abell et al., 2006; Song and Parker, 1995) which allowed participants to relate to me as a social being (i.e. as white and male), and not simply as a stranger-researcher conducting (what to them may have otherwise been seen as obscure and intrusive) research. Furthermore, this technique also enabled the interview to become a space for “private white male discourse” (Hughey, 2011a: 132). That is, since I was recognised by participants as a white male, while reassuring participants that their responses were anonymous, the interview also fostered a type of backstage environment. This is significant because white men often (but not always) discuss matters of ‘race’, with one another, in private spaces, differently than they would usually in public spaces (Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Hughey, 2011a, 2011b). Thus, in talking with and not to participants a more congenial environment enabled conversation, the most frequent and instinctive way in which people express themselves socially (Benney and Hughes, 1984; Lincoln and Guba, 1985), to form a significant part of the methodology. These methods are also useful in a political sense inasmuch as they are capable of effecting social change (Blaisdell, 2006; Radley and Taylor, 2003; Yosso, 2002). First, these techniques were able to ensure that the matter of ‘race’ remained a significant point of discussion, which in turn challenged participants through open and honest dialogue to “get real’ about race and the persistence of racism” (Bell, 1992: 5) and the subtle, and not so subtle, processes which work to teach white men not to recognise their own privilege (McIntosh, 1997 [1988]; Feagin and O'Brien, 2003). Second, typically towards the end of the interview, or even after the recorder was turned off, these methods also created the ideal conditions in which a Critical Race media literacy (Yosso, 2002) could be utilised “as a pedagogical tool” that required white men, at the very least, to consider alternative readings of media imagery (if they had not already done so earlier in interviews). As Delgado and Stefancic (2000: 213) note, “[o]nce we understand how our categories, tools, and doctrines influence us, we may escape their sway and work more effectively for liberation”. In this way, this methodology moves beyond conventional interview protocols by asking participants to respond, appraise, challenge or concur with my readings of the twelve images, which I go on to outline in Chapters six and seven. In other words, the interview process sought to both gain an understanding of how participants read images, without my interference, and also asks them to consider a more critical reading so as to “challenge racism disguised as entertainment media” (Yosso, 2 2: 52).

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Interpreting interviews

Upon completion of the interview stage, all of the interviews were transcribed. The interview manuscripts were then analysed and common themes were identified with the aid of the sorting capacities of NVivo. Nevertheless, as Richardson notes, it is inevitable that the testimonies of participants will be interpreted and represented in the following Chapters by the researcher. In order to address these concerns I adopt a blend of approaches. Mason (1996: 56) suggests that a combination of “literal”, “interpretive” and “reflexive” approaches form the basis of much interview analysis: the literal approach is one that focuses on the precise use of language and its meaning; the interpretative approach is concerned with attempting to deduce what is meant when literal interpretation is confusing; the reflexive approach, which I rely on most, but not exclusively, acknowledges that any meaning that was derived from the interview is rooted in the subjective interpretations of the researcher (Richardson, 1992, 2000a, 2000b, 2001) because “in the social sciences and the humanities there is only interpretation” (Denzin, 2 : 258). However, because meanings and interpretation cannot happen outside a particular cultural and/ or socio-historical circumstance, I would listen to the .mp3 of the interview, as I read back the manuscripts, numerous times, so as to gain a better grasp of the context. After identifying the way in which I would interpret individual manuscripts, I used NVivo to identify common themes emanating from participants testimonies. As opposed to manually coding manuscripts, Bazeley (2007: 2-3) suggests that there are five primary ways in which NVivo supports qualitative date analysis: (1) manage data – it organises, stores and links to specifically coded segments of interviews for easy access; (2) manage ideas – it organises and provides instant retrieval of the conceptual knowledge generated by the user while simultaneously providing access to the context from which it has come; (3) query data – to ask simple or complex questions of the data and have the program retrieve all data that is relevant to the question; (4) graphically model – the program can visualise the assortment of data (e.g. after coding, the most prominent themes can become visible in the form of a graph); (5) report from the data – allows the researcher to state and retrace how outcomes were reached. Thus, the ease with which the software can import documents directly from a word processing package, the instant visibility of all data regarding a particular code and the opportunity to access them in their original context makes NVivo a system of analysis which not only makes analysis more efficient but also more thorough (Bazeley, 2007; Bergin, 2011; Gibbs, 2002; Hutchison et al., 2010; Leech and Onwuegbuzie, 2011; Richards, 1999; Smyth, 2006; Welsh, 2002). Importantly, however, NVivo does not do the analysis for the user nor does it suggest or force the user to adopt a particular methodological approach to interview

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analysis (Bazeley, 2007; Richards, 1999). In this way, NVivo lends itself to a plethora of different methodological approaches. Following Mason’s approach to interpretive-reflective analysis, my approach to using NVivo was to import manuscripts into the software and then file segments of text from interviews under nodes and sub–nodes (see Appendix J), which emerged as I read through each. That is not to say, the themes which were adjudged to have arisen represented objective meanings. On the contrary, reacting to Fontana and Frey’s (2008: 140) concerns, which states those who “use unstructured interviewing are not reflexive enough”, it is to say that while categories emerged from subjective interpretations they were guided by my theoretical framework. With this in mind, if a particular segment of an interview manuscript already related to a node or theme, which had previously been identified, providing that I did not consider it to be substantially different, it was filed under the pre-existing node. Thus, far from knowing nothing, because of rejecting a ‘fixed’ objective standard, and accepting that there are multiple ways in which we can interpret interviews and social realities (from within a particular cultural and socio-historical context), this approach contends that “[p]aradoxically, we know more and doubt what we know. Ingeniously, we know there is always more to know” (Richardson, 2000c: 934). And so, after completing and coding all of the manuscripts, I revisited all nodes and their data, and where appropriate, nodes were renamed and data was moved between nodes or new sub-nodes were created. In doing this, certain themes emerged as particularly well-populated while others became less significant. The following Chapters are thus based on those nodes which were particularly well populated, but analysis is certainly not confined to these nodes since the particular is also capable of telling us much about the general (Denzin and Lincoln, 1998). Approaching interviews and interview analysis in this way allows this methodology to offer insights into ‘new’ and emerging ways of knowing about white men’s interpretations of mediated racialised masculinities, because it acknowledges both a plurality of interpretation and a commonality of experience. That is, while other studies seeking objective meanings have often overlooked the importance of asking for accounts from media audiences, potentially fearing a plurality of opinion may undermine their scholarly readings, this study recognises that there are various ways of interpreting imagery and constructing white masculine identities but this does not mean the loss of ‘objectivity’ undermines the broader project of equality work. On the contrary, embracing the critique of validity, reliability and generalisability may indeed allow us to work more effectively towards human liberation, precisely because it centralises the political and ethical dimensions of research, throughout, instead of hiding them away in a brief section on ethics, or worse, ignoring them altogether.

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Expanding on ethical considerations

In order to address the matter of ethics, Kvale (1996b) outlines specific guidelines for researchers to consider: (1) How will the informed consent of the participants be obtained? (2) How is the confidentiality of the research participants to be protected? (3) What are the beneficial or harmful consequences of the study? (4) What is the role of the researcher and how is his or her power to be managed? I use these questions as the basis of this section. First, all the images used in the study were taken from magazines freely available to the public, so analysing images already in the public domain and including them in this study was not deemed to be unethical. However, conducting participant observation and interviews were considered to be ethical concerns and so during participant observations I informed all members of The Public and all of the traceurs that research was being conducted there (see Appendix K) and before interviews I asked all interviewees to sign a consent form which documented the intentions of the research (see Appendix L). While at The Public I gained consent by placing a sign on changing room doors and at each session I attended with the traceurs I informed them verbally of my intentions, because of the troubles accessing a private gym, I was unable to put up signs at Barristers. This meant that I did not include any observations from Barristers in the final thesis; however, this was not deemed problematic since the main purpose of participant observation was to provide access to potential interviewees. In this sense, being honest and clear with participants created a mutual awareness that my reasons for requesting access to their leisure spaces was for academic purposes and thus my research could not be misconstrued as covert or surreptitious. Second, the matter of confidentiality is addressed in a number of ways: (1) all gyms and cities which I have referred to in this Chapter and those that follow are fictitious; (2) all interview manuscripts and research diary entries were stored on a computer and filed under pseudonyms; and (3) all of this content is password protected and known only to the researcher. By taking these precautionary measures, it was ensured that no participants would be identifiable in any future publications or within this thesis. Third, while the entirety of this thesis addresses the ways in which participants can benefit from dismantling white male privilege, here I address the potential this research holds for harm. The protection from harm (physical, emotional and otherwise) is a fundamental requirement that this research sought to meet (Fontana and Frey, 2008). For this reason, interviews would take place at a venue of the participants choosing in the hope that they would feel comfortable to talk freely and openly about matters of ‘race’ and masculinity. To make them aware of the content of the interview I would provide them with a ‘research information sheet’ which I issued to all interviewees before interviews (see Appendix M). In

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addition, immediately before interviews I would once again remind participants that they had the right to withdraw at any time or refuse to answer any question for any reason. In this way I negotiated the matter of emotional and physical harm to participants. Lastly, the role of the researcher as author is another vital consideration to make because it calls into question the power and the subjectivities of the researcher when conducting and writing-up research. That is because, as Richardson (1990: 12) reminds us,

When we write social science, we use our authority and privileges to talk about other people we study. No matter how we stage the text, we – the authors – are doing the staging. As we speak about the people we study, we also speak for them. As we inscribe their lives we bestow meaning and promulgate values.

Or in other terms, “[r]ather than ignoring or blurring power positions, ethical practice needs to pay close attention to them” (Edwards and Mauthner, 2 2: 2 ) and “the tremendous, if unspoken influence of the researcher” (Fontana and Frey, 2 08: 140). In this sense, this methodology’s adoption of an overt CRT political consciousness is a direct response to these assertions in that they highlight how, paradoxically, it may be more ethical to openly outline the intent of the author from the outset. In addition, and perhaps most significantly for a consideration of ethical research, a deliberation of the role of power relations in research actively invites critique rather than opposes it. As Blaisdell (2006: 166-167) notes,

I do not only use CRT to expose the whiteness and complicity in racism of the [people] in the study but to discuss the whiteness and complicity of all whites, including myself, as well. By analyzing how all whites are complicit in institutional forms of racism and including myself in that complicity, I hope to avoid merely (re)centering whiteness and whitening a theory that comes in large part from the perspectives and experiences of scholars of color.

Here Blaisdell outlines the importance of me acknowledging my own whiteness and in turn how this thesis is the production of my own epistemological context and the philosophical frameworks which I outline in Chapter two. In addition, these comments also require me, a white male scholar, to be mindful that I do not (re)centralise white masculinities. In order to avoid this, the Chapters that follow, as well as the Chapters which precede, do not claim to offer an objective viewpoint nor do they make any grand overarching statements about ‘truth’. Therefore it is vital that I invite critique of my work from all critical scholars, who will have different perspectives than my own, which will help to further the merits of this study and other work which I hope to produce.

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Chapter six - Establishing identities: A subjective interpretation of men’s magazines

The purpose of this Chapter is to use carefully considered images and articles to establish the distinct identities of the three magazines that have been selected for special consideration. In this way, the analysis that follows establishes the heterogeneity of sport and leisure media which in turn illustrates each magazine’s distinctive style and approach to representations of differing athletic bodies. Here it is important to note that it is the purpose of Chapter seven to appreciate common themes from all three magazines and thus, at this stage, Men’s Health, Jump and Sport are considered separately. As is outlined in the previous Chapter, the analysis of these magazines is derived from a diverse selection of purposive images and articles that are best suited to exploring the racialised and gendered messages communicated to media consumers6. It is also relevant to note here that while some studies of media imagery have tended to hide behind a language of semiotics, which has disguised subjective interpretations as objective representations, this Chapter wishes to avoid this criticism. That is, I recognise this Chapter offers a personal account; however, I also contend that it is certainly guided by a philosophically rigorous methodological approach, as outlined in the previous Chapter, which ensures that the following ideas are set forth as more than simple anecdotal musings. That is, this Chapter continues in a CRT tradition and is particularly keen to adopt and value experiential knowledge as an alternative and valuable way of knowing about racialisation and its negative implications for sport and leisure media practices. Thus, while the following analysis, like all analyses, emerges from a particular political position, I do not depart from reason or cultural and historical context when conducting semiological analysis. In this way, I invite the reader to follow the logic of my interpretations which are guided by the methodology. Moreover, it is also relevant here to be reminded of the intent of the latter Chapters, which is to invite interpretations of the same images from others, so that the ideas that emerge during this Chapter can be further explored, contested and/ or supported.

Men’s Health Magazine

The overwhelming popularity of Men’s Health makes it an interesting case from which to begin to understand the ways in which ‘race’ and masculinities are represented in mainstream media spaces. Men’s Health is the UK’s bestselling monthly paid-for men’s

6 The term consumer, as opposed to reader or viewer, is used throughout to connote the social location of late modern subjects as perpetual customers, constantly being sold ever more novel seeming commodities, via sport and leisure media. It is then a reference to, and a reminder that, consumerism dominates the lives of those who read/view/interpret each magazine’s texts, ideologies, knowledges, norms and identities. It reminds that even leisure time does not provide an escape from consumer capitalism.

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magazine and is estimated to sell 216,336 copies per issue, 92,492 more copies than its nearest rival FHM (ABC, 2012c). For this reason numerous scholars have subjected Men’s Health to intense scrutiny and have criticised the magazine for, amongst other things, commodifying masculinity (Alexander, 2003), promoting neo-liberal discourses of self-health management (Crawshaw, 2007a), being anti-feminist (Bloom, 1997), glorifying hegemonic forms of masculinity (Ricciardelli et al., 2010; Stibbe, 2004) and exacerbating body dissatisfaction amongst men (Arbour and Martin Ginis, 2006, Labre, 2005a; 2005b). However, what these studies have failed to investigate with quite as much rigour is the racialised aspects of Men’s Health and how this contributes to discourses of ‘normal’ and ideal types of masculinities. In this sense, processes of racialisation, a most powerful strategy of social division which impacts upon an individual’s health, sense of belonging and masculine identity, are largely absent from otherwise detailed and useful analyses of men’s identities and their shifting social modalities. I, like many others, was familiar with Men’s Health before research, dealing with the magazine as a fitness professional, and I had anticipated that it would be more difficult to identify images that were able to challenge dominant discourses of ‘race’. However, my surprise at the domination of white bodies, after applying a CRT lens to the magazine, reflects how I was oblivious to the extraordinariness and invisibility of whiteness and serves to highlight the importance of providing a racialised reading of Men’s Health, particularly given the lack of this type of focus. In turn, this section will argue that the matter of masculinities cannot be neatly separated from the complexities of ‘race’, requiring future explorations of Men’s Health continue to interrogate the centrality of whiteness.

The same old story …

Within the sample of Men’s Health magazines the bodies of black men are seldom visible; thus Carrington’s (2002b: 21) claim that “the black male torso as object of visual desire is everywhere” would certainly be contested by Britain’s most popular men’s magazine. Nonetheless, black bodies do have an obvious, if only a peripheral, presence within the magazine7. However, as I will to come to argue, in a space that is saturated with white bodies, it is relevant to investigate the representation of black bodies to establish whether a narrative of Otherness serves to inscribe distinct racialised boundaries between male athletic bodies.

7 With the exception of Amir Khan, there are no instances of British Asian men appearing in Men’s Health within the sample. See the following chapter for further deliberation.

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The cover of Men’s Health November 2010 features boxer, David Haye, as its centrepiece (figure 1). The cover, which is the only cover in the sample of magazines to feature a black man, is undoubtedly an atypical Men’s Health front cover: the signature white background, red lettering and black-white affect, which is usually applied to a placid, shirtless white man wearing low cut jeans, is noticeably absent. Instead, Haye is depicted in full boxing attire and in full colour, mimicking Muhammad Ali’s famous photo in which he stands over the knocked-out, Sunny Liston. Haye’s eyes are scrunched together and stare purposefully down at the floor, his right arm swings round towards his opposite shoulder (imitating a roundhouse punch) and his mouth falls open as if to roar emotively. Here, this representation of a black man doing an aggressive and violent sport is in distinct contrast to the usual assertive and confident, but neutral, white athletic/ muscular bodies and cover models (which I detail later). This particular Men’s Health cover exposes the black body to intense scrutiny (Carrington, 2002b) as it injects a colourful vibrancy, energy and exoticism into the Men’s Health front cover, which is usually absent of such features. In this sense, this particular cover takes on a spectacular, piquant and remarkable quality which in turn represents the body within in the same manner. Thus, while not denying that Haye’s shorts display the Union flag, which serves to signify a small amount of familiarity, the ‘doing’ pose, the Figure 1: David Haye (source: Men’s injection of colour and the cover’s general Health November 2010, front cover). atypical nature serves to distinguish the black athletic body as a spectacular event which prevents it from being understood as normal, usual, similar and familiar. Once again the themes of black athleticism, violence and exoticism are reiterated through the symbols, actions and signs used in the image. Also of interest is an article within Men’s Health January/ February 2011. The title

“BATTLE STARS OF AFRICA” (Morton and Gudin, 2011), which greets the consumer, is a tag line for the black and white picture that captures two black African Senegalese wrestlers (see figure 2), their modesty covered only by a piece of cloth, just at the moment one fighter buries his shoulder into the other’s mid-torso. Far from the calm, indifferent white male athletic bodies of the Men’s Health front cover, these athletes are pictured outside, exposed

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to the elements, grimacing whilst they butt at each other like two duelling stags. From the outset the title conflates Senegal with the vast continent of Africa while the rest of the article and its images are unable to avoid clichés which represent black African athletic bodies as unmanageable and animal-like. The article goes on to describe how the wrestlers “rely” (ibid.: 14 ) on the mysticism of “ancient folklore” (ibid.: 14 ) and who, “amid a cacophony of frenzied cheering” (ibid.: 1 4), butt to discover “who is the better, stronger, faster more powerful man” (ibid.: 14 ). Rather than likening Senegalese wrestling to similar Western combat sports, such as Greco-Roman wrestling, the article - in the context of a magazine dominated by discourses of white rationality and civility – oversees more familiar comparisons. In this way, especially considering the fantastical tone used to describe the sport to consumers, the article establishes racialised parameters of difference between black African and Western sporting activities and bodies by overemphasising black African primitivity and pugnacity. Following this crude racialised narrative, a cluster of images focus upon professional Senegalese wrestler, Yakini (see figure 3). In the first image, two semi-naked black African Senegalese wrestlers, whose faces are not in shot, are pictured covered in dirt and sand, locking hands fighting over what could Figure 2: Two black Senegalese wrestlers be construed as a small, trivial object. In during a bout (source: Men’s Health, Jan/Feb 2011, p. 135). the second photo, Yakini is unnervingly photographed hanging from a pull-up bar much like a gorilla would hang from a tree. His face is gormless and his head appears to retreat into his body which further invites an interpretation of him as being ape-like. The third image in the bottom left depicts Yakini in a gym, under the bar of a Smith machine8 which is fully loaded with what appears to be an extraordinary amount of weight. As he stands erect, the bar resting across his shoulder,

8 The Smith machine is a piece of gym equipment that consists of a barbell, secured within steel guides, thus allowing only vertical movement, and is used predominantly during weight training.

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Yakini is captured screaming and snarling, his mouth fully open, which exposes his teeth, after perceivably just having completed a squat. The final image sees Yakini posing topless, covered in sand with his fists clenched in a manner that suggests he is ready to fight. It is noticeable that, although he gazes into the camera, inviting eye contact from the consumer, his upper torso occupies the majority of the image implying that his body, and not the marker of humanity that is his face, is the most meaningful signifier of Yakini’s identity. Collectively, these images encourage the reader to interpret Yakini’s body as primordial, aggressive, unrefined, hyper-masculine and unsophisticated. By framing images and articles within a stereotypical, fantastical and ingenuous imagination of black African physicality, the images of Yakini propagate a cankerous folklore of Otherness which represents black male bodies as primordial, poverty stricken and machines built to withstand eternal tribal warfare (Aspaas, 1998). These rudimentary representations of black African athletic bodies, while communicating differing messages about black masculinities, do more than offer narrow essentialist visions of black African males. That is, they also function to

Figure 3: Yakini (source: Men’s Health, Jan/ Feb 2011, distinguish between black male page 136) athletic bodies and the Men’s Health target demographic (white British, modestly salaried, young to middle-aged professional (Mintel, 2010). For instance, after the page is turned, and the “BATTLE STARS” are left behind, then the ‘real’ world, constituted by ‘civil’ and ‘rational’ white men in suits and articles discussing the virtues of well-equipped gyms, is quickly restored to the fore of the consumer’s mind. In this way, Men’s Health readers are reminded of the particular virtues of those Western societies, which in turn requires them to acknowledge that the brief encounter with the ‘bizarre’ and unfamiliar world of the black African male Other was only for a brief moment. And so, while the encounter with the world of the racialised Other was but a fleeting one, it is equally important to note that, for many Men’s Health subscribers, these

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particular images of black African bodies may be the only way they will ever engage with the region and its peoples. Thus, if consumers read these images of black African men only passively, Men’s Health actively contributes to a dangerous and misleading knowledge vis-à- vis black African peoples and communities. Rarely do black athletic male bodies in Men’s Health gaze into the camera inviting an engagement from the reader and seldom are they pictured in suits, or as placid and neutral and unthreatening. Most frequently, black men are included performing racialised stereotypes, such as boxers and wrestlers (grimacing and snarling), as opposed to office workers or intellectuals (placid and thoughtful) or as people whose bodies are historically situated or that tell a story of unspectacular humanity. I do not wish to suggest that Men’s Health altogether denies black African male bodies are entities not to be admired; indeed their inclusion implies that homoerotic pleasure can be extracted from these images. However, it is their brute physicality and, tellingly, not their intelligence or civility that is central to the pleasure gleamed from black bodies. Thus, despite the warning of numerous authors (Carrington, 2002a, 2002b; Entman, 1994; Entman and Rojecki, 2002; Hardin et al., 2004; McCarthy et al., 2001; Sabo and Jansen, 1994), Men’s Health ignores more progressive representations of black male athletic bodies, which help challenge ‘common- sense’ racial ‘logic’, and is therefore complicit in perpetuating a subhuman-superhuman paradigm, born out of the long disparaged pseudo-science of eugenics.

Embodying perfection: Establishing “the right message”

On the cover of Men’s Health October 2010, white male, Kirk Miller poses proudly after being crowned the winner of the 2010 cover model competition. Referring to Miller, Men’s Health editor, Morgan Rees (2010: 146), describes how cover models are central to communicating the magazine’s philosophy and purpose:

Kirk has got himself into unbelievable shape … He also has a brilliant, easygoing attitude and the sort of well-balanced lifestyle that sends the right message to our readers [emphasis added].

Before, an analysis of Miller is conducted, first, a closer inspection of the article accompanying him and the competition’s other finalists can help distinguish what it is that Men’s Health considers “the right message” for its consumers. Figure 4 displays the eleven bodies that comprise the list of 2010 finalists. The men, who span an age range of twenty-three to forty-one, all pose for the camera, uniformly: their bodies show off heavily muscled upper-bodies, their torsos are hairless, their heads boast full crops of short dark black-brown hair, their cheekbones and jaw lines are pronounced (or

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are accentuated by carefully trimmed short stubble) and their mouths are shut tight and unwavering. All men gaze into the camera with a hint of a smile yet they are aware that their whole upper body is on show for a male audience; thus they are deliberate in presenting their gaze and bodily gestures to the camera in a way which is purposeful, proud and confident, but noticeably unthreatening, and certainly not limp, sexually provocative or submissive. Importantly, as the editor declares, these bodies represent not just themselves: these athletic bodies embody the morals and values of Men’s Health and are commended for their “[dedication] to the perfection of not just a physique, but a lifestyle”. Away from the text, the image shows each physique framed by a precise and carefully deployed artificial light source which is used to illuminate specific segments of the body; other regions of their figure are shaded which accentuates the size and definition of the various swollen muscle groups of the male model’s upper body. In addition, the conversion of the image to a black and white state also supplements and heightens the sense of size and definition. The artificialness of a portrait photo-shoot and techniques of digital manipulation are common and well documented; however, such is the level of distortion seen in the printed image, it is beyond all men to ever resemble, in the realm of the everyday, a digitally manipulated Men’s Health cover model. As Heraclitus infamously remarked: “[y]ou could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you”. And the same

Figure 4: Male and female cover model finalists (source: Men’s Health, October 2010, 144- 145)

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can be said of the hyper-mediated athletic bodies in Men’s Health since digital manipulation renders the models’ bodies completely unattainable, even for the model themselves. In this sense, the appearance of stability and certainty of the finalists’ bodies is merely an illusion. This is not simply because the models’ bodies will continue to evolve and change, but because it is beyond anyone to live as a motionless figure, frozen in time and/ or manipulated by a number of artificial light sources, digital technologies and beauticians. Thus, concerns such as this vis-à-vis the representation of women’s bodies are equally applicable to the bodies of men. Far from warning consumers of the dangers unrealistic comparisons can have for men, Men’s Health consumers are directed actively by short and assertive commands to ‘be like’ the hyper-real bodies in Men’s Health: “LOSE YOUR GUT!” [emphasis added], “[Your] Arms like these” and “GET BACK INTO SHAPE!”. “My body is my work; if you work as I do, you may have it” (Bauman, 2 : 6 ). However, to make the momentous task of achieving a cover model physique less daunting the magazine offers comforting reassurance that the finalists are ‘normal’ men. Jamie H, for instance, a 2010 cover model finalist, is depicted as “no stranger to intense work outs but stays grounded with beer at the weekends” (Harris, 2 1 : 145) [emphasis added]; while Jamie F’s “essential down time – gigging with his band” (ibid.: 145) [emphasis added] is given as a reason for his physical successes. Furthermore, the fallacy of normality is further exaggerated and made absolutely explicit when winner, Miller, is described simply as a “normal, down-to-earth guy” (ibid.: 146). This statement holds that there is nothing special or extraordinary about Miller – he is human, average, commonplace and every day. And so, if we are to believe the cues left by the magazine we should be in no doubt that all men can be a Men’s Health cover model! Once a ‘you too’ narrative is established consumers are then offered hints and tips informing them how to ‘be like’ the models: “[a]chieving a cover-model body requires as much mental strength as it does physical drive” (ibid.: 146). This theme runs throughout and is particularly interested in promoting the virtues of the mind (balance, control, aspiration and intelligence) when narrating the stories of the men that have become “physically complete” (ibid.: 146). For instance: “Alex took control of his sweet tooth and transformed himself from a skinny school kid” (ibid.: 144) [emphasis added]; “Rather than a mid-life crisis… Homan found mid-life purpose and went from packs of cigarettes to packing on muscle” (ibid.: 144) [emphasis added]9. Moreover, Miller, is described as having “read, a lot, and [he] made sure it was reliable stuff” (ibid.: 148). Even more crudely, it is made quite clear to the consumer

9 According to http://www.homanbash.com/, Homan is a professional actor and model. Thus, Men’s Health’s representation of his ‘catering’ career maybe of less significance than it would have readers believe.

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that Miller “wasn’t born this way” (ibid.: 148) and his muscular and lean physique is a result of a well-balanced lifestyle, hard work, mental strength and shrewd intellect. Notably, with the exception of Jason Adeji, a conspicuous feature of the article is the prominence of the white body. Adeji then, considering how white bodies dominate the list of finalists, Men’s Health’s broader context (i.e. its website and other articles and features) and its “esteemed” front covers (of all but one of this study’s sample of magazines) appears starkly as a body out of place, a recipient of abstract liberalism’s fetish for tokenism. This is made even more evident bearing in mind that all that the consumer learns about Adeji is that “moving from scrawny to brawny … didn't harm his basketball game” (ibid.: 145). Here there is no mention of Adeji’s motivation, hard work or discipline which is made explicit during discussions of the other white finalists’ bodies. However, what is rehearsed is the typecast of a basketball playing black man. The implications of this kind of treatment mean that Adeji is indeed depicted as a desirable athletic body, but, because it is implied that he is a stereotypical black man, he should be distinguished from the rest of the finalists, since his body is a result of his innate athleticism and is thus not worthy of any extended discussion. In this sense, it is his white cover model counterparts that are represented to consumers as “down to earth”, “normal”, disciplined, mortal and controlled. According to Men’s Health, it is white male athletic/ muscular bodies that possess the virtues of both body and mind. This reading of Men’s Health concurs with previous research which has documented the characteristics of the ideal male body and masculine personality as being muscular and lean, but unrealistic. However, it is also argued that implicit within the representations of the cover model finalists as confident, prosperous, stress-free and active is a discourse of white supremacy which directs the consumer to understand the ideal male body to be, more specifically, a white male body. I argue that white athletic bodies are discursively constructed in stark contrast to black bodies in Men’s Health which is a dangerously deceptive and contradictory form of racialisation. That is, white male athletic bodies, as opposed to the supposedly innately athletic black bodies, are portrayed as possessing physical power/ strength but they have earned their physique in the most noble of fashions by utilising cognitive, as well as physical, abilities to overcome their unequivocal “mortality” (ibid.: 146) and normality. Thus, white male athletic bodies are represented as both miraculous-ordinary and average-exceptional, at the very same time, and in the very same moment, but inexplicably their unspectacular humanity10 is never questioned.

10 Here, I deliberately use the phrase “unspectacular humanity” to illustrate the ways in which black athletes, such as Yakini, are described in terms that position them as anything but. To see the phrase in its originally context see Carrington, B. (2002b) Race, Representation and the Sporting Body. Paper submitted to the CUCR Occasional Paper Series. London, Goldsmiths College.

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Self-discipline and the right to control: the philosophy of the disenfranchised

The front cover of Men’s Health October 2010 (see figure 5) depicts male cover model winner, Kirk Miller, and Laura Muirhead, a white, blonde haired female and victor of the female competition, who grasps timidly at his waist. Her accompanying article leads with the title: “Behind every great man” (Harris, 2 1 : 149), and quite literally, Muirhead stands behind her “great man”, sideways on, which reduces her perceived bodily width and also partly obscures her from view. The title of the article (“Behind every great man…”) invites the reader to finish the well-known phrase by concluding ‘is a great woman’ which invites the consumer to draw upon their traditional conceptions of gender roles (men as ‘self-reliant and dominant’ and women as ‘supportive and subordinate’). In utilising this maxim, not only are traditional gender roles evoked they are reinforced in a contemporary context which offer a visual interpretation of how modern incarnations of conservative male- female relations ‘should’ look. Muirhead’s gaze is straight into the camera but her head is tilted toward Miller and rests on his, stunting her height. Miller’s physical size and bodily gestures serve to convince the consumer that he is the more prominent and powerful of the two white bodies. She wraps her leg around the side of his, signifying their unity in whiteness and heterosexuality, and in response, Miller Figure 5: Cover model winners, Kirk Miller positions his hand on her lower thigh in a and Laura Muirhead (source: Men’s Health October 2010, front cover). protective manner, subtly regulating her movement and partly shielding her naked flesh from full view of the camera. Muirhead’s pose is symbolic of how a woman is ‘supposed’ to be physically and emotionally reliant on a man. Hoch’s (2 4) assertions made about the white man as the white knight, and its associations with morality and goodness, may help inform a reading of these images. Miller, Men’s Health’s embodiment of “the great man”, is thus depicted in this role guarding Muirhead from full view of the camera which ‘protects’ her from the gaze of others. The image thus attempts to rationalise white masculinities as performances that protect and regulate for the ‘good’ of those people, groups and civilisations deemed unable to control or

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defend themselves. In this sense, the image commissions white men to protect and control the ‘vulnerable’ white female body, both physically and emotionally, for its own safety. This narrative of control however does not confine itself to controlling white females. Men’s Health also represents white male athletic bodies as committed self-disciplinarians and self-regulators: “[t]heir commitment is not only evident in these photos, but in the way they live their lives every single day” (Harris, 2 1 : 146). Self-discipline, a key component of marketplace masculinity, is exercised through a commitment to neo-liberal mantras of self-health management and meticulously quantified and calculated gym routines and diets which are designed to monitor the number of reps and sets a body performs as well as its intake of carbohydrates, fats and proteins at each (planned) meal time. Even “down-time” (ibid.: 145) and “cheat days” (ibid.: 148) have allocated timeslots and are advocated as something that should only be indulged in outside the ‘working week’. Therefore, succumbing to forbidden food types or taking days off from exercise, outside a systematic plan, are narrated as behaviours of ill-discipline, abnormality, non-alpha-male and evidence of weakness. This self-regulation has an important purpose. For instance, adopting this “lifestyle” has purportedly enabled Miller to have “ditched insecurities. Even in job interviews I feel more in control” (ibid.: 148). In other words, Miller’s body, a product of “a strict regime” (ibid.: 147), of dedication, control and quantification, has allowed him to maximise his marketplace masculinity. As Pronger (1995: 435) notes: “[m]ost bodies' continued existence in capitalist society depends upon their availability as resources” and Miller’s embodiment has been able to maximise his physical capital. Furthermore, Wright (2002: 15) notes:

In capitalism … ownership of other people is prohibited. People are allowed to privately own land and capital but they are prohibited from owning other people. This is one of the great accomplishments of capitalism: it has achieved a radically egalitarian distribution of this particular asset – everyone owns at least one unit of power, themselves.

And so, Miller is supposedly evidence that by injecting physical routine into his everyday practices and taking control of both the body and mind he is able to manage the fragility of an aggressive, competitive, individualist capitalist economy and the uncertainties of late modernity. Thus, allegedly Miller “makes the gym work for him rather than becoming imprisoned by it” (Harris, 2010: 146). Again following the narrative of the body as a technology of self, racialised connections are made between the muscular white body and its potential as a signifier of social status, confidence and rationality – all traits which corporate capitalism demands in the quest for (monetary) ‘success’.

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Men’s Health encourages men to self-regulate in order to regaining an element of control over an otherwise unpredictable ‘free’-market economy, the uncertainty of the old mantra of ‘a job for life’ and the plethora of choice presented to individuals in late modern societies. In turn, as fragmentary and unpredictable economic, social and cultural conditions effect and distort traditional notions of masculine behaviour, as Western agendas of liberalism grant more people and groups access (which does not necessarily translate to entry) to previously inaccessible institutions and as the fallibility of global and local economies become increasingly evident, Men’s Health encourages men to retreat to the body in light of capitalism’s promise that it provides a partial site of autonomy. However, given the centrality of the white body for Men’s Health’s version of ideal masculinity, a more ‘race’ conscious reading of the magazine suggests it is the ‘crisis’ of white masculinity (Azzarito, 2009: 21) that has also fuelled Men’s Health narrative of physical and mental self- surveillance. That is, in the face of grand social and cultural transformations indicative of late modern societies, inspired by various Black and feminist political movements, the idealisation of the white male body serves as a call to all white men to exercise greater embodied control in order to reaffirm jurisdiction and supremacy.

‘Tall, dark and handsome’: Differing interpretations of the “great white male”

Amongst the images and articles of Men’s Health sit numerous semi-naked white men in advertisements (see figure 6). The white athletic bodies used within these marketing campaigns provide differential representations which reveal a differential racialisation of bodies. The 2010 Dolce & Gabbana ‘Calcio’ underwear campaign, for example, appears in numerous editions of Men’s Health and features five white, heterosexual, international Italian footballers standing in front of a locker room shower stall. All are photographed in nothing but skin-tight underwear. The footballers’ bodies are fully exposed to the consumer and are also suitably oiled to reflect the sources of artificial light back into the camera lens, which produces a ‘greasy’ and homoerotic effect on the skin. Seemingly to counter the obvious homoerotic connotations, the word “CALCIO” (The Italian for ‘football’) is displayed vividly on the waistbands of each man’s underwear while the three foremost bodies in the image stare forcefully at the camera. These subtle, heteromasculine signs, amidst more obviously homoerotic markers, remind the consumer that the semi-naked, oily bodies are safe bodies at which to gaze. Evidently, the white athletic bodies within this image differ from those that are seen within the rest of Men’s Health in a number of ways: the visibility of the men’s hairless lower bodies and the exposure of their crotches is particularly noticeable; the muscularity of the models is not as severe or as swollen as those on the covers of Men’s Health; the glistening

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Figure 6: Italian international footballers Antonio Di Natale, Federico Marchetti, Domenico Criscito, Vincenzo Iaquinta and Claudio Marchisio pose for Dolce and Gabbanna’s ‘Calcio’ advertisement campaign. of the athletes’ skin, further accentuated by the use of ‘full colour’, softens the curves and skin tone of the bodies; and Domenico Criscito is pictured resting his hand on the naked shoulder of Cagliari goalkeeper, Federico Marchetti - both men appear untroubled by their proximity to each other’s barely clad bodies. In order to develop the brand’s identity in the mind of the consumer, the use of Italian language, footballers and names acts as a cluster of signs and symbols guiding an interpretation of ‘the great man’ as Italian. At a connotative level then this representation of Italian men also draws upon a more implicit imagination of Italian masculinity and Italians, more broadly, as a people who are “emotionally expressive, use hand gestures, dress with style, and are passionate about soccer” (Hogg, 2 8: 65). This establishes an ethnic stereotype of Italians and of Italy as a place where it is common for men to greet other men with a kiss, walk down the street arm in arm with male friends and/ or to pose unabashedly in their underwear for the gaze of other men. Thus the advertisement invites the consumer to conflate this exotic and fetishized imagination of Italian men with the brand Dolce & Gabbana. The ideals of white masculinities, as represented in this image, challenge the dominant and normative representations of white masculinities saturating the rest of Men’s Health which reveals culturally specific interpretations of the “great man” and a plurality of white masculinities.

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As has been argued, the (white) Italian men in the Dolce & Gabbana advertisement are represented quite distinctly from the ideals of “the great man”, as epitomised by Kirk Miller. However, the Dolce & Gabbana advertisement provides a point of visual reference for the consumers of Men’s Health to understand how they position themselves in relation to these differentially racialised representations of white masculinities. With this in mind, the image becomes more than simply an advertisement, whose content Men’s Health has little control over: on the one hand, it helps challenge dominant cultural norms and ideals about white masculinities but, on the other, it is also able to aid the consumer’s understanding of who they are, who they are not and which version of white masculinity they are most comfortable with.

Men’s Health Summary

Throughout this section I have sought to argue that the “great man” and the representation of ideal forms of masculinities in Men’s Health are unstable and that differing qualities are prioritised at differing moments, by different images. For instance, I have not wished to deny that Yakini or the Italian footballer are not represented as ‘great men’. Whether or not this is echoed by consumers is not a matter for this Chapter to explore, since this will be the point of the latter three Chapters. Nonetheless, what I have wished to suggest is that future readings of Men’s Health cannot ignore that white and black male bodies are differently racialised and that the outcomes of these processes suggest to consumers that distinct boundaries exist between black and white bodies. To this end, it is worth stating that the black-white dichotomy continues to operate in Men’s Health. This analysis therefore suggests that it cannot and should not be the case that the visibility of black bodies necessarily implies that the racialised aspects of media imagery are no longer important or are symbolic of ‘progress’.

Jump Magazine

Parkour and freerunning (PKFR) is often described as a resistive movement which challenges the dominant conventions of the city as a predictable, commercialised, structured and repressive place (Bavinton, 2007; Fuggle, 2008; Thompson, 2008; Atkinson, 2009; Mould, 2009; Stapleton and Terrio, 2010). Previous research on this subculture has focused on the social and political philosophies of PKFR, mainstream media representations of PKFR as well as the ways in which traceurs utilise the internet to communicate with its global communities. Far less has been written about the ways in which the traditional magazine format has been embraced, distributed and edited by practioners, themselves. The following discussion thus documents how Jump, a media channel overseen by ‘insiders’

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of PKFR, functions to represent athletic bodies and the racialised elements of this representation.

The glocal athletic body: The same but different

Typically, the style of Jump’s images reveal the urban topography to be in just as sharp focus as the athlete and thus of particular significance is the portrayal of the body as it exists within the traceurs’ locale. By centring the physical space, which has helped fashion the shape and aesthetics of the body, the image requires the reader to both admire the body and to understand that it is constituted of and by the physical world in which it is embodied. Jump February 2011, for instance, contains an image of Jason Mello, a traceur/ trickster from the United States, who is photographed hanging high above an unknown destination in New York (see figure ). Mello’s shirtless body, exposing multiple tattoos, is frozen mid-flip on top of one of the many tall brick buildings. This carefully selected location is used to elevate his body so as to also capture an impressive vista of the city’s rooftops and its most notable buildings. This collection of white, grey and light brown concrete structures are met by a blue, partly cloudy sky which softens and considerably lightens the horizon of rectangles. As well as the elements that are physically visible within the picture, the other more abstract essentials of urban life are also there. The immediacy between religious

Figure 7: Jason Mello (source: Jump magazine, February 2011, page 38-39)

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buildings, office blocks and residential structures - all of which are social, cultural and political entities - represent the often conflicting-consistent, chaotic-harmonious complex- simple nature of late modern urban spaces. These structures are not juxtaposed simply against Mello’s corporeality; rather, they are a part of it. In other words, the geo-political environment, symbolised by the urban space and its varied and physical-abstract components, is represented as being a vastly significant element of the body which challenges the centrality of traditional social categories of peoples, such as class, ‘race’ and gender, to identity formation. The images of bodies, such as Mello, first develop in local spaces; yet they are surrounded by other images of traceurs, also situated in unique locales, who are pictured performing the same actions potentially antipodal to the traceur’s location. These local spaces and images are contextualised by a global fraternity that represents geographically distant male bodies pictured in largely similar ways. Stapleton and Terrio (2010: 7) also draw connections between a traceur’s body and its affiliation with multiple geographical and virtual spaces: “[p]arkour communities start from locally situated individuals but are constituted and reproduced in global spaces – the web, blogs, YouTube, and international competitions”. In this way, PKFR communities are proximal and distant at the very same time and thus the athletic bodies in Jump are able to “inhabit the globe” as opposed to being “chained to place” (Bauman, 1998: 45). Hence, rather than processes of representation confining images to essentialist paradigms of local/ global and or black/ white, Jump embraces the complex dialogue occurring between nationalities, masculinities, ethnicities and cultures - within a local-global paradigm - in a multitude of ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ manners. Thus, in representing and emphasising an imagination of transnational community, Jump is able to promote a sense of belonging to a global fraternity that has the potential to promote the notions of diversity, fragmentation and difference as progressive late-modern conditions. This continuous spatial displacement of athletic bodies renders them subjects of paradox and as sites of multiple subjectivities which are complex, spontaneous and contextually specific: they exist as local-global, diverse-identical, constrained-free, indestructible-mortal, proximal-distant and united-fragmentary entities. Importantly for this research, the body also exists as racial and non-racial, if only for a moment. For instance, as Mello hangs, freely, in contact with nothing but the air around him, high above the city, he symbolises how the self can be emancipated from the physical world, for a moment in abstraction. In this way racialised discourses are potentially trivialised, or at least less salient, which enables other identities (urbanite, traceur) to take precedence, if only momentarily. In this way, Mello and others like him are thus able to escape the structures of modernist conventions and become virtuosi of late modern inner-city spaces.

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“A struggle for freedom”: Post-racial athletic bodies?

Although white male athletic bodies appear most often within Jump, importantly, they do not dominant the title; in this sense the magazine has the potential to marginalise the differences signified by “color, hair and bone” (Du Bois, 2 [189 ]: 8). An understanding of racialisation as a productive process can be used here to help demonstrate how media imagery is able to identify repressive, empowering and some altogether more equivocal properties of mediated male athletic bodies. Let it be known from the outset that media imagery cannot set the bodies of the traceurs it represents free from racialised identities that

Figure 8: Dimitar Dimitrov (source: Jump magazine, April 2010, page 64) society imposes on them (i.e. white, black, Asian etc.) – ‘race’ has too long been reified in the imagination of the everyday for it simply to be irrelevant – yet, the way the images are constituted are able to reveal the shifting and porous nature of social categories and the often contradictory dialogues which are inscribed by and on bodies and identities. Dimitar Dimitrov (see figure 8), is a (white) Bulgarian traceur and is one such example. Dimitrov, in similar fashion to Mello, is pictured mid-flip, his feet point toward a cloudless blue sky while his head takes the place of where his lower body ‘ought’ to be. Of particular interest, and the most prominent feature of the image, is Dimitrov’s hairstyle. He wears dreadlocks, dark in colour, which have been captured by the camera, flailing in all directions

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and thus immediately commands attention. Frazer Meek is another white body within Jump who also styles his hair in dreadlocks yet his lighter hair colour further distinguishes his interpretation of the style from the more usual appearance of dreadlocks as black in colour and belonging to black bodies. For Carrington (1998: 1 8), dreadlocks signify “one of the most powerfully symbolic forms of black cultural resistance to white supremacy” and thus signify the deeply personal ways in which the body is an active site of power and resistance to the repressive elements of whiteness as racial discourse. Jones (1994: 11-12) makes explicit the ubiquitous socio-cultural, political, and symbolic importance of ‘black’ hairstyles in the West as she sees it as a perfect metaphor for “the price of the ticket (for a journey no one elected to take), the toll of slavery, and the costs remaining. It’s all in the hair…” These assertions hold resonance with W.E.B DuBois (1940) likening of black skin to “a badge for the social heritage of slavery, the dissemination and the insult of that experience”. These observations thus imply that ‘locks tell a racialised story of repression and subjugation and are much more than simply a hairstyle, they are a symbol of blackness. Stated differently, dreadlocks tell a story which has been written, not by white imperialists, but by black people. This historically rich and significant relationship between dreadlocks, politics, identities and black bodies would suggest that the distinctive hairstyle cannot shed its racial significance simply because it is worn by a white body. Hence, by adopting markers of blackness, Dimitrov and Meek are unable to be isolated as simplistic ‘doers’ of whiteness or blackness as they evidence a productive racialised dialogue occurring between the two discourses. The adoption of dreadlocks can be understood as much more than a statement of “urban cool” (Nayak, 2005: 145). That is also to say, the images communicate a willingness to experiment with racialised signifiers outside of an essentialist modernist category of ‘white’ through attempting to embody blackness, which for them is certainly a racialised marker to be revered. The history told by dreadlocks, particularly their aesthetic association with resistance, fits neatly with the medias imagination of traceurs as “heroic rebels and urban warriors” (Stapleton and Terrio, 2 1 : ). In this way ‘locks also tell a story – “A STRUGGLE FOR FREEDOM” (Jump, 2010b: 36) - which cannot otherwise be told by a body which is white and male as these markers, for many, will communicate privilege. Therefore, markers of blackness are but one way white bodies attempt to break free from normative middle-class values, practices and privileges (Brayton, 2005: 359) which are signified by skin colour and the body. Stated differently, it is an embodied act, a rejection of whiteness as a sign of supremacy, counter culture or Other; in this sense, racialised embodiment can be read as a reversal of Fanon’s (2 8 [1952]: 45) “blackest” desire “to be acknowledged not as black but as white”. For some, resistance and oppression become indicators of ‘sameness’ and thus, in

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many ways, dreadlocks are an attempt to connect with Othered communities; however, this ‘sameness’ is imagined, not along racial lines but, through a common and shared desire to resist. This is certainly not to argue oppression is present or experienced consistently across differing social groups but it does highlight that the Other is not always an insurmountable barrier and, conversely, Otherness often “becomes the spice, seasoning that can liven up the dull dish that is mainstream white culture” (hooks, 1992: 21). For hooks, engaging with cultural tropes of Otherness is a means for white men “to make themselves over, to leave behind white ‘innocence’ and enter the world of ‘experience’” (ibid. 2 ). In shifting in and out of these differing racialised identities Jump’s consumers are able to witness racialised bodily styles beyond hard and essentialist black-white dualisms.

Xiong Di: The global fraternity of athletic bodies

In each monthly edition of Jump, the title offers its consumers an insight into a number of different PKFR communities from across the world. Jump’s editor, Ez (2010a: 4), believes that the magazine’s platform as an online title provides access to PKFR for innumerable people and thus “allows [Jump] to truly spread the word globally ... and most importantly, it remains

Figure 9: Mohammed Al-Meebar, a Bahraini absolutely free for everyone to tap into” – traceur, flips outside of a high-rise building providing they have an internet connection. (source: Jump magazine, May 2010, page 10) In order to “spread the word”, Jump is filled by images and reels that portray youthful, male, ethnically differing athletic bodies against a variety of urban and rural milieus. Importantly, somewhere at the peripheries of the images, the names and the nationalities of the traceur and photographer are included to inform the consumer of the geography in which they perform. International coverage of PKFR in turn then represents a range of ethnically differing male athletic bodies who all traverse geographically distant but

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Figure 10: Cao Cao, a Chinese traceur from Kunming, also flips outside a number of multi- storey buildings (source: Jump magazine, June 2010, page 19) figuratively similar obstacles in unique and yet similar ways (see figures 9 and 10)11. Following these assumptions of sameness-difference, Thomas Manning12, a white American traceur and contributory author, elects to convey to Jump’s consumers a vision of Chinese people that embraces difference and celebrates cultural exchange. In contrast then to mainstream British media’s apparent nervousness regarding China’s economic growth (see Channel 4’s Civilization: Is the West History? (2 11) and BBC2’s The Chinese are Coming (2011), Manning prefers to describe his guanxi (relationship or connections) with his Chinese PKFR “brothers”. While acknowledging that cultural and ethnic differences are evident, Manning (2010: 13) also explains how he addressed his own racial prejudices after moving to China:

[W]hen I came here, I had no idea that I was stepping into a hotbed of Parkour and Freerunning activity; nor did I have any idea of how this time in China would spark a metamorphosis in how I view the world. I came here with only the ideas

11 It is common to see male athletic bodies which are pictured mid-flip against a backdrop of urban space, which is a customary representation, seemingly symbolic of male cultural and bodily sameness

12 Manning had been living in China and had been practising with “Free Passion”, who are a Chinese based PK/FR team.

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of kung fu movies, my passion for the dao, and my love of Chinese food… but I was also met with a great culture shock. The language was a huge barrier, but now after nine months, I am beginning to understand it… There were a few shocking things as well. Children will unabashedly go to the bathroom in the streets. Public displays of affection are everywhere, often like those in a bad teen movie. Also the influence of the government isn’t as overt as I had imagined - but is most certainly here.

By carefully reflecting upon his time in China, Manning is able to represent the idiosyncrasies of his local culture that marks ethnic differences but, more progressively, invites the reader to understand difference as an essential component of ethno-cultural dialogue. His narrative promotes travel and PKFR as a means of addressing racial prejudices and as a means of understanding a sense of universal heterosexual male sameness between traceurs. The images of the article are also notable for their conformity to PKFR fashions which often results in traceurs parading their bare upper bodies while moving. And considering the commonplaceness of this behaviour, the reader is able to inspect Chinese bodies, for morphological difference, against a variety of ethnically differing athletes throughout the magazine. However, the corporeal differences between traceurs are trivialised when set against the article’s emphasis on xiong di (brothers of the heart and mind). This phrase is used quite deliberately, not to deny the “great culture shock” which Manning say he was faced with, but, to acknowledge the bodily (heart) and intellectual (mind) male sameness which is found through PKFR. The athletic male bodies in Jump represent PKFR as a movement, both in the communal and physical senses of the word, which unites heterosexual males. While the reality of those in Bahrain, for instance, may be significantly different from those in China, the traceurs’ bodies are narrated as entities which are not irreconcilably divided by racial difference. To deny cultural and ethnic difference between differing communities, though, is to deceive. However, in framing difference within a narrative of heterosexual male sameness, while acknowledging Otherness as a delight, enables Jump to momentarily deprioritise matters of ‘race’.

Exploring the limits of niche media: “Girls can totally do [parkour]! … They just need to be extra careful to protect themselves”

Jump in places may indeed deprioritise, but never eradicate, processes of racialisation; however that is certainly not to say the body is celebrated as a site devoid of Othered signs and markers. The parameters of ‘us’ and ‘them’ are merely shifted elsewhere. In this sense, I wish to consider how the inclusion of female bodies serves to inform discourses of

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masculinity in Jump, in order to appraise how “enabling and productive” (Thorpe, 2008a: 200) alternative media spaces are. Manning, (2010: 19), for instance, discusses with a fellow traceur the capabilities of tracesues:

Interviewer: Any girls on the team? And what are your views on them doing Parkour?

Cao Cao: There are two girls you could count as training. Girls can totally do it! If their bodies can co-ordinate and keep pace with the moves then it’s no problem. But they do need enough strength to be able to perform the moves. Basically if they’re committed they can get all of this in no time. They just need to be extra careful to protect themselves when training because their physical structure obviously isn’t the same as a man.

Here, while the complexities of ‘race’ may not be viewed as a primary signifier of Otherness, Cao Cao impresses that womanhood presumes embodied difference which reduces debate to an overly simplistic gender binary men (‘us’) are strong, women (‘them’) are weak. Thus, despite the belief in niche media offering a more progressive narrative of women in sport (see Thorpe, 2008), women in Jump are represented in more traditional roles as dependent, vulnerable and fragile while their male counterparts are depicted as strong, powerful and athletic. To further this assumption, the only considerable article of note in the sample of Jump (2010a) that focuses on women describes how French practitioner Stella Durand heads an organisation called Pink Parkour. The association between the colour pink and traditional heterofemininity and male homosexuality is long established and, to further differentiate this particular article from the ones that centralise heterosexual men, and in so doing reminds men about that which they are not, the first letter of the article is formatted in a style much like an elegant calligrapher would produce, symbolising elegance and beauty. The interview style, too, is distinct from features centralising male experiences:

Do you ever watch the guys move and see them doing things that you wish you were able to do? Stella: Yeah, mainly the big vaults where strength is used.

Seeing as you don’t possess the raw power of your male counterparts, how do you adapt your game to overcome obstacles? Stella: Us girls need to work more on technique, fluidity and sense of touch. (ibid.: 28)

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Evidently, the capacities of female bodies are viewed differently from those of male bodies, both by the interviewer and by Durand. In making this distinction the article implies that there are distinctive boundaries and capabilities that divide traceurs and traceuses. Figure 11, an image from the same article, is symbolic of this narrative of female frailty and male physical competence in the sense that its representational function suggests women need only attempt certain movements if they are accompanied by a male practitioner. For Crawley et al. (2008: 57), the implication here is that, by accepting the notion “male bodies are ‘naturally physically superior’ to female bodies”, and, consequentially, advocating women adopt alternative approaches towards PKFR, Jump actively encourages readers to build “actually dichotomous bodies”. In other terms, traceuses are urged to adopt limiting beliefs that will indeed prevent them from doing those ‘big vaults’ while their male counterparts (as shown in figure 11) are encouraged to be independent and leader-like. Evidently, Jump like more mainstream men’s magazines is also unable to avoid parading as “a fraternity which legitimizes men’s superiority over women” (Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2007: 176). Alongside the inscription of gendered boundaries just set out it is also useful to recall Manning’s (2010: 13) commentary on PKFR in Kunming

Figure 11: A traceuse is ‘helped’ across a small to demonstrate his tactical usage of gap while performing a two legged transfer (from female bodies, in defining his Jump magazine, December 2010, pages 38-39) heteromasculinity:

I considered the reasons that brought me to China in the first place; a chance to slow down my life, and find direction while stripping away the things I didn’t need ... and also the beautiful girls ...

While in many ways Manning’s story about his life in China contains progressive narratives of masculine sameness, which transcends ‘race’ and ethnicity, his comments on Chinese women are not so profound. That is, the complex and philosophical reflections on the challenges and delights of experiencing sameness with (male) Chinese traceurs are made possible by the objectification of Chinese women as merely exotic and (hetero)sexual. Thus, Manning’s sexualisation of Chinese women asks the reader to understand him as

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heterosexual which in turn allows him to counter any suggestion that his sense of “xiong di”, with his fellow traceurs, is anything other than homosocial (and not homosexual). The female body in Jump is represented as a valued part of PKFR communities, and its visibility is encouraging of female participation, but the likelihood of inclusion within the pages of Jump is made more probable if the female body does not offend nor threaten traditional discourses of heterosexuality or the heteromasculine gaze. And so, although heteronormativity is rife within mainstream sports and leisure media (Wright and Clarke, 1999), Jump’s representation of female-male interaction also reinforces traditional gender norms, despite advancing alternative philosophies of individuality and resistance elsewhere. To this end, female bodies in Jump are represented as relational/ oppositional signifiers that are in large part used, often by men, to inform and (re)establish traditional discourses of masculinity. Thus, as Spracklen (2010) demonstrates in the context of the black metal scene, and as Stapleton and Terrio (2010) note with specific reference to particular communities within PKFR, and their cosy existence with processes of commodification, outwardly rebellious, liberal and alternative communities/ media do not escape entirely from the dominant cultural tropes popularised by mainstream media and heteronormative attitudes. Like other forms of media, Jump appears unable/ unwilling to avoid representing its ideals of masculinity without juxtaposing them against a particular form of femininity, female embodiment and Otherness.

Parkour and Freerunning (PKFR) in Latvia

Although Jump is unavoidably a medium which selectively represents and edits the stories told by their writers, it nevertheless offers differing PKFR groups a platform to share experiences of the difficulties and realities which they have to overcome in order to train13. A particular feature of the magazine is its attempt to tell the stories of various, geographically proximal communities and how they manifest and interpret PKFR activities in their locales. Importantly, Jump covers PKFR communities across the breadth of Europe, as well as the world, and is thus able to offer insight into representations of athletic bodies from within a geographical region imagined as a largely ‘white’ space. Omi and Winant (1986: 65) agree and call attention to popular imaginings of Europe as a ‘white’ continent which is surrounded, but significantly is not divided, by a “colour line”. Employing racialisation as a tool of deconstruction here enables us to understand better how Europe can be theorised as a continent which is divided into differing shades of whiteness.

13 Jump invites traceurs to send in pictures and video of themselves for inclusion within the magazine which constitutes a significant amount of content.

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The September 2010 issue of Jump pays close attention to the white, British-based editor, Ez’s trip to Latvia which is designed as a storyboard of images, documenting the PKFR ventures of traceurs (all of whom are white and male) from Riga. What is immediately noticeable from the photos is their greyness which is accompanied by a narrative that expresses disgruntlement with the location’s aesthetics and its weather (which is ironic given that Ez is English). One particular image claims to depict the group making their way to a training location and is pictured inside “a tram where the conductors were women dressed in dodgy looking camo uniform” (Ez, 2010b: 61). Here the reference to “dodgy” camouflaged uniforms, which connotes Latvians as a militant, regimented and commanded former Soviet people, exposes Ez’s ethnocentrism. Thus, considering the intersections between locale, physical space and self (discussed above) the geography of place cannot be read in isolation from the Latvian traceurs’ sense of embodiment. Also deemed worthy of a place in the magazine is a whole page devoted to a photo of “Random advertising inside the tram”14; yet all that is pictured is an advertisement for en vogue kitchens and home accessories. Likewise, graffiti is another element of the trip which is not well received by Ez (2010b: 73):

I noticed this graff on the way to the blue rails [a well known site from a renowned PKFR video] and had to grab a shot. I’m a massive fan of street art and would never ever dream of hating on anyone for their throw ups but this is SHIIIIT!!

To understand what a ‘good’ “graff” is within the same edition, across a double spread and at the front of multiple other editions of the magazine, UK based traceur, Gary “surreal” Lawrence, stands in front of a large, colour-rich wall/ canvas full of street art; his hands rest on railings which have also been ‘tagged’ with multiple-colours and patterns. This image, which has been selected intentionally as a location to promote Lawrence, would imply that the street art behind him is ‘cool’ and certainly not “SHIIIIT” like the graffiti Ez encountered in Latvia. Before the Latvian team make their way to the “blue rails”, the story holds that the team first find a derelict building to train in. Pasha, the resident professional is pictured “[s]winging around like a monkey” (ibid.: 58) from cables which hang from the roof of a building the group stop to train in: “Being the creative one of the group, Pasha opted to stay inside in the dry and swing about on some electric cables (as you do)” (ibid.: 56). PKFR may

14 Random is employed here not in a conventional sense: the word "random" or the act of being "random" is used, particularly by British youths, to communicate the bizarre, abnormal or extraordinariness nature of something or someone when compared to the dominant social norms of youth cultures.

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be interpreted by non-practitioners as an aimless activity, however, the sarcastic and baffled tone (introduced by the text in parenthesis) would imply that there are accepted, formularised regimes of truth which claim authority (seemingly the white British based editor) over what can be considered PKFR and what is uncivilised behaviour. Furthering this narrative of the bizarre, Pasha is shown imitating taking a swig from an old empty vodka bottle, calling to mind the stereotype of Eastern European men as vodka obsessed, alcoholics and heavy drinkers. The story which Ez tells portrays a ‘random’ community of PKFR which is indeed welcomed as a part of a global fraternity; however, the idiosyncrasies of this particular community are greeted with bewilderment which expresses the Latvian traceurs marginality. Perhaps when discussing the location of the “blue rails” in Daugavpils the ‘randomness’ of this particular community and its perceived subjugation is made evident:

Ez: Why wasn’t Daugavpils affected [by European playground standards, which dictated that all the old bars and rails should be removed], is the place considered a bit backwards then? Djuxa: There are a lot of Russian speaking people there and because it is so close to the Russian border, it isn’t a place that falls in line with European Union stuff and it isn’t such a progressive place. (ibid.: 59)

The measure of what is “progressive” here, and throughout the feature, appears to be the founder nations of the European Union, an organisation dominated by the economic powers of, predominantly white, North and Western European nations such as Germany, France and Britain. And so, the narrative that is employed throughout the article serves to Other the white Latvian traceurs in a manner that resembles archaic attempts to segregate Europe as a continent populated by racialised sub-categories of white peoples. In this sense, the racialisation of the white Latvian traceurs implies inherent and fundamental ethnic, national and class differences exist between Ez and his Riga based hosts.

Jump Summary: Selling resistance?

Jump is a magazine which is sponsored by Adidas and frequently contains advertisements from Red Bull and therefore relies on two of the largest international conglomerates to help operate and fund its projects. Adidas in particular has abandoned a marketing strategy which advertises specific sportswear products; instead they have preferred to endorse and sell lifestyles (Niebuhr, 1998)15. It is not saturated with advertisements as are other more

15 Adidas’ most recent campaign Adidas is All In is a more recent example of the brand’s continued pursuit of lifestyle marketing as their advertising strategy of choice.

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mainstream titles; nevertheless, there is a distinct visual presence of global brands within Jump. And so, Stapleton and Terrio (2010: 13) suggest that PKFR media is limited in the extent it is able to resist mainstream norms:

As Parkour is linked to a variety of contextually specific social and political discourses at the site of production and reception, it remains sutured to DVD sales, athletic shoes, and MP3 players. The market may facilitate the integration of previously disenfranchised social groups but that integration and visibility comes at a price. Capitalism’s infinite capacity to make the subversive spectacle an ordinary and consumable commodity may limit the possibility of any true stylistic resistance to the economic status quo.

The dialogue between racialised and gendered practices on one level may produce a progressive understanding of ‘race’, gender and sameness but, at the same time, it is always vulnerable to a reduction to the level of mere commodities which simply helps the purchaser further their image as a “heroic rebel” (Stapleton and Terrio, 2 1 : ). Jump possesses potential to challenge and shift popular discourses of ‘race’ and gender since it emerges from a historical epoch which purports to be sympathetic to ideologies of anti-oppression, civil liberties and multiculturalism. However, capitalism places asphyxiating restrictions on Jump, by obsessing over commodification and profit making, and thus it hinders the extent to which images of athletic bodies can escape from more regressive discourses. In other terms, because on the one hand Jump enables its followers to see white athletic bodies reinterpreting racialised practices, PKFR is represented as an activity that challenges stereotypical performances of ‘race’. However, adopting markers of blackness, such as dreadlocks, and appropriating them as signs of resistance, black bodies are represented as alternative but never conventional. This therefore limits the transformative potential of blackness as discourse and the extent to which Jump can reinterpret racialised embodied identities and performances.

Sport Magazine

The final magazine, Sport, is the most widely distributed magazine in Britain. The articles within Sport are short and dominating its pages are large, colourful pictures. Sport differs from both Men’s Health and Jump magazines in that articles and features are not as long as those found within the other two titles and, for this reason, the magazine relies more on images to communicate meaning to the consumer. This commitment to larger colourful imagery makes the title an ideal, disposable manual of sporting information meaning consumers are not required to perform difficult cognitive tasks when flicking through Sport’s pages.

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‘Whiter than white’

Overwhelmingly, the global media is controlled and run by white, middle-class, university educated, men (Weaver, 1998; Knoppers and Elling, 2004). Sport magazine’s editor, Simon Caney, also fits this description, but perhaps of greater interest is the guest editor of the magazine’s 146th issue: Jonny Wilkinson, a white English rugby player, who was privately educated at Lord Wands worth College, was invited to ‘displace’ Caney for a special issue of the magazine. To mark this event, Wilkinson is pictured on the front cover holding a rugby ball emblazoned with the Sport logo and also features as the centrepiece of a four-page article which contains a lengthy interview complete with numerous images of the England rugby star. The first page of the interview displays the title “GOOD AS

NEW” (Hodson, 2010: 18), in reference to Wilkinson’s return from a long-term injury, and on the opposite page (as shown in figure 12) Wilkinson is pictured, from the waist, up spinning a rugby ball on his finger. His gaze is straight into the camera, inviting an engagement with the consumer, his eyes are cheerful and his smile is warm and friendly. In this sense, the ambience of the photograph, signified by Wilkinson’s jovial pose, conveys the Figure 12: England rugby player, Jonny Wilkinson impression that his body has once is photographed with a Sport rugby ball to promote again come “GOOD”; however, in a his ‘new’ affiliation with the magazine (source Sport, 5th February 2010, pages 18-19). broader context, the connotations of the article’s headline also invites the reader to understand the smiling, cheery character in front as “GOOD” too. Here, it is not my intention to cast a moral judgement on whether

Wilkinson is or is not a “GOOD” man, indeed, he may well be; rather, my purpose is to understand what racialised and gendered messages this particular representation communicates about Wilkinson. From the outset then Wilkinson’s representation is largely positive and the beginning of the interview qualifies further Wilkinson’s “GOOD” nature:

... the iconic England fly half speaks openly and thoughtfully about his French renaissance and the psychology behind his successful return to the international stage [emphasis added] (ibid.: 18).

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The positive framing of this sentence and the reference to the French renaissance invites an appreciation of Wilkinson as a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci, yet it also suggests his contributions to rugby are akin to the high cultural and philosophical transformations of the time. In this way, he is much more than a rugby player who is aiming to rejuvenate his playing career. But perhaps most tellingly the article states quite openly that its primary interest is in seeking to understand Wilkinson’s intellectual and psychological capacities which it assumes is the reason for his athletic rejuvenation. For instance, Sport tells consumers that “[p]sychology has clearly played a part in [Wilkinson’s] career” (ibid.: 2 ). They further qualify this reference to his intelligence by remarking that Wilkinson has “written a number of books” (ibid.: 2 ) and that he has “an interest in deeper matters, such as Buddhism and quantum physics” (ibid.: 2 ). Wilkinson’s time in France is also likened to a “re-education” (ibid.: 2 ). Other questions offer Wilkinson a chance to: exercise humility when acknowledging the roles of others in his success; discuss his willingness to help others; communicate the joys of embarking on a new challenge when playing in France. And so, Wilkinson, if we are to believe the cues offered by Sport, is more than an athlete – he is a man whose mental capacities are to be admired and whose humility and spirituality are well-regarded. At no point does the article suggest that natural ability is a reason for Wilkinson’s successes, even though his excellence must owe a considerable amount of gratitude to an innate sporting talent. Rather, the article asks the consumer to appreciate Wilkinson’s enhanced mental toughness, as a way of understanding his sporting skills, and is prompted by the interview to discuss the psychological strains of his rugby career:

I think, whenever you care desperately about something, and that something requires you to enter into extremely competitive environments, then that love- hate relationship is always going to be there. You automatically enter into a world of extremes and opposites; for there to be enormous joy and success and love for the game, you inevitably create the polar opposite, which is disappointment, frustration and I guess, to a degree, a little bit of depression when it all gets taken away from you. To want something so badly always brings with it the danger of you never getting it. (ibid.: 20)

Here, his comments evoke a love-hate relationship with, not just rugby but, his own body and himself. In turn, Wilkinson has often been depicted as a “young man in mental torment” (Jones, 2003: 48) but far from framing this narrative as one which is a result of (arguably) an unhealthy obsession with achieving excellence, Sport’s representation of him, works in precisely the obverse way, and thus his “depression” is depicted as a necessary, healthy state of mind and a prerequisite to brilliance. In turn, this positive framing of Wilkinson’s

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mental capacities actually serves to establish that his sporting successes are more heroic and gallant precisely because his sporting abilities cannot supposedly be attributed to physiological advantage. Furthermore, Wilkinson even explains how his body is actively working against his athletic pursuits:

... before meeting up for the Six Nations, the squad had one day together, going back over the autumn. I hear it was a magnificent day, but unfortunately I never made it because of an enormous bout of gastroenteritis. (Hodson, 2010: 22)

In this sense, all of the “GOOD” things which Wilkinson is purported to be are thus not aided by the body but are, apparently, threatened by it and its fallibility. Wilkinson’s body is then told to be working against his pursuit of excellence, which is in contrast to perceptions of other rugby greats such as Jonah Lomu, whose natural abilities are depicted as being natural (Fleming et al., 2 5), yet despite this “he is still striving to be a better player now … he’s still enthusiastic to try and improve” (Hodson, 2 1 : 22). Throughout, Wilkinson is portrayed as being able to overcome his embodied frailty through aligning himself with a mantra of dedication, humility, hard-work, intelligence, education and selflessness. It is his psychological capacities then, if we are to believe the article, that enabled him to kick the winning points in the 2 World Cup final and that helped develop him into a “[superstar] who people want to be and watch” (ibid.: 22). The consumer is left in no doubt: it is his mental strength that enables Wilkinson to be a “GOOD” man and sportsman and it is this that is represented as being the reason for his athletic aptitude. This article is certainly not atypical of media representations of Wilkinson as the darling of English rugby (see Jones, 2003; Broun, 2004; Mockford, 2010). However, the extent to which Wilkinson is narrated and celebrated against a mantra of intelligence, humility, selflessness, diligence, spirituality and self-control serves to represent him as the contemporary archetypal white English gentleman. In other terms, while many white male athletes are typically described as being intelligent and hardworking (McCarthy et al., 2001; Messner et al., 1993), Sport’s strict and relentless celebration of Wilkinson’s obsessive dedication and unwavering self-restraint far exceeds other occasional or fleeting references to white male athletes as hardworking. That said, it would certainly be ill-advised to underplay the importance of a white man who has been utilised to play the protagonist in this particular media story – particularly considering the distinct nature of media representations of other prominent Black male athletic bodies. In this sense, Wilkinson is yet another white, middle class body who is held as an exemplar of a particularly noble and gallant type of

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white (Anglo) masculinity, and in so doing contributes to popular racialised discourses about the nature of white male athletic bodies.

Linford Christie’s packet: Sexualisation and the black athletic body

In numerous issues of Sport, in late 2010, the semi-naked body of ex-British sprinter, Linford Christie, can be seen endorsing Kleenex Pockets (see figure 13). The advertisement employs a black and white effect which makes it impossible to see the detail of either his mouth or his eyes. Importantly, a person’s face, and particularly their eyes, is a socially significant part of the body, insofar as it communicates a rich source of information regarding age, gender, ethnicity and mood (Gross, 2 9), thus by obscuring Christie’s face and eyes, to the extent that only his gender and ethnicity are immediately distinguishable reduces any possibility of engaging with Christie, the person. Rather the image asks the consumer to shift their gaze elsewhere and away from the most important site of human social interaction. So that Christie is not understood as a personality or as a complex subject but rather he is represented as a body, a mere object available to the gaze of curious onlookers. After barely having established the owner of the body, the black athletic body is put forth as the advertisement’s central feature: a black and white effect, with a blue tinge, is applied to the image which accentuates the curves and muscles of Christie’s upper torso. The intention of this is that the black male muscular body “automatically connotes power, speed and strength” (Carrington, 2 2b) which are all key features of contemporary manhood. However, the most notable effect of the manipulation of Christie’s body is that it makes him appear metallic and machine-like which, concurrent with his the rather dense look on his face, invites the consumer to understand him as emotionless, focused, exposed and hyper-masculine. Thus, in utilising the black male athletic body, particularly one which is well-known to British audiences for its associations with stereotypical black masculinity, the image hopes to foreground the manliest of masculine markers, in order to establish that Kleenex Pockets is unequivocally a safe heterosexual male product.

Furthermore, disrupting a full appreciation of Christie’s upper-body is the caption “I’VE

GOT A TINY PACKET”, which is inscribed across his chest. This caption makes reference, to when, at the height of Christie’s fame, the British media referred to him as the “lunch box” which was used as a metaphor for his, supposedly, large penis (Carrington, 2000). Christie’s hands, which perch on his waist, lead the consumer’s gaze further down the page and point to his “PACKET” making the matter of his penis yet further evident. At this point, when the matter of a black man’s penis is established as undeniably important, the viewer is invited to visualise what is within Christie’s trousers. Thus, reference to Christie’s “TINY

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PACKET”, a statement that is supposed to be read satirically, asks for an admiration of the black penis. The image on a number of levels invites an understanding of the black athletic body as a physical entity, whose raw unadulterated power is a feature that Kleenex hopes consumers will unconsciously begin to associate with Kleenex Pockets. Carrington (2002b: 22) sees this as typical of media strategies which represent the black athletic body:

black models are usually shot with a high intensity film so that the black skin is exposed to a microscopic gaze, showing veins, pores, and sweat gleaning from the dark skin, reproducing a ‘pornographic’ effect in rendering the black male body vulnerable, ‘open’ and exposed to inspection.

Christie, as body, is of secondary importance to the image in that he is not simply represented as having a particularly masculine body but rather he is eroticised, sexualised and depicted as being a specific part of it. In this way, Christie’s hyper- sexualised representation as a penis suggests a more detailed exploration of the social implications of this image is necessary. Men often refer to their penis in the third person “as if it were not a part of the body, but a distinct personality apart” (Hoch, Figure 13: Ex-Great Britain sprinter Linford Christie 2004: 98). This is a symbolic act endorsing Kleenex Pockets. which aims to defer responsibility to the penis, an entity supposedly ‘with a mind of its own’, so that any unruly, lustful behaviour may be blamed on someone or something else other than the human. This deferral functions as a process of disavowal meaning the black body emerges as “the receptacle of … tabooed desires” (Hoch, 2 4: 98) and “the ultimate manifestation of phallic power” (Carrington, 2002: 34). And so, whereas Jonny Wilkinson is narrated as complex, disciplined, thoughtful, responsible and noble, Christie is represented as “the embodiment of hyper-masculinity” (Carrington, 2002b: 34), sexualised, eroticised, uncivilised, violent, robotic and unrefined.

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The image utilises a complex network of racialised signs and markers in order to persuade consumers of the masculine nature of Kleenex products. In other terms, the image uses the most drastic symbol of hyper-masculinity (the black muscular body) to evoke racialised mythologies in order to have meaning and to overturn deeply entrenched gendered stigmas attached to tissue usage. Christie is represented as, not just an object but, a sexualised object that reinforces narrow racial stereotypes of black hyper-masculinity and hyper-sexuality. In this way, not only does the advertisement utilise everyday assumptions about black masculinity as ultra-violent and hyper-sexed, more worryingly, it shows flagrant disregard to the notion that it may also help to reinforce these ideas. In this most obvious of ways, this instance highlights the tendency of advertisements, within conditions of late capitalism, to turn the trivial matter of selling tissues into an exploitative process of racialisation, which reiterates and reinforces popular discourses vis-à-vis black bodies, all for the matter of profit.

White or ‘perma-tanned’?

Cristiano Ronaldo is a Portuguese professional footballer, who currently plays for Real Madrid in Spain’s Primera División. He became the most expensive footballer in the sport’s

Figure 14: Cristiano Ronaldo (from Sport, 18th December 2009, page 36).

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history when he left Manchester United to go to Spain for a reported £80 million transfer fee. According to Sport (Ruiz, 2009: 36), Ronaldo should therefore be recognised as “the world’s finest footballer” and they also honour him in their 2 9 annual awards with the honour for

“BEST ENTERTAINER”. As a result, Sport offers a short interview with him which is complemented by three different images of Ronaldo (as shown in figure 14). The first and largest image of Ronaldo is one in which he is pictured jumping into the air, with one arm aloft, sideways on to the consumer, presumably celebrating a goal. This act supposedly takes place in the middle of a game and Ronaldo is thus pictured, in sharp focus, in full playing kit and is juxtaposed against a backdrop of blurred and out-of-focus fans. The back of Ronaldo’s head is more visible than is his face which implies that the consumer’s focus should be to overlook Ronaldo, the person, and to admire the flamboyant abilities of the body that is his signature playing style. Ronaldo’s feet, adorned with a pair of Nike boots displaying the initials CR, overhang the margins of the image but are not cropped out of the picture. Instead, they sit on top of the sections which they overlap, enabling the consumer to fully appreciate both the brand and equipment associated with the young Portuguese’s exceptionally well-coordinated feet. The second image shows Ronaldo again celebrating a goal, yet this time he is pictured front on to the camera to fully expose a naked, tensed, muscular upper-body so that onlookers can gaze uninterrupted at his muscular, ‘olive’ coloured torso. Ronaldo’s head overhangs the margins, as if symbolising an inability to contain him, and his face is in full view which enables the viewer to see his mouth wide open in mid-scream, lost amidst a moment of unbridled passion – thus succumbing to a release of his innermost emotions. Finally, the third image is one of a restrained Ronaldo who is pictured sitting inside a black sports car, with black leather interior, wearing a black leather jacket, tinged with a flash of red, and a pair of black sunglasses. Ronaldo’s material possessions are clearly the centrepiece of this image and in this sense the image centralises symbols of style, wealth, fashion and materialism. Below these images, Sport begins in its opening paragraph by telling a story outlining how Ronaldo had crashed “his new Ferrari [into] ... a tunnel wall in a mysterious single-car pile up, possibly caused by him admiring his rear-view reflection for a tad too long” (ibid.: 36). Then, after a brief outline of his football achievements, the article goes on to inform the consumer that while on “holiday in LA with his new BFF, Paris Hilton... our oiled-up hero strutted around the pool in his micro pants”16 that are described as “horrible” (ibid.: 6). The mockery of Ronaldo’s lifestyle then continues further when he is ridiculed for becoming “the

16 The term BFF is an acronym of the words ‘Best Friend Forever’ and is a phrase which is most commonly associated with teenage girls.

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face and gonads of Emporio Armani underpants” (ibid.: 6). The narrative used in the article is an active attempt to feminise Ronaldo since he indulges in, what the magazine implies, is a lifestyle that does not ‘fit’ easily with dominant imaginings of normative heterosexual (white British) masculinities. Thus, in stark contrast to the praise that is heaped upon Jonny Wilkinson, Ronaldo, one of the world’s greatest footballers, is ridiculed for the nature of his performance of masculinity. Once again, it is not my intent to cast a moral judgement on Ronaldo and his off-field behaviour but it is my intent to comment on the disparity that exists between different representations of male athletic bodies. The articles and images represent notions of flamboyancy, passion, style and vanity and in this sense perpetuate ethnic stereotypes of Southern European men as being culturally distinct from white, English and Northern European men. The reaction of one British-based Manchester United fan, who scoffs that Ronaldo, is a “preening, perma- tanned, posturing, petulant prick” (Wagg, 2 1 : 919-920) demonstrates an implicit ethnic prejudice against Ronaldo’s enactment of his whiteness and heteromasculinity. Thus, Ronaldo and his lifestyle offend and disrupt not just the dominant understandings of white British working-class masculinities but actually contest their supposed supremacy. In other words, Ronaldo’s performance of white heterosexual masculinity problematises and challenges the supposed ascendancy of more traditional imaginations and performances of masculinities as stoic, disembodied and macho. After all, Ronaldo is a (peripherally) white man, who dares to be decorated with multiple honours in his profession (by employing a ‘flamboyant’ playing style (as opposed to a more industrious British approach), who has amassed considerable wealth, is admired by a significant number of women and men and takes particular care of his appearance – and all this despite acting in a way which traditional notions of white (Anglo) masculinity understand as ‘feminine’ or ‘gay’. Hence, Ronaldo is a man whose bodily styles and performance of masculinity is anathema to traditional notions of white British masculinity. In this sense, the mockery of Ronaldo, which establishes and draws upon ethnic stereotypes of Southern European masculinities, serves to position him as a man, who may be a fine footballer but, whose lifestyle and performance of masculinity is emasculine and indeed of media regulation.

Juan Manuel Vargas: An athletic body of fear and desire

Juan Manuel Vargas Risco is a Peruvian professional footballer who plays for ACF Fiorentina, in Italy, and also captains the Peruvian national team. Vargas is relatively unknown in Britain but he has become ‘the body’ of the Umbro 1 5 marketing campaign alongside (black British) Aston Villa and England footballer, Darren Bent. The advertisement fronting the campaign leads with the caption “AFTER THE 90 THERE ARE STILL 1350 MINUTES

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LEFT TO PLAY” (see figure 15). The significance of “1350” is that it refers to the number of minutes left in a day after the “9 ” of a football match and so the advertisement is quite explicit in stating that sport and leisure are only small fragments of the self. Interestingly, as opposed to featuring white England footballers Joe Hart, John Terry, Andy Carroll or Michael Owen, who take pride of place on Umbro’s UK website, the use of an unfamiliar Peruvian footballer would suggest that Vargas – unlike the aforementioned white bodies – is able to instruct consumers to make connections between Umbro and a very particular form of racialised embodiment. In the image, Vargas gazes away from the camera as he sits in a tattoo studio about to add to his collection of body art. His right arm is completely sleeved with artwork and his left arm also adorns tattoos. His skin is brown, his hair is dark, and is swept across his forehead, and he also wears neatly styled facial hair around his mouth and chin. He wears ripped jeans upon which his muscular, tattooed arms rest and his right hand wears a gold ring. In this way, Vargas embodies many characteristics of a ‘cholo’ gangster (a racialised identity originating in America) which distinguishes him from his white English football playing counterparts also sponsored by Umbro. The term cholo is Figure 15: Peruvian footballer, and captain of subjected to various definitions, and has the national team, Juan Vargas in Umbro’s ‘AFTER THE 90 THERE ARE STILL 1350 MINUTES been used differently throughout history LEFT TO PLAY’ advertisement campaign. and the world; however, in contemporary American culture the term is loaded with negative connotations and is usually applied to a male of mixed European and Central or South America ancestry with a distinct style of dress, speech, gestures, tattoos, and graffiti (Reyes III, 2006; Vigil, 1988). And so, Vargas’ representation is one which deliberately draws upon racialised markers of embodied difference so that consumers of the advertisement will make connections between Umbro and highly stylised notions of gangsterism. Dery (2 : 96) asserts that marketers have become increasingly aware “that that badass icon of rebel cool, the cholo, or Chicano gang member”, has become an increasingly

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merchandisable commodity. Popular media, such as video games (see Chan, 2005) or Hollywood movies (Guba and Lincoln, 1989), have often utilised this racialised discourse of masculinity, which offer consumers narrow caricatures of Latinos as homogeneous, violent, ghetto dwellers and separatists, in order to present mainly white youth with an experience of an otherwise forbidden ‘reality’. Nonetheless, in a British context Latin and South American populations are not numerically significant minority ethnic groups and so the racialised markers set out in the advertisement function at the level of the imaginary and help establish vastly abstracted racialised markers of an embodied ‘ghetto cool’, of which Umbro is supposed to be one. Thus, driven by a ‘need’ to sell, Umbro’s strategy of lifestyle marketing helps inform a racialised discourse of Latino bodies, not commonly evoked in a British context, and relies on a fantastical and fetishized imagination of Otherness in order to operate. This racialised representation has significant implications far beyond Vargas as an individual since it is complicit in the racialisation of whole cultures and communities. In other words, by drawing upon reductionist racialised discourses, born out of American racial prejudice, popular cultures and media, “new race and ethnic categories”, such as Latino/a, which were not applicable until only a few years or decades ago (Warmington, 2009: 290) are perpetuated, reified and racialised as ‘meaningful’ social categories of people.

Sport, female bodies and the policing of heteromasculine pleasure

Sport is a magazine which offers male athletic bodies to its consumers in various forms and in multiple sporting (and non-sporting) environments. However, as is common in arenas dominated by heteronormative discourses, the role of female bodies are markedly distinct to those of their male counterparts. During this section I include one image of women, taken from the feature section ‘EXTRA TIME’, which, while exposing Sport’s sexualisation of female bodies, importantly for this study, demarcates how men’s magazines – such as Sport – inform and police heteromasculine sexualities. Each week this section features, predominantly, white women, who have only a vague (and often past) relationship with sport, in sexually suggestive poses, often wearing little else apart from high heels, lingerie or a bikini. Each week a different “girl” (Sport, 2011: 56) is presented, as a welcome “EXTRA” to the supposedly more serious, male dominated sporting content. The inclusion of these soft pornographic images as ‘extras’, importantly near the end of the magazine, which implies that all of the more serious sporting issues have already been addressed, includes a very particular type of female body at which Sport’s largely white male readership can gaze. In Sport’s 199th issue consumers are not greeted, as is customary, by a lonesome “girl” gesticulating by herself but instead ten female bodies are presented across a double-page spread (see figure 16). The purpose of this break with routine is to invite consumers to vote

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Figure 16: Sport readers ‘favourite girl’ competition (source: Sport, 11th March 2011, pages 56- 57) for their favourite “girl” in order to mark Sport’s 200th issue. The women in the feature all meet Patton’s (2 6: ) standard of what predominantly white Western societies deem to be beautiful in that they are “White”, “young”, “slim” and “tall” and are thus positioned by Sport as the epitome of “heterosexual pleasure, beauty and glamour” (Mikosza and Phillips, 1999: 6). Sport admits to applying its own “filter to … [narrow] it down to a shortlist of 1 ” (Sauvage, 2011: 72), and in so doing demonstrates the authority that male journalists and editors self-ascribe in order to decide which types of female bodies are (and are not) suitable to be presided over by (yet) more men. Thus, not only is this process an attempt to dictate ‘acceptable’ female beauty to women but it is also a process which regulates and defines normative heteromasculine desire. Nonetheless, eventually the reader learns that, twenty- eight year-old white, blonde-haired, modern pentathlete, and former Gladiator17, Amy Guy, has been unveiled as, not just the winner of Sport’s public vote but, “YOUR WINNER” [emphasis added] (Le Sauvage, 2 11: 2). Guy’s body, as are all of the other ‘contestants’, is well lit as she poses in a bikini. This is not the pose of a threatening Other; it is one which communicates a sense of access (the openness of her bodily gestures and lack of clothing), proximity (her white skin), tranquillity (achieved by the colour scheme) and ownership (the

17 The Gladiators is a television show in popular culture wherein various athletic bodies compete against one another, in various different physical competitions.

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use of the possessive term “YOUR” in the headline). She is everything which the likes of Yakini and Christie are not, which evokes Fanon’s (2 8 [1952]: 124) famous remarks that the “Other for the white man is and will continue to be the black man”. To this end, Guy, and the other white woman, are presented to Sport’s readership as “YOUR[S]”, familiar, possessable, and ownable; thus, these particular women are represented as bodies that are appropriate recipients of the heterosexual male gaze. While white female bodies in Sport are represented as different, intriguing and distinct, they are regarded as more relatable Others. Hence, far from the white female bodies that appear in “EXTRA TIME” communicating a sense of bewilderment, animalism or strangeness, they are represented to the reader as knowable, desirable and relatable persons. In this sense, the sexualisation of white women acts to depress the implicit homoeroticism that exists in heteromasculine, mostly male, sport and leisure spaces (Pronger, 1999), such as Sport, but it also serves to define and regulate male sexuality. That is, while specific white female bodies are depicted as beautiful and desirable – symbols of ‘good’ (as opposed to ‘bad’) sex (Rubin, 199 ) – Black female bodies, who cannot achieve this standard, are, in their absence, implicated as being, at best, unconventionally beautiful and exotic and, at worst, as ugly and dirty (Brah, 1994, 1996; Feagin, 2010; Hill Collins, 1991; Hunter, 2002). Sport’s predominantly male readers then are made acutely aware that it is not suitable for men to sexualise other men but are asked to desire and find pleasure in them in other ways. In addition, they are also exposed to a racialised hierarchy of heterosexual male desire. This is certainly not to deny white women are unaffected by media representation, or that men are influenced to such a degree they are incapable of thinking for themselves, but it does demonstrate further the need to acknowledge the differing ways in which female bodies are packaged selectively by white male editors and journalists to understand better the policing of heteromasculine sexualities.

Sport Summary

The three magazines represent a number of differing male bodies in a number of different ways. In this sense they communicate a variety of gendered and racialised ideals which are specific to each magazine. And so, while it would be inaccurate to argue that one single particular representation of a male body is more hegemonic than another, since all representations of male bodies depicted ideal types as strong, muscular and athletic, it is also the case that those bodies that are represented most positively, particularly in the two mainstream magazines, were white male bodies. That is, white male athletic bodies were described as embodying classical masculine virtues such as humility, discipline, drive, intelligence and self-control in addition to notions of male physical supremacy. This is

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indeed not to say that Black male athletic bodies were necessarily represented statically and always negatively, just as it is not to argue that white male bodies were always depicted positively; however, it is to argue that definite differences exist between the ways in which differently racialised bodies are deployed in order to communicate racialised messages, signs and markers and thus there remains a risk that particular representations will be interpreted more favourably than others. To reiterate, it is the purpose of this Chapter to offer a subjective reading of these titles, which follows the frameworks provided by this study’s particular semiological method, but this is not to say that these readings are ‘true’ or are more accurate than other interpretations which may arise. However, while this may imply that there are a number of readings or a meaning that can be generated from images this is not the same as maintaining that the images which are set forth can mean anything whatsoever. And so, Chapters eight and nine will seek to establish how other white men interpreted the images analysed above in order to provide alternative readings of imagery. Nonetheless, before that task is undertaken, the following Chapter discusses the similarities, as well as the differences and contradictions, which have been identified across the magazines. In this way, it further clarifies and legitimises the arguments and readings stated in this Chapter.

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Chapter seven - Analysing common themes

Throughout the following Chapter, themes emanating from Men’s Health, Sport and Jump will be discussed, collectively, in order to appraise the differing and comparable ways in which these (British) sport and leisure magazines represent ethnically differing male bodies and the types of messages these images communicate to consumers. Firstly, and continuing in the same epistemological mode as the previous chapter, the fraternity of heteromasculinity that is considered implicitly in the previous Chapter will be explored further. Secondly, I will argue that representations of white masculinities in these magazines should not be understood as homogenous racial identities that are performed and received in predictable and stable ways; rather they should be treated as insecure, shifting and plural gendered and racialised representations, which challenge essentialist notions of an absolute, stable white male supremacy. Thirdly, I contend that Othered masculinities are racialised and represented to magazine consumers in distinct forms; however, this is not to suggest that racialisation is always, altogether a negative process which only serves to subjugate and repress, as this is to oversimplify the way in which individual athletic bodies signify and constitute relationships of power. Finally, I go on to address the often unspoken homoeroticism that underlies these images and its racialised connotations.

(Re)constructing the ‘great white male’

Writing over a decade ago, Graham (199 ) prophesised that “the great white male’s day has passed, along with his unlimited power and influence … From now on, the great white male will be one of many”. However, within this study’s sample of magazines, he exists in different guises but is still very much at the centre of mediatised representation of both ‘normal’ and ideal masculinities. Images of white male athletic bodies still dominate the three titles discussed in the previous Chapter, to greater or lesser degrees, and the narratives which surround them continue to promote and re-establish myths of racialised differences between white men and other racialised groups. Men such as Jonny Wilkinson and Kirk Miller, for instance, both of whom are represented in their respective contexts as ideals of the ‘great white male’, emerge as particularly nostalgic exemplars of white male athletic bodies in mainstream media. That is, since they are marked out for special praise, they are especially interesting bodies upon which discourses of white masculine supremacy are made body. Throughout this section then I wish to discuss three noteworthy discourses which are used to (re)construct the ‘great white male’: Muscular Christianity, the gentleman and hyper- reality.

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First, I wish to reconsider the importance of Muscular Christianity, a conception of manhood more commonly associated with pious, Victorian masculinities, in order to explore contemporary representations of white male athletic bodies. The Spectator’s (1857, quoted in Social Darwinism and Upper-Class EducationSocial Darwinism and Upper-Class Education in Late Victorian and Edwardian England, 2010: 79) description of fictional character Tom, from Tom Brown’s Schooldays, offers a particularly relevant example of the model Muscular Christian male through which its contemporary relevance can be further investigated:

[Tom is] a thoroughly English boy. Full of kindness, courage, vigour and fun – no great adept at Greek and Latin, but a first rate cricketer, climber and swimmer, fearless and skilful at football and by no means adverse to a good stand up fight in a good cause …

According to this delineation, sport and physical activity are essential activities for the Muscular Christian’s imagination of masculinity seeing as these pastimes are believed to foster the virtues of “manliness, morality, health and patriotism” (Pronger, 1995: 6 2). Mangan (2006), too, is also keen to draw further associations between the notion of Muscular Christianity, “the strong body” and its centrality to “ensuring the growth of physical ‘sinews of the spirit”. In this sense, the mantra of the Muscular Christian man, which contends that the aesthetics and functionality of the athletic body signify the spiritual and moral supremacy of the self, can be said to operate most apparently through the representations of both Miller and Wilkinson. Coleman (1973) argues Muscular Christianity need also be understood as a discourse of masculinity that is related closely to the notion of chivalry and yet another historical type of manhood known as the ‘gentleman’. The gentleman is described as a man who possesses “a cultivated intellect, a delicate taste, a candid, equitable, dispassionate mind, a noble and courteous bearing in the conduct of life” (Newman and Turner, 1996 [1852]: 89). Again, Miller and Wilkinson can be argued to be represented in a similar vain for their conduct both during and away from their sporting and leisure activities. Furthermore, cricket is one particular sporting pastime which has been said to demonstrate the link between sporting bodies and the gentleman most eloquently (Judge, 1982). Sandiford (1983: 303) explains:

Cricket was much more than just another game to the Victorians. They glorified it, indeed, as a perfect system of ethics and morals which embodied all that was most noble in the Anglo-Saxon character. They prized it as a national symbol, perhaps because - so far as they could tell - it was an exclusively English creation unsullied by oriental or European influences. In an extremely xenophobic age, the Victorians came to regard cricket as further proof of their cultural supremacy.

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Physical activities, such as sports, then have and continue to play a historic and central role in the disciplining of men and men’s bodies in Britain, but it also served as a process of ‘civilisation’ through which the men of the wider Empire could be tamed (Malcolm, 2 1). For this reason, in his book, Beyond a Boundary, C.L.R James (1980) tells of his philosophical struggle, to come to terms with his love of cricket, a game that was symbolic of racial and cultural oppression and of imperialist rule. Amongst various other intriguing insights, James’ story reveals that despite his British-style public school education in Trinidad, his admiration for cricket and love of English literature, because he was a black man, he could never be considered a ‘true’ English gentleman (Sherlock, 198 ). And so, James’ story is able to outline how the gentleman is not only a discourse of masculinity but is also an attempt to establish racial and cultural boundaries between ideals of white masculinity and Others. Hence, the problem with celebrating nostalgic ideals of white masculinities, and once more representing white men as the embodiment of these ideals, is that their reinstatement in a contemporary context cannot completely separate them from their philosophical associations with colonialism, imperialism and ‘the right to rule’ mantra. And so, if we are then to accept Men Health’s and Sport’s accounts of Miller and Wilkinson, as fair, hardworking, intelligent and chivalrous, especially if the magazines’ representations of black men are not treated with a critical eye, their bodies continue to be emblematic of racialised and gendered superiority discourses. A rereading of ‘older’ masculinity discourses thus aids an appreciation of both representations of Miller and Wilkinson as white athletic bodies that do not divorce themselves entirely from the ideals of classical and pious notions of masculinity in order to substantiate their contemporary manliness. On the contrary, although Wilkinson’s professional status may go against notions of the sporting gentleman and his ‘alleged’ amateurism (see Birley, 1999), and while Miller’s embodiment may highlight the shifting nature of contemporary masculinities, ‘old’ assumptions about white manhood continue to inform particular sport and leisure media representations of ‘new’ ideal masculine types. That is, while “some forms of masculinity (devout piety, Victorian ‘heavy’ patriarchs) are of declining significance, whilst others (new laddism) are of emergent importance” (Whannel, 2002: 29); one set of masculine behaviours does not neatly displace the other. This realisation thus highlights the need to recognise media representations position themselves across and within a number of different competing masculinities and not simply in one hegemonic form or another. And so, while the notion of ‘the gentleman’ is forever indeterminable, an imagination which exists only in the mind (Berberich, 2007) and a concept which is perpetually pulled in several different directions by a myriad of competing definitions (Corfield, 1992), the representations of Miller and Wilkinson reposition ideals of

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contemporary manhood and with it (re)establish a reworked mythology of white male supremacy which is reflexive of the contemporary epoch. An important feature of both Miller and Wilkinson’s representation however, which does set them apart from ‘old’ interpretations of masculine ideals, is the capability of computer and camera technologies, to capture graphic and deceptively ‘real’ images of their bodies. And so, ideal masculine bodies are visible to twenty-first-century consumers in meticulous detail. As a result of these increased capabilities, athletic bodies are free to be removed, completely and utterly, from the realms of the everyday. In other words, while the likes of Tom Brown are rooted in their ordinariness, the supposedly normative images of Miller and Wilkinson’s bodies exist in the realms of the hyper-real wherein a continuous, contradictory dialogue is occurring between normality and exceptionality. That is also to say that while both white men’s achievements are glorified - framed by a narrative of fair-play, hard-work and chivalry - the uniqueness of their bodies’ is downplayed and exalted, at the very same time. Thus, contemporary media masculinities and bodies are characterised by their detachment from the realms of the everyday which elevates them into ‘free play’, meaning they can never be embodied truly by anyone. This is a particularly important recognition for late modern representations of white male bodies. That is because, while I have argued that there is nothing new about connections between white male athletic bodies and intellect, spirituality and strength, media representations of Miller and Wilkinson are now exposed to the possibility that their supposed dedication, humility, endeavour, intelligence, selflessness and normality can be exalted by hyper-real discourse. In other terms, in front of a backdrop of normality, the likes of Miller and Wilkinson come to symbolise a mythical, normative and idealised type of hyper- white mediated masculinity, which they themselves are never able to attain. It is thus the conflation of mythology and technology which produces hyper-white male bodies as great men who possess the virtues of both body and mind. These hyper-white male bodies are now able to function as perfect embodiments of post-modern paradox: while at the same time as it is normal, it is unachievable; where masculinity is racialised, whiteness is an invisible aspect; where physicality is innate, it is psychological; while whiteness is disembodied, it is also embodied. In other terms, the extent to which text and the vivid, yet manipulated, images can now collude to produce a reading of white athletic bodies as ‘normal’, when they are anything but, opens up unnerving possibilities for future racialised representations. The representations of Miller and Wilkinson depict them as types of hyper-white (Anglo) masculinities that are useful figures in countering perceptions of white muscular atrophy, which is a narrative that have arisen behind bio-racist assumptions about black physicality. Yet, paradoxically, unlike black athletic bodies, they are also capable of

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remaining ordinary insomuch as the notion of the white physical body as a reflection of the mind remains, for white men at least, an achievable goal. And so, the elusiveness of ever defining or discovering a singular white masculinity can help us here understand that representations of the ‘great white male’ only exist, now even more so, as supposed ‘ideal types’, removed from the realm of the everyday. The ‘great white male’ then cannot be considered a body, nor is it Miller or Wilkinson; it is more appropriately a historically relative discourse which is plural and constantly shifting but at different moments in time uses particular (usually white) bodies to make itself less abstract and more knowable. In other terms, while the role of the “great man” can never be executed to perfection, the assignment of a white male body to perform it serves to racialise the ideals of male embodiment. Thus, while we bear witness to countless different embodied accounts of the white male protagonist in media, and while we continue to see “extremely few active white dissenters” (Feagin, 2010: 128), it is imperative that media and men’s studies scholars apply a lens to their work which identifies discourses of whiteness operating within representations of masculinity.

Peripheral whiteness: Exploring the notion of the white dissenter?

Some proponents of white supremacy have all too simplistically treated “race and racism discourse as white domination of and white discrimination against non-whites, and especially blacks” (Rabaka, 2 : 2). However, while this is not to deny that white people enjoy innumerable societal privileges not afforded to Black people, or that white supremacy is often the process through which society regularly conducts ‘business’, to treat the white male body as an absolute marker of unbridled social power is to overlook the heterogeneity of white masculinities. In other words, the perpetual power struggles between differing groups of white men, all of whom attempt to impose their own discourse of masculinity, on each other, invite a more nuanced and intricate reading of white male supremacy. Thus, adopting racialisation as a tool of deconstruction here helps to expose the complexities of white male identity formation, which aids in a better understanding of how dominant masculinities such as ‘the great white male’ are continually (re)constructed, consolidated and contested. While it is important to highlight this heterogeneity, in order to disturb stable notions of ‘white supremacy’ as something to do with white bodies, it is also relevant to understand how the differential processes of whiteness mobilise within sport and leisure magazines. For instance, considering Jump’s regressive representations of Latvians, Dyer (2003: 27) notes it is common that Eastern European white people are often only begrudgingly included within the ‘racial’ category of white which in turn alludes to a distinctive privileging of Western European whiteness within whiteness discourses. Similarly, Sport’s depiction of Portuguese

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footballer Cristiano Ronaldo as childlike and feminine and likewise the juxtaposition of the Italian bodies, in Men’s Health, against the white (Anglo) normative bodies, in the wider title, also locates South European men as peripheral and distinct from the likes of Kirk Miller and Jonny Wilkinson. Thus, representations of white masculinities and white men are fissured by a multitude of ethnic, cultural, sexual, generational, class, sporting, vocational and national dissimilarities and should be read through a paradigm that advocates a plurality of competing masculinities and whitenesses. Furthermore, repeating and reiterating well established ethnic stereotypes do not simply allow for accurate descriptions of social difference since it is also able to connect and locate these particular bodies within an unhelpful and archaic paradigm of ‘racial’ difference:

A line drawn across the continent of Europe from northeast to southwest, separating the Scandinavian Peninsula, the British Isles, Germany, and France from Russia, Austria-Hungary, Italy, and Turkey, separates countries not only of distinct races but also of distinct civilizations … it separates the Teutonic race from Latin, Slav, Semitic, and Mongolian races. (Commons, 1907: 69-70)

This extract describes how historical accounts of ‘race’ have continued to inform processes of racialisation which serve to create ‘racial’ subcategories within the already problematic social category ‘white people’. Thus, while Men’s Health, Sport and Jump do not explicitly discuss racial sub-categorisation, within the so called white continent of Europe (see Ripley, 1899), they mark out difference by utilising a colour-blind racial ideology of cultural racism. That is, rather than leaving behind a long tradition of xenophobia and the politics of advancing white (Anglo) supremacy, across the sample of magazines white masculinities are not universally celebrated and ethnic and cultural stereotypes are evoked in much the same way as are racial stereotypes. The signifiers within magazine images thus act to differentiate between particular groups of white men inasmuch as white male athletic bodies are not universally celebrated. Thus, processes of differential racialisation position particular representations of white masculinities, such as Ronaldo, the Italian footballers and the Latvian traceurs, as peripheral to other more dominant comprehensions of white (Anglo) masculinities. For instance, Mac an Ghaill (1999: ) argues that “new migrants”, “illegal’ immigrants”, “refugees”, “asylum seekers”, “gypsies and travellers” and “the Irish” are but a few white communities that, at various moments in time, have not had access to the same privileges as other white people. White people in sport and leisure then, rather than existing as a homogenous group, are divided by whitenesses of different shades (Long and Hylton, 2002). Here it is imperative to acknowledge that whiteness as racial discourse is plural so we are able to avoid what Mac an Ghaill (1999: 77-8 ) calls “racism without race” which is a term that highlights the

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tendency for some to overlook xenophobia, jingoism and racialised forms of oppression simply because these new incarnations of racism do not fit within ‘old’ conceptions of racism as an issue relating to skin colour. In order for white masculine athletic bodies to emerge as signifiers of a dominant ideal type of masculinity, it is imperative that images of Othered white male bodies exists in close proximity so as to offer visible cues pertaining to what is and is not ‘normal’. And as Hatt (1993: 59–6 ) notes: “the stability of masculinity depends on the visibility of the male body; to be learnt or consolidated, masculinity requires a visual exchange between men”. For example, by providing and in some instance denigrating certain white male athletic bodies, racialised expressions can be (re)constructed and (re)imagined so that the illusory ‘boundaries’, which function to divide those who are properly white from those who are only peripherally white, can then be observed and reaffirmed in the minds of media consumers. Within this study’s sample of magazines then, it is appropriate to suggest that white (Anglo) men (and those who can pass as belonging to this group) who, more specifically, come to be elevated as the “Greenwich Mean Time” of normativity (Garner, 2 : 4 ). In understanding racialisation as a process of deconstruction aids us to see past racism(s) as systems of prejudice based on colour since it allows an analysis to emerge that identifies how racialised processes work to fragment, as well as to unite, whiteness (the same but different). In other words, although possessing a body which is perceived to be white is an undeniable social privilege, in order to be granted ‘full membership’ to the “private club of whiteness” (Satzewich, 2 : 2 6) there are other ethnic, cultural and nationalistic practices which must be performed. Nonetheless, while I have intended to facilitate a more nuanced debate about the power relations within whiteness and masculinities, it is equally important to remind that white male athletic body, nonetheless, retain the privilege of being represented as unique. This is an important recognition given that, collectively, white athletic bodies are represented as more complex subjects, whereas their Black counterparts rarely receive such treatment and thus are liable to a narrower reading of their bodies as belonging to a homogenous racial group and not as a cohort of multifarious ethnic communities. It is not my intent to argue that, for instance, ethnic stereotyping is more or less demeaning than racial stereotyping but it is to point out that these oppressive processes should not be treated as one and the same.

The athletic body as resistive strategy: Contesting fixed racial identities

It has been implied thus far that white male athletic bodies, regardless of how ethnicity and nationality inflects a differing understanding of their individual whitenesses, are by and large represented in a manner which is more complex and nuanced than black male athletic

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Figure 17: Sebastian Foucan (source: Jump magazine, September 2010, page 77-78) bodies. Even in Jump, a magazine that distorts the social significance of ‘race’ contains imagery which fetishises and eroticises the physicality of the black male athletic body, as figure 17 illustrates. However, it is equally important to acknowledge the more progressive aspects of media representations of athletic bodies. As Hall notes, since meaning can never be fixed, there can be no final victories, which reminds us that media imagery can also offer us a means of moving forward into a less racially divided future, as well as regressing. In order to explore these possibilities it is here important to understand that racialised discourses operate on and through differently racialised bodies, to problematise the notion that only Black bodies ‘do’ Blackness and that only white bodies ‘do’ whiteness. Sport, for instance, provides a particularly good example of the ways in which bodies contest racialised assumptions when it decorates British triple-jumper, Phillips Idowu (pictured in figure 18), famed for his unique fashion sense, with the “personality of the year” award. Idowu is pictured, in triple-jump action, just as he lands in the sand, wearing red hair, a headband, long socks and multiple facial piercings and then holding a Union flag above his head in celebration of a victory. On the one hand, Idowu’s associations with athletics and his portrayal as a “personality”, reiterates black physicality and black peoples’ supposed aptness as entertainers (Ladson-Billings, 1998); however, on the other, his red hair and piercings liken him to a 1980s (white) punk rocker while his embrace of the Union Flag, a long established metonym of whiteness, requires the consumer to acknowledge his Britishness and acceptance (in a sporting context at least) as a member of a predominantly

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Figure 18: Philips Idowu (source: Sport, 18th December 2009, page 38) white nation (Malik, 2 1). He is thus a complex figure who is both ‘with us’ and ‘against us’ at the very same moment. Moreover, Jump’s staging of traceur, Thanda Mutero (shown in figure 19), jumping from rock to rock, upon a green hillside high above a semi-rural location, and away from the vast concrete lumps of the city, likewise contradicts typecasts of urban city dwelling black athletic bodies, whose only experience of sport is through boxing, athletics or football. In this way, both men are difficult to quarantine as ‘black’ in the sense that their embodied racialised performances, bodily styles and actions draw upon complex racialised signs and motifs in order to communicate a complex sense of identity. It is also useful to recall the dreadlocked white male bodies of Frazer Meek and Dimitar Dimitrov who are also particularly suitable examples of how white men are also able to “make [the body] strange” (Hall, 199 : 2 4) and distort the old certainties supposedly signified by skin colour. Meek and Dimitrov are, in this way, examples of the importance black embodiment has for white men who are keen to resist the dominant discourse that is the ‘great white man’ which in turn evidences the progressive associations certain men attribute to the aesthetics of Black political and cultural resistance. This is significant insofar as there is an acknowledgement of a shared struggle against whiteness as institution and a joint appreciation of “forms of Black embodiment that belie the historical legacy of white lies and the Black imago in the white imaginary” (Yancy, 2 8: 1 ). In this sense, these two media images illustrate that “Blackness is … read through the register of the body” (Nayak, 2005: 151) and that racialised discourses work, and are reworked, on and through youth sub-cultural body projects. In this way, racialised bodies and environments evoke an

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understanding of the ways in which athletic bodies can parade as sites which contradict racial stereotypes, as well as reinforce them, and thus can operate as resistive strategies which work in opposition to ‘common-sense’ discourses of racial difference. This is certainly not to suggest that a more congenial exchange between differentially racialised athletic bodily styles is altogether ubiquitous but it is to suggest that embodied athleticism is able to distort and challenge everyday assumptions made about ‘race’. Nonetheless, while acknowledging the more productive nature of media imagery, it is always important, particularly given that there are no final victories, to suggest that images of athletic bodies cannot be easily deciphered so as to expose a neat separation of progressive and regressive codes. That is, the images are unable to offer an objective standard against which racial stereotypes can be read and categorised as either resistive or reiterative. Therefore, the images of the Senegalese wrestlers, which are explored in the previous Chapter, are once again relevant here to illuminates this point. The image of Yakini, for instance, is constituted by a complex collection of competing codes, signs and meanings which serve to commend him for his dedication to his athletic pursuits. In this way, he emerges as a desirable and worthy male body. However, a more critical reading exposes the complexity of the image in that it suggests, by ignoring more progressive discourses of human resourcefulness or ingenuity, in light of the region’s basic training facilities and

Figure 19: Thanda Mutero (from Jump magazine, August 2010, page 26)

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equipment, black Africans also have the potential to emerge as ‘naturally evolved machines’. In other terms, by preferring to encircle Yaikini’s story with a narrative of primordialism and simplicity, the implication is that he does not require a technical or formal gym environment, routine or a sport science professional to develop his athletic body. He, like the other black African wrestlers, simply has an athletic body. The connotations of embodied blackness then are not ones which are always inherently negative; rather, at particular times and in particular contexts, it is more helpful to think about it as a porous and unstable discourse which appeals and fascinates, allowing a distinctive cultural exploration and, in certain instances, a hybridisation of what are imagined to be distinct racial behaviours and cultures. Thus, the challenge for anti-racists should not be to eradicate processes of racialisation - for the myths of colour, hair and bone have too long dominated modes of stratification for it simply to be eliminated; rather, I suggest it should be to promote more congenial representations of Others (Farrar, 2005), which challenge simplistic black-white binaries and thus better “grasp the generational specificities of emerging interethnic social relationships and their engagement with a different racial semantics” (Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2 : 1 ). In this way, this section has wished to suggest that sport and leisure media should not be theorised dogmatically as mechanisms of social control but argues that they should also be viewed as institutions in which processes of regulation, coercion and domination are also contested. Sport and leisure spaces then are not altogether totalitarian, fascist propaganda tool or simply spaces for adult escapisms (Novak, 1978); rather, the bodies which are represented possess powers to resist.

Homoeroticism and anti-eroticism: Desiring black and white

The semi-naked muscular/ athletic male body is a common feature of Men’s Health, Sport and Jump and thus, as has been established, all three magazines celebrate male athletic bodies as varyingly acceptable forms of manhood. However, it is inevitable that this neurotic fascination with the male body raises interesting questions about the changing nature of the heterosexual male gaze. Messner (1992) has argued that sport and physical cultures have been built upon a distinctly homophobic, hegemonic masculine culture which suppresses behaviour that could be construed as homosexual, such as gazing openly at other men. However, Pronger (1990: 182), who uses the term the “homoerotic paradox” to highlight the incongruities that result from the eroticising of the male body, within heterosexual masculine spaces, and the often intimate bonds that develop between men in these environments. Men’s magazines, too, invite their readerships to fabricate relationships with the differing bodies; they ask them to stare longingly and curiously at the muscles and naked flesh of other, often shiny, smooth, male bodies. They require their audience to engage in deeply

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homoerotic and autoerotic practices. Men are asked to both accept and deny pleasure, thoughts, desires, ideas and/or deliberations of what it might be like to touch another man’s body. It is this tension between an acceptance and denial of homoeroticism that establishes a ‘need’ to buy magazines and the products they sell. That is because in an era preoccupied with the body, men are being invited to scrutinise their own sense of embodiment, but importantly they are also required to find themselves wanting by comparison with the ideal. In simpler terms, men are required to be both embodied and disembodied, at the same moment. Homoeroticism is thus an aspect of men’s magazines that its editors are certainly conscious of, and so, in order to negotiate the more ambiguous messages about male (hetero)sexuality they employ a number of techniques to refute these claims. For instance, the magazines adopt ‘laddish banter’ - a means of expressing affection between males while appearing to deny it (Benwell, 2001; Easthope, 1990) - as a means of refocusing attention away from the inherent homoerotic practice of men inspecting the bodies of other men. Jump magazine’s use of the caption in figure 20 for example, attempts to address and rebuke the homoerotic aspects of its imagery:

Practitioners of PK/FR have a strange tendency to take off their tops at any Figure 20: Three Mexican traceurs (source: Jump magazine, March 2010, page 33) given opportunity and in this instance, it was a chilly evening and there was no apparent reason other than taking a cruise to the local gaybar, gaybar!!

Thus, by utilising homophobic discourse to mock the traceurs in the picture for training topless, the hope is that Jump, and PKFR, more broadly, can be interpreted as homosocial, as opposed to homoerotic or gay. In other words, by acknowledging the (imagined) ‘gay’ connotations of the image and openly mocking it thus “prevents the implicit homoeroticism of competitive sport, the pleasure of male bodies playing with each other, from proceeding to explicit sexual expression” (Pronger, 1999: 4). In other terms, it sets acceptable boundaries in that men training PKFR topless with other men is acceptable but it also offers

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suitable warning to readers about what is and what is not acceptable homosocial behaviour amongst traceurs. And so, the shirtless athletic bodies are supposedly drawn back safely within the boundaries of heteronormative culture after the laddish banter (supposedly the reserve of heteromasculine cultures) serves to normalise their behaviour. Thus, effectively managing and navigating sport’s implicit homoeroticism, particularly when representations could be interpreted as homosexual or homoerotic, is a difficult but necessary process that is used to overcome the obvious contradictions that are setup with all-male sport and leisure cultures (Coad, 2008). The extent to which the semi-naked male bodies are central to this study’s sample of men’s magazines has particular resonance with the suggestion that men’s bodies have become increasingly eroticised and objectified, in ever more obvious ways, because of their usages as commodity signs. However, much past research has been blind to the racialised dimensions of male bodies in media which limits the comprehensiveness of these analyses and offers an opportunity for this research to make a substantial contribution. The semiotic analyses of Men’s Health, Sport and Jump, has thus far revealed that it is white and black male athletic bodies which, although are racialised differentially, emerge as specific types of male bodies that are represented as desirable, pleasure inducing bodies. Here I wish to entertain Pronger’s (199 , 1999) assertions that homoeroticism can be instrumental in allowing men to enjoy male bodies and all-male environments, without suffering the vilification that usually ensues if men admit to obtaining pleasure from membership to all- male environments. In a similar way, I wish to explore the notion that the homoerotic gaze may allow for an exploration and appreciation of the racialised aspects of male athletic bodies, and thus for the partial empowerment of otherwise repressed bodies. That said I also wish to consider those bodies that are not available for inspection and the implications this has for processes of racialisation. In the previous Chapter, I commented upon the representation of Linford Christie in Sport and expressed much the same concern about the representation of his body as did Chrisite (quoted in Carrington, 2000: 137). However, despite Kleenex’s marketing campaign using racialised codes and texts of a hyper-sexualised and hyper-athletic black masculinity, ten years later and perceivably in need of money, he seems to be less concerned by any perpetuation of racial stereotypes. In this sense, Christie is seemingly aware that his body is imbued with homoerotic meaning and that the black body is a symbol of an idealised masculinity. In this sense, Christie is empowered, financially at least, through precisely the same myths of black masculinity that disempowers the majority of other black male bodies. In other terms, while in a political sense the premise upon which the black body is represented as erotic, is detrimental for the majority of black men, the homoerotic gaze sanctions particular individuals to imply authority.

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We may term this type of power an “erotic power” (Pronger, 1999: 4) which is commandeered by black male athletic bodies as a means to challenge mythologies of black powerlessness. In this instance, muscular phenotypic black bodies emerge as commodity signs, which are endorsed by the white homoerotic gaze, and incite an understanding of sexualisation as a complex process that evokes notions of pleasure, envy, pity and fear. This suggests that the workings of power in capitalist societies are increasingly sympathetic to the people it seeks to control. In this sense, power does occasionally say ‘yes’ and thus does allow particular Black bodies access to financial, racial and cultural resources. However, before the emancipatory potential of imagery is overstated, it is important to note that because black muscularity, sporting aptitude and eroticised appearance threatens the long established ideals of masculinity, and particularly white (Anglo) male supremacy, their pseudo-liberation is often only commissioned by the panoptic white male homoerotic gaze. In other terms, “[t]he use of black bodies ‘performing’ for the white gaze [is] … a public spectacle that [seeks] to oversee the behaviour of black communities” (Carrington, 2 2: 1 - 11). The erotic power imbued in the black athletic body by the white homoerotic gaze then is one which seeks to establish a safe representation of black masculinities. To further this assumption, and to highlight the ways in which the white homoerotic gaze can work in somewhat similar ways to dictate other acceptable racialised representations, the lack of British Asian male (athletic) bodies in this study’s sample of magazines suggests that not all Black bodies are commissioned in similar fashions. That is, British Asian bodies are omitted from the sphere of sport and leisure media signifying a meaningful disinterest in British Asian male athletic bodies18. Gerbner and Gross (1976: 182) have argued that “representation in the fictional world signifies social existence; absence means symbolic annihilation”. And so, just as feminist scholars have used this term to describe media’s trivialisation of women’s involvement in sport, complete omission from sport media coverage and condemnation of behaviours and roles that are deemed to threaten traditional notions of masculinity and femininity, the same logic can be applied to the lack of British Asian male athletic bodies. British Asian men, particularly British Asian- Muslim men, have been depicted in both media and political discourses as “underclassed”, “violent”, “radical” and “aggressive”, as opposed to earlier images of Muslims as “passive” and “female” (Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, 1982). In this sense, the sample of

18 The only notable exception in Men’s Health is, the boxer, Amir Khan. Khan is narrated within the signature style of Men’s Health as controlled, disciplined and determined, but occasionally violent, which in many ways is a more progressive representation of a British Asian man (see Burdsey, D. (2007b) Role with the Punches: The Construction and Representation of Amir Khan as a Role Model for Multi-Ethnic Britain. Sociological Review, 55 (3), pp.611-631). However, Khan’s persona has too often been hijacked by media and politicians to promote the notion of the ‘good Muslim’ which has distorted and restrained the assumptions made about him from being applied to other British Asian and British Asian-Muslim people and communities.

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magazine’s are implicit in implying the British Asian male body is anathema to popular postulations of the athletic body as disciplined, controlled and confident (Lawrence, 2011). The continued ignorance of this study’s sample of magazines toward British Asian athletic bodies, particularly Men’s Health since it recruits its models from open-access gyms and not from elite sport, reinforces the unhelpful folklore that is ‘race logic’ (see St. Louis, 2004) by way of their invisibility. In other words, while Sport may argue that it is the broader institution of sport that fails to produce elite British Asian bodies for them to feature; however, the amount of British Asian male bodies whom I encountered during participant observations suggests that Men’s Health are actively overlooking those of South Asian ancestry. This is absolutely not to contend that representation may be able to offer a more objective, truthful standard of British Asian masculinities, since representation is indeed a process that distorts and symbolises. However, it is to suggest that a lack of media representations of British Asian athletic bodies denies them the opportunity “to make the stereotype work against itself” (Hall, 199 : 2 4). In this sense, given the centrality of the male athletic body in contemporary sport and leisure media, and given that it is the receptacle of the homoerotic gaze (a gaze which allows men to enjoy and scrutinise the racialised aspects of other men’s bodies), British Asian male bodies are denied any kind of platform upon which racialised stigmas could potentially be contested. As white and black male athletic bodies invite an erotic and erogenous relationship to form between consumer and image, inviting multiple interpretations of their bodies, the omission of British Asian male bodies from both mainstream and alternative magazines, maybe considered evidence of an ‘anti-eroticism’. In other terms, by excluding these bodies from men’s magazines, which incite profoundly homoerotic imaginations of self and Other, and from mainstream media more broadly (see Malik, 2001), British Asian male bodies, in their absence, are written out of sporting existence. Thus, far from being held as an exemplar of some ideal of masculinity, or even as a fetishized Other, the omission of British Asian male bodies, concurrent with the popular imagination of British Asian men as “out of control and in trouble” (Alexander, 2 : 18), represents them as bodies that are physically unattractive, ugly, and certainly not suitable to be used as pleasurable commodity signs. Although, as this thesis has thus far argued, media representation is certainly not without culpability for more damaging process of racialisation, complete annihilation may be equally as harmful, if not more so, than visible negative representation.

The fantastical imagination of Otherness: Lifestyle marketing, commodification and athletic bodies

While one of the main purposes of this Chapter has been to explore the contradictory and productive outcomes of representation, during this section I wish to comment on the limits of

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contemporary media imagery as a means of disrupting everyday assumptions about ‘race’. That is, while racialised representations may indeed possess the potential to (dis)empower, this is not to neither deny nor trivialise the more regressive consequences associated with the concept. These negative codes are always a vital part of any exploration of media imagery in a society wherein racisms are endemic but more fundamentally they cannot be ignored for philosophical reasons either. As Anthias (2001) is keen to stress, any approach to research which engages in some way with notions of hybridity, and the positive dialogue between racial and ethnic identities, must consider the many “difficulties and contradictions” (ibid.: 630) to be found in such approaches insomuch as they “may unintentionally provide a gloss over existing cultural hierarchies and hegemonic practices” (ibid.: 619). The same concerns can also be said to be applicable for those acknowledging the productive nature of racialisation. In other words, while particular outcomes of racialisation may be viewed positively (i.e. dreadlocks may be adopted by white youth precisely because they are read as black), the social processes through which they come to be perceived as black may not be so well-intentioned. To explore this further, during this section I address the notion of racialisation as a marketing tool. Umbro’s portrayal of Juan Manuel Vargas, as discussed in the previous Chapter, is said to be one which draws upon racialised myths and his resemblance to a cholo gangster. However, the purpose of representing Vargas’ bodily styles as desirable, which incorporates elements, of bravado, danger and a romanticised perception of ‘ghetto cool’, emerge from Umbro’s desire to sell and not from some sense of moral obligation. In other terms, tackling racism or negative outcomes of racialisation is not a consideration for Umbro; conversely, they actually perpetuate and/ or introduce a ‘new’ racialised stereotype to its UK customers. To demonstrate this process Corso (2008: 28) explains how selling white audiences racialised stereotypes is a remarkably profitable business:

In The Godfather, Mario Puzo built an empire from capitalizing on Hollywood's sensational Mafia stereotype of an Italian-American crime family … it helped create the image of organized crime ... But what is little known is that Puzo's desire to make a quick buck on perpetuating an ethnic stereotype is something the author came to regret ... In one of his last interviews, he said he was saddened by the fact that The Godfather, a fiction he never liked, outshone The Fortunate Pilgrim, a novel about his mother's honest immigrant struggle for respectability in America, and her courage and filial love.

Puzo’s feeling toward his vastly popular novel and film, The Godfather, is a story which highlights the fruitfulness of capitalising on ethnic and racial stigmas. And so, the act of preparing mainstream and even niche media, content is one which is governed by

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commercial forces and the racial prejudices of white audiences (Hylton and Law, 2009) who take pleasure in hearing that their a priori knowledges about other ethnic groups are justified. In a similar way, Men’s Health also attempts to sells racialised markers to its consumers. Alexander (2003) contends that masculinity in Men’s Health is already being sold to consumers in a manner which resembles the consumption of a product more than it does the establishment of a traditional male role; however, building on these assumptions, I argue above that the particular ideal of masculinity in Men’s Health is derived from historical discourses of ideal white masculinities. Therefore, the embodiment of Men’s Health’s particular brand of masculinity, Kirk Miller, whose physique is symbolic of white intelligence, discipline, strength, rationality and control, serves to racialise and (re)establish the whiteness of these features. In other terms, Men’s Health does not sell bodies to consumers or promise consumers will ever be perceived as white but what it is able to sell is a service which outlines how ideals of white masculinities as discourse, attitude and lifestyle may be performance. Here, I wish to draw upon the observations of Jameson (2006: 485) as a means to conceptualise how racialisation is used as marketing tool. For him cultures emerge not simply as by-products of late capitalism but as reflexive responses to it, which aids a rationalisation of consumerism:

What has happened is that aesthetic production today has become integrated into commodity production generally: the frantic economic urgency of producing fresh waves of ever more novel-seeming goods (from clothing to airplanes), at ever greater rates of turnover, now assigns an increasingly essential structural function and position to aesthetic innovation and experimentation.

For instance, companies such as Adidas, Reebok and Nike have long dissociated themselves from advertising specific sportswear products in favour of endorsing marketing strategies which are indicative of ‘lifestyle’. Importantly, the usages of gendered and racialised stereotypes within these campaigns are evident (Maharaj, 1997). Aesthetic “experimentation” thus serves a distinctly economic purpose insofar as athletic bodies are used as visual aids which signify racialised attitudes as racialised products, and racialised products as racialised attitudes. These attitudes-products are then easily consumable via retail outlets, which enable anyone wishing to affiliate themself with a particular identity, to do so, through consuming brands and or embarking on body projects which utilise racialised myths in order to function. For instance, establishing the racialised nature of particular clothing styles, brands, hairstyles, music, DVDs and other accessories enables, white youth cultures to display notions of degeneracy, by adopting an indefinable and totally mythical,

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imagination of Otherness (also see Brayton, 2005: 368) while, at the same time, exploiting Black youth against a “fetishization of white wealth” (Klein, 2 : 6). In this way, images of differential racialised athletic bodies and markers are used to conduct capitalist operations which consequentially produce a system that is reliant on racism and racialisation in order to continue to sell (Sivanandan, 1982). And so, what on the one hand could be seen as inter-racial dialogue, on the other, may highlight simultaneously how it is corporate brands and media producers inscribed fantastical imaginations of Otherness in order to sell racialised lifestyles as mere commodities. Therefore, if the notion of hybridity and related concepts are indeed to have any credibility, it is then important to stress that an intermixing of cultures and/ or racialised practices do not necessarily produce gloriously progressive or transformative post-racial identities. In turn, Hutnyk (1997: 27) warns,

[i]t is all well and good to theorise the diaspora, the post-colony and the hybrid; but where this is never interrupted by the necessity of political work, it remains a vote for the status quo.

In this way, under the logic of late capitalism, athletic bodies are perpetually (re)signified, differently racialised and represented for the sake of developing brand identities. This should not be heralded as a triumph of consumer capitalism because racialisation, as a productive process, is still underpinned by the assumption of ‘racial difference’. And so, through utilising athletic bodies as racialised texts of resistance, difference and desire, corporate marketing campaigns react to, manipulate and reiterate society’s prejudices, quite simply, to sell. The desire of brands to engage with aesthetic experimentation - a rendezvous facilitated by a ‘need’ to remain profitable - ultimately produces, reifies and reflects fantastical imaginations of whiteness and blackness. It is for this reason that critical scholars must continue to play a central role in holding (neo)liberal media, the self- proclaimed “watchdogs of society” (Deuze, 2 5: 449), and other capitalist institutions, to account.

Conclusion

During the last two Chapters, it has not been suggested that my readings are objective or that my interpretations somehow reveal the actual message(s) contained within the imagery. Rather I have offered critically informed readings of Men’s Health, Sport and Jump, using frameworks provided by Critical Race Theory and poststructuralism, which have highlighted the social implications that these particular images may have for matters of ‘race’ and gender, such as the subtle reiteration of white (Anglo) male supremacy. In applying a CRT

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framework, which has enabled an analysis to emerge that actively explores the racialised aspects of imagery and the role imagery plays in racialising different bodies in different ways, I have sought to highlight the often covert racial politics of representation and the need to explore further the complexity of athletic bodies in men’s magazines. While this is not to argue that the everyday performance of white masculinities is always domineering and uncomplicated (which is more a matter for the following Chapters), this Chapter has suggested that the nature of their representations in Men’s Health, Sport and Jump implies their supremacy. Whether or not this reading is echoed by audiences will be explored in the following Chapter. In light of the recognition that semiotic analyses are often rooted in the subjectivities of the researcher, the following two Chapters aim to address this matter, meaning it is the intention of both to attempt to understand better how other white men interpreted, read and reacted to this sample of purposefully selected images. As Brooks and Hébert (2006) suggest it would be remiss of any study aiming to understand representational strategies to ignore the views and interpretations posed by others. For this reason, Chapter seven presents an account of how media imagery influences white men’s sense of themselves, while Chapter eight explores the ways in which white men use media imagery of athletic bodies to help them construct the Other. While the imagination of the self implies instinctively the construction of an Other, the Chapters are divided as such, in order to allow for a detailed exploration of both techniques but certainly should not be read as two exclusive processes.

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Chapter eight: Athletic bodies, media images and white masculinities

The next two Chapters focus on the stories told by white men. Throughout I explore the plurality of white masculinities and white men’s identities to avoid proposing a narrow, essentialist framework for theorising representations of whiteness and masculinities in sport and leisure media. However, during this Chapter in particular, I seek to understand how the white men interviewed in this study understand their racial and gendered identities, both collectively and individually. I do this by analysing the responses and stories that were generated after I presented participants with the selection of images I have discussed in the previous two Chapters. It is important to note here that it is the purpose of the next chapter to explore, how participants describe, circumscribe and engage with Otherness. More specifically, it is the purpose of this Chapter to focus on how participants referred to their relationship with their body and how they understood a sense of self. First, the Chapter begins by exploring how media images of athletic bodies influence how participants discussed embodied and racialised discourses of white masculinities. Second, the next section explores how white men see themselves, not as privileged social beings but, as “normal” and “average” people who are unable to recognise their white male privileges. Thirdly, I explore how technologies of self and body are employed as resistive strategies which enable white men to counter threats to their historical links with positions of privilege and systems of supremacy. What follows then is an attempt to comprehend more fully the fears, perceptions, anxieties and desires, as evoked by media images, of white men which helps reveal how white masculinities operate.

The perceived importance of “color, hair and bone”

Although the wonderful developments of human history teach that the grosser physical differences of color, hair and bone go but a short way toward explaining the different roles which groups of men [sic] have played in Human Progress, yet there are differences — subtle, delicate and elusive, though they may be — which have silently but definitely separated men [sic] into groups. (W.E.B. Du Bois, 2007 [1897]: 8)

W.E.B. Du Bois (2007 [1897]: 8) captures the social significance with which the morphological characteristics of “color, hair and bone” are (self)ascribed by society. However, over a century later, and in light of the ways in which participants read, negotiated and engaged with media images of athletic bodies, this section explores the “subtle, delicate and elusive” embodied similarities/ differences in order to render the operations of contemporary white masculinities visible.

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Most Like me …

During interviews, after I had placed the entire sample of images in front of the men, I asked: “which image or images are most like you”. This question challenged participants to make sense of the multiple signs, meanings and motifs that permeated from the mosaic of images, which were placed in front of them. While meanings of images are indeed plural, floating and subjective, participants ascribed the athletic bodies in front of them with racial meaning. For instance, Cris, a twenty-one year old, gym and free weights enthusiast, interprets the question above as one about racial sameness:

That’s quite a difficult question and I am trying to think of a way to answer it [pause] … I can deal with these [images of Daniel Ilabaca (figure 21) and Kirk Miller (figure 6)] because they are white and I am white so if you took away all the hard work they have done these images wouldn’t be [as muscular and defined] …

Cris finds this particular question, asking him to find a representative image of himself, problematic at first; however, he does eventually begin by identifying with two white athletic bodies. For Cris, their bodies offer corporeal assurances that are Figure 21: Traceur, Daniel Ilabaca appears on the front cover of Jump, in a manner not most useful to help him understand too dissimilar from Men’s Health (source, himself. Without knowledge of their Jump magazine, November 2010, front cover). politics, morals, class background, education or other subjectivities, the raced body is the first place Cris visits for signifiers of sameness. Thus, as opposed to hair style, eye colour, physique, facial hair, age, sex or other embodied characteristics, which equally could be viable markers of sameness, for Cris, white skin is assumed to be the most appropriate starting place from which to define those “most like me”. Moreover, Preston, a thirty-two year old personal trainer and gym instructor assessor, too expresses similar views regarding which body he is “most like”:

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I’m associating with [Kirk Miller] because I’ve read [Men’s Health] and [Jonny Wilkinson and Daniel Ilabaca] as white males …

Similarly to Cris, Preston told me that he is able to identify with the images he does, primarily, because he perceives these men to be fellow white men. While other men may not have chosen to openly discuss phenotypical differences, all of the participants responded to questions of who they identify with by discussing or pointing out images of white men. It is relevant here to note that a minority of men did also identify with bodies that they did not perceive as white and I comment on this in Chapter nine. Nonetheless, it is important to assert here that my question, which was designed to allow for an element of autonomy, was interpreted as a question relating to the body but, more intriguingly, participants indeed applied a racialised logic to the matter of embodiment. That is, it was absolutely notable that phenotypic whiteness, for these white men, in an increasingly fragmented late modern society, which indeed provides multiple possibilities for increasingly complex identity formations, nevertheless remains an important, if not primary, factor in identifying both the collective ‘us’ and the individual ‘I’.

“They are not like me”: The ‘obviousness’ of racial difference

While participants expressed receptiveness toward white athletic bodies, other media images of athletic bodies however proved to be more difficult with which participants could identify. These difficulties often illustrated some of the techniques which these white men used in order to navigate the complex identity politics of ‘race’, belonging and social inclusion/ exclusion. In reference to Juan Vargas, for instance, Sebastian, a thirty year-old salesman and gym-goer, remarks: Is that guy white or black?” while Bradley, an eighteen year old traceur, states that Ronaldo is a “white male .... I don’t know why just […] because he doesn’t look a black orientation [sic]”. Within these particular responses, Sebastian and Bradley both apply black/ white dualistic thought in order to navigate a racialised politics of inclusion/ exclusion; thus, both men struggle to categorise these particular athletic bodies because they challenge and distort their conceptual framework. Further illustrating the difficulties participants had in deciding which bodies are and are not white, others such as David, a twenty-five year-old, parkour instructor, begin to problematise the usefulness of an overly simple black-white dichotomy:

Well if you sat me down and you gave me all those pictures and you said “Right, pile of white people, pile of black people” there would be probably three, which would be Ronaldo, Dolce & Gabbana and this guy, Juan Vargas, that I’d have to put in an ‘other’ pile … [The men in the D&G advertisement] are all reasonably the same colour but, yeah, OK they would pretty much be

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white, but then you’d get that kind of Hispanic […] that kind of […] I’d have to make a third pile because I wouldn’t be able to say whether [Karim Aun (figure 22)] was white or black.

What is particularly worthy of note is that David implies he believes there should be an ‘other’ category. While he does not specify whether the ‘other’ category he sees as useful would be called “Hispanic”, or whether it would be rather one of a few ‘other’ categories, he does begin to acknowledge the failings of black-white dualistic thought while continuing to construct and rehearse another racial category for future use. Thus, while he retreats from committing Figure 22: Karim Aun (source: Men’s Health, November 2010, page 58). Ronaldo or the Italian footballers to a ‘Hispanic’ category - a racialised group emergent only recently and popularised largely by American discourses on immigration from Central and Latin America - his conversation with himself reveals that he understands there to be something that is not ‘quite white’ about Ronaldo and the bodies within the D&G advertisement. Thus, while David indicates that his omission of the Italian footballers from the category “white” was a little hasty, suggesting that Ronaldo and the Italian footballers are pushed to the peripheries of whiteness, his failure to decode Karim Aun’s racial or ethnic identity leave him in, what might be termed, a racially ambiguous no-man’s-land. Exploring the boundaries of whiteness further both David and Jake, also a parkour instructor, continue the debate into which media images of athletic bodies are/ are not white:

Stefan: So at what point do people become not white?

David: Pretty much once you step into the kind of Eurozone, like if you get from the kind of Spanish look is I wouldn’t necessarily say is a white person look but then you could say French people…

Jack: I think it’s odd because we are now associating with a lot of other things rather than just the tone of the skin, and when you think about white Caucasian [sic] you certainly think American, Irish,

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British, Welsh, Scottish to a certain extent and I think there’ll be a part of you that thinks very pale white but then it’s more the society that we live in now that there’ll be a tan added to that, so even though we are seeing skin colour that could be considered very dark, you know it’s still ultimately a very pale white skin underneath and it’s the actively tanning that changes that.

David: You’d also go on features and stuff, like this Karim guy doesn’t have a white person’s face, it may sound judgemental but it’s true if I put that face in front of you next to Jonny Wilkinson you wouldn’t say, if I said which one’s white and which one’s South American you would clearly choose him.

David’s role in the dialogue above focuses upon a discussion of morphologic and physiognomic “features and stuff” as primary signifiers of racial differentiation: he mentions explicitly skin tone and bodily characteristics as a means of understanding who is white and who is not; while he is also implicit in suggesting that nationality is also a factor. Jack agrees with David that a person’s nationality or ancestry also impacts upon a person’s right to be ‘properly’ white. And so, while both men use biological, phenotypical and evolutionary discourses as tools to negotiate their confusion regarding which bodies are and are not white, they also conflate whiteness with Britain and, more interestingly, America. In other words, people and athletic bodies believed to have ancestry within the “Eurozone”19 (which seemingly does not include Britain), or more specifically those who were not claiming (white) “American, Irish, British, Welsh, [or] Scottish”20 identities, did not qualify as ‘properly’ white. The implication here is that for David and Jake racial groups need to be further subdivided into racial and ethnic groups in order to further refine their subjective understanding of the category ‘white people’. In this sense, both men, who identify as white British, locate their own bodies, whiteness and Britishness as the “Greenwich Mean Time” of normativity which reminds us once more that the category ‘white people’ is not fixed but dependent on an individual’s construction of the category.

19 The term Eurozone was presumably used to refer to continental Europe, and not to the monetary union within the European Union, since, at the time of the research, the term was historically significant due to financial problems within this region.

20 Jake’s identification of these particular nationalities, or perhaps geographical regions, as white is certainly interesting, particularly given that the evolutionary discourse and language he uses: Blumbach’s category of ‘Caucasians’ is derived from a belief in a particular peoples from Georgia (not Angeln, Saxony or Jutland, or any other region or peoples who have historically inhabited Britain) to be the most ‘proper’ example of this group. While my own position is that “Caucasian” is a useless term, Jake, a university graduate, evidences the uselessness of biology to define the category “white” – a social construct.

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While some athletic bodies posed questions for white men, regarding who is and who is not “like me”, some participants were altogether unequivocal in their rejection of particularly black athletic bodies as being emblematic of white men’s identities:

Preston: Well there’s the obvious … Obviously he’s black, so there is that that is different.

Paul: Well first of all stating the obvious, we are a different colour. They are not like me …

Of particular interest within these two testimonies from Preston and Paul (a forty-five year- old, public sector leisure manager) is the certainty with which these men declared black men as “different”. However, more significantly, these two particular men state that they believe there to be “obvious” dissimilarities (read: differences in skin colour) between black athletic bodies and themselves, of which I was supposed to be acutely aware. Thus, it may be the case that others failed to acknowledge this difference quite so explicitly because of its ‘obviousness’ or its taken-for-granted, ‘common-sense’ status in contemporary British society. This argument may be further strengthened given that none of the participants cited the images of Yakini or Sebastian Foucan as “like me”. These particular attitudes regarding skin colour and its supposed marker of racial boundaries serve most obviously to demonstrate that the body, and which racial group it is thought to belong to, remains a particularly important site in the politics of identity formation and thus cannot be dismissed as a meaningless or out-dated mode of including/ excluding. In this way, these white men continued “the writing of difference on the skin of the other” (Hall, 2000: 5) and in doing so perpetuate a reification of whiteness and blackness. A consensus across various disciplines rightly points to the inaccuracy and inappropriateness of assuming ‘race’ or phenotypical characteristics are proper ways of ‘knowing’ about people. Yet despite this, the responses of participants in this research, suggests that matters such as skin colour continue to be significant for white men when negotiating notions of racial/ ethnic inclusion and exclusion. As Smolash (2009: 247) asserts,

Race (that shifting, slippery set of categories, which informs and is informed by media narratives) is itself a marker of belonging or exclusion. In the contemporary moment of overheated security discourses, racialisation once again marks the human body as a visible sign, an Other that can be recognised—and positioned as dangerous outsider— on sight.

In other words, the matter of skin colour, a visible sign and racialising feature of human embodiment, was a common feature of participants’ interactions with images which is a

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finding most at odds with any declining significance of ‘race’ theory. Thus, the (physically) trivial differences of colour, hair and bone persist, for the white men in this study, operate as initial and meaningful indicators of the (embodied and cultural) self and ‘the Other’. The willingness to take the corporeal body as an ‘obvious’ indicator of racial difference then also signals the operation of a colour-based everyday ‘race’ logic which continues to operate in the making of the self and processes of Othering. That is, for Paul, Preston, David and Jake colour remains a ‘viable’ and ‘useful’ marker of ‘racial difference’ which establishes crude racial lines between their own bodies and racialised Others. This is a particularly important recognition in that, not only does it challenge yet further the myths of colour-blindness but, it refutes the claims made by everyday, liberal discourse that ‘race’ is no longer a significant factor during social, sporting or professional exchanges. And so, regardless of how academics conceptualise ‘race’ - as a performance, as social construct or as a collection of signs and motifs – this research suggests that those subscribing to everyday discourses of ‘race’ continue to believe in its importance and usefulness as a real means of social organisation. While this argument does not wish to deny the instrumentalism of the complex self, a concept impelled by poststructuralists and their recognition of multiple subjectivities, rather it acts as a reminder that racialised inclusion and exclusion - as a complex process which is institutionally and regionally situated – is not completely dislocated from “the old corporeal certainties of skin colour” (Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2007: 1 2). Thus, the myths of “color, hair and bone”, despite the fragmentary nature of the complex late modern subject, remain salient markers of the white male self (and the racialised Other) and cannot therefore be dismissed as socially extraneous.

“I feel like a kind of normal guy”: The great white male under siege

The recent demand to interrogate whiteness (not as a racialised category but as process) has exposed various privileges afforded to those people who are perceived to be white, one of which is the luxury they have to see themselves as unraced, normal and ordinary. In this way whiteness is used as the unmarked and unacknowledged “absent centre from which everything else is judged” (Hylton, 2 9: 69). For instance, bio-racist ‘explanations’ of white athleticism hardly ever centres around a discussion of white athletes having less fast-twitch muscle fibres since, as traceurs Ashley and Bradley ‘explained’ to me, it is often the case that black athletes have additional or extra physical abilities and features. During this section then, I wish to further this argument by illustrating how a ‘whiteness = normal’ logic was operative during interviews. ‘Normal’ is a word that implies ordinariness, regularity and conventionality and was used by Bradley, Sebastian, Paul, Neil, Scott, Cameron, Ian, James Terry and Jamie in

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order to negotiate and articulate a sense of self. In addition, the adjective “average” also emerged as a prominent feature of Scott’s, Paul’s, Stan’s, Christian’s, Karl’s and Dan’s responses, particularly to questions that challenged them to articulate how the images made them feel about themselves. Furthermore, these two words were not only commonly expressed as being useful to understand their sense of self but they were also used in testimonies interchangeably and/ or as complementary to one another:

Scott: I’m quite ‘average’ and ‘normal’ …

Paul: Possibly might say ‘average’ … Here we go, staying with a theme, perhaps ‘normal’.

In this sense, the usage of the term “normal”, in conjunction with a sense of being “average”, implies that these white men indeed see themselves as culturally, as well as corporeally, commonplace, mediocre and unremarkable. That is they have the privilege to see themselves as ‘the norm’. While this sense of normality may lead one to argue that white (Anglo) cultures thus locate themselves as the benchmark against which all other racialised cultures and norms are measured, it may also be suggested that these discourses of normality may help us to better understand the relationship between white men, masculinities, their bodies and their ability to capitalise and construct white male privileges and powers. In this next section then, first, I highlight the insecurities which white men express about their bodies; second I suggest that white men often centralise their own individual experiences of (real/ perceived) injustice; and lastly, I argue that black masculinity is perceived as a threat to white male supremacy. Thus, I will argue that it is the belief and wider acceptance of white (Anglo) masculinities as ‘normal’ which mobilises an important paradox: namely, white men are represented as vulnerable, under threat and deprived which is a discourse that is instrumental in allowing them to remain powerful, superior and advantaged.

Exploring ideal masculine types and corporeal insecurities

Men are increasingly subjected to the gaze of researchers attempting to understand the effects media have upon contemporary masculinities and embodiment. However, as has been stated before, this research explores the specificities of how white men experience their bodies in relation to media images. And so, here it is important to note first how participants described, demonstrated and articulated ideal masculine bodies and how they experienced and positioned themselves in relation to it. For participants the ideal masculine body was most often assumed to be:

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Preston: … reasonably muscular but not too hypertrophied.

Sebastian: … you know, decent body, trim, not a lot of body fat, six pack, decent sort of muscle tone, decent sort of chest.

The images of Miller, Ronaldo and Ilabaca (all who were broadly recognised as white or peripherally white by participants) were often referred to as being particularly desirable incarnations of this ideal male body type. Also of note then is the way in which discussions about masculinity, which revolved around white (and peripherally white) athletic bodies, also functioned to highlight an implicit racialised politics (Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2007: 169) vis-à-vis imaginations of the ideal masculine body type. Conversely, those bodies, particularly those in the D&G advertisement, who were supposedly “not well built”, had “no definition” (Terry) or were “too skinny” (Ian), were criticised. Yakini, too, was also often decried for being “a little bit too OTT, big, bulky” (Sebastian). Thus, while the men interviewed differed greatly in their training intensities, ages, sports, physical activities and working and educational backgrounds they all nonetheless echoed, accepted and validated media discourses of the ideal masculine body as being visibly (but not necessarily actually) strong, athletic, (not overly) muscular and lean. And so, while these white men were keen to stress that they indeed see themselves as “normal” and/ or “average”, in relation to the athletic bodies in the media images they also asserted that they possess definite potential to “do better”. This is a particularly important theme which also arose during interviews whereby participants expressed a desire to strive to change their bodies: Paul best explains, “[i]t’s not necessarily that I’m content, because I would like to tone up and I realise the benefits”. This desire to “tone up” reveals dissatisfaction with the physical capabilities and aesthetics of the body. In other words, whether or not participants saw themselves as comparable to the athletic bodies in the images they nonetheless expressed, either explicitly or implicitly, an awareness of their bodies being under surveillance from the gaze of others. In this way, the men within this study indeed felt vulnerable, pressured and exposed to the judgement of others, which for them discloses their normalness. To develop this point further David’s fantasy about being displaced into Karim Aun’s body highlights a particular fallibility felt by some white men:

I’d be taking the Boxing Clever [body], I would, look at him! … If you went out for one night as him you would be swimming in it. I think women prefer tanned guys.

Here, the use of the word “tanned”, reveals a level of ethnocentrism in that the process of tanning involves a modification of the body’s “normal”/ white complexion to a different and more (hetero)sexually appealing skin tone, often associated with Others. And so, we are

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able to see whiteness as the norm also manifesting within the seemingly mundane activity of tanning. An extract from my research diary helps further the notion that some white men do not unconditionally value being ‘too white’:

The group of men who I had been training [in the gym] with the previous day had invited me along to use the sauna facility with them, after training … After getting back into the changing rooms, and out of the shower, I started to dry off. Suddenly, I heard a commotion on the other side of the changing room. It was the guys I had been training with. So I picked up my towel, wrapped it around my waist, and went over to see what was going on. “You went in first last time Mark!” I heard one of them say. “Yeah I know but the missus is waiting for me downstairs so I’ve gotta be quick, tonight!” Mark replied. “Well, be quick or we won’t all get a go before it closes”, said a third voice. And as I had been used to when I had worked in gyms before, these men were quite nonchalantly play- fighting over who would use the sunbed first.

During the following Chapter the argument for a desire for Otherness is explored further; however, it is my aim here to emphasise the desire of white men to modify their white bodies, and in so doing their masculinities, in order to comply better with the ideal masculine body types commonly set forth in media. In relation to the media images then the majority of men expressed differing degrees of dissatisfaction with their bodies. This is certainly not to suggest that these men were clinically depressed about their physiques or corporeality, yet this desire to change and to modify, whether bodily or mentally, nonetheless infers that these men did not feel wholly content with their bodies as they were. Thus, by drawing upon testimonies which highlight white men often engage in techniques designed to ‘improve’ their bodies, it becomes clear that participants did not see themselves as innately superior; on the contrary, their desire to modify the colour of their bodies implies pale white skin, for instance, is considered a maker of mediocrity. For the participants of this study then, ‘improving’ on one’s corporeal body was a valuable and necessary project.

What about me? The white man as ‘victim’

The body most certainly operates as a significant site of identification, since it is most often the first symbol of self that is seen when communicating who we wish to be to others. However, when the body is unable to tell the story of who we are and what we are, the telling of stories is an equally important way of communicating our identities. The testimony of Cris who grew up in a single-parent family, who lives and has worked in an area that is overwhelmingly white for the majority of his life is able to demonstrate this. Cris’ circumstances exemplify the politically tricky ground, which scholars need to tread, in order

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to render visible white male privilege while remaining sympathetic to the importance of other modes of domination to which white men are subjected. Hence, in discussing how he feels about the images of athletic bodies Cris began describing the privilege of others and the misfortunes he has experienced:

… all the resources these people have around them enable them to do what they have done. Whereas I couldn’t stay on at college because of financial hardship which has always been an issue and that sort of stuff. As I said, privilege [is an important word] because these people have the resources to do what they have done.

Here Cris ignores a contemplation of the histories of the media images of athletic bodies in order to interrogate his experiences of hardship, which he believed prevented him from achieving the same levels of attainment as the men in the pictures. The sentiments expressed by Cris reveal how he feels that he has been hindered by certain events and circumstances in his life, which leads him to adopt a ‘what about me?’ attitude. To develop this argument further, James too describes how the men in the photos are at an advantage to him since his job prevents him from training as much as he would like:

The other [body shapes of Ronaldo and Wilkinson] there’s a lot involved with that, there’s a lot of CV work going on there and there’s a lot of time and a lot of effort, and the other thing I will point out is with all of these I’d imagine they’ve got a lot of time on their hands or they are being paid to do all this, so they’ll have nutritionists working alongside them, I haven’t got that, they’ll have people working on different aspects of the game or different aspects of the sport, I haven’t got that.

Conversely, while discussing the common stereotype of “black people” and “crime”, Ashley is keen to express how white traceurs also experience prejudice:

Even we get [stereotyped as criminals], we get it ourselves, not necessarily being black. I’ve had trouble from [security at a university] saying “Why are you doing this?” A couple of the lads, a group of them, all white, they were in some flats that had been closed down, training, and they got arrested for attempted burglary because they were doing parkour in there, do you know what I mean?

This is certainly not to say that these experiences and circumstances are unfounded or that the prejudices these men have faced should be overlooked. And to do so would be dangerous and discriminatory. However, it is necessary to acknowledge that, at no point do these men, acknowledge they have and retain the privileges of rarely if ever having had to worry about racist/ sexist behaviour affecting their physical activities/ work, to speak for their ‘racial’ group, to educate people that their ‘racial’ group are a heterogeneous social collective

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of people with diverse tastes, beliefs and interests (Hylton, 2009) or to pick up a magazine and see someone with a similar ethnic background represented positively within,. On the one hand, these testimonies demonstrate the differing degrees to which white men can mobilise their privileges (since it is dependent on more than simply being perceived as white and male). As Mac an Ghaill (1999: 142) argues, in relation to white, English, working-class and Irish students’ feelings of exclusion at school:

From within [the] reductionist black-white dualistic model of oppositional structures, ‘whiteness’ speaks power and ‘blackness’ speaks powerlessness. Hence, public sector professionals are unable to respond to white, working-class accounts of feelings of exclusion except to read it as further evidence of a racist stance that is seen as structurally pre-given. Anti-racist policy informed by a principle of exclusivity is unable to address the ethnic majority’s current experiences, concerns and anxieties.

In this sense, it is important to recognise that “whiteness does not exempt people from exploitation, it reconciles them to it. It is for those who have nothing else” (Ignatiev, 1997b: 1). While this is an important distinction to make, what the above testimonies also demonstrate is how the notion of white male privilege fails to be something of which these men are conscious. On the contrary, as Gallagher (2000: 83) notes, “[m]any whites took the opportunity to articulate a narrative of their whiteness that was based on victimization” which is a move that attempts to establish a sense of powerlessness. In this way, these men did not seek actively to impose themselves as superior. This is especially important to note since white men’s sense of themselves as being “normal” or “average”, and their very real experiences of oppression, prevents them from seeing their everyday taken-for-granted privileges. That is, their lived misfortunes serve to persuade these men of their unspectacular humanity and ordinariness meaning the many freedoms that they are able to exercise while exercising, applying for jobs, shopping or travelling, for instance, remain invisible 21.

The threat of Black masculinity

Importantly, and consistent with St. Louis’ (2 4) notion of “racial logic”, a significant number of participants often described how “black people” were assumed to be born into bodies capable of achieving extra-ordinary physical feats. In this way, “black” bodies were believed to possess ‘biological differences’ and were also assumed to hold racialised embodied

21 This perceived sense of injustice can thus lead to an apathy for the lived experiences of others because, as liberal left-leaning mantras purport, racial equality as all but been achieved (see also next Chapter ‘race’ as non-issue for a more detailed argument).

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characteristics that position them as physically, (and in certain contexts) socially and culturally advantaged. For instance, traceurs, Bradley and David explain, explains that

Bradley: [Scientists] have measured the long [fast-]twitch fibres and the short [slow-] twitch fibres and there is a difference [between white people and black people] of 60 to 40 [per cent].

David: In general coloured people [sic] are more dedicated to sport I think … Well when black guys do parkour they can jump higher and run faster.

In addition, fellow traceur, twenty year-old Ashley asserts that there is a

… difference between the distance that [black men] can jump and [white men] can jump and … when you look at it … it actually does show. … this is actually another thing that I can prove, is a stereotypical black man in a sense of do you know them being more athletic – if you watch most of the black footballers when they score a goal, what do they do? Run off and do a round-off back-flip, but you don’t ever see any of the white footballers doing it do you? Cos I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of them do it, I’ve only ever seen some of the foreign black players doing it.

While, the notion of biological ‘race’ has long been contested, the above testimonies reveal the physiological ‘differences’ between white men and black men were a salient and everyday ‘truth’ which often surfaced when white male supremacy was challenged. That is, they often felt a need to ‘explain’ their own inadequacy. The following two testimonies, first from eighteen-year-old traceur, Curtis, and then forty-seven-year-old gym-goer, Sam, demonstrate how ordinary it was for participants to discuss notions of biological and genetic ‘differences’ between themselves (or “normal people”, in the words of Sam) and “black” or “coloured” people, with me (someone they perceived to be a fellow white man):

Curtis: … whenever a black person starts parkour they straight away erm they can out jump any white person. They can jump massive distances and we have to train hard to jump like a tiny distance compared to them. So generally, black people are a lot more powerful to white people.

Sam: To be fair, I suppose certain individuals could be like this [points to image of Karim Aun] - with these, what look like, or what people look at and they think are the perfect body types - but you’ve either probably got to be genetically prone to have a body like that, which some of the coloured [sic] people are. Some of the coloured [sic] guys they are genetically err […] They seem to be able to have a body like that and do bugger all! Do you know what I mean? Or you’d have to train every day for hours and you’d have to

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almost eat all the right food. For normal people, if you call them that, you ain’t going to train every day.

Sebastian: you see certain races [points to Idowu] I think being more successful in certain sports, i. e. anything normally to do with jumping or to do with something that looks like wrestling or boxing or whatever else, they always get involved in them.

These first two testimonies, above, also demonstrate the belief that white men have to engage more time and effort in more complex and difficult training practices and “eat all the right food” should they wish to attain the same level of muscularity or athleticism as their black male counterparts. In this way, black masculinity is imagined as homogenous and so too are black men, who are not afforded the luxury of being understood as individuals; rather they are perceived as biologically advantaged bodies which occupy both inconsistently and illogically sub-human and super-human discourses. While these arguments are not new they are important to recognise so as illustrate how this sense of black physical superiority can be understood as a menace to white (Anglo) masculine supremacy. That is, white understandings of black masculinity, which is often conflated with hyper-masculinity (a notion often assumed to be abhorrent and negative), pose difficulties for the traditionally privileged position of white masculinities inasmuch as it challenges one of hegemonic masculinity’s most fundamental assumptions: ‘real’ men are only so if they are strong, athletic and, in the words of Men’s Health, “physically complete” (Harris, 2010: 149). Thus, as hyper-real imagery and hyper-real bodies become ever more commonplace, rather than hyper-real mediated black masculinity existing simply to undermine, trivialise and sexualise (which it does), it also represents and manifests as a challenge to white supremacist discourses.

“I don’t feel worthless”: Down but not out

The main purpose of this section has been to illustrate how an overwhelming belief in being “normal” or “average” functions to cloak the everyday privileges of white men. Indeed, the white men interviewed during this study did not express a conscious sense of being superior or privileged. In contrast, as they discussed the images of athletic bodies, the white men in this study told of their corporeal insecurities, social and biological disadvantages and their personal experiences of hardship. Importantly however, alongside this narrative of hardship, a sense of (racial or gendered) inferiority or subordination did not feature amongst the stories which were told during interviews. Thus, while adversity coexists quite neatly with the self as “normal”, insomuch as relations of power are everyday realities, feelings of inferiority do not sit as easily alongside the semantics of normality since this would imply that

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these men perceive modes of domination to be confronting them in a disproportionately unjust manner. The distinct absence of impassioned arguments about injustice around issues of racism or sexism may indeed be due to the reluctance of men, who are commandeered by dominant discourses of masculine behaviour, to share emotional and personal accounts of their lives and inner-most tribulations. That is, they may have wished to hide such overtly political and racialised confessions from me, for fear of being ridiculed. However, on the other hand, it may also be the case that their white (Anglo) male privilege has enabled them to negotiate their social worlds without experiencing such explicit and forceful episodes of racialised or gendered injustice. This is not to deny that white men do experience some racism; however, by not disclosing their experiences of racial prejudice, if indeed they had experienced it at all, the testimonies of these particular men support the claim that ‘reverse racism’ is uncommon (Doane, 2 ). Moreover, to further this argument, when confronted about the salience of prejudice in sport and leisure the testimonies of Othered men and women, around the world, others are not so shy in coming forward with stories of racism and sexism (see van Sterkenburg and Knoppers, 2004; Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2005; Ratna, 2007; Spracklen, 2007; Ratna, 2008; Burdsey, 2010; Hippolite and Bruce, 2010; Massao and Fasting, 2010; Ratna and Lawrence, in review).

Surveillance and self-regulation: White men and resistance

The previous section has highlighted the insecurities of white men and their awareness of themselves. However, this next section goes on to document the practices and techniques of self which participants employ in order to counter the social and cultural transformation occurring during late modern times. Here it is important to acknowledge that the body is not simply a vessel which is dominated but also a site through which resistance is inscribed and performed; it therefore exists simultaneously as a site on and through which white masculinities reconstruct and normalise white male privilege. As discussed, a particular pressure which participants felt was that they should conform to the ideal forms of (media) male embodiment, which advocates lean, toned muscle, dangerously low percentages of body fat and psychological discipline as being traits of the archetypal man. Thus, in order to increase muscularity and leanness, and with it their sense of how masculine they were, participants often described how they self-regulated their behaviours, desires and social interactions:

Cris: [The gym] takes over your whole life – my whole day is planned out what I do for one hour to the next … my friends may think I come across as selfish but I have to

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do these things and if I go out I will be thinking I should have done this or I should have done that.

Jason: I give myself a set time for that and I can see myself progressing, I track my weight every so often or every week or every couple of weeks to make sure I’m putting on the lean mass, I can adjust my diet here and there, add a bit of extra carbs if I’m not putting enough on or, you know, just tracking your weight, you can see the goals, look in the mirror and you can – when you reach those goals.

“Obsessed is a word the lazy use to describe the dedicated” (a phrase I was introduced to during observations (Research Diary, p. 34).

Carefully considered diets, meticulously planned eating times and a deprioritising of social interaction so as to maximise bodily exertion when training (for whatever physical activity one did), which in many instances resembled rituals of masochism, were actions that were all designed to achieve that “sort of chiselled look” (Cris). These practices highlight the manifestation of modern modes of power within and on the body but also demonstrate that the gaze of the male self has shifted to an auto-erotic fascination with one’s own body aesthetic22. Despite the differing levels of commitment and application toward achieving a lean, muscular body, in nearly all of the testimonies, not being perceived as “well built” or as appearing “too skinny” or too fat were deemed to be detrimental to the participant’s social status. Hence, participants believed that phenotypic bodily characteristics such as size, strength, muscularity and athleticism provided them with greater agency to exert influence and technologies of domination over others. For instance, James, a twenty-four year-old gym goer, and aspiring physique model, asserts that he focuses time and effort into developing a muscular physique so he could get “a bit bigger” so that “you won’t be picked on as much”. Sebastian also explains:

because I’m in sales … it is about image and going out to see customers and whatever else. That part of looking good helps me to feel confident.

Furthermore, Preston emphasises:

this fella’s [Kirk Miller] using his masculinity [which he conflates with his body] to trap his women.

22 I use this term to elucidate how men place their own bodies under surveillance and begin to desire their own physiques.

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Whether it is for the sake of getting ahead in a career, to portray to customers a confident aura or to succeed with women, participants saw significant value in investing time in disciplining their bodies. Scott makes this point particularly well:

the big thing for males in general would be more power and strength … the bigger they are, the stronger they are, the more power they have over other people.

These practices then support the notion that a shift is occurring from “labouring with the racialised body … to labouring on a culturally inscribed body within conditions of reflexive/ aesthetic modernity” (Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2 : 168). That is, the body’s importance and perceived power has become less about what it can do and more about what it is perceived to be. Thus we may also say about media representations of the athletic body what Debord (2006 [1967]: 120) remarked about the spectacle insomuch as it “aims at nothing other than itself”. Furthermore, considering the privileges that white men assume are afforded to those that own “well built” and/ or “toned” bodies, and also considering participants often considered themselves to be ‘victims’, white athletic bodies operate as points of resistance. That is, “where there is power, there is resistance” (Foucault, 1978b: 95-96). And so through their practices of self-regulation the body becomes a site and “opportunity for freedom” (Markula and Pringle, 2006: 36). In other words, self-regulation and the cultivation of an athletic body act as resistive strategies which counter threats to white male supremacy. However, it is important to note here that these resistive strategies or technologies of “bodily ‘reconstruction’” are “not equally open to all … racialized bodies” (Gill et al., 2 5) in sport and leisure in comparable or easily transferable fashions. For instance, because white men are not commandeered by myths of their innate physicality, as are black men, their pursuit or attainment of a muscular, athletic strong body does not perpetuate harmful, essentialist folklores of their inherent primitivism and brutishness. In contrast, the white athletic body, precisely because it is assumed to be ‘naturally’ physically disadvantaged, emerges as a symbol of discipline, dedication and morality. In other terms, using the pursuit of the athletic body as a means of resistance does not translate as easily to black bodies as it does to white athletic bodies because the physiological and psychological ‘nature’ of white and black bodies is assumed to be different. The amount of time and effort invested in embodied practices assumes athletic bodies afford particular social privileges to their owners. However, these white men are also tasked with negotiating the problematic position of operating within culturally acceptable heteromasculine norms while engaging in embodied practices traditionally interpreted as feminine. While these men have been positioned by some between the New Man and the

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New Lad, Norman (2011) adopts a more reflexive position and describes this problem as being a result of the “the double-bind of masculinity”. This is a notion derived from Burdo’s (1999: 242) assumption that men are often confronted by “contradictory directives” which require them to draw from multiple, competing and conflicting discourses of masculinity, at the same time. Sebastian offers a particularly typical strategy used by participants when addressing this paradox:

I think, from an early age, I’ve always liked to try and look good, not always so much for other people, I mean obviously that is part and parcel of it because if you lived on a desert island on your own you are not going to give a monkey’s what you look like I suppose to a certain extent … For the sake of growing old gracefully, but then again, I think I’ll always keep an interest in looking good and try and make myself look […] I think, you know, how I know I can look, because if I think I let myself go I think I’d be more annoyed at myself … I think because I’ve always maintained a fairly decent level of fitness and the way I look and whatever else I think if I went below that I think I’d be more upset with myself than kind of letting myself down than anything else.

While down playing the importance of “looking good”, Sebastian does acknowledge that the masculine body and its maintenance serve a very important social purpose:

it’s all about looking good, looking good for yourself, but maybe even to a certain extent, looking good for the opposite sex and looking good because you want to look confident and look as if you are giving off a positive, healthy, good kind of image.

Sebastian’s cool, indifferent attitude towards being too involved with his bodily appearance acts as a tactical move which then allows him to ‘safely’ acknowledge that he needs to “look good” to satisfy others. Importantly however, while Sebastian begins to justify his interest in his own body by acknowledging the importance his physique has for others, he is also quick to retreat from fully occupying this position so as to emphasise that his primary concern is to “not let myself down”. Thus, by asserting his gym-going is motivated by his own intrinsic desire to exercise, Sebastian presents himself as independent, disciplined and responsible for his own health and wellbeing. This declaration then enables Sebastian to emphasise masculine traits such as individuality and self-reliance, in order to counter any accusations that may arise which understand his body maintenance/ reconstruction project as a feminine one. In turn, this technique of self-regulating one’s own body then sanctions men to safely engage in feminised practices such as embodiment and body modification, without their white

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heteromasculinity, and thus their privileged social position, ever coming under extensive scrutiny. The ordinariness of techniques of self-regulation within the testimonies gathered from participants was significant. A growing body of research has documented this phenomenon (Gill et al., 2005; Markula and Pringle, 2006; Norman, 2011; Pronger, 1995); however, while a fear of surveillance may influence practices of self-regulation, what makes this particular technology of the self so influential is the way it produces, for those who conform to self- regulation, in line with dominant discourses of masculinity, suitable reward. Self-regulation acts as a discursive strategy, which allows these men to counter ‘feminine’ behaviours, while also allowing them to resist threats to white male supremacy by converting the physical potency of the body to symbolic and cultural capital. In other words, by working on the body so that it better resembles mediated masculine ideals, white men are able to negotiate the discordances and contradictions of late modern times by repositioning themselves as authoritative and privileged figures.

The pursuit of body and mind

While the previous section suggests that the body fulfils an important symbolic function, participants also emphasised how improving their mental capabilities was also a valuable endeavour. In the pursuit of the ideal male athletic body then participants stressed the importance of being familiar with the more abstract and philosophical elements of their physical disciplines so as to be more efficient with their bodies while exercising:

Ashley: I … looked into the philosophy of it all [parkour], and there’s so much more in-depth meaning to it than just running about and jumping off walls like most people see.

James: I’ve picked up quite a lot of things, either by talking to people, asking what books to get or what I should be reading up on or what’s good for them. But magazines: I always used to read through magazines and listen to the information you are taking in and if you could fit it into your training

Participants were keen to emphasise how much “research” (James, traceur) they had done or how much “knowledge” (Preston, gym-goer at Barristers) they had about their individual sports or physical activities. Thus, the virtues of the mind very much constituted how the participants of this study understood themselves. The notion of body and mind also framed how participants spoke about the images of the athletic bodies they perceived to be white. Nineteen year-old, Karol explains that, fellow traceur, Daniel Ilabaca

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is one of the greats … [because] I think it is to do with his mentality – he is very free in whatever he does. He just moves how he wants to move – he doesn’t compare himself with other people. He just does what he has to do – he just moves freely. So his style is unique.

Ilabaca is evidently known to Karol, beyond his body, yet it is significant that Ilabaca’s style of movement is believed to have been derived from his mentality, morality and individuality - he does not mention any genetic, cultural or social explanations for his athletic abilities. This is in direct opposition to his understanding of black athletic bodies who he told had an innate physiological advantage over himself and his white traceur friends. Moreover, Ashley, too, who earlier on in this Chapter also contended he could “prove” the inherency of black physical supremacy, cooed over Ilabaca’s mental approach to PKFR:

… I absolutely adore his views on parkour cos he’s not just about the philosophy, he’s kind of got his own mind-set completely different to everyone else. Not only that but we have a thing in common which helps me kind of see the way he sees, which is Christianity, cos we are both Christians …

Evidently, these particular men understood Ilabaca to be spiritual, individual and intelligent, which, for Karol and Ashley, are all cognitive attributes that have helped him become physically superior and “one of the greats”. Interestingly, however, there was not a philosophical distinction between traceurs and gym-goers in that both groups claimed to be in pursuit of an ideal body-mind nexus. Thus, participants from across all of the communities interviewed, commended Jonny Wilkinson for his philosophically enriched disciplining of the body:

Paul: … I’d go with the Jonny Wilkinson one. Aesthetically, because that’s I think what we are mostly talking about, aesthetically he’s got the physique that I would most aspire to out of all of the images, plus it’s a functional physique, it hasn’t developed just through going to the gym for vanity reasons, it’s developed because he’s a sportsperson and the training he has done has always been specific to that.

Terry: he is probably the complete man. He’s got personality, he’s got the looks, he’s playing part of a successful sport and team in England, he’s a household name with a clean image and reputation, so a lot of people would probably pick that. He’s probably got a great physique under there as well.

Wilkinson was also described as “a clean cut bloke” (James, traceur), “down to earth” (Preston, gym-goer at Barristers) and as someone who “would embody some of the principles that I’ve got, you know a healthy lifestyle, clean, professional, smart image” (Paul, gym-goer at Barristers). Throughout the discussions that occurred around the image of

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Wilkinson, participants identified him as the “complete man”. While all of the images of white athletic bodies were used by participants in order to demonstrate ideal male bodies, the image of Wilkinson, which was deemed to enclose a congenial and sophisticated personality, was a prominent point of reference for those men wishing to illustrate how exactly they aspired to “do better”. Hence, for James, Preston, Paul, Karol, Ashley, Neil, Bradley, Sam and Terry, Ilabaca and Wilkinson’s bodies and abilities, were thought to be expressions of their philosophical approach to their sporting disciplines which is in distinct contrast to the iconography of the black athletic body (I expand on the nature of its representation in the following Chapter). The ways in which participants understood how the two men acquired their status then, in their respective disciplines, was not through physiological advantage but through techniques of self-regulation such as discipline and commitment. Illuminating the racial identities of the men who were bestowed with both the virtues of body and mind, especially considering the explicit distinctions which were made between black and white bodies, highlights further the operation of an implicit, and in the case of black bodies explicit, racialised logic. That is, while participant’s interpretation of the “complete man” were institutionally and contextually specific, and given that none of the men claimed to be the “complete man”, their aspiration to perform their own masculinities in ways which resemble idealised white athletic bodies (and minds) suggests not just their association with white bodies but a glorification of white (Anglo) masculinities. Thus, given the participants’ belief in black sporting and physical superiority, concurrent with the notion of white male normality, morality and mediocrity, Wilkinson’s and Ilabaca’s rise, to the tops of their sporting disciplines, implies the legitimacy of white male supremacist discourse. That is, it serves white men’s interests to glorify, overstate and frame all-encompassing representations of white male athleticism within a body-mind nexus, because it reaffirms the “complete”ness of white male athleticism but also reassures those white men whose bodies may not be so “complete” that men “most like me” can make a reasonable claim to be superior.

Conclusion

Throughout the last Chapter I have argued that the body is an important site on which white masculinities are enacted, understood, read and performed. Indeed, they are not fixed, singular monoliths but rather are plural, shifting and inconsistent identities. However, I also suggest that a clear sense of “we”, founded upon a belief in the myths of colour, hair and bone, remain socially significant morphological characteristics that participants assume are real and meaningful indictors of the embodied self. That is, although whiteness and

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masculinity are acknowledged as increasingly fragmented social identities participants worked to reconcile this fragmentation by accepting the authority of masculine and racialised norms as important discursive resources when constructing an imagined group identity. Thus, rather than believing in race or masculinity as labels that are innate to bodies at birth, the white men in this study indeed worked to perform and construct white masculinities in ways which gave them a sense of collective identity. In this sense, the sporting and physical environments to which these men belonged did not appear to be significant in terms of how they read bodies and/ or understood the symbolism of white and black athletic bodies. During this Chapter I have also trod carefully in presenting the concerns which white men shared with me, as they are too susceptible to modes of domination, but I have also sort not to deny the privileges that are afforded to individuals who are perceived to be white men. In adopting a theoretical framework informed by both poststructuralism and CRT, which allows explorations of the racialised body as both a site of resistance and domination, this Chapter has explored the complex ways in which sport and leisure and sport and leisure media serve to establish the white male self as normal, victimised, under threat but both mentally and physically capable, nonetheless. In the following Chapter then I seek to further this discussion by shifting the focus away from how it is that white men understand themselves and onto the ways in which they construct and engage with processes of Othering. And so, since the self is often imagined through the construction of the Other, the next Chapter will inevitably both explicitly and implicitly expand upon some of the issues and debates raised during this one.

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Chapter nine: White men, media images and the Other

The previous Chapter focused on how it is the white men whom were interviewed understand their corporeality, their masculinities and how they negotiated racialised notions of inclusion and exclusion through discussions of the athletic body. This Chapter will now address the ways in which these same men discussed, constructed and circumscribed notions of the Other. The Other is a term that is used during this Chapter to refer to a body or group of bodies, including women and white ethnic minorities, who, at any given moment, are discursively constructed as being different from the ideals of dominant (Anglo) white masculinities. However, it must be asserted that “[t]he place of the Other must not be imagined … as a fixed phenomenological point, opposed to the self” (Bhabha, 2 8 [1986]: xxx), meaning, at any particular moment, the Other for white men may be numerous things and will depend on context and subjective interpretations. That is also to say however that at all times processes of Othering serve simultaneously to define the self. In this sense, the Other is a concept that is neither completely fixed nor completely unfixed inasmuch as cultural context plays an important role in defining who is and who is not Othered. Furthermore, the term Otherness is also used during this Chapter but should not necessarily be understood as racialising practices or processes, and is distinguished from the racialised discourses of whiteness and blackness. Nevertheless, it is a term that encapsulates a variety of social and cultural discourses of difference, including embodied notions of ‘racial difference’, meaning that it is not a racialised discourse per se but it is a process which draws upon racialised discourses in order to operate. First, so as to explore the processes and practices with which participants engaged in, so as to understand and ascribe Otherness, I begin by deliberating white men’s usage of the term ‘race’ and its significance as a marker the Other. This section examines white men’s difficulties articulating their thoughts, feelings and desires about racialised Others and argue that this conceptual uncertainty supplements and reinforces myths of colour- blindness. During this section, I explore how these men define ‘race’ and how this conception impacts upon their ability to know about themselves as raced. Second, the next section discusses the complexity of relations and the productive dialogue which occurs between white men and notions of Otherness and how this exposes the racialised nature of white men’s desires. Finally, the latter stages of this Chapter explore the ways in which the participants of this study articulated a racialised politics of peripheral whiteness, often through homophobic attitudes, and the centrality of heterosexuality to dominant notions of white (hetero)masculinity.

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Racialising the Other: From conceptual uncertainty to coded ‘race’ talk

During interviews, I often invited participants to consider the racialised aspects of the images of athletic bodies, chiefly toward the end of the interviews and would ask: “how does this collection of images help you think about race and ethnicity?” Curiously, in light of the relative ease participants had spoken to me about masculinity and male embodiment, including their own, the responses to my questions about the racialised aspects of imagery was often confused and inexact. The immediate responses were marked by bewilderment:

Scott: I don’t really know.

Callum: [long pause] I don’t really know.

James: Race? I would say [people] from different countries but different coloured skin?

Ian: I’m stumped mate. Could you make that question a bit broader please?

Preston: … what was the question again sorry?

I certainly did not expect an eloquent sociological or indeed biological explanation documenting the ontological realities or otherwise of the existence of ‘race’; however, participants’ consistency in their puzzlement, when confronted by matters of ‘race’, is certainly worthy of further enquiry. And so, whereas the previous Chapter illustrates that masculinities and male bodies were topics the white men in this study could talk about relatively freely and confidently, ‘race’ proved a difficult subject for them to articulate. Indeed, the inability of participants to explicitly engage with issues of ‘race’ poses difficult questions for analysts who wish to understand the semantics of “I don’t know” (Bonilla-Silva, 2002). That is because, as Bonilla-Silva (2002: 42) reminds us, while “rhetorical moves to save face or nervousness for thematically-induced incoherence” can produce multiple interpretations, this does not mean that an inability to discuss ‘race’ can tell us nothing about contemporary ‘race talk’ or attitudes towards ‘race’. For example, Bonilla- Silva (2002: 43) notes:

[t]oday using words such as “Nigger” and “Spic” is seen as an immoral act. More significantly, saying things that sound or can be perceived as racist is disallowed. And because the dominant racial ideology portends to be color blind, there is little space for socially sanctioned speech about race-related matters. Does this mean that whites do not talk in public about nonwhites? As many researchers have shown, they do but they do so but in a very careful, indirect, hesitant manner [emphasis added].

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These observations, particularly those that focus on the notion of socially sanctioned speech and hesitancy, are useful to explore some of the unconventional and uncertain terminology used by participants to talk about the racialised aspects of male bodies. Participants would navigate awkwardly racialised terminology, and often reluctantly, by stuttering and mumbling terms such as, “coloured-type-people” (Preston, gym-goer at Barristers), those of “black orientation” (Bradley, traceur) or “coloured origin” (Jason, gym-goer at Barristers) and more worryingly people of a “bad ethnicity or poor ethnicity or background” (James, gym-goer at the Public). These examples point to “how incursions into forbidden issues produce almost total incoherence among many whites” (Bonilla-Silva, 2002: 41) and highlight the ambivalence with which these white men entered into discussions about ‘race’. Furthermore, Terry, a manager of a lift installation company, who purports to have lived happily in various multicultural areas of a major English city, and tolerant liberal, demonstrates a weariness of using language that could further exacerbate this ambivalence:

are we allowed to call them black people now? Yeah, its coloured people we are not allowed to call them, isn’t it

As Terry thinks aloud, he demonstrates a political awareness of the unwritten rules of ‘race’ talk: “we” (read: white people) should be careful about how “we” discuss “them” (read: racialised Others) because if “we” do not use socially acceptable terminology we may expose our ignorance or be labelled as racist. And so, as the dominant liberal discourse on ‘race’ proclaims, racialised terminology should be treated sensitively, or preferably not used at all, since talking about matters of ‘race’, in public, exposes “the omnipresent colorblind ideology” (Feagin, 2 1 : 99) and its fallacies. The puzzlement and/ or reluctance expressed by participants, toward the racialised aspects of media imagery and athletic bodies is a consequence of their inexperience of their own raced identities and of their ignorance towards the daily struggles of some against racisms. For instance, Sebastian, a middle-manager and sales executive, explains:

I don’t really think about race in sport the way some people go on about it, it’s never really been anything […] race in general is something that doesn’t really cross my mind …

Sebastian claims not to be aware of how issues of ‘race’ affect his everyday lived experiences of sport and leisure or how it affected the experiences of Others. In other terms, it has not been necessary for him to comprehend the notion of ‘race’ during his leisure time. His indifference towards the importance of ‘race’ as a mediating aspect of bodies in sport and leisure then implies that he has never been confronted by negative racialised experiences and thus has very little incentive to actively challenge racism and racial

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prejudice, never mind begin to consider its importance for others. In turn, Sebastian retains the freedom to ignore. In other terms, it is difficult to see what you do not come up against, it is difficult to articulate what you do not feel and therefore it is difficult to challenge what you do not perceive to be there. This is not to be read as a defence of Sebastian, on the contrary, it is a comment on how in failing to be aware of his whiteness, and the ways in which this protects him from racial prejudice, he trivialises how others may experience ‘race’ in sport and leisure and is thus complicit in perpetuating a white supremacist system that systematically dismisses ‘race’ as a matter of importance for everyone. Issues of ‘race’ and racism then were viewed by participants as a feature present only in the images of Black male athletic bodies. And since they were interpreted as questions about racialised Others, participants were particularly wary about being labelled ‘racist’. For instance, when participants were asked about ‘race’ and its significance to the images in front of them, I observed the eye movements and hand gestures of participants:

After I’d asked questions about the matter of ‘race’ and how it related to the images. It struck me that most, if not all, of the participants either first picked up or directly looked at the images of Foucan, Yakini, and Idowu while they mused over how best to answer my question. (Research Diary, page 14)

More explicitly, when I first introduced the notion of ‘race’ to participants, some men would begin to navigate this issue by telling positively framed stories of “Usain Bolt” (James, traceur) and “Carl Lewis” (Ian, gym-goer at the Public). Delgado and Stefancic (2001: 67 - 68) discuss this tendency for white people to engage with the topic of ‘race’ as if it were a ‘black issue’. With reference to an America context they state:

‘Race’ means, quintessentially, African American. Other groups, such as Asians, Indians, and Latinos/as, are minorities only in so far as their experience and treatment can be analogized to that of Blacks.

This example also resonates in a British context; ‘race’ was rarely assumed to be a matter for white or British Asian bodies and was nearly always something to do with the black male athletic bodies on display. However, what is particularly interesting about James’s and Ian’s positively framed testimonies is that “they can produce a racist effect whilst denying that this effect is the result of racism” (Solomos and Back, 1996). In other words, by offering ‘positive’ readings of black athletic bodies, a technique which was intended to highlight they were well-meaning and tolerant toward black peoples, treating ‘race’ as a matter for black male bodies reveals how their testimonies remain connected to and complicit in reinforcing the notion of a black-white binary.

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Participants then interpreted the notion of ‘race’ as a sign and term of Otherness of which black bodies are the most “obvious” (Paul, gym-goer at the Public) symbols. I seek here not to reinforce the idea that white men are not raced but, to demonstrate that white men did not acknowledge that ‘race’ was something that was applicable to them or to the images of white men such as Jonny Wilkinson, Daniel Ilabaca or Kirk Miller. On the contrary, the matter of ‘race’ for the white men of this study remains emblematic of black male athletic bodies. This is a recognition that highlights the continuing significance, for these men, of an essentialist black-white paradigm when understanding the self/ the Other. Thus, articulating and navigating issues of ‘race’, racialised inclusion/ exclusion and sameness/ difference proved to be a politically and conceptually tricky task for those speaking from within this deterministic paradigm. And so, more importantly, what this section is able to highlight especially well is that white men give very little consideration to the importance of ‘race’, the problem associated with colour-blindness and/ or what it means to be a white man, participating in sport and/ or reading sport and leisure magazines, in a predominantly white society (Feagin and O'Brien, 2003).

White men, colour blind racism and talking about Others

While ‘race’ and racism were issues with which participants engaged in only when questioning gave them little other choice, nonetheless, they did discuss the racialised aspects of imagery if often only by implication. All of the men interviewed were keen to express tolerant attitudes towards ‘racial’ and ethnic difference which was a recognition that alluded to their awareness of the public unacceptability of vulgar racial prejudice. In this way, their attitudes towards ‘race’ and racism fell neatly in line with common-sense definitions of racism as something which is singularly and inherently negative, discriminatory, old fashioned and/ or bigoted. While this remains a particularly inclement form of racism, locating prejudice within a narrow colour-based paradigm misunderstands the nature of contemporary racisms (Back et al., 2001; Mac an Ghaill, 1999), which have evolved to encompass nuanced and often ‘positively’ framed cultural racial stereotypes (Giardina, 2 ; Hokowhitu, 2003). Moreover, Hylton (2009; 2010) expands on this idea and urges scholars to be equally critical of popular liberal doctrines of ‘race’ as they are of those on the political right since the actions of liberal left leaning ‘anti-racists’ may not extend past the wearing of a commercially endorsed rubber wristband (in reference to the Nike campaign: Stand Up Speak Up). Here I wish to take up this challenge by identifying the dominant discourses in which participants located themselves within in order to discuss and articulate their understanding of Otherness.

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As outlined in the previous section, ‘race’, for the participants of this study, was interpreted as an issue that was ‘something to do with Others’. Therefore, when ‘race’ was discussed in the context of media images of athletic bodies, participants, keen not to be labelled as racist, would often assert that ‘race’, for them, was a ‘non-issue’. In this way these men purported to be colour-blind. Therefore, a denial of the significance of “race”, “ethnicity” or “colour” in the life stories of the athletic bodies pictured in images was common: “everyone is equal and got their own talents” and “any colour can do any of these sports” (Cris, gym–goer at the Public). In addition, the comments of Paul, the manager of two leisure centres, located in a largely white, semi-rural town, on the edge of a major English city, are worth noting at length to highlight his keenness to marginalise issues concerning ‘race’/ Otherness:

Stefan: OK, I wanted to ask the same sort of question [to that which I’ve just asked about masculinity] but related to race and ethnicity. So how does this collection of images help you think about race and ethnicity? Are there any sort of messages relating to race and ethnicity which are communicated?

Paul: I hadn’t really thought about that greatly apart from the Umbro with the Juan Vargas or whatever his name is … So that’s the only thing, but in terms of the other stuff, I can see that some guys are white and some are black and that sort of stuff but apart from that it doesn’t say anything else to me, I’m not bothered about that. This fella [Thanda Mutero] who does the free running, I can admire for what he does knowing that’s what he does without necessarily having seen him because that’s just an amazing thing to do. The wrestler, so he’s black and he wrestles – so what? If he’s successful then I’m not worried about that, there’s black and there’s white wrestlers, so no, no particular image there, I’m not surprised by a black man being successful in athletics and it doesn’t give me any particular images there either to be honest. I don’t suppose I’m that affected possibly by it, perhaps I’ve had the equality stuff drummed into me so much, working at the council, I’ve been brainwashed.

Interestingly, Paul’s answer to my question about ‘race’ and ethnicity relied heavily on the images of Black male athletic bodies which highlight the argument above about ‘race’ = black. Furthermore, he is also keen to outline his anti-discriminatory politics in relation to the presence of differing ethnicities within the sample of images. While he acknowledges that “some guys are white and some are black”, and in so doing recognises the racialised elements of the athletic bodies, he then claims he is “not bothered about that”; however, the fact that he identifies these racialised categories, and considering, in the last Chapter (see page 166) Paul asserts black skin is a sign of “obvious” difference, demonstrates that he does recognise ‘race’ and is “affected” by it. And so, Paul, like Sebastian, not only refuses to acknowledge the racialised aspects of the images when he is given the chance he also

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contradicts his earlier assertions, regarding the “obvious”ness of racial difference, by claiming ‘race’-related matters are inconsequential for him. This strategy of denial, which one the one hand serves to establish difference but on the other serves to trivialise its importance to the lived reality of those who it affects negatively, thus “allows whites to smooth out racial fractures in their otherwise color blind story” (Bonilla-Silva, 2002: 52). However unlikely, Paul may be an example of a white man who has achieved a post- race consciousness and does not harbour racial prejudice toward ethnically differing athletic bodies; however, his reflection on whether he has been “brainwashed” is an interesting admission which refutes his claims of neutrality when confronted by matters of ‘race’ and media imagery. Paul’s use of the term “brainwashed” is particularly interesting since this term implies that he has been conditioned, against his will, to think that matters of racial equality, and issues diversity and inclusion more broadly, are relations of power that cannot be ignored. In this sense he uses the term “brainwashed” in a pejorative way and expresses an implicit dissatisfaction with having to consider racial equality, when he clearly thinks he is not “affected … by it”. His choice of words suggest that Paul is indeed conscious of ‘race’ but, in his role as a public sector leisure manager, he has been taught or coerced (as his choice of words suggests) not to air issues relating to the delicate and politically volatile matter of ‘race’ or racism. Thus, a simple rebuttal of the significance of the racialised aspects of imagery, despite the obvious contradictions in his testimony, allows him to end dialogue on the complex and delicate debates about racial stereotyping in sport and leisure media and the broader debates about ‘race’ and racism. Locating themselves within a discourse of ‘race as a non-issue’ in sport and leisure, whether tactical or ignorance, proved to be a common semantic move. Colour-blindness then was one particularly important discursive resource which participants used with the intention of remaining within the realm of socially acceptable ‘race’ talk. While for Paul marginalising the issue of ‘race’ was used as a technique that afforded him a liberal and tolerant public persona, Cris and Sebastian also used the same technique for different ends:

Cris: it … doesn’t matter what race or ethnicity you are, you can always do […] but I heard somewhere that the blacks are a dominant race for some things

Sebastian: […] race in general is something that doesn’t really cross my mind that much apart from the fact that you see certain races I think being more successful in certain sports - i.e. anything normally to do with jumping or to do with something that looks like wrestling or boxing or whatever else, they always get involved in them.

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The notion “everyone is equal and got their own talents” or the claim “any colour can do any of these sports”, are once again rehearsed within these two testimonies. However, the first part of Cris’s and Sebastian’s utterances can be identified as strategic disclaimers, used to distance the speaker from the opinions they are about to voice. In the case of both Cris and Sebastian, they indeed start off by adopting liberal views toward a body’s athleticism and capabilities. And so, the latter parts of each man’s utterances begin to highlight further the inconsistencies of colour blind discourse. Firstly, Cris asserts “it … doesn’t matter what race or ethnicity you are” then immediately voices an opinion which suggests precisely the opposite. But so as not to align himself directly with the notion that “blacks are a dominant race”, he is rather vague about how he “heard somewhere” and that it was only applicable “for some things”. Cris thus attempts to distance himself from the very argument he is trying to put forward. Secondly, Sebastian’s approach to ‘race’ talk rather naturalises the overrepresentation of “them” (read: black male Others) in certain physical disciplines by making the overly grand claim that “normally” they do “jumping or … wrestling or boxing”23 which, notably, was how many black athletic were represented in this study’s sample of magazines. He is also keen to assert that “you see certain races … in certain sports” which is a semantic move that suggests it is “you” or others, but not “I”, that have first noticed this phenomenon. In other terms, he wishes to claim that it is not his opinion; it belongs to someone else. In first making explicit their liberal philosophical positions on matters of ‘race’/ Otherness, the views expressed immediately after this enable these men to remain within socially acceptable ‘race’ talk while also allowing them to express a more subtle and implicit racialised politics about Others. Hence, as is comparable to Brainard’s (2 9: i) assumptions made about white people, participants of this study “struggled with their intention not to be racist when in fact they could not help but act in racist ways”. This is not to say that participants accept or condone overt or bigoted racist actions but it does suggest that dominant white masculine sporting cultures operate upon the premise that ‘race’ is a non-issue. This is a particularly important observation in that it contributes and normalises the assumption that denials of and ignorance towards the racialised aspects of athletic bodies is a rational, normative, moral and socially acceptable position to adopt. The obverse and unspoken effects of this then are that racism in sport and leisure, outside of overt and/ or bigoted forms are irrational, peculiar, ethically or morally questionable and socially improper.

23 In the previous Chapters I argue that these are common stereotypes that were found within my sample of magazines.

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Disturbing the peace: The dangers of (public) denials of ‘race’

Race, for us, is like the miner's canary. Miners often carried a canary into the mine alongside them. The canary's more fragile respiratory system would cause it to collapse from the noxious gases long before humans were affected, thus alerting the miners to dangers … Those who are racially marginalized are like the miner's canary: their distress is the first sign of a danger that threatens us all. It is easy enough to think that when we sacrifice this canary, the only harm is to communities of color. Yet others ignore problems that converge around racial minorities at their own peril, for these problems are symptoms warning us that we are all at risk. (Guinier and Torres, 2002: 11)

For Guinier and Torres (2 2) the metaphor of the miner’s canary is one which alerts us to the toxic properties that are aligned with the myths of ‘race’ and to the pervasiveness of racialisation within our world. Or in other terms, just as a sportsperson may wish to reduce the impact a reoccurring injury has on her/ his body, by administering painkilling injections, this action will not cure the injury and will inevitably become worse until painkillers will no longer work. Hence, at the outset of the study, one aim was to utilise elements of dialogic performance to discuss media representation, racialisation and racism with participants to ask them to consider the debilitating effects of more subtle forms of covert racisms that are rarely identified. The purpose of this technique was to discuss implicitly the usefulness of employing a CRT approach while they consumed and read media sources. As the previous Chapter outlines, participants’ understanding of ‘race’ was fundamentally flawed, inasmuch as their navigation of the concept was riddled with contradictions, and thus efforts to engage with a meaningful discussion regarding ‘race’ became very difficult. And thus, as Bonilla-Silva and Baiocchi (2008: 163) suggest, “[n]ever before … has an honest and frank discussion about racism or racial inequality and its causes been so difficult to broach”. Leonardo (2 4: 14 ), too, is concerned by this inability to have public discussions about ‘race’ and appropriates this with a sense of white fear and guilt:

White guilt blocks critical reflection because whites end up feeling individually blameworthy for racism. In fact, they become over-concerned with whether or not they ‘look racist’ and forsake the more central project of understanding the contours of structural racism.

This study echoes these sentiments insomuch as the anxiety caused by asking participants to deal the racialised aspects of media images of athletic bodies, made it decisively more difficult to act on my initial intentions which were to use CRT as a pedagogical tool.

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Nonetheless, as is outlined above, opportunities did arise to discuss ‘race’-related matters and I would thus break free from my ‘neutral’ interviewer persona to explore certain attitudes and offer alternative ways in which they could understand the workings of racialisation in media imagery. This testimony from Cris reveals the scepticism with which my alternative perspective on ‘race’ was met:

I could look into [the notion of ‘race’ as a social construct] and see what I am thinking about it. I might change my ideas and get more knowledge about it.

Even more tellingly, participants would often fall silent and wait for me to ask another question. I interpreted this silence in a number of ways: (1) “I genuinely don’t know what to say to that - I’ve never thought about it”; (2) “I don’t appreciate you challenging my view on this matter. You won’t be changing my assumptions and you may not like what I have to say”; or ( ) “I’m unwilling to enter into this kind of discussion with you”. While retrieval of the exact nature of participants’ reluctance to talk about ‘race’ is impossible, what is likely is that their hesitancy to engage in conversation about ‘race’ seriously diluting the impact I had hoped dialogic performance would have on their perceptions of ‘race’, masculinities and Otherness in sport and leisure media. As Guinier and Torres (2002: 12) assert, ignoring and bypassing issues of ‘race’ and its importance for understanding the lived experience of Others, and the self, is akin to “outfitting the canary with a tiny gas mask to withstand the toxic atmosphere”. That is, silence acts as a metaphorical gasmask which keeps the canary (or ‘race’) alive and thus allows the social ills that arise from processes of racialisation to be marginalised and left unconfronted. The poisonous gas (or racism) is then able to fester in the realm of the everyday, and surrounds media imagery, sport and leisure environments and wider society. It should then come as little surprise when racism eventually and momentarily permeates the defences of the gasmask (or when overtly racist views are occasionally voiced), which causes the canary (or racially marginalised communities) serious distress24. Hence, should we wish to eradicate the persistence of racialisation we must foster pedagogical environments in which frank conversations about ‘race’ and racism can be had. When I outlined the social constructionist thesis of ‘race’ (importantly, I did not use sociological jargon when I did this), participants were not quite sure how to react. I read this uncertainty as a reflection of participants’ reluctance/ inability to articulate an opinion on the matter. In other terms, without being adversely affected by racism they are deprived of an

24 A particularly good example of this is the Ron Atkinson episode which is described in Chapter [x]. While ITV do particularly well at keeping the gasmask firmly applied to keep overt racism at bay, the poisonous gas of racist bigotry becomes too much and the gasmask is overwhelmed but momentarily. When the episode is over the faults with the gasmask are corrected and ‘race’ and racism carry on parading as non-issues.

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adequate vocabulary of ‘race’ or stories about how racism has affected them. Thus, it is little surprise that these men were unable/ unwilling to recognise racial stereotypes within the images or racialised modes of domination. And so, without a critical framework accompanying their passive reading and consumption of racialised imagery, harmful essentialist racialised categories are always at risk of being subsumed and accepted as ‘truth’ more readily than had participants had been privy to more critical discourses of racialised media representation.

‘Explaining’ the underrepresentation of British Asian male athletic bodies

In the previous Chapter I also explored how participants often utilised discourses informed by biological reductionism in order to define white masculine identities in opposition to Black masculinities. However, I now wish to analyse the prevalence of cultural racism, as presented in the guise of ‘matter-of-fact’ stories, to frame the Other (Feagin and Vera, 1995; Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Picca and Feagin, 2007; Feagin, 2010), which feature within the testimonies of white men. When discussing Black athletic bodies, for example, participants would often make inexact, deterministic statements about cultural practices and behaviours which they associated with particular images and ethnic groups: “In general coloured people [sic] are more dedicated to sport I think” (James, gym-goer at the Public). Jason and Preston, for example, speculate about the lack of “British Asian” athletic bodies in my sample of magazines:

Jason: … there isn’t many [British Asians who are athletic or muscular], there isn’t many that would get [muscular and toned] like [the men in the images], whether it’s to do with religion. Obviously they are committed to their own religion and it does tie them – I’d see it as holding them back from a lot of things, but I think you might see the different generations coming through and the way we see as being a different generation coming through where it’s not focused on religion and it is a bit more integrated … but then again it might have something to do with the parents’ issues and what the parents want for the kids, because obviously they look up to their parents, the Asian community tend to look up to their parents and do what they are sort of told to do. I think that would be a bit of a stumbling block with a lot of sports or activities.

Preston: Whether it’s an editor’s choice or whether it’s a cultural choice, more than whatever, I don’t know. A lot of the Asian guys I know, that I assess, family- wise they wouldn’t actually be allowed to [feature in magazines]…

These ‘matter-of-fact’ stories, highlight how British Asian male bodies were often described as belonging to a homogenous group and were often thought of as being disadvantaged by “religion” or “family”. Moreover, my observations of a significant number of men who I read

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as being of South Asian origin, using free weights, and who were considerably larger and/ or more toned than me or my participants, directly opposed the notion that British Asian men do not wish to or cannot become muscular. Nevertheless, rather than evoking biological or scientific racism, which are forms more commonly associated with black men, perceived cultural difference in language, religion, family structures, dress and cuisine (Bonilla-Silva, 2002; Modood, 2005), have all manifested themselves within white male explanations of British Asian men’s supposed (non)involvement in sport and physical cultures. In simpler terms, racism(s) continually reinvent themselves in different contexts. Furthermore, DiAngelo (2004: 215) identifies how the discourse of meritocratic individualism, which breeds cultural racism, further informs Jason’s attitudes inasmuch as it,

teaches that success is independent of privilege, that one succeeds through individual effort and that there are no favored starting positions that provide competitive advantage … [hence] failure is not a consequence of systematic structure but of individual character.

In other terms, rather than underrepresentation being due to institutionally and individually racist practices, in sport and leisure media, or, fundamentally, sport more generally, British Asian communities are accused of being self-segregating and illogically conspirators against themselves. Cultural racism is perpetuated by the lack of British Asian bodies in sport and leisure media, and vice versa, which provides superficial and unsubstantiated ‘support’ for myths about cultural differences being barriers to sporting inclusion. Here, I wish to tie the notions of cultural racism with a symbolic annihilation of British Asian male bodies from sport and leisure media whereby they have a symbiotic relationship with each other. Entman and Rojecki (2 2), assert that, partially because of residential segregation, ‘whites’ learn about Blacks through media. Therefore, should there be an acceptance that sport and leisure spaces operate meritocratically, then the invisibility of British Asian bodies in media implies that British Asians have not been able to achieve in the same ways as their black and white counterparts. As the logic of this argument would contend, it is then a reflection on their bodies and not the systems in which they exist. Furthermore, Paul is keen to employ a more jovial and frank tone as he discussed British Asian underrepresentation in the sport and leisure magazines:

‘the Asians’ haven’t had a good press over the last few years … So they are not going to find it into mainstream […] you know, people will joke about Asians when they are around and that sort of stuff, and there’s that perception of almost fear of them isn’t there? “What are they going to do?” “Are they going to blow us up?” and all of that sort of stuff so, you know, if that is a reflection of what society thinks […] Where was I the other day? I think I might have been watching […]

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oh, it was The Four Lions was on wasn’t it, which is about the four Asian lads who do a bit of terrorism in their own way, but you know if that perception is there and if you are talking about trying to sell magazines and that’s by a front cover and latterly the content within it, if the Asian society has a bad press they are not going to sell magazines. So not for something where you want people to aspire to want to do something or buy something, then perhaps it isn’t the right image that’s coming across.

Here Paul explains how “the Asians” and South Asian male bodies have for him become a metonym of terrorism and also cites this assumption as a pivotal reason for the absence of British Asian male bodies in sport and leisure media. He continues, “perhaps they aren’t as photogenic [as black or white men] simple as that …” which is a statement that places them at odds with ideal types of mediated masculine bodies and serves to perpetuate colonial discourses of South Asian bodies as ugly and dirty (Brah, 1994; Brah, 1996; Kalra et al., 2005). In this way, Paul perceives the Asian bodies not to be representational of “the right image” in the same ways that are Kirk Miller and Jonny Wilkinson. Paul’s comments suggest an aesthetic racial hierarchy to be in operation which positions British Asian men as being less aesthetically pleasing and in turn less appealing to commercial markets than white or black male athletic bodies. In this sense, the degradation of British Asian male bodies reinforces racialised relations of power by the way in which ‘old’ colonial arguments are recycled and reapplied, and thus given currency, in a contemporary context and to the contemporary fascination with embodiment. In this way, ‘old’ racist assumptions about the aesthetic short coming of South Asian bodies are made ‘new’.

The pleasures of ambiguous ethnic male bodies

In the previous Chapter I entertain the notion that white men perceive themselves to be under-siege and, in terms of their physicality and aesthetic qualities, inferior to certain Othered male bodies, which in turn leads them to self-regulate their bodies to counter emerging threats to white male supremacy. This suggests that participants’ were indeed aware of different performances and embodiments of masculinity that mediate relations of power within late modern societies, most effectively. That is, they appreciate Other ways of living with and working on the body can fulfil self-perceived inadequacies which thus enhance a sense pleasure and privilege. Hughey (2011b: 2-3) argues that it is common for white people to harbour “self-perceptions of racial emptiness” that emerge from a sense of white racial identity as “bland” and “cultureless”. For hooks (1992) it is this belief in white cultural monotony that persuades many to seek contact and dialogue with Otherness. hooks suggests that heterosexual white men desire and seek contact with Others which often arises in the form of sexual conquest for women from Othered racial/ ethnic groups. This

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notion of the ‘exotic Other’ has been used popularly to describe the relationship between white Western society’s infatuation with Otherness; yet most often it has been used to describe white male fascination with Othered women and often has pejorative connotations. This notion of a white male desire for Otherness is particularly relevant for this research, and so, it is the purpose of this section to explore how the gaze of white heterosexual men engages, interprets, and interacts with Othered male athletic bodies.

Karim Aun: The pleasurable Other

Karim Aun is reported to be a professional boxing instructor by Men’s Health, although Aun has a sizeable modelling portfolio, hosted on the website of highly reputable modelling agency, Ford Models, which features work with various multinational companies. However, Men’s Health does not inform the consumer of Aun’s modelling career. Rather, Aun’s muscular and toned body is represented to the consumer in black and white; he is described as being “South American born [in Brazil]” whose “[c]urrent home [is] Sydney, Australia”. However, this information offers those subscribing to morphological and phenotypical characteristics, as ways of knowing about bodies, few clues as to what his ethnicity may be since his name implies he is of Arabian descent, but neither is his forename or surname traditionally association with either of his two countries of residence, Brazil and Australia. In this way, Aun is difficult to locate ethnically and racially since the collection of textual signs on the page, coupled with the partial aracialising effect of the black-white hue, distorts old certainties built on modernist assumptions made about skin colour, place of birth and or given name. Reacting to the question “which image would you most like to be like”, Carl, James, Bradley, Jason, Paul, Neil, Terry and Dan, all pointed out Aun. Terry (gym-goer at the Public) and Dan (traceur) explain their reasoning:

Terry: He’s a good looking bloke and [has] a great body, smiling, looks like he’s a very happy guy … Nice smile, you know, he’s just not someone that looks ugly, he ain’t got, doesn’t look like he’s got any blemishes, ain’t got any teeth missing, cheekbones, structure, face structure, just looks a half decent looking bloke … he’s more tanned, even though it’s black and white, looks a bit more tanned, a bit more colour to him. This one’s got a tattoo, I like tattoos, like body art.

Dan: But if I was going for women, I’d be taking the Boxing Clever, I would, look at him! If you went out for one night as him you would be swimming in it. I think women prefer tanned guys.

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In both instances, the respondents agree that Aun’s desirability is found in his physical appearance. Similar reasoning was echoed by the other participants who had singled out Aun, too. His physique, which was believed to be well muscled, his tattoos, his “tanned” skin and his friendly appearance were frequently cited as attractive features. Despite this certainty over his desirability, Aun was one of the bodies that were typically difficult for participants to read, and thus respondents indeed found it difficult to locate Aun ethnically or racially:

Scott: I’m not too sure about [Karim Aun], I don’t know if it’s just the image they’ve got, he could be white or he could be mixed race, I’m not entirely sure, but I think that’s just the way the photo’s taken and it’s hard to tell for me personally.

Sam: He looks white to me but you might tell me he’s mixed race or something like that ... Well, Latino or whatever you want to call him.

Sebastian: he looks like he’s probably more half-caste [sic] I think than probably black anyway, so he’s probably got that kind of quite olivey skin tone which, to be fair, it’s something a lot of people look tanned and healthy and again it’s a sign of health generally, tans and darker skin. But ethnicity, I didn’t really think about it in that way …

While participants arrived at different and often uncertain conclusions about Aun’s ethnic and racial background, the testimonies above illustrate a reluctance to accept him, unproblematically, as a white male. Dan even goes as far as to say that “this Karim guy doesn’t have a white person’s face” and thus physiognomy, while certainly a pseudoscience, is used by him as a valid means of processing and conscribing Otherness. Thus, while Aun was agreed to be a body which was ‘most’ desirable, and who was read positively, for a significant number of men in this study, he was nonetheless inscribed as an ambiguous, pleasurable, (partially) acceptable male Other. Aun’s popularity amongst participants is significant for a number of reasons seeing that it refutes the idea that white men are hostile to all elements and notions of Otherness. In other terms, “'difference' is ambivalent. It can be both positive and negative” (Hall, 199 ). It also reveals that athletic bodies with an ambiguous ethnicity are progressively more desirable commodities of which white men are becoming increasingly envious. It also suggests that more research should be conducted in order to better understand the increased affection popular gazes have for those bodies whose ethnic and racial embodiment is ambiguous, such as Karim Aun, Jessica Ennis and Beyoncé Knowles (Bonilla-Silva, 2011; Cashmore, 2012). To further this point, admiration for Aziz “Zyzz”

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Shavershian25, a name I heard frequently during my observations at gyms, who bares significant resemblances to Aun – given that both are or had Arabian ancestry, both have tattoos laden on brown skin, both are/ were models, both were born outside but live/ lived in Australia and both take/ took considerable care of their physique – suggests that significant social and cultural transformations are occurring and influencing masculine behaviour and notions of pleasure. For the white men in this study, they coveted selective characteristics of Otherness which led some to engage in body projects that were intended to mirror the corporeality of Aun and Shavershian.

Juan Vargas and the racialised connotations of tattoos

In the previous Chapter I introduced the frequency with which participants use sunbeds as a means to modify their skin tone. I argued that, this reveals inherent insecurities within white (Anglo) masculinities since it suggests that pale white male skin is not taken necessarily as a sign of a man’s health, virility or sexual attractiveness. Building on some of the arguments made in relation to Aun, above, I wish to restate and expand upon some of these ideas from the previous Chapter. To do this, I wish to introduce participants’ reactions to Juan Vargas to demonstrate how particular characteristics of Otherness are selectively commodified and appropriated by white men (or not). Like Aun and Ronaldo, Vargas is a figure who was categorised differently by different people which also located him as an ambiguous ethnic and racial Other: “Is that guy [points to Juan Vargas] white or black? Can’t tell. Is he white? Not too sure on that one” (Paul). In this sense, Vargas was a body which divided opinion on more matters than simply his ethnicity. For instance, a particularly noticeable feature of the Umbro advertisement, of which Vargas is the central figure, are the number of tattoos that Vargas wears:

Paul: I think that [Vargas’ tattoo] looks awful, all that down the arms and stuff … whereas that one there, captain of Peru, best will in the world he looks like a gang member and doesn’t look like he would be a sportsman. So it’s the impression that it gives and unfortunately that’s the impression it gives to me

25 On the 5th August 2 11, internet celebrity Aziz “Zyzz” Shavershian died after suffering a heart attack whilst holidaying in Bangkok, Thailand. Zyzz was a twenty–two year old bodybuilder, at the time of his death, and was of mixed ethnicity. A resident of Sydney, Australia, Zyzz became an internet celebrity after posting numerous pictures of his physique on the internet, which was not overly hypertrophied but nevertheless was heavily muscled, and to date has accrued more than one- hundred and forty thousand followers on the social networking site, Facebook.

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Sebastian: The guy with your tattoos, I would never cover myself to that extent in tattoos because it’s just something that isn’t me.

Preston: I’m just not a great tattoo person. I wouldn’t have [them].

Neil: I am totally against tattoos for a start and I think he just portrays the wrong image … that you can have a tattoo and it is good for you. It seems acceptable but I don’t think it should be.

To understand the nature of what constitutes “the wrong image” we need to appreciate two things in particular: (1) the history of tattooing and body modification as a common practice amongst ‘savage’ and pre-historic tribes; and (2) the political significance of tattoos in contemporary popular culture, as embodied signifiers of gangsterism, criminality and lawlessness (all of which are terms that have been racialised incorrectly as Black issues) as well as Black cultural spaces such as (rap, grime and R&B) music and sports such as basketball. And so, implicit within the condemnation of Vargas, from a default position of whiteness, is participants’ dissociation from the racialised ideologies and cultural spaces of which tattoos are currently symbolic. Even more explicitly, Scott explains:

I guess immediate thoughts coming to mind … he’s in a tattoo studio, he’s got quite a lot of tattoos on him and with his kind of ethnic background of the Hispanic kind of area he kind of looks like he could be kind of linked in with certain gangs I guess … It would be more the LA kind of erm and then maybe more like the Mexican type area, and I think it’s just the fact that you see them in the news and the image of them and you just kind of link it just because of his race and his features and stuff.

Here Scott describes how the “image” associated with Vargas is a racialised one. That is to say, for Scott, Vargas’ “gangster” appearance is achieved by an intersecting of a number of differing visual cues, such as his tattoos and bodily “features”, all of which are read as signifier of “his … ethnic background”. In this way, his tattoos, inscribed in a black and white style, forming part of a complex motif of Otherness, are interpreted as embodied racialised accessories, emblematic of cholo gang culture or “a Columbian drug lord … or at least a dealer or something” (Paul). Of particular interest are converse readings of the heavily tattooed white male athletic body of David Beckham. For instance, Beckham, despite his body being covered in tattoos, often appearing with a shortly shaven head of hair and/ or neatly shaven stubble has often been understood as the epitome of white metrosexuality (Khanna, 2004; Rahman, 2004; Salzman, 2004; Coad, 2008), which is an embodiment of manhood that I have suggested in

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Chapter four is more likely to be described as feminine than as emblematic of “a Columbian drug lord”. Hence, while Vargas’ tattoos are taken as yet further confirmation of his “ethnic background”, and are thus understood as merely reiterative performances of a racial stereotype, the same kind of body art which adorn Beckham’s white athletic body are precisely the reason some have suggested that this body project is resistive to dominant whiteness discourses (see Karlsen, 2004). In other terms, because tattoos are considered to be embodied signifiers of blackness, indulging in these practices as a man who is perceived to be white thus disturbs ‘racial certainty’. However, Vargas’ tattoos on the other hand have exactly the opposite effect in that they actually confirm to Scott and Paul that he is “Hispanic”, which in a British context is a loaded term that implies a narrow interpretation of his character as violent, hostile and thuggish. Thus, because of their racialised significance as markers of Blackness, tattoos serve as signs of resistance and liberation for some while for Others, these same body projects, are restrictive and constricting. This provides further supports for the notion that the outcomes and significance of male body projects are received and interpreted differently depending on how the athletic body is read in ‘racial’ terms. During my observations I became increasingly aware that a number of traceurs and gym users do wear tattoos that closely resembled the style of Vargas, particularly, the black and white style full sleeve tattoo26. In this sense, although some interviewees expressed their disdain for these racialised markers of Otherness it was clear that other white men had adopted them as part of their embodiment and as important signifiers of their sense of self. For instance, Sam a forty-seven-year-old, white-collar worker, who had graduated to his current position from more labour intensive work as a youngster, has a full sleeve design covering his left arm. Predictably, Sam, who is a frequent sunbed user, was more complimentary of Vargas’ tattoos, than some of the other participants. Moreover, Sam was also keen to express how he also related to the image of Vargas more than the other images:

I would say I looked more like him, not features-wise obviously … I mean, I look at his tattoos and I think them look good and I relate to that I suppose as well”.

Here Sam is keen to assert that his “features” such as his nose, mouth and brow shape, were different to Vargas’ - and he is also keen to assert later on that Vargas is “Latino or whatever you want to call him” - but the skin tone of each man, their shaped facial hair and tattoos justified to me Sam’s initial claim that he “looked more like him”.

26 A full sleeve is a term which commonly refers to a collection of tattoos that covers most or all of a person's arm, from shoulder to wrist.

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Sam’s association and modifications of his corporeal body, indicate how the pleasures of Otherness figure as powerful embodied markers of a cosmopolitan white masculine identity. However, it may be suggested that the adoption of such racialised markers is a part of a selective commodification of Blackness in that particular racialised signs are accepted and quite literally bought in sunbed shops and tattoo studios while others are rejected. In this sense, tattoos and tanning, for instance, are particular techniques of self which embody a particular lifestyle. However, this is not to be confused with a desire to escape forever the phenotypic privileges which are associated with being read as a white male body. It is more specifically a desire to be able to draw upon those embodied racialised and Othered codes, which an individual appropriates as ‘positive’, to dip in and out of other ways of experiencing and being in the world. That is, while they may indeed disturb, challenge and reconstruct white racial identities they do not eradicate the significance of ‘race’ because these white male bodies do not and cannot escape how others will attempt to read their racial identities.

White men and the performance of Otherness

So as to not reduce the doing of embodied identities to predictable colour-based corporeal markers of sameness/ difference, what is discussed above is able to demonstrate how some participants engaged with, while others rejected, the iconography of Otherness to enhance reform and/ or remake white masculine identities. In this way ethnically ambiguous Othered bodies, which white men can (partially) relate to corporeally, can also function as differing ideal types of masculine bodies, in media, whose ethnic styles white men can adopt (such as tanned skin and tattoos) so as to counter the triteness that is perceived to be signified by whiteness. In this way the body acts as a “corporeal canvas for ethnic experimentation” (Nayak, 2008: 172) which reveals a blurring of racial boundaries insomuch as embodied performances and an appropriation of Othered bodies illustrates a productive dialogue occurring between differently racialised practices and bodies. Therefore, if Otherness is understood as a discourse that “transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it” (Foucault, 1990: 101) then the Other can emerge as a phantom of desire and envy and as a fiction which begins to threaten dominant forms of white masculine supremacy. Not all of the men in the sample however would perform Othered bodily styles to modify their identities as is highlighted by the testimonies of participants who opposed understood tattoos as portraying the “wrong image”. In this way, an alternative reading of Othered athletic male bodies also highlights a more implicit racialised logic inasmuch as those who expressed disapproval towards tattoos were united in their acclamation of more traditional or conservative forms of white (Anglo) masculine bodily styles. That is, while

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some participants identified with men they identified with the likes of Aun and Vargas, and in many instances expressed a desire to imitate Othered body styles, equally, a number of white men indeed preferred to identify, mimic and/ or idealise white male bodies (such as Miller, Wilkinson and Ilabaca) whose performances of white masculinities are more knowable. Hence, while this is not to suggest that a narrow binary exists between men who desire to be Othered and those who do not, it to recognise that some white men selectively consider certain racialised signs of Otherness to be ‘positive’ while others actively engaging in, what might be called, racially resistive body projects.

Beyond the racialised Other: Otherness as a complex project

Presenting participants with a plethora of images of semi-naked men, out of the context provided by men’s magazines would often force them to confront the obvious homoeroticism of media imagery of male bodies. Away from the heteronormative markers often found within the sample of magazines, the images represented male bodies in a decisively different setting and thus provoked homophobic responses from participants. However, the D&G advertisement was a photograph which evoked particularly strong emotions and responses from participants who were keen to cite this particular photo as an example of “an image that is least like me”. Participants expressed three key discourses operating within the image which they used to Other the images of bodies: (1) emasculine athletic bodies; (2) homoeroticism; and (3) peripheral whiteness.

Emasculine athletic bodies

The D&G advertisement “stars five of the most representative Italian footballers” posing in a “vintage style changing room” (Dolce & Gabbana, 2 12), wearing nothing more than their underwear. All of the men within the image were elite level Italian footballers, who play in Italy’s top league, Serie A, and Italy’s national team and as such, during Chapter six, I argue the intent and representation of masculinity in this image constitutes an alternative ideal masculine body. However, participants’ most often interpreted these bodies as the least masculine bodies. For example, Ian explains that these particular bodies “don’t look fit”, Preston thinks they are “not well built” and Terry describes Domenico Criscito as having “no muscles” and “no definition”. These readings are in direct opposition to D&G’s intended message of “healthy and athletic bodies sculpted through rigorous training sessions and discipline” (Dolce & Gabbana, 2 12). Moreover, Ian (a forty-seven year old, gym-goer and triathlete) interpreted this particular image not just as emasculine but as very discomforting:

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Ian: I don’t like looking at beefcakes, I’ve said to you the last hour I don’t like them, but I like [the D&G advertisement] even less because they are too skinny, they really are. That is, crikey, it’s skull and crossbones stuff, isn’t it. I don’t like that one at all, I wouldn’t see what that would do for anybody. Why would they want to pose like that? They are probably being paid some money, there’s me again being hard-headed but I just don’t like that one at all. Vile, vile.

While James did not express such distain for the image, he does admit that theirs are not physiques he wishes to attain:

James: Looking at the Dolce & Gabbana picture, compared to the Karim one and the Jump and the Men’s Health picture, you look at the guys in boxers or trunks, whatever you want to call them, and their physiques don’t stand out as much as the other guys. Not as much definition, not as much bulk, even though they are trim, it doesn’t appeal to what I want to be like so it wouldn’t really attract me or catch my eye.

Thus, the men who were interviewed, all identified as white British/ English, did not understand the white Italian footballers as ideal male bodies, despite the intentions of the marketers, which demonstrates the fallibility of encoding/ decoding processes to work seamlessly (Hall, 1980). Thus, the image serves to highlight that gender ideals operate in regionally and institutionally differing contexts and locations in differing ways which produces polysemic values and competing discourses of white masculinities. Perhaps more intriguingly however, the reading of these bodies as unhealthy, vile and skinny, begin to expose the affects which hyper-real bodies are having upon white men’s perceptions of ideal body aesthetics. In other terms, the frequency with which “beefcakes” and other hyper-real, heavily muscled and digitally enhanced athletic bodies appear in sport and leisure media has skewed popular discourses of the fit/ athletic body. In this sense, the bodies in the D&G advertisement, who in Men’s Health, sit amidst the swollen muscles of those like Kirk Miller, are not interpreted as elite level athletes and are rather dismissed as undesirable bodies. In this sense, the symbolic and aesthetic value of the body once more is held in higher regard than the body’s ability to do.

“I’m not gay or anything”: Homosexuality and Otherness

Another particularly important sub-text communicated to participants, by the advertisement, was that of the male bodies’ inherent homoeroticism. An encounter with Jason is particularly useful to demonstrate this point:

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The first part of the interview with Jason had gone rather well and he’d given me a useful insight into his attitudes and ethos towards his gym going. At this point I’d stopped the recording so as to save space on my recorder. As I did this, I also handed him the twelve A4, laminated media images, which we were going to use for the second part of the study, and told him to get more familiar with them. As he flicked through them and placed them on his living room floor, in front of him, a wry smile began to emerge on his face. And image after image his smile grew wider and more pronounced. “Where’re all the women, Stef!,” Jason chuckled. “Not what you’re into then mate?” I joked. “No mate!” he replied jovially yet firmly, “They’re all blokes! What type of research did you say this was again?!” I found it funny as I’d asked the same question to myself, jokingly, the first time I saw the twelve images in isolation, extracted from their usual contexts. “Why did you ask that question: Where’re all the women?” I was interested to explore Jason’s reaction further. “‘Cos it’s all blokes! Blokes in underpants,” he was quick to distance himself from any contemplation that he was sexually attracted to the men in the images “it’s just not my thing!”

Jason’s initial reactions to the images were however momentary. After he had asserted that his reading of these images were in no way sexual, he began to discuss the bodies in front of him, frankly and earnestly without hesitation.

Here, Jason is nervous, even before our conversation had begun, that his responses may contradict his outwardly heteromasculine identity. Similarly, James was keen to assert, while discussing the images of bodies, that “I’m not gay or anything”, while Ashley in no uncertain terms was keen to tell me that he “likes women”. In talking about their bodies and the bodies of other men, participants at first acted uneasily; yet after they asserted their (hetero)sexuality, looking, discussing and appreciating the bodies of other men became less perturbing, even enjoyable for the participants of this study. The relative effortlessness with which these men discussed male bodies is decisively significant in that it demonstrates the pleasure that men draw from the bodies of other men. In this sense not only is homophobia a central organising principle upon which contemporary manhood is built (Kimmel, 2003), it also highlights the importance of homophobia in policing the boundaries wherein men are allowed to appreciate male bodies. In other terms, even though Ian claims not to like “beefcakes”, making homophobic remarks indeed allowed participants to “have their (beef)cake and eat it, too” (Pronger, 1998: 4). And so, the media image is instrumental in allowing men to escape and explore the bodies of other men without being stigmatised as homosexual. In this sense the media image of athletic bodies absolutely liberating and opens up significant possibilities for men to reinterpret their relationships with the bodies of other men.

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Nonetheless, while most of the images had obvious homoerotic connotations, the D&G advertisement was an image which participants reported as overstepping the boundaries of acceptable homoeroticism and caused particularly strong homophobic reactions from participants:

Sam: It looks like a bunch of gays to be honest!

Jason: I don’t like looking at it because it’s a load of gay blokes in their kecks!

Paul: It’s like a bunch of gay men!

Ashley: the only thing is like he’s a little bit gay with that pose … [Stefan: What’s “gay” about his pose?] Come on, look at the pouting, who needs to pout on a picture like that?

Although half of the sample of images depicted semi-naked, shirtless, muscular men, this particular advertisement was the only photo that provoked strong, homophobic and intolerant reactions from some of the participants. And so, despite observing the frequency with which men would use shower and changing facilities together, much like those in the picture, and despite all of the traceurs in the study admitting to training in male only environments displaying significant amounts of flesh to one another, using homophobia to distance oneself from the staged, semi-naked bodies in the D&G advertisement was an important manoeuvre in defining the self as heterosexual and Other as homosexual.

Negotiating peripherally white masculinities: The defence of white racial identity

Another commonality found within the testimonies of participants was their understanding of the D&G advertisement as one which featured “Italians”. As has already been outlined, participants purported to be uncomfortable with the amount of shiny male flesh on display in the photograph which in turn provoked them into disassociating with the image. However, interestingly enough, these bodies were not simply Othered on the pretence that they were “gay”, participants also made a point of establishing the nationalities of the bodies involved. Paul described the Italian footballers as “Poxy Italian footballers”, as opposed to simply ‘poxy footballers’, while Sam describes them as “The Dolce & Gabbana, Italian gay boys”. Hence, these choice descriptions of the bodies in the image, which are intended as homophobic and jingoistic insults, are techniques which serve to distinguish normative white (Anglo) masculinities from white Italian masculinities and heterosexual identities from homosexual identities.

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Sebastian is keen to clarify these cultural and ethnic differences which separate white masculinities by explaining how it is, he feels, that these Italian footballers are ‘representative’ of Italian masculinities, more generally:

the majority of footballers nowadays I don’t think give off a fairly masculine kind of image, especially Italian footballers [Stefan: OK, why do you say that?] Because again a lot of them it’s about the posing or whatever else, but it’s like fashion-led kind of stuff and a lot of acting and falling over and whatever else … The Italian one, I’ll go back to that one again, to me that does look very like an Italian kind of pose, but then again we’ve all been on the beach and stuff and we’ve seen Italian guys walking around, they do like their tight shorts and they are to a certain extent, you know, do look fairly similar to that dark haired, you know, they do look like if you had to pick a race for [the men in the D&G image] you probably would pick it as being Italian. They do live up, I think, to the stereotype of [how] you’d [expect] an Italian person to look.

While Sebastian questions the status of football, more broadly, as a proving ground for masculinity, he is particularly keen to draw attention to Italian men’s football as harbouring a masculine culture which is strange and bizarre. He makes reference to “posing”, “fashion” and “falling over” (a reference to diving, a form of gamesmanship) as emasculine features of Italian men’s football. This implies that their supposed flamboyancy, ostentatiousness and theatrics are anathema to white British men’s ‘determined’, ‘solid’ and ‘gritty’ approach to the game. Moreover, in order to emphasise the distinction between white Italian men and white British men Sebastian also emphasises the corporeal features of their bodies as being distinctively representative of Italian Others. Sebastian’s willingness “to pick a race” for the “dark haired” bodies in the advertisement illustrates that processes of racialisation are not reserved simply for the bodies of those Black Others and that racialisation is also informed by cultural, phenotypic and physiognomic discourses of ‘difference’. In this sense, the prevalence of ethnic stereotypes in sport and leisure media, while challenging the homogeneity of whiteness as racial discourse, nonetheless take on the status of objective representation. In other terms, the complexities of Italian masculinities are confined into one decisively simple, unproblematic social category. Racialisation thus acts in this instance as a process through which those who are Othered along national lines are treated as peripherally white and are thus positioned as both white and Other, at the same moment. And so, Ladson-Billings and Donnor (2008: 68) suggest that this ambiguous positioning of white people as Other creates a dilemma for white supremacist systems inasmuch as the “[t]he enemy is never white”. And so, in order to overcome this discrepancy, the identities and masculinities of the bodies in the D&G advertisement need to be “subsumed in a nationality or ideology that can be defined as antithetical to whiteness (e.g., Nazis, fascists, communists, Muslims)” (ibid.: 286), which in

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this instance is achieved by describing the footballers as “Italian” and “gay”. Thus, as opposed to the black bodies being marked out because of their “obvious” ‘racial differences’, the white bodies in the D&G advertisement indeed emerge as Others, but it is their nationality, sexuality, style of play and performance of masculinity which are suitable indicators of their difference. Consequently, ignoring the whiteness of the bodies in the Dolce & Gabbana advertisement, whiteness as racial discourse is allowed to retain its ‘racial superiority’ since the source of the participants’ misidentification is redirected at the footballers bodies’ ethnic, cultural, gendered and sexual subjectivities. In simple terms, “anything but race” (Bonilla-Silva, 2002: 52). In this sense, white men may indeed be peripherally white, but the Other, for the participants of this study, was never white.

Conclusion

This Chapter has outlined the intricate ways in which white men define and discuss notions of Otherness but has set out chiefly to establish that ‘race’ is by no means the only discourse of Otherness. The purpose of the first section was to highlight the consensus among participants that ‘race’ was an aspect of black bodies so as to argue that it is still absolutely relevant to both an imagination of the self as well as a site of identifying racialised Others. Namely, racialised readings of bodies are still socially significant for white men which refute post-racial notions that the raced body is an increasingly less meaningful signifier of difference. From the ‘obviousness’ of skin colour as ‘evidence’ of ‘racial difference’ to the more subtle implicit references to Black bodies as being antipodal or significantly different to the notion of the white male self, ‘racial difference’ persisted as an important mediating factor in processes of Othering. This is not to say that those wishing to campaign for greater levels of inclusion and equality within sport and leisure, and indeed within wider society, should merely accept this and not move from post-racial aspiration towards a broader project that aims to establish a post-‘racial’ reality. However, it is to say that ignoring the testimonies of these white men, which reveals they quite “obviously” do ‘see’ ‘race’ as an important signifier of self and Other, allows the poisonous gas that is racism to fester in the air of our increasingly global society. While Otherness is still imagined, negotiated and contested by the body, it is too simplistic to understand the construction of the late modern subject as being hostile to all notions of embodied Otherness or to suggest that racialised identities are always prime signifiers of difference. In other words, while racialisation continues as an important process of Othering, its significance is often read differently in different spaces and by different people at differing times. That is, white masculinities can be deconstructed to expose the problems caused by theories and political activism which are too rigidly built upon a black-

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white dichotomy. In this sense, by recognising the operation of multiple subject positions, and the intersections between differing identities, the testimonies of participants demonstrate the complexities of contemporary constructions of the self and the Other. In this way, performance is equally an important means of understanding racialised Otherness since it allows us to better comprehend the productive dialogue that is occurring between men of differing ethnicities and the differing degrees to which these men use their bodies to accept, reject and contest differently racialised bodily styles. Nonetheless, it is equally important to note that this Chapter also highlights the acceptance of differently racialised embodied features is not ubiquitous since participants’ testimonies did not demonstrate a wholesale engagement with racialised Otherness. That is, being “tanned”, “dreadlocks” and “tattoos”, as opposed to other racialised embodied characteristics, are purposely selected markers of Otherness which implies white men have the privilege to choose which racialised characteristics they adopt or reject to supplement their whiteness. However, just as with any other commodity instrumental in consumer culture, white men are able to return the goods, which they have bought, to once again reclaim the safety and privileges afforded by whiteness. In other words, tanned skin will fade, hair can be cut and most tattoos, given recent scientific advances, can be covered or even removed, but there is no escape from the “obvious” differences that these white men ascribe to black skin. And so, any consideration of the emancipatory potential of media images must, at all times, also consider its more regressive tendencies, too.

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Chapter ten: Discussing major themes and future challenges

In this final Chapter I draw out some of the most prominent themes from the research and appraise the effectiveness of the methods used which in turn highlights the contribution that this study has made to the study of ‘race’, racialisation and racism, critical masculinity, whiteness and media studies. In so doing, I will address this study’s three research aims. While the first two aims will be addressed in specific sections (beginning on page 230 and 237), the third aim will be addressed throughout the entire Chapter. By addressing the three research aims this Chapter will outline: (1) the importance of recognising the ‘race’-gender nexus when exploring media representations of male athletic bodies; (2) the privileging of white (Anglo) male athletic bodies in media; (3) the plurality of representations of white masculinities; and (4) the currency this research has as a work of activist-scholarship. Moreover, this Chapter will also highlight the usefulness of using elements of poststructuralism, within a Critical Race Theory (CRT) framework. That is, it will argue that this theoretical framework is able to equip those interested in matters of equality and diversity in sport and leisure and media studies with pragmatic methodological and analytical tools capable of recognising prejudice where other ‘race’ neutral epistemologies have consistently failed (Hylton, 2 12). In other terms, because it challenges scholars to “get real about race” (Bell, 1992: 5) and to explore “the intersections of race and gender” (Crenshaw, 1995: 358), it is well placed to expose the nuances of racialised messages and connotations operative in sport and leisure media. Throughout this final Chapter I also wish to consider this study’s contribution to Critical Race Practice. That is, at certain points I wish to highlight the usefulness of moving beyond the many conference papers, theses, journal articles and books, read during this study, which finish after summarising and reflecting on the research questions, contributions and implications for future research. In the final section of this Chapter then, I also offer a reflective account of how this research has influenced my future scholarly practice by considering activist-scholarship, in addition to more traditional reflections on the study’s contribution to our understandings of ‘race’, racisms, masculinities, representation and identities. This is certainly not to suggest that an overtly political agenda must be adopted by all future research or that this research wishes to move beyond the empirical data and analysis in previous Chapters; rather, its purpose is to demonstrate the added social value that can be brought to research when it sets out to challenge ‘race’ and racism from inside the research process itself (Blaisdell, 2006).

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Critical Race Theory, poststructuralism and media analysis

At the beginning of this research I set out to utilise poststructuralist ideas, such as deconstruction, complex relations of power, and multiple identities, within a CRT framework As I outline in Chapter two, I do this in order to translate post-structuralism into pragmatic usable political as well as theoretical form in relation to ‘race’, and to develop an approach to CRT media analysis which is reflexive and critical of colour-blindness. It was this rationale that underpinned the methodological framework set out in Chapter five. Though this study’s approach to media analysis, which is informed by CRT and elements of post-structuralist theory, I have developed a pragmatic, theoretically rigorous framework which can be utilised in future research on ‘race’ and racism in media. To do this, I have adapted and developed five key principles of CRT media literacy (Yosso, 2002) to inform my analysis of media imagery: (1) the intercentricity of race and racism; (2) challenge to dominant media ideologies; (3) the commitment to social justice; (4) the centrality of experiential knowledge; (5) the trans-disciplinary perspective. Adopting a CRT approach to media analysis, first, acknowledges the intercentricity of race and racism which requires CRT scholars to centre ‘race’ and racism and to consider matters of gender, sexuality, nationality and ethnicity in addition to ‘race’. Most fundamentally then, CRT offered a framework which by its very nature was all but assured to counter, critique and address mainstream media studies’ tendency to ignore processes of racialisation when researching media representations of men and men’s bodies. And so, while this intersectional approach highlighted how representational practices differently racialise white and black bodies, it was able to go further and also point out intra-racial differences often overlooked by those scholars of ‘race’ operating in an overly simplistic black-white paradigm. Thus, concurrent with the use of post-structuralist ideas, such as différance and racialisation as deconstructive tools (Nayak, 2006), these methods were useful for revealing a plurality of representations of white male athletic bodies (which I outline in more detail later). Second, Odartey-Wellington (2 11: 9 ) contends CRT should ask “critical questions about the role of the media in the perpetuation of systemic racism through the erasure of race from mainstream discourse”. Thus, CRT as semiotics was a valuable method capable of challenging dominant liberal ideologies on ‘race’ in that the popularly held media workers’ mantra, which contends that journalists produce ‘race’ neutral, meritocratic and objective content, was rejected in this research after analysis revealed a notable bias toward positively framing white (Anglo) male athletic bodies, while their Black counterparts were often represented much less favourably. In addition, and continuing the theme of challenging dominant discourse, this thesis has also challenged the notion of colour-blindness. Using

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CRT as dialogic performance, which required me to centralise ‘race’ and to talk with participants about the matter, also proved to be a useful method capable of highlighting the problematic of colour-blind logic. Third, CRT scholarship has often been characterised by its commitment to social justice (Arai and Kivel, 2009; Closson, 2010; Hylton, 2012; Yosso, 2002) and in the context of media analysis this meant that, while this research acknowledged and valued greatly a post-structuralist ‘multiple and competing messages’ paradigm, the most pressing concern (Crenshaw, 1995) for a CRT influenced semiotic analysis was for it to foreground the negative and privileging racialised messages within media imagery and the harmful social effects of racialised representation. For instance, considering the transformative potential of black bodies (expanded on below) was a notable theme but this was not considered at the expense of other less auspicious codes and interpretations. And so, while this study’s methods have revealed media analysis should recognise that different people bring different meanings to images, and that media imagery does possess the potential to challenge more regressive discourses on ‘race’ (Hall, 199 ), it has also demonstrated that the primary concern for scholars motivated by racial justice should be the foregrounding of regressive racialised codes and messages, perpetuated by racialised representation. In this sense, the continued methodological centralisation of ‘race’ and racism will ensure that future research can make visible what is all too often made invisible by liberal and colour-blind political and media discourses. Fourth, the legitimacy of experiential knowledge, as demonstrated through counter- storytelling, is a key tenet of CRT’s epistemological position, which when translated into the context of media research implies that the subjective analysis of media images, within a critical counter-narrative framework, offers valuable insights into racialised aspects of media representation. That is, the key aspect of counter-storytelling is the nature of the story not the ethnicity of the storyteller. However, because CRT recognises that different people experience the world in different ways any semiotic analysis, which intends to make broader claims about the legitimacy of their analysis of images, must ask others for their interpretations. For instance, given that CRT advocates a multi-method approach, asking those with dominant white male identities about the same images from which my analysis of dominant white male discourse emerged avoided this study’s semiotic analysis standing alone. Thus, while using CRT as semiotics inevitably produces a critical scholarly analysis of racialised representation, gathering the readings of others can produce further data which in turn reveals interesting themes for analysis and strengthen claims the researcher can make. Building on some of the ideas and methods presented by other scholars using CRT to investigate racialised media practices, such as reviewing literature on ‘race’, media and masculinity within a CRT frame (Brooks and H bert, 2 6), countering the erasure of ‘race’

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from media discourse (Odartey-Wellington, 2 11) and improving people’s media literacy (Yosso, 2002) this study has both addressed Brooks and H bert’s (2 6: 1 ) concerns and reaffirmed their call:

We [all] must continue to dismantle the black-white binary that persists in shaping our understanding of race. One avenue toward this end is Critical Race Theory … which deserves additional attention from media scholars. Beyond changing the way we look at and study race, Critical Race Theory’s more complete understanding of human difference offers enormous potential for understanding our multicultural world. Media scholars must join scholars from education and political science and sociology who have broadened this fast- growing field from its roots in legal studies.

This study’s utilisation of CRT and post-structuralism to inform media analysis has thus begun to extend the use of CRT to the study of media representation which in turn has started to identify and contextualise how CRT tenets translate to the study of racialised representation in sport and leisure. Moreover, this study is also one of the first projects to employ CRT as a framework to inform approaches concerned with improving media literacy (see also Odartey-Wellington, 2011; Yosso, 2002) and is the only such study to have been conducted in a British context, focusing on sport and leisure. Importantly however, while this section does make certain claims about the nature of a CRT methodology, in that it should be committed to social justice and social change and recognise that ‘race’ and racism remain significant to people’s everyday lived realities (Hylton, 2 12), it does not propose a rigid set of guidelines, loyal to one particular philosophical dogma or another. In other terms, this study’s theoretical framework and its trans-disciplinary, innovative methodology offers scholars a way of understanding how a CRT approach to media analysis may function. However, at the same time it also invites other scholars to critique and further develop and contextualise these methods and ideas to be trans-disciplinary and sensitive to cultural and socio-geographical context.

Racialised representations and interpretations of Black male athletic bodies: (Re)establishing and challenging racial stereotypes

Concurrent with other dominant forms of contemporary everyday racisms, this study has demonstrated that representations of male athletic bodies, and instances of racism in sport and leisure media, have evolved to complement and reinforce the populist, liberal proclamation that the matter of ‘race’ is now a ‘non-issue’. These assertions provide additional support for the notion that racialised representations of male athletic bodies have become more subtle in their communication of racialised difference in order to maintain a colour-blind façade. Chapters six and seven demonstrated the complex ways in which

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racialised messages were communicated to consumers, and now here I wish to draw out the interpretations of participants in relation to the findings from my semiotic analysis to produce a critical account of how media images of ethnically differing (male) athletic bodies are represented and interpreted by white men. In line with other similar research, this thesis has highlighted further the tendency for black male athletic bodies to be represented in magazines as physical, aggressive, embodied, violent, sexualised and fetishized (Hoberman, 1997; Coakley, 2001; McCarthy et al., 2001; Carrington, 2002b; Entman and Rojecki, 2002; Hokowhitu, 2003; Hylton, 2009). In this sense, while the observations of Sabo et al. (1996), regarding the ‘neutrality’ of television commentators’ descriptions of black athletes, suggest verbal representations have become less prejudicial, this guardedness does not appear to have permeated the practices and representations of certain sections of the sport and leisure print media, particularly the visual representational dimension. As illustrated in Chapters eight and nine, when participants were presented with images of black athletes they first adopted a colour-blind position but would then display stereotypical views. In so doing, participants’ views provide further empirical support for the claims that emerged from the semiotic analysis but they also endorse those made by other scholars who have failed to support their analysis by speaking to media audiences. For instance, as stated in the previous chapter, Ashley was even confident enough to claim he can “prove” how the “stereotypical black man” is, not a fixing of ‘racial difference’ in an essentialist and reductionist manner, a mere illusion enhanced, prolonged and valorised by this study’s sample of magazines but, is something supposedly that is objective, discoverable and knowable. Hence, using CRT as semiotics to analyse images, and then asking media audiences their interpretations of the same images, allowed this thesis to make claims about the racialised aspects of media imagery which did not hinge solely on the semiological competence of the researcher. Nonetheless, while it was indeed the case that black bodies were typically represented and interpreted as physical and athletic, it is argued in Chapter six that they are not represented merely as disempowered, animal-like or physical and neither are they always interpreted in this manner. Philips Idowu’s body, for instance, emerged as a resistive representational strategy which begins to disrupt everyday discourses of black masculinity and the aesthetics and imagery associated with blackness. A concentration on the complex racial codes contained in media images then has demonstrated that stereotypes are able to work against themselves, when the body makes “elaborate play with ‘looking’, hoping by its very attention, to ‘make it strange’ – that is, to de-familiarize it, and so make explicit what is often hidden” (Hall, 199 : 2 4). The inference, here, is not that raced or gendered stereotypes can be destroyed so as to eradicate the social significance of ‘race’ or gender; more exactly, it is that representations of the athletic body, such as Idowu, can act as

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instruments capable of distorting common-sense discourses by requiring the ‘looker’ to question the validity of essentialist stereotypes. It is also the case that both the representation and interpretation of Karim Aun and Juan Vargas supports the notion that Otherness is not a mere identity of opposition that is disempowered and repressed. Elements of Aun’s and Vargas’ embodiment, for instance, were admired and idealised by participants highlighting that processes of racialisation are equally capable of positioning Black bodies as desirable. It must be said however that this is certainly not to argue that racialised stereotypes are suddenly de-racialised, or that Otherness = power, but it does exemplify the potential that imagery has to change and therefore decrease and counter repressive iconography. In light of this, it is important to recognise that media representation, as demonstrated in the context of this research, can function as a system of trans-coding capable of “taking an existing meaning and re-appropriating it for new meanings (e.g. Black is beautiful)” (Hall, 199 : 2 ). In this way, this study concurs with Hall’s understanding of representation and acknowledges how techniques such as fetishisation act as cultural tropes paradoxically capable of resistance. The reaction towards the images of athletic bodies which were presented to participants, whether positive or negative or indifferent, demonstrate the considerable influence the racialised aspects of mediated athletic bodies have in shaping perceptions of the self and the Other. However, precisely because of its location within populist consumer discourses this study has demonstrated clearly that the athletic body indeed exists as a potential site of resistance and change as well as domination. The expressions of awe and admiration from the vast majority of participants, toward the mediated athletic body, exposes its privileged position for these particular men. More tellingly, it is this privileged position which enables it to become a powerful tool of resistance. As Lefebvre (1976: 89) notes in relation to bodies in general:

What is more vulnerable, more easy to torture than the … body? And yet what is more resistant? ... It is the body which is the point of return, the redress - not the logos, nor ‘the human’.

Thus, the mediated athletic body, a ubiquitous component of popular culture, located during an epoch fascinated by (sporting) celebrity (Cashmore, 2012; Cole and Hribra, 1995; Frost, 2010; Giulianotti and Gerrard, 2001; Guttmann, 2006; Lines, 2001; Smart, 2005; Wagg, 2010), is a significantly more effective tool than are ‘normal’ bodies inasmuch as it is able to resist anatomo-political discourses which dominate our ability to know about the human body. For example, while certain resistive bodies (such as transsexual and disabled) challenge us to think differently about dominant social and biological discourses of ‘natural’ embodiment, they draw relatively little attention from mainstream institutions, and therefore

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possess limited capacity to distort stereotypes of gender and ‘race’. Sporting ‘deviants’ however, such as Phillips Idowu, various PKFR bodies (as demonstrated in this study), David Beckham (see Karlsen, 2004; Rahman, 2004), Caster Semenya (Crincoli, 2011; Schultz, 2011; Staurowsky, 2011), Oscar Pistrous (Burkett et al., 2011; Camporesi, 2008) and Dennis Rodman (Carrington, 2002b; Tucker, 2003), and such the like, have a more visible presence and celebrity status within mainstream media spaces, which in turn allows them to play an educational role in confronting people’s prejudices (Crincoli, 2 11). This lends support to Cole’s (199 ) argument that a distinguishing aspect of the athletic body is in its hegemonic functioning. That is, the athletic body is considerably more compelling than ‘normal’ bodies, since their abilities appear to those with an uncritical and passive gaze, as more “natural” and less politically or economically situated. And so, this study has helped demonstrate, with the additional support of audience testimonies, that media representations of athletic bodies are capable of changing, distorting and challenging the way in which white men consider matters of ‘race’ and gender. Understanding the political potential harboured by mediated athletic bodies, which is precisely what this study has achieved, is certainly of significance for those interested in addressing the negative outcomes of media representation. That is because “there is no possibility of an objective photograph political intent … is inevitable”, scholars and practitioners should seek consciously more progressive strategies with which “to represent these [athletic] bodies without fetishising them; to produce narratives which normalize, rather than racialise; which lower, rather raise, boundaries between humans” (Farrar, 2 5). Adopting this standpoint, in conjunction with this study’s claims that the objective, colour- blind, apolitical representation of an athletic body is unattainable, critical media scholars must recognise that ignoring the racialised aspects of athletic bodies will do little to curb their negative outcomes. In light of this, I argue strongly for a greater appreciation of the complex racialised codes in media imagery of men’s bodies and for a more critical and detailed consideration of the salience, or otherwise, of ‘race’ in relation to masculinities and athletic bodies more broadly.

Shades of white male athletic bodies: White (Anglo) supremacy and peripheral whiteness

While the discussion on racialised representation and interpretation of athletic bodies has been framed hitherto by Black male athletic bodies, it is important in light of this study’s aims to extend this discussion beyond this narrow paradigm in order to make visible and thus make vulnerable for disruption, what is all too often ignored in sport and leisure research, the white male athletic body. During Chapters six and seven it was argued that white (Anglo)

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male athletic bodies, such as Kirk Miller and Jonny Wilkinson, were represented as ideal masculine types, most frequently, in the sample of magazines: humility, heterosexuality, spirituality, intelligence, discipline, muscularity, physicality and determination were traits which were identified during the semiotic analysis as characteristics used to inform media discourses of the ‘great men’. This analysis concurs with the observations of Carrington (2002b), Hall (2002), Hyton (2009) and Stone et al. (1997) who also recognise the tendancy for white athletes to be framed more positvely by media analysis than black athletes. Participants would also read images of white men as signifying particularly suitable exemplars of masculinity. For example: Cameron (an eighteen year-old gym instructor in training) and James (a twenty-three year-old, IT professional and aspiring Men’s Health cover model), who cited Miller as their favourite body, implying an association between gym culture and Men’s Health cover models; Daniel Ilabaca featured as an ideal masculine type for Ashley, Jamie, David, Cris and Bradley (who were all traceurs); and, lastly, Wilkinson was celebrated as the ideal male body type for Ian (a former triathlete and all round sportsman), Terry (a boxer and free weight user) and Scott (a young, twenty-three year old, rugby union player). To this end, while a number of men were discussed positively, including Aun, Vargas and Idowu, it is important to recognise that the images of Wilkinson, Miller and Ilabaca, all white men, were the only bodies received positively across the entire sample of participants and who were perceived to possess the virtues of both body and mind. While it is imperative to acknowledge the attributes which participants idealised collectively, as being features of desirable bodies, it was also common for them to discuss subtle differences between Miller, Wilkinson and Ilabaca. Hence, while participants identified common aspects from each image as particularly admirable (i.e. their physical and mental abilities) they were equally keen to refine who it was they considered to be the ideal athletic body. And so, participants, all of whom had diverse interests, sporting inclinations and philosophises, read and valued these bodies in relation to their own subjectivities. In other words, ideal masculine bodies exist in plurality, not as some singular or even locally specific hegemonic masculinity, and thus do not signify simple or singular hegemonic forms of masculinity (Pringle, 2005; Pringle and Markula, 2005). In this way, the ‘great white male’ manifests himself differently in different sporting cultures which results in multiple (but nevertheless similar) representations of ideal male bodies and behaviours. And so, the subtle differences that are cited as distinguishing features of each image is able to demonstrate that representation is a process which evokes various interpretations from consumers and that ideal white masculinities are not stable, objective entities but exist in the minds of individuals, differently, and on the pages of magazines; they do not exist in any ‘real’ or universally hegemonic capacity. In this sense, while this research has highlighted

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the impossibility of defining the ideal male body it has demonstrated that white men do identify those white (Anglo) male bodies, who are believed to signify both the virtues of body and mind most persuasively, as being most desirable. Nonetheless, while it is important to recognise the subtle differences between participants’ readings of images, thus demonstrating the importance of accounting for white men’s multiple subjectivities, it is necessary not to inadvertently downplay the centrality of whiteness, muscularity, heterosexuality, youthfulness and intelligence as general markers of ideal masculine bodies. In other words, the masculinities signified by “white, middle-class, early middle-aged, heterosexual men” are indeed represented as dominant male bodies but should be understood better as intersecting racialised discourses which attempt, but can never succeed, in fixing “the standards … against which other men are measured” (Kimmel, 2003: 57). In this sense, while past research has considered how ideal masculinities are constructed in media (Alexander, 2003; Crawshaw, 2007; Kolbe and Albanese, 1996; Labre, 2005; Stibbe, 2004), this study extends Azzarito’s (2 9) musings that the construction of ideal bodies are often white bodies and contends that there are particularly important racialised connotations underpinning media representation of idealised masculinities which should not be ignored. Thus, this research contends that it is more appropriate to discuss how it is the “great white male”, an ideology which tells of the virtues of the white man’s body and mind, has been constructed as an idealised form of male embodiment. This recognition then, not only begins to address and highlight the lack of scholarly literature on the matter of white masculinities in sport and leisure media, but begins to make visible the privileges afforded to white male athletes and how white male athletic bodies are racialised and via what means. In so doing this research challenges scholars in sport and leisure, and media studies more broadly, to continue to deconstruct and distort further mainstream media representations of white men so as to be better placed to counter their negative effects. White (Anglo) athletic bodies then were broadly represented and recognised as ideal masculine types. However, in the sample of magazines used for this study it also emerged that other white athletic bodies were represented and interpreted distinctly from the likes of Miller, Wilkinson and Ilabaca. As Bucholtz (1999: 444) notes,

while most males can be said to project some form of masculinity in at least some contexts (that is, as identity), only a certain subset of possible … masculinities are culturally acceptable (that is, as ideology).

In this way, some bodies were marked as peripherally white bodies which were often only begrudgingly accepted as white (Dyer, 2003; Mac an Ghaill, 1999; Mac an Ghaill and Haywood, 2007; Satzewich, 2000), by the white men in this study (all of which belonged to the dominant white (Anglo) ethnic majority). Their whiteness was not taken as a prerequisite

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to sameness, and of particular interest, as is argued in Chapter nine, was the reaction of participants toward the Dolce & Gabbana advertisement. That is, despite the advertisers’ intention for the men within the image to signify ideal, “healthy and athletic bodies” (Dolce & Gabbana, 2012), these men were reviled by participants for supposedly “not [being] well built” or for having “no muscles” and “no definition”. Participants would also make connections between these bodies and conflate them as exemplars of a stereotypical Italian masculinity: “[the men in the D&G image] do live up, I think, to the stereotype of [how] you’d [expect] an Italian person to look” (Sebastian). Thus, concurrent with a racialisation of Italian men as “dark haired” (Sebastian), “dodgy” (Terry), “poxy” (Sam) and “gay” (Paul), participants were unwilling to accept these particular white athletic bodies as exemplars of “great white men”. These readings were in direct opposition to the advertisement’s intentions and once again highlight the politics of representation and the perpetual, impossible struggle to convey fixed meaning (Hall, 1997). Furthermore, Chapter six argues Sport’s representation of Ronaldo is rooted in a similar intolerance of the way in which his ethnicity, nationality and heteromasculinity challenges traditional/ dominant performances of white (Anglo) masculinity. As the previous Chapter argues, rather than racialised representations of athletic bodies simply reinforcing “fixed hierarchical positions, such as dominant/ empowered (white people) and subordinate/ oppressed (black people)” (Mac an Ghaill, 1999: 12), they produce much more complex readings and occupy more ambivalent territory in which meaning and relations of power are contested and plural. White athletic bodies however were more often represented by media/ interpreted by participants in more nuanced ways. And so, it remains significant to note that even the fragmentary process of peripheral whiteness can paradoxically produce racialised privileges, as well as constraints, for those claiming white racial identities since, at the very least, they are able to exist as complex individuals - Black bodies, incidentally, were denied this privilege. Stated differently, while participants did not commonly detect individual differences which distinguished Black athletic bodies from one another, they were more willing to distinguish the differences between white male athletic bodies, even if those differences were ridiculed. Regardless, this type of representation and interpretation thus reinforces white male privilege in that white men are recognised as heterogeneous, separated by ethnic, cultural and national differences. In this sense, while participants recognition of white male dissimilarity functioned to undermine whiteness as a legitimate racial identity, it nonetheless remains the racial yardstick of normativity by which racialised Others are measured (Feagin and O'Brien, 2003). In short, undermining the social category ‘white people’, which absolutely is not a process that should be reversed, but failing to sufficiently distort other racial categories, serves to reinscribe and exaggerate the peculiarity of those Black bodies whose ‘racial certainty’ is less frequently challenged.

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This study has thus been particularly successful in illustrating how it is white (Anglo) athletic bodies that are represented in men’s magazines as ‘great men’ who possess the virtues of both body and mind, while Black or peripherally white bodies are rarely accompanied by such all-encompassing narratives of idealised masculine embodiment. In turn, this analysis has contended that media representations of male athletic bodies and masculinities must not be considered without also taking into account the ways in which racialised signs and codes will inflect the reception of images differently. CRT has thus proved to be an effective framework through which to explore the matter of racialised representation in that its strategic centring of ‘race’, consideration of whiteness and intersectional approach has begun to reveal, and make visible, white male supremacy in sport and leisure media. And so, by demonstrating the limits of theorising masculinities without considering how it is ‘race’ inflects representation differently, I contend that future research must not only consider ‘race’ in relation to masculinity but seek to better understand how notions of beauty, spirituality, morality, intelligence and success are embedded in representations of white male athletic bodies.

White male (dis)association: Embracing new ethnicities, re-evaluating the importance of ‘race’ and old racisms

As has been argued thus far, media representations of athletic bodies are instrumental in influencing and informing participants’ attitudes vis-à-vis whiteness and Otherness. However, I do not wish to present this analysis as one which views media as merely coercive. In other terms, as this study demonstrates, “bodies … are not simply to be read as ‘texts of culture’ passively reflecting the values of their society … [people] themselves draw upon these ideas, make them body” (Benson, 199 : 14 ). Media representation then, if it is to have any actual effect, is thus dependent upon media consumers internalising and reproducing representations and messages. In simpler terms, power implies “relations between individuals (or between groups)” (Foucault, 198 : 21 ), meaning that representations are simply not mono-directional forces which control an individual’s interpretation of imagery or their performance of gender/ racialised identity. Adopting this position, therefore allows recognition of the complex and reciprocal nature of the relationship between media representation and consumer autonomy. The following section then will shift discussion further toward what I wish to call white male (dis)identification to gain a better understanding of how media representations of athletic bodies influence the embodied (ethnic and masculine) identities of white men and their conceptualisation(s) of Othered bodies.

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During Chapter nine I offered a detailed account of how white men would circumscribe racialised Others by identifying skin colour as an important marker of Otherness and the self. Although skin colour is “useless” in determining a person’s genetic identity (Jablonski, 2 4), skin colour was nonetheless interpreted by the participants of this study as a significant, and at times primary, socio-cultural marker of difference. Thus, despite other research rightly demonstrating the limits of understanding phenotypical difference as a marker of racial difference, that is the doing of white racialised embodiment is complex and dialectic (Nayak, 2006), this study demonstrates that future research would be equally ill-advised to dismiss the salience of ‘race’ as a marker of Otherness. That is, the testimonies gathered during this research highlight the difficulties (or unwillingness) white men have in escaping the mythical links between skin colour, the body, phenotype and the notion of racialised difference. Stated differently, regardless of what I may think I know about the nature of ‘race’, participants of this study had, in most instances, a very different view of the concept’s ontological reality. Phenotypical characteristics then were taken as important signifiers of ‘race’ by the white men of this study which were subsequently assumed to distinguish people from one another. In this sense, the ways in which participants used the raced body as a significant marker of sameness and difference highlight how it that media imagery operate as forms of ‘truth games’ whereby men locate themselves and Others in racial terms, resulting in a white male (dis)association. This recognition thus provides empirical support and justification for those continuing to centralise ‘race’ and racism in sport and leisure research but also contextualises some more philosophical musing made by the likes of Leonardo (2005: 405) who suggests:

Trying to recapture a time before race after centuries of racialization is like trying to remember how a conversation in medias res got started in the first place. Too much has been said and too much has been done. The task is grounded less in escaping such vicissitudes of a race-based society and more in confronting their limitations, explaining why they exist, and countering their negative effects through rigorous examination.

Contextualising these assertions within this research and its contribution to ‘race’ and racism studies and critical sports media paradigms, this study has demonstrated that ignoring the matter of ‘race’ as a methodological consideration, given its historical embeddedness as an everyday feature of sporting bodies and environments, risks glossing over the power relations that privilege the cultural position of white people and the negative effects of racialisation (Daynes and Lee, 2008; Dyer, 2003). The matter of skin colour however, as is alluded to earlier, should not be the only sign of racialised Otherness which this study has argued to be operative in sport and leisure

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media discourses. And in this sense it would be erroneous and restrictive to our understanding of sport and leisure, as spaces in which identities are constructed, to assume it is always the most imperious factor in systems of dominance. More exactly, the men in this study read the whole body as a site from which to negotiate issues of sameness/ Otherness and physiognomy and phenotype were particular strategies that emerged as techniques used to both circumscribe Otherness and deconstruct white racial identity. This is in accord with Long (2012) who also identifies the need to understand the heterogeneity of white identities in sport and leisure paradigms. For example, in this study, male Italian bodies were read as sub-racial Others, or peripherally white people, because their light brown (as opposed to pale white) colour of their skin and their “dark hair” are also understood by participants as signifiers of Otherness. In this way, in addition to peripheral whiteness being established via a discussion about cultural, national and/ or ethnic differences, phenotypical characteristics were also employed to segregate white athletic bodies into ‘sub-racial’ categories. This form of racialism in everyday discourse is thus worthy of future inquiry, particularly considering the gradual popularisation of racialised discourses concerning the bodies of Latinos/as, as recognised in this study, and given the lack of sport and leisure research into white ethnic minority communities. This argument is particularly important considering the salience of participants’ belief in innate racial differences between Black people and white people and sub-racial-difference between white peoples. These observations recognise the importance of considering the comments of Treviño et al. (2008: 10) on colourism and the need for CRT to develop “a radical color consciousness” to explore oppression outside of a simplistic black/ white binary:

CRT does not lend enough credence or give enough attention to intraracial color hierarchies and discrimination – to the injustices experienced by multiracial persons and the prejudicial treatment of individuals within a racial or ethnic group based on differences in skin pigmentation.

While these comments are made in relation to shades of Blackness, the insults directed at Ronaldo, the Latvian traceurs and the Italian footballers, based on complex perceived ethnic and cultural (including embodied and phenotypical) difference, reveals that colourism should not be an area of study which escapes conceptualisations of white male supremacy. In this way, future research can hope to highlight further the complexities of this racially privileged group so as to better understand how they are divided by ethnic, cultural, national and phenotypical differences, as well as how they are privileged collectively by whiteness. This is also to say, that in heeding this advice, CRT is able to “maintain and sharpen its cutting- edge approach to identifying and deconstructing prejudice” (Treviño et al., 2008: 10), avoid misinterpretations of CRT as working from within a black/ white theoretical framework and

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evade devaluing xenophobic insults which function to marginalise white ethnic minorities in sport and leisure cultures, and in Britain more broadly (Karlsen, 2004; Mac an Ghaill, 1999). This study therefore advocates a more detailed and complex appreciation of colour and racialised prejudice and highlights how it is that those bodies which are able to perform white (Anglo) masculinities most convincingly, receive greater privileges from their membership of the private club of white maleness than peripherally white men. In arguing that the body remains integral to white men’s perceptions of the self and some racialised Others is certainly not to deny the existence of more complex identity projects and emerging ethnicities which disrupt comfortable binaries of self/ Otherness. And equally, ignoring the workings of whiteness and Otherness as continually evolving processes and performances, which intertwine and intersect with one another, leaves social constructionists open to criticisms of essentialism. For instance, while participants would describe their bodies as white, the ways in which they performed or contested their whiteness, in the gym, through PKFR or via more traditional sport and leisure spaces, depended upon an individual’s multiple subjectivities and attitude towards Otherness (as demonstrated by differing attitudes to racialised body projects). In other words, “identities are not firmly anchored or fixed to the spot” or determined by one’s corporeality and its connection to history, but neither are they “entirely free-floating” (Procter, 2 4: 12 ), divorced from meaning or the old certainties signified by such social categories as ‘race’ and gender. For some, the racialised Other was not merely a binary oppositional social identity or category that functioned to remind these men who they were not, since particular features of Blackness were both accepted and adopted as important corporeal characteristics of the self. In this sense, the body emerged in this study as a product of one’s “cultural environment” (Foucault, 1988: 51) and as a reflection of one’s cultural identity. As Hall (1998 [1990]: 225) reminds us:

Cultural identity … is a matter of 'becoming' as well as of 'being'. It belongs to the future as much as to the past. It is not something which already exists, transcending place, time, history and culture. Cultural identities come from somewhere, have histories. But, like everything which is historical, they undergo constant transformation. Far from being eternally fixed in some essentialised past, they are subject to the continuous 'play' of history, culture and power.

Importantly however this is not to say that this process of “becoming” is one which is necessarily always a progressive, transformative process which nullifies power relations between differentially racialised groups of men. In this sense, whilst some white men’s technologies of the white self certainly do indicate a productive dialogue between differently racialised male bodies, these behaviours do not suddenly eradicate the importance of ‘race’.

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This section has thus argued that white men use racialised signs as markers of the self and ‘the Other’. And so, regardless of the numerous scholarly debates, both biological and sociological, which highlight the problems with doing this, the participants of this study have certainly not dislocated themselves from the myths of skin colour or physiognomy as a way of knowing about Others, even if that knowing is ‘positively’ framed. This may seem a rather moot and obvious point to make, however in light of the salience of colour-blind ideologies in liberal Western democracies, which teaches us to ignore the embodied significance of ‘race’, a study of this nature has been particularly useful in exposing the fallacy of ‘race’-neutral liberal doctrines. That is because athletic bodies are arguably the most obvious celebration of the physical human form in contemporary society and thus prompt a discussion of a body’s physicality, and in so doing revealed an implicit racialised politic, which may have been more easily circumvented in discussions about sedentary bodies. In sum, although post-racial notions of racialised performance and/ or racialisation as a tool of deconstruction have been utilised throughout in order to offer new understandings about the changing and conditional nature of white masculine identities, the instrumentalism of ‘old’ strategies such as skin-colour and physiognomy in defining a racial sense of “I”, “us” and “them” cannot be understated. Categorically then, this research has demonstrated that ‘race’ is an issue for white men but it one which they are unwilling/ unable to recognise; the task for future research therefore is to understand better the nature of this issue.

Becoming a different kind of white man? Becoming ‘race’ conscious and an activist- scholar

As I look back on what I have written, I realize that I have done the easy part. The real work remains to be done. (Chang, 1993: 1322)

When I consider this research project in its entirety it is fitting to recognise it in some way as a ‘voyage of discovery’ (Denscombe, 1998). Once again then, to conclude this thesis and personal journey, I wish to use the technique of storytelling (Bell, 1992; Crenshaw et al., 1995; Delgado and Stefancic, 2000; Dunbar Jr., 2008) as a means of reflecting on the reseach process. I do this in order to highlight some of the philosophical dilemmas and how it is I have worked through them. I will also reflect on some of the key theoretical considerations and how they have helped me, as a white man, ‘figure out’ a personal strategy with which I can work against racism and sexism. As Chang notes above the ‘easy’ part is writing a thesis, the more difficult task I burden myself with is to translate this research into usable form and to continue to work for social justice and racial equality. It is through

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this reflection stimulated by the research journey and what I have learned, I hope that my work can move beyond critique and be shifted toward further social action (Kumasi, 2011). Before I reflect on the study’s translation into usable form, I start by outlining one of my philosophical dilemmas which, in confronting, has changed my ontological stance on ‘race’ and thus my approach to social justice. That is, in the beginning I had been particularly unsure about one of this study’s now stalwart principles: ‘race’ consciousness. I had used both post-structuralist theory and Critical Race Theory as theoretical frameworks as an undergraduate and as a postgraduate, before, but I had not used them together. As I had a much less mature understanding of these frameworks, I was unsure whether they could work together and found myself torn between using one or the other. On the one hand, I had assumed post-structuralist theory seemed to offer an escape from ‘race’ by way of its illumination of différance and because it recognised my own (occasional) experiences of feeling Othered. On the other hand, however, CRT’s radical critique of liberalism, its commitment to activist-scholarship and its impenitent centralisation of ‘race’, were particular features I had found useful in understanding macro accounts of racialised domination. The basis of my dilemma then was: if ‘race’ did not exist then how could I be ‘race’ conscious without reifying it?

During the first year of my PhD studentship, I had been sitting in my office trying to grapple with the ontological matter of ‘race’. Were the likes of Miles right? Was the use of the term akin to reification? Or were the more hard-line poststructuralists correct in asserting that since ‘race’ doesn’t exist it made no sense to organise around this category? As I do frequently when feeling especially flummoxed I took a short walk and spent some time away from my desk. “How’s the research going?” a colleague politely enquired. “Erm … its going alright I’m just now not sure whether ‘race’ exists in a social sense or not”, I replied tentatively. My colleague, now looking rather regretful that they’d asked, “‘race’ doesn’t exist but racism certainly does”. “Anyway must shoot”, they said, “good luck with it!”

This particular conversation, while brief and simple, had a most important effect on my understanding of the issue. I had realised it was not useful to ask who was ‘right’ about ‘race’ and that debating its nature, in an office, with myself and with other scholars did little to address the more pressing concerns which were racism and racialisation. This was the moment that inspired me to “get real about ‘race’” and to acknowledge that regardless of whether or not I believed it to exist, or whether my colleague did, the important thing was that many people in society did. I do not wish to imply that I was miraculously enlightened at this moment (it would have been wonderfully convenient for a literary-style reflection of this kind) but it was certainly an important moment on the journey from colour-blindness to ‘race’ consciousness and to understanding the usefulness of CRT’s strategic deployment of ‘race’.

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That is because it required me to acknowledge the (im)possibility of ‘race’, to acknowledge that some differences do matter more than others, even if on a personal level they are of less importance to me, so that paradoxically I would be better placed to use post-structuralist tools to distort and deconstruct the notion of ‘race’. Becoming increasingly ‘race’ conscious and much less uneasy about saying the word ‘race’ out loud, in certain scenarios, I utilised this philosophy as a key tenet of my activist- scholarship. For CRT theorists and other critical scholars an important aspect of scholarship is its potential to effect positive social change. Williams Jr. (2000: 618) sums up this idea particularly well when he exhorts CRT scholars to get off their “critical race theory ass and do some serious Critical Race Practice” [emphasis added]. Being well aware of CRT’s call to activist-scholarship I frequently questioned the amount of time I had spent throughout the research process sitting on precisely the part of my body Williams Jr. willed me to get off. This caused me much philosophical anxiety in that my time spent with participants was relatively restricted when compared to the many, many long hours devoted to a computer. However, I consoled myself by recognising that the research had allowed me to meet with a number of people and that I had subsequently begun to explore media imagery with them, in an increasingly ‘race’-conscious manner. Although it was typical for participants to fall silent around issues of ‘race’, or offer small contributions on the matter, some of the men did begin to recognise frank ‘race’ conscious dialogue vis-à-vis racialised representation as a useful exercise and thus began to read imagery in ‘new’ ways. The following fictionalised account epitomises such a dynamic:

I’d been attending a number of parkour training sessions with Jake and we’d struck up a friendly relationship with one another during this time. He’d always been very supportive of my engagement with parkour and during my third session we’d started to chat more about the reason I was doing my research. As I explained to him about the tendency for white and black athletes to be represented differently to one another, in media, I began to discuss Sebastian Foucan. Jake paused after I’d finished explaining and then began to explain that Foucan presents himself as cat-like and that he didn’t think that his image was problematic. At the next week’s session Jake and I continued to train and he continued to support my rather poor attempts at parkour. When suddenly, just as I’d fallen hands-first, grazing my palms, Jake thought this to be the perfect time to tell me about how our conversation, our dialogue, had shifted his thinking about black men. He began, “A number of times, especially when the matter of race and the animal sort of connection was brought up, I began to think that actually that’s quite interesting”. He continued “Stereotyping is something that I know a lot of people do without realising. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I don’t think like that because of course I do, everybody does, but after our conversation I’m seeing

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things through a different filter and it wasn’t until you mentioned it that I considered it”.

This story reveals how using CRT as dialogic performance during the research process proved useful for me in this particular instance inasmuch as the centring of ‘race’ and racism challenged Jake to consider racialised representations differently. Jake’s reflection on our conversation highlights the usefulness of centralising the issue of ‘race’ which is all too often marginalised during public social exchange, ironically, to distort its perceived ‘certainty’. And so, I did perceive that operating with an unapologetic ‘race’ consciousness, as a form of pedagogical tool, which brings racialised practices of representation to the attention of white men, to be a valuable tool in airing counter-narratives not often heard in exchanges between white men. A particular strength of this study then is in the way it begins to explore how people might be challenged to understand and read media images critically and with a ‘race’ consciousness. While its practical success may be small I contend that ‘Jake’s story’ provides support for the notion that activist-scholarship can be both productive in theoretical and practical terms. In this sense, the small successes of this project have inspired me to explore further the potential of CRT as dialogic performance in order to inform better future research of the value of centralising ‘race’ as an important aspect of media imagery and to expand my research further toward praxis. Considering the assertions made throughout this Chapter, that the matters of ‘race’ and racism in sport and leisure remain salient, I contend that deliberate attempts should be made to understand and explore racialised representations to counter their oppressive and/ or privileging effects. In this sense, this research journey has discouraged me from pursuing my original political agenda, which was to work towards a world in which media imagery has no racialised connotations, since this (at least for now) is fruitless. However, this is certainly not to argue that the negative social impacts which racialised representation has cannot be reduced and tempered; this will be the line that I will pursue in future research. The final matter I wish to reflect on here is the change I have gone through regarding my understanding of the role of the media in shaping media consumers’ attitudes toward ‘race’ and masculinities. After undertaking a study of this nature, I no longer consider men’s magazines to be comprehensively authoritarian, disabling or serving little purpose other than indoctrinating individuals with a certain set of negative principles and beliefs. In turn, this understanding has also required me to recognise that it may well be the case that sport and leisure media practitioners do not struggle to supress overtly bigoted, oppositional, racist political agendas. On the contrary, many may indeed be genuine in their public proclamations that their practices are motivated by a belief in liberalism, objectivity,

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professionalism and tolerance vis-à-vis matters of racism, sexism and homophobia. Hence, I have become increasingly interested in considering how it is media practices and consumer attitudes collude to produce multiple racialised discourses of the athletic body, as opposed to one informing the other, to better understand the seemingly illogical statement, “racism without the racists”. Nonetheless, this is not to suggest that I have vacated entirely a position which recognises the power of media to influence its consumers. Therefore, in a world wherein ‘race’ and racism function ubiquitously, regardless of the multiplicity of meaning evoked by imagery, if media practitioners wish to continue to position themselves as the “(free and fair) watchdogs of society” (Deuze, 2005: 449), they must ask themselves the ‘race’ question, irrespective of whether they feel it is a non-issue (Odartey-Wellington, 2011: 410) and acknowledge critical commentary of their practices from others, such as critical media scholars, who have an interest in media ethics. While much work in the field of media ethics has focused on the role of media producers, often influenced by a culture industry paradigm and other neo-Marxist frameworks, this approach may understate the impact a dialogue with consumers could have in relation to addressing unidirectional flows (Hamelink, 2000). As Schramm, (1969: 249) argued, “[t]he listening, viewing, reading public underestimates its power” and arguably, over the last forty years, it still does. This understanding recognises that media consumers, including the participants of this study and I, are important agents in debates surrounding media ethics (Rosenblum, 1993). To this end, engaging with others’ readings of media, as well as my own, has served to convince me that should we, as media consumers, begin to “howl” (Rosenblum, 1993: 283) at the sport and leisure media, collectively, in order to hold them to account, we are better placed to restrict its role in determining dominant discourses. Thus, while finding white men, who are actively privileged by the conditions prepared by contemporary sport and leisure media discourse, to join in with the howl, may be difficult (Gillborn, 2005) – a position supported by this study - it is imperative, nonetheless, to make this call. Thus, I am persuaded that should I, a sport media consumer, as well as a critical media scholar, act in a docile or passive manner, and refuse also to hold media to account outside of my scholarly work, I too am complicit in the more negative outcomes of sexism and racialisation, which in turn prepares the conditions for white male privilege to thrive. Upon reflection, I draw the conclusion that should we wish to reduce the domination of men within our contemporary epoch, particularly in sport and leisure, we cannot isolate the role of whiteness from the broader project of reducing the significance and salience of ‘race’ and racism in our world. In other terms, as this study has highlighted, it is vital to explore how it is that white men reproduce themselves as a dominant group and how they reify their identities, through media and every day discourses, at the expense of others. Thus by exploring the operations of white masculinities and their mediated ideals, their more

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regressive characteristics can be exposed and countered. In other words, as Carbado (2000: 525-526) suggests:

consciousness raising should be a way for men to examine the many respects in which they are privileged and then challenge the social practices in their lives that reproduce, entrench, and normalise patriarchy.

At the same moment, this approach also asks them to confront their role in perpetuating white (Anglo) supremacist discourse. Hence, becoming aware of privilege and applying critical approaches to consuming media imagery is a valuable exercise in encouraging white men to “recognize the ways their actions support and affirm the … structure of racist domination and oppression” (hooks, 1989b: 113), something that many would profess to deplore. This is particularly important considering the authority of white men in dominant institutions, and provides further support for this study’s assertions that becoming conscious of white male privilege is the first step towards dismantling it.

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Appendix A: Extract from research diary

Date: 7th February 2011 – Men’s Health August to October: More whiteness and questioning the usages of Othered bodies in this context Once more I awoke at my home in the Midlands and once more I stumbled down stairs to make myself a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich. However, I must add that I cut the excess fat from the meat in anticipation of a guilt trip that I’d be experiencing while subjecting myself to another day’s worth of Men’s Health and “rock hard abs”.

The front pages all followed the same style and structure as the last and within each title the relentlessness of whiteness greeted me everywhere. However, occasionally I was able to glimpse at Othered bodies. I started to question whether I was simply reflecting what I had read in the literature about black masculinity being aggressive and animalistic as many of the photos featured these Othered bodies fighting or with grimaces upon their faces. I doubted whether others would interpret these images in the same way. However, I began to think that in such an overwhelming white space, I had to question the reason why an Other body was used and portrayed in the role he was simply because its presence was so uncommon. This lead me question the motives of the editors and journalists and why it was that everywhere else whiteness was everywhere but not in other selected instances it was not? I also questioned why or how I could distinguish the ways in which bodies, in Men’s Health could challenge racial stereotypes. Here was a magazine that bombarded its readers with images of strong, muscular white men at every opportunity but the discourse of natural ability and condition, attributed to black bodies, was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t as if these images represented a variety of white men’s physique which by the logic that media inform people’s perception of reality, to me, seem to be over- simplistic. Is it that white men choose to overlook the physiques of white men’s bodies, because the articles within, provide an explanation of how these physique are acquired, while black bodies are largely ignored and represented simple as being well conditioned? Simply bodies are not ahistorical. I also was interested by an advertisement by Dolce & Gabbana which pictured 5 Italian professional footballers in a changing room wearing nothing but revealing underwear and posing in an unapologetic and forthright manner. The advertisement featured in a number of issues and to me, as someone of Italian heritage that understands the differences in British and Italian performances of masculinity, challenges the reader to gaze erotically at their bodies. This challenges the norms of normative aesthetics of white male bodies in as much as all of the body is exposed apart from the footballer’s “private area”. This I found extremely interesting in since I felt somewhat confused as to how I should feel. On the one hand I inspected the tattoo’s and admired the physiques of these men; yet, I also felt uncomfortable scrutinising

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Appendix B: And the Winners Are… (article taken from Men’s Health magazine)

Another year, another roster of outstanding individuals dedicated to the perfection of not just a physique, but a lifestyle. But this year we've invited the girls to have a go, too, so it's not just one, but two who can make it onto the esteemed MH cover...

ACHIEVING A COVER-MODEL BODY REQUIRES AS MUCH MENTAL STRENGTH AS IT DOES PHYSICAL DRIVE

Phil Kulec 26, prison officer After early inspiration from his school PE teacher, weights became a big part of Phil's life. His drive now comes from helping the inmates he works with find a new focus.

Jill Fish 24, personal trainer Volleyball was her way into this lifestyle but Jill maintains her slim physique with not-so-girly circuit and interval training. She champions balance and moderation as the keys to her success.

Sarah Lewis 21, visual merchandiser This young veggie doesn't come from a sporting background, but shows how you can still find pleasure in keeping fit, without sacrificing the things you enjoy.

Alex Patrick 23, gym assistant The son of a bodybuilder, Alex took control of his sweet tooth and transformed himself from a skinny schoolkid to emulate his father's success.

Homan Bash 41, caterer Rather than a mid-life crisis, ex-martial artist Homan found mid-life purpose and went from packs of cigarettes to packing on muscle.

Jamie Ferrin, 21, sales advisor Jamie credits his boxer's mentality as the key to getting him where he is today, as well as his essential down time—gigging with his band.

Suzy Smith 29, administrator Suzy's greatest achievement was accepting being curvy and then enjoying it, focusing on 'healthy' and lean', rather than 'thin'. The bikini-clad results speak for themselves.

Jason Adeji 23, civil servant Jason found moving from scrawny to brawny had more than just aesthetic benefits, giving him new levels of confidence. It didn't harm his basketball game either.

Jamie Hagan 26, RAF instructor Now living his dream job as an RAF physical training instructor, Jamie is no stranger to intense workouts, but stays grounded with beer at the weekends.

Men are aspirational creatures. During our less articulate years, when mortality wasn't even a concept, let alone a reality, we wanted to be spacemen or firefighters, or superheroes. Our teenage years were 277

punctuated (often embarrassingly so) by an incorrigible need to be accepted as men, not just physically but emotionally and intellectually, too. But beyond these youthful thresholds, there are few men in this country that haven't dreamed of making the cut to be the cover star of Men's Health. To be physically complete, walking proof of the best your body can be, and a slap in the face for that increasingly real mortality. It's no surprise then, that the number of you willing to step up to this year's challenge, sponsored by grooming experts Remington, exceeded all previous years. And with more applicants, came even higher standards. The quality this year's entries was the highest it has ever been," says MH Fitness Editor, Wesley Doyle. "Choosing the finalists was difficult enough, let alone choosing an overall winner." Achieving the 'cover-worthy' body's certainly no easy feat. It is a challenge that requires as much mental stamina as physical drive; a personality as big as your pecs, as well as the dedication to go the whole nine yards to take you all the way to London's Holborn studios. It is here, beneath the heat of the lights, our seven handpicked finalists nervously prepare for the photo shoot that could potentially change their lives. From a forty something caterer to a mild-mannered prison warden, our final few differ in age, profession and personalities. "They all have one thing in common though," says Wesley. They all want to be in the best shape possible."

THE MILLER'S TALE

Their commitment is not only evident in these photos, but in the way they live their lives every single day. And if the cover of this magazine hasn't given it away already, one man showed himself to be a cut above the rest. He is 26-year-old plumber, Kirk Miller. "Like all of this year's finalists, Kirk has got himself into unbelievable shape," says Men's Health Editor Morgan Rees. He also has a brilliant, easygoing attitude and the sort of well-balanced lifestyle that sends the right message to our readers." Kirk's most impressive achievements aren't just divided into six parts and covered in skin, mind. He still manages to be a normal, down-to-earth guy who makes the gym work for him, rather than becoming imprisoned by it. That said, he wasn't born this way, and like most of our potential winners, Kirk's success began with a desire to change. "1 was always into football and it meant I stayed really slim" he says, "I was fit, but never really had the lean muscle mass I wanted." So he developed a strict regime that saw him go from skinny whippet to MH cover material, and picked up a few tips that will help you achieve the same. "The first big changes came when I started learning from the right people. It's very easy to pick up the wrong advice, but I made sure I was listening to guys who had really achieved something with their own bodies." He also applied this scrutiny to his source material. "I then read, a lot, and made sure it was all reliable stuff. There's so much good information available, you just need to apply it correctly."

SIZE MATTERS

Putting yourself forward for this challenge may seem daunting, but don't be intimidated. Even our cover man needed a little help from his friends. "When I started out, I went to the gym with a mate, who was 278

already in good shape and much bigger than me. On the one hand, this added a social side to it, but on the other, it gave me a target, and something to compete with; this is where I found my drive." Moving from strength to strength, focusing on small goals before the big ones, Kirk improved more than just his Facebook pictures. "I believe being in your ideal shape makes you feel better about yourself," he says. "I've ditched any insecurities. I'm more confident, even in situations such as job interviews, I feel more in control. So it's helped with all aspects of my life." But a torso like a Greek god doesn't mean you have to leave behind your human impulses. "Most guys have cheat days," says Kirk, "I prefer to call mine fatty days. They're when I'll eat anything; take- aways, chocolate, biscuits, I just don't care. Also, when I'm out, I'm out — I work hard enough in the week, so Saturday night I feel like I deserve a big drink with my friends." So if you're ever in Kirk's neck of the woods, don't be afraid to buy him a beer, and be sure to ask for some advice, too. "I really like to help out around the gym," he says. -I remember, when I was smaller, how nerve- wracking it was starting out in a room full of muscular guys, but most people are happy to help. You shouldn't be afraid to ask about form ore particular move. It helped me learn what I know today."

OVER TO YOU...

And Kirk's final secret? Inspiration from Jean Claude a famous Belgian. “I remember seeing Jean Claude Van Damme's abs in Kickboxer when I was seven, and thinking, 'I want to look like that.'" Nineteen years on and even Van Damme couldn't argue with what Kirk has achieved. So find your own target, whether it's abs like JCVD or arms like Kirk—you've got 12 months tokick get in the shape of your life and raise the bar even further for next year's cover-model competition.

Get Kirk’s abs Kick start your cover model body with these supersets for a killer core

RUSSIAN TWIST & PLANK Works Core, obliques Workout Lie back with your knees bent. Elevate your upper body with your arms fully extended holding a medicine ball (A). Twist your torso from side to side with your arms parallel to the floor (B). Complete 12 reps then turn to lie face down on the ground. Prop yourself up to form a plank, maintain a flat back and hold for 60 seconds (C). Repeat 3 times.

SQUAT TWENTY-ONES Works Quads, glutes, abs, lower back Workout Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart (A), then dip so you are in the lowest position of a squat (B) and raise your body half way up (C), repeat 7 times. Then hold at a middle height, and raise yourself 7 times to the highest position of a squat. Now put a barbell across your shoulders and perform 7 full squats, from low to high position.

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CABLE CROSSOVER & PRESS-UP Works Chest, shoulders, abs, upper back Workout Stand in the centre of the cable machine with one foot forward and a slight forward lean at the waist. Slowly pull your arms together in a wide arc and return to the start position 12 times (A). Then get into a press-up position with your toes on a bench. Lower your chest until it almost touches the floor (B) then press your upper body back to the start for 15 reps. Repeat 3 times.

 1 wholemeal pita with grilled chicken breast or salmon fillet with salad.

 Two creatine tablets

 1 scoop AI/ Glutamine with water before workout

Behind every great man...

Laura Muirhead MH also challenged our female following. And the nation's ladies didn't disappoint Whittling down our bikini-clad hopefuls was as difficult as it was enjoyable. After much deliberation, we had our final four, but the achievements of one shone brightest. The winner is 26-year-old beauty therapist, Laura Muirhead. Laura's dedication to fitness stems from a time when she was less comfortable in a two-piece. "I was really overweight," she says. "But I lost some of it through dieting and found my drive; the results. I started training, and the more I lost, the harder I pushed." She's no machine though, and balances her training around work, still finding time to indulge. "That glass of wine at night is my goal. Plus, I love treat days. Once a week I have whatever I want, I don't hold back. Especially with giant chocolate buttons." Allowing these human impulses keeps her mind focused on her physical goals. "If you didn't have them, you'd get resentful about the rest of the training and nutrition. It's important to have time out." Laura is testament to the work/life balance championed by MH. Kirk packed on, Laura slimmed down, but what winners have in common is control over their lifestyles. The gym enriches, rather than restricts them, and they prove that staying in shape means enjoying the finer things in life, too. Whether you're a pint, or giant chocolate buttons man.

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Appendix C: Best Entertainer (article taken from Sport magazine)

The car crashes, the goats, the £80m move to Madrid, and those horrible little swimming shorts. All in all, it's been another vintage year for the world's finest footballer... This year began with a bang for Ronaldo. Literally, as his new Ferrari hit a tunnel wall in a mysterious single-car pile up, possibly caused by him admiring his rear-view reflection for a tad too long. He escaped unscathed to pick up his Fifa World Player of the Year from Pete just a few days later. Just reward, and as the 2008-09 season rolled on his form hit new highs - in April he scored his greatest goal so far, lashing the ball home from a mile-and-a-half out to beat Porto. It helped Manchester United to another Champions League final, but Lionel Messi stole the show and Barcelona won back the Big Jug in style. After making more big eyes in Real Madrid's direction, Ronaldo jetted off for a holiday in LA with his new BFF, Paris Hilton. And while our oiled-up hero strutted around the pool in his micro pants, back home Real Madrid finally thrashed out a deal to get their man for E80m on a six-year contract worth El2m a season. On his return Ronaldo was unveiled as their surprise new summer signing and 80,000 fans turned up at the Bernabeu to watch him walk up and down a bit.

In August, Ronaldo finally made his La Liga debut. He scored against Deportivo, before scoring in the next game, and the next, and the one after that to delight the Bernabeu faithful. His hot streak was put on hold by an injury picked up helping Portugal to the World Cup finals, but he used the 55 days off (while still earning around £1.77m1 to open his CR7 boutique in Lisbon, selling the type of overpriced and garish guff you could only get away with if you're Cristiano Ronaldo.

When he finally returned to action he just kept on scoring, stopping only to get himself sent off for kicking someone, and ended another vintage year by replacing David Beckham as the face and gonads of Emporio Armani underpants. As the new 'spokesmodel.' he'll be expected to wear pants and talk at the same time, a skill beyond most footballers, but certainly not beyond CR7.

THE C80M MAN SPEAKS Congratulations, Cristiano. For the second season in a row, you are one of Sport's athletes of the year. Do these awards mean much to a man as decorated as you? Of course, but awards like this will be most precious the day you retire and can look back with satisfaction on your career and the trophies. But I also know that I won't win anything without a good team. It is my team that makes my success."

You're worth £80m. How does that m you feel? Happy, we imagine... "I honestly don't give the money much thought. It's nothing I or any of the off players are thinking or talking about. I can only feel privileged that Real Madrid, in the middle of a worldwide financial crisis, were willing to pay what was necessary to bring me here and I am motivated to prove they wen right to do so. It was right

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to move on. I had reached my best at Manchester United and I hope the fans there will remember me for my good times rather than for leaving."

What do you miss about England? "Certainly not the weather, ha ha. I don’t know if I miss anything. I've been lucky to be greeted very warmly here and I think the fans are very passionate. Maybe in a different way than British fans show, but both are very passiona about football.

And finally, your ambitions for 2010? To win the Champions League is a bic priority - particularly in our own stadit. I think the league is very realistic, but i• will be tough between us and Barcelor and I hope to play a good World Cup in South Africa. We cannot be satisfied w our performance in the qualification bi the finals are a fresh start.

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Appendix D: Made in China (article taken from Jump magazine)

I sit here in Kunming, China, the capital of the Yunnan province, a city with a population of over six million, running the events of how I came to be writing the China feature for the fifth issue of Jump magazine over in my head. What direction would I take? Ez told me that he wanted action, ‘peppered’ with culture and interviews. While that rolled around in my head, I considered the reasons that brought me to China in the first place; a chance to slow down my life, and find direction while stripping away the things I didn’t need... and also the beautiful girls... But when I came here, I had no idea that I was stepping into a hotbed of Parkour and Freerunning activity; nor did I have any idea of how this time in China would spark a metamorphosis in how I view the world. I came here with only the ideas of kung fu movies, my passion for the dao, and my love of Chinese food. These things did not disappoint - but I was also met with a great culture shock. The language was a huge barrier, but now after nine months, I am beginning to understand it. The importance that the Chinese placed on guanxi (guh-wan-shi) and xiong di (shom-dee) - or relationships and friendships - is similar to the West, though magnified. For instance, whenever eating or drinking with close friends or business associates, you always serve everyone else before you fill your own glass or plate. There were a few shocking things as well. Children will unabashedly go to the bathroom in the streets. Public displays of affection are everywhere, often like those in a bad teen movie. Also the influence of the government isn’t as overt as I had imagined - but is most certainly here. What gave rise to the blood and guts of this article was the sudden wealth of China. Its economy has roughly doubled in the past decade - allowing for a more prosperous culture that reflects the values of the younger Chinese generation. I asked my friends about this, including Zachary Mexico (the author of China Underground) His book was among the first to shed light on this topic. The elder culture is made up of the older generation, those who knew the China that existed before the Revolution sixty years ago. They remember both worlds. They’ve known sacrifice, loss, and very hard labour. These things and more have given rise to their values and the current communist government that is known to the world. But living beneath this flaking mask is a younger Chinese generation, a blend of western influences as well as those of their elders. There are those who follow the standard path; studying hard to get into a good university, to get married and graduate, then get hired in a job that provides support for their children. Underneath this cultural “norm” however, is a rogue element that is both darker and more beautiful - and it is growing. They are the mafia, the bohemians, the murderers and the drug dealers, and the artists of all stripes - and they’re not unlike us, each finding their own place in the world they create for themselves. My xiong di (brothers of the heart and mind) are “Free Passion”. They are Kunming’s prominent Parkour team. They perform regularly - even this past Chinese New Year in Beijing with a group of traceurs from all over the country. They teach an even younger generation who are seeking them out to learn their art. I’ve known, drank beers, celebrated birthdays, passed out at their houses, and trained with them for the past seven months. Three days a week we all get together for a gym session at a professional gym. We go to a

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smaller gym on Saturdays, where they teach classes to their students. During the rest of the week, I either train by myself, or with one - or all - of the team members that I’ve chosen to interview for this article. Though the communication between us is sometimes difficult (what we speak sounds like “Chinglish” or “Enginese.”) I’ve also enlisted translating assistance from Chris Von Wilpert, an Australian traceur. The words of my interviewees tell their story better than any word picture I can possibly paint. So I sat down with Han Hao, Cao de Wei, and Shen yi Liu - three of the original members of Free Passion. On one Saturday, at separate times, I asked each similar and individually differing questions regarding their lives and their training. What I found were three different views that are as distinct in their differences as they are in the depth of their answers. Han Hao, or Chao Ren (Superman), is the recognized leader of Free Passion. While the members see themselves as a group of friends more than a team, Superman oversees the administrative duties ranging from performance bookings, to managing the team funds. This past Chinese New Year, he and Cao de Wei were two traceurs of sixteen through the entire country selected to travel to Beijing to perform on CCTV1. The experience brought a mixed response. Some of the traceurs from the bigger cities treated the event more as an opportunity to promote their team rather than recognize and honor the brotherhood of the moment. Superman is 21 years old, and works only as a Parkour practitioner. But this team is truly his life and his family, as the following words show: So, Chao Ren, how long have you been doing Parkour? Han Hao: Two years. Wow, for only two years, your skills are highly developed. Han Hao: It’s mostly because of watching videos on the internet. I will study a video and then take the techniques into the gym to learn. How did you start Parkour? Han Hao: It was actually my little sister (the Chinese use familial terms to denote good friends as well as blood relatives). She introduced me to it first. But I have always been moving and climbing since I was young. I started learning gung fu back when I was 10. How do you feel about the comparison that we foreigners sometimes draw between martial arts and Parkour? Han Hao: They aren’t really similar. Well, they sort of are I guess. I can talk about it through their differences. It’s more dangerous than martial arts. Parkour can give you more confidence because it’s more of a challenge mentally and physically. If you train the basic fundamentals of martial arts before you get into Parkour, then it will be an easier time for you to understand the movements. And how old is Free Passion? Han Hao: Also two years. We found each other over the internet. What does the team’s name mean to you? HH: It means brotherhood - everyone coming together to train. Time for the deeper stuff. Right now, China is a very interesting place for Parkour to be gaining popularity. As a result of the economic boom here, a cultural gap between the older and younger generations has also developed. Now, there are many more influences to separate the elder Chinese from the younger, among

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these influences are B-Boy and Parkour. These new influences provide the younger China its definition, unbounded by the ideas and expectations of the past. What do you think? Han Hao: I agree. With my parents generation they climbed things like walls and trees, but they didn’t know about Pao Ku (Chinese for both Parkour and Freerunning). And now? Can they understand what you and your friends do? Han Hao: I don’t really know - I don’t think about it much to be honest. I’m usually just thinking about the next move . Well, Free Passion is part of the first generation of Parkour in China, introducing it to those who’ve never seen anything like it. How do you see that changing with time? Han Hao: I see more people coming to do Parkour and less people playing computer games. Computer games are a huge part of the young developing Chinese generation and You can find a video game bar on almost every corner of every street in Kunming. What about games that feature Parkour? Han Hao: I really don’t play any games on the computer or on consoles. I just play card games sometimes. What keeps you doing Pao Ku? Han Hao: It’s the first step in my life. Just as immediate and important as getting up in the morning to eat breakfast . So what do you call it then? Han Hao: I just call it Pao Ku. The name isn’t what should hold the meaning. But a lot of people out there don’t call flips Parkour... Han Hao: As far as I see it, it’s only about improving yourself. Always. You see its not just an activity, its really too messy to describe in words! You just have to feel it. Who are your biggest influences? Han Hao: Daniel Ilabaca...(he grins) and Mao ze Dong! . Anything to say to those just starting out? Han Hao: Pay attention to the difficulty of the moves. When you first start learning, don’t give up. You should know what you want from yourself, from your life, and put that into your Pao Ku. My next interview was with Cao de Wei. Cao de Wei, “Cao Cao,” is one of the most balanced practitioners I’ve met yet. He stands at about 5’5” - 5’6” and is a tightly coiled spring of muscle. His movements are both beautiful and simultaneously calculated, just as it is thoughtless. When teaching students he is calm and patient. When he’s among friends he is light hearted. Cao Cao is only 2 years old and he’s been training for just over two years and is another of the founding members of the team: So, how’d you start out in Parkour? Cao Cao: I watched videos on the internet and began by watching Du yi Ze, the best guy in China - from Beijing. What do you use, without having access to Youtube? Cao Cao: Most of the time we just use youku.com. Just search for a name and you’ll find their video. Who are your influences? Cao Cao: David Belle and Daniel Ilabaca. 285

What do you think of the European style of moving? Cao Cao: I think they are very strong and creative; the moves that they are able to develop show that. They have more opportunities than we do to go to different countries and learn new moves to develop the sport. Why do you do Parkour? Cao Cao: I think it really suits the younger generation. Also the moves are really beautiful. (He laughs at the afterthought). It also makes me really happy to have everyone together training in the gym or doing performances or just screwing around making videos. It sounds like the idea of togetherness is very important to you, is it? Cao Cao: You MUST have everyone together. Not only is it a brotherhood, but you learn faster and are challenged by others when you’re together. I’d like to know then, what does the name “Free Passion” mean to you? Friends? Family? A brotherhood? Cao Cao: All of it! . Are you influenced at all by martial arts? The discipline, the movies? If so, how does that show in your own movement? Cao Cao: Kung-fu is kung-fu and Parkour is Parkour. The moves are different and they use a different method to perform them. What we do is all about freedom, while kung-fu has a lot of restrictions. There are some moves that are very similar, and when I see them they are very beautiful and thrilling (like watching Jackie Chan’s moves) so I try to adapt them to fit my style. What was the first thing you learned? And now what is your favorite move? Cao Cao: I first learned a wallspin. But now, I don’t really have a favorite move. If I see something, I’ll try to find the fastest route, while keeping it as beautiful as I can. So your roots dig deep in the Parkour philosophy then? Cao Cao: When I move, I move without thinking. You can practice front flips and backflips, but that’s not what Parkour is. You need to use the moves you would in any situation. You need to practice what you do in life. Everything. How do you think the older generation sees what you do? Police may tell you to leave a place, or many people might call it dangerous. What is your response to that? Cao Cao: Actually, I enjoy when people are watching me. I draw more energy from them than I would normally have. I perform well under pressure. But when we’re out in the streets, I see it as an opportunity to show people what Parkour is. How do you see the culture changing with the younger generation in regards to Parkour? Cao Cao: I see it becoming more developed - all it really is, is movement and allowing your body to take control. It can be used in so many places, like advertising - which I think will happen more here in China. But that’s a double-edged sword. The purists would see that as selling out. Cao Cao: I would somewhat agree. I don’t like just selling myself, selling my moves to a company just for money. So how would you do it? How would you reach the average person who doesn’t go outside and just watches TV and plays computer games?

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Cao Cao: If the team has a lot of money, then we could travel to other cities in China and market ourselves on our own terms. We can pass out business cards and promotional videos. But that’s only if we have money . There are a lot of people who won’t understand it at first, but if they are open to it, we can really explain what Parkour is. How about fashion? Are you influenced by Western culture at all in the way you dress when you train? Cao Cao: You know, I’m a fashionable and good-looking guy and I rather like their fashion. But while training, it is important to wear what makes you feel comfortable. How easy is it to get access to Western products? Cao Cao: There are Western products, but they’re not as good as the ones sold overseas. We just use a mix of Chinese brands. When one breaks, buy another one! Does music play a role in your game? Cao Cao: Yes, I like emotional and strong music where I can really feel the rhythm. Any girls on the team? And what are your views on them doing Parkour? Cao Cao: There are two girls you could count as us training. Girls can totally do it! If their bodies can co- ordinate and keep pace with the moves then it’s no problem. But they do need enough strength to be able to perform the moves. Basically if they’re committed than can get all of this in no time. They just need to be extra careful to protect themselves when training because their physical structure obviously isn’t the same as a man. What are your favorite memories with Free Passion? Cao Cao: There are too many! When we were in high school, those were the best times because we were always together. But now we all have our jobs, though we’re still together as much as possible. I am happiest when we’re training or doing performances. We play games, sometimes, friendly competitions, like to see who can do the most beautiful sequence. Whoever loses has to do push ups . Seeing as Free Passion is only two years old, what don’t you like about the already established scene in China? Cao Cao: I don’t like the buildings here and how they are constructed. It doesn’t suit Parkour because there aren’t enough obstacles. For example, on my apartment roof we have a solar energy tank and lots of electric wires. Most of the buildings and walls are like this. The way they are constructed is like they are built on tofu dregs. They break easily! What about the things that you do like? Cao Cao: I like how it has evolved to become a sport shared among brothers. One person becoming strong on their own is not the way to become the strongest. It is not as good as having everyone who loves the same thing training together to become strong collectively. And what are your views on competition within Freerunning? Cao Cao: The moves you see in the competitions really flow. Their skills are really proficient and practiced, and so the moves you see all look very beautiful. I like this. So I was hoping that you might be able to tell me a little more about the experience that you had in Beijing. You had mentioned to me that it was mixed? Was it exciting to be on national TV? 287

Cao Cao: It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. I actually forget a little bit about it. It’s been a while . Well, what about it do you remember? Cao Cao: It was different from any experience that I had before. To be honest, I didn’t like it all that much. Please explain? Cao Cao: We came across a lot of problems. There were sixteen of us in total that performed. CCTV chose practitioners from all over the country. Everyone arrived on time except for the members from one of the Beijing teams. We were supposed to take photos, get to know each other, and get to know the setup on which we were supposed to perform - but they never showed up. On the day we were supposed to perform, they suddenly arrived. They showed up five days after everyone had already practiced together, and knew what it was that we were supposed to do. And what’s worse, they didn’t even try to get along with us. They just wanted to perform and they shamelessly promoted their team without any respect for us, or the event. That sucks but we won’t name and shame. Ok, What is your general opinion of the teams in the bigger cities? Beijing? Shanghai? They get all of the attention in the international community. This article is one of the first focuses on the scene in one of the smaller cities. I really admire the skill of Urban Monkeys, they’re the best in Beijing. But I feel that especially after this event, our team ranks pretty high in the country overall — both in technical terms, and mentally. There was one guy there who really organized us, and made sure that we were on task. I learned a lot from him. Do you remember his name? Cao Cao: No! . If you could travel to any location in the world to train, where would you go and why? Cao Cao: Oh man, I don’t know what country to pick. There are so many beautiful ones to choose – my head’s all messed up . I’d really like to train in England. I’d like to see the scenery and get away from the walls here that break when I do speed vaults over them. How do you feel about video games? Cao Cao: At the start they were fun to play but not anymore. There’s no meaning to me in playing video games…they waste time. Kids should practice moving more from when they are young; that way it would be easier to get them out running around. Are videos an important tool for sharing the work that you and Free Passion do? Cao Cao: Definitely. We can use them to promote Yunnan province and Kunming parkour. What kinds of shoes do you wear when you train? Cao Cao: The shoes I wear are really mixed. We have shoes that are anti-slip but not shock absorbing. We also have some that shock absorbing but not anti-slip. It’s really difficult to find anti-slip and shock absorbing ones best for Parkour. We don’t have that many good shoes to choose from. The expensive ones are really expensive and you’re not sure whether they will break or not. Our shoes are not as good as those overseas. Okay, here’s the easiest question of them all. If you could, would you want to become more involved in the World Parkour community? Would language be a barrier? 288

Cao Cao: Of course I’d like to tap into it, the conditions here are really poor. Correct, language is a major barrier for us. Is there anything I haven’t asked that you would like to say? Cao Cao: Forever Prosperous. (He says it in Chinese, laughing to himself.) I teach at an artist studio, teaching people how to draw. And if I see a drawing that isn’t very good I’ll say, “Not Prosperous.” Very good! What is your advice to beginners? Cao Cao: (He takes his time to answer and then does so with a wicked smile) It is essential to learn and keep practicing all of the basics until you throw up . Only then will you be ready for the difficult stuff. No seriously, when you’re in the moment you have to know what all of the possible outcomes of a move are; technique and results--and all of it has to be done without thinking. And if you don’t have all of the fundamentals, you’ll get hurt, so make sure you go out and practice the basics over and over until they become second nature to you. Then go out and have fun experimenting. My third interview was with Shen yi Liu Shen yi Liu, “Obi-Wan,” is 2 years old and has been working security at the Kunming airport for one year. He works most days of the week, but during his free time the two of us can usually be found training at one of the college campuses around the city. He lives at home with his parents and spends the rest of his time with his girlfriend. For the last three years, Parkour has been his escape from the pressures of life. What is it that makes you free? Obi-Wan: Just movement. All movement. What do you choose to call it? Parkour, Freerunning, Pao Ku? Or something else? Obi-Wan: I like the name of Freerunning. You know, “free” and “running,” that’s all I want to be. I like parkour too, but I feel more connected to freerunning. Some people in Free Passion say that I should not flip so much; they say that it’s not Parkour. But when I flip I feel free. A traceur should do what makes him feel free. If you do the same things as others then its not your style. Not your ideas. How do you feel Chinese culture as a whole accepts Parkour? Obi-Wan: I think anywhere, Parkour as a sport and as a philosophy is difficult to understand. Most people don’t try it, and that’s what makes the difference. But the only thing we can do is to keep showing it to people, and hopefully one day they will understand and maybe try it. How do you think China will change with time as the younger generation takes control? Having grown up during such a prosperous time, your experiences are surely much different from those of your parents or grandparents?Obi-Wan: I think traditional Chinese culture is very closed. So they can’t understand something new very easily. But WE just want to do it. If they tell us it is impossible, that just makes us push to make it possible. And we do exactly that . So Free Passion is one of the many forces establishing the first generation of Parkour in China? Obi-Wan: Everything needs the first people to try it. When I first started learning, it was from videos on the internet. I thought it was impossible, like everyone else. But I tried it, we all did. There are people the same age as me, going to school, living with parents and letting them do everything for them. They don’t try anything at all, but I do. Like Parkour says, “Be strong to be useful.” And so I am .It sounds like your identity is really shaped by Parkour. 289

Obi-Wan: Well none of us really know all of Parkour’s ideals, but we have our own. We can’t really say it. We just have to do it. You mentioned how you learn off of the internet, do you find that difficult with no access to websites like Youtube or Facebook? Obi-Wan: Not really. We use www.youku.com , which is kind of like a Chinese version of Youtube. There is a delay in western videos being uploaded, but it isn’t difficult for us to find them. What are you afraid of? Obi-Wan: Nothing! (His girlfriend then walks in the door) Well, maybe her . Actually, I’m afraid that my parents won’t understand. They don’t really already, but they don’t stop me because they see that this is what I love. They just want me to be safe. How do you feel about competition? Obi-Wan: I think friendly competition is very beneficial. It pushes you to become stronger and in turn you push those that you compete with. Any favorite techniques? Obi-Wan: The backflip. I think it looks very beautiful. But my best is my front. I think the day that I learned it I did more than thirty in a row. I was so happy . So when you’re out training, what do you wear? Obi-Wan: I’ll wear anything if its both comfortable and cheap . Ultimately, I need to be able to move freely. Which do you prefer, Chinese or Western brands? Obi-Wan: The Western products are all made in China...so I don’t know how to answer this question . What about shoes? Obi-Wan: You should know! I use the Inov-8 F-lite 301 PK shoes that you bought me in America. I love them. Before that I used Adidas and some other brands that I can’t even remember. But the Inov-8’s are perfect. Lets talk a little about the birth of Parkour in Kunming. How did it start? Obi-Wan: We found each other around 2007-2008 over the internet. I had been training by myself for a few months when we got together. We trained that day and went to the bar at night. That night we made our first team. “Beware of Falling.” How long did that last? Obi-Wan: Less than a year. Some people quit Parkour, some made new teams, and some just kept training like me. But from that came Free Passion. What did you do differently this time? Obi-Wan: We decided on one person to lead and manage the team through a vote. And that was Superman? Obi-Wan: Yeah, but we don’t really need a leader because we’re friends just as much as we are a team. It’s mostly for other people, like if they hire us for performances. Why aren’t there any girls on the team? 290

Obi-Wan: We do have one girl as a student but she isn’t of a high enough level just yet. Han Hao mentioned that he sees people playing less videogames in the future as Parkour grows. But how do you feel about games that feature Parkour? Do you play them? Obi-Wan: I have played Mirror’s Edge . The game is just a game. It’s just for playing. What do you feel will happen in the future for Free Passion and Parkour in China as a whole? Obi-Wan: Well, some years ago no one really knew what Parkour was. I think it will be difficult to change because again, no one in the older generation - and some in my own - don’t know what it is and they don’t try it. And if they don’t try it, how can they understand it? In the grand scheme, what is it that clashes the most with you about the Chinese Parkour scene as a whole? Also, what do you find that works? Obi-Wan: I don’t like how the teams of China aren’t united. They’re very isolated and separated in mind. But truthfully, this question is the first time that I’ve really thought about it. If you had the opportunity to train anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? Obi-Wan: Latvia! I love the Dvinsk Clan videos. And I also think that the jungle gym where Oleg trains is fantastic! I would definitely go there. And how do you think China stands against the European scenes? Obi-Wan: I think that since they’ve been training for a long time, that they have such a developed mind. So their Parkour is different from ours. Their theory has had more time to mature. And because they live in a different country, their Parkour develops differently from ours. It’s not a matter of better or worse, just different. What do you think of the World community? If you could get involved on a bigger scale, would you want to? Do you think language would be a big barrier? Obi-Wan: Of course I’m aware of how big this whole thing is, and I would see it as a real honor and a pleasure to get involved. I would LOVE it actually. Language isn’t so much of a barrier for me as it is for some of the others in the team. I speak more English than any of them! Thank you so much for taking the time to be interviewed and for sharing your thoughts with all of the Jump Magazine readers. I’m sure that they’ll be interested to read about the Chinese scene which up until now, nobody in the Western world has really heard that much about. Obi-Wan: It was a pleasure.

Summary: When I was given this assignment, I didn’t really know what I would do with it and now that it’s finished, I’ve gained insight into the talent and depth of thinking of those around me. These three founding members of Free Passion could not be more different as people, but their ideas are truly representative of the team as a whole. Over the months that I’ve come to know them and their students, I really do feel that sense of family. My Chinese is very poor and yet every day that we’re together, I feel that more is expressed through our movements than our words could ever capture. These three stand as sources of strength for each other, encouraging others to grow in talent, as well as in mind. Their technique and mental strength is as matured as any of the traceurs under the world’s eye in the bigger cities. It’s a shame that, until now, most of the attention has been focused on areas like Beijing and Shanghai. But with this 291

article, it is my hope that the Free Passion brotherhood will be granted the same respect and identity as other teams in other parts of China and the world.

While China’s economic future seems to be changing at a rate more rapid than its culture can readily assimilate, it has created a unique niche for teams like Free Passion to sweat and bleed and demonstrate their art to the average person in the street. With individuals like Han Hao, Cao de Wei, and Shen yi Liu at the forefront, the future of Parkour in China is very bright. Kunming is the ideal city for these traceurs. It is the city of “Eternal Spring,” where ten months out of the year the weather doesn’t drop below degrees. The lifestyle of their home is reflected in their attitude towards their art. Relaxed.

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Appendix E

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Appendix E1: Brief biography of those participants attending Barristers gym

Attendants at Barristers Brief biography gym Thirty-two years-old; personal trainer; gym instructor assessor; free-weight user; Men’s Preston Health reader but rarely buys other men’s magazines. Forty-five years-old; public sector leisure manager; recreational endurance athlete; Paul married; Occasional magazine reader. Twenty-two years-old; public sector leisure centre attendant; all-round fitness Scott enthusiast; rugby player; university graduate in physical education; avid reader of men’s magazines. Thirty-five years-old; skilled manual worker; free-weight user; reads a men’s magazine Jason once a week. Forty years-old; private sector manager at an engineering firm; married; recreational Terry gym user; boxer; describes his politics as “liberal”; occasional men’s magazine reader. Thirty years-old; private sector salesman; gym-goer and amateur Mixed Martial Arts Sebastian (MMA) fighter; Men’s Health magazine subscriber and Sport reader.

Appendix E2: Brief biography of those participants attending The Public gym

Attendants at The Brief biography Public gym Eighteen years-old; further education student; gym instructor in training; football player; Cameron has a subscription to Men’s Health and regularly reads Sport and other magazines. Forty-seven years-old; security guard; gym-goer who enjoys endurance and Ian cardiovascular exercise; amateur triathlete; rarely buys or reads magazines. Twenty-three years-old; IT professional; aspiring Men’s Health cover model; trains at James the Public four-to-five times a week; occasional reader of men’s fitness magazines. Thirty-one years-old; marketing professional; public sector worker; holds a gym Neil membership but attends only sporadically; reads men’s magazines occasionally but says he “isn’t obsessed with them”. Twenty-eight years-old; electrician; uses the gym two-to-three times a week; kickboxing Karl instructor; would only read magazines in a waiting room. Twenty-one years-old; grew up in a single-parent family; part-time gym instructor; Cris manual labourer; describes himself as an “amateur physique-builder”; frequent reader of a variety of men’s fitness magazines. Forty-five year-old male; married; white-collar worker who has graduated to his current position from more labour intensive work as a youngster; describes his gym-going as a Sam form of “body maintenance” so as to “grow old gracefully”; reads free magazines such as Sport but seldom buys other men’s titles.

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Appendix E3: Brief biography of traceurs

Traceurs Brief biography Twenty-three years-old; parkour instructor; third year university student; reads Jump but Jamie has little interest in other men’s magazine. Eighteen years-old; A level student; has a privileged family background; one of the most Bradley capable traceurs in the sample who sees parkour as philosophical movement and as more than a sport; says he would rather read a book than a magazine. Twenty-one years-old; unemployed; very capable traceur but is a quiet character; Dan believes parkour gave him a sense of belonging at a time in his life when he felt like an outcast; occasional reader of Jump. Eighteen years-old; student in further education; unofficial leader of the traceur group; Karol son of Polish migrants but retains a British passport; partial interest in men’s magazines broadly but reader of Jump. Twenty-one years-old; second year degree student studying psychology; advanced Calvin traceur; sees parkour as a way of training the mind and body Twenty-four years old; parkour instructor; does not practise parkour as often as he used David to because of an injured knee; reads men’s magazines often, especially Jump and occasionally Men’s Health Twenty years-old; from a single-parent home; unemployed; has “trained” as a traceur for five years and describes his involvement as “therapeutic” and as “an escape”; Ashley occasional reader of Jump but is critical of its self-appointed governance of parkour and freerunning communities.

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Appendix F

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Appendix F1: Normative White – Jonny Wilkinson

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Appendix F2: Normative White – Kirk Miller

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Appendix F3: Normative White – Daniel Ilabaca

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Appendix G

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Appendix G1: Normative Black – Yakini (Men’s Health)

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Appendix G2: Normative Black – (Sport) 303

Appendix G3: Normative Black – Sebastian Foucan (Jump) 304

Appendix H

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Appendix H1: Transformative – Karim Aun 306

Appendix H2: Transformative - Philips Idowu

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Appendix H3: Transformative – Thanda Mutero 308

Appendix H4: Transformative – Dolce & Gabbana 309

Appendix H5: Transformative - Dimitar Dimitrov 310

Appendix H6: Transformative – Cristiano Ronaldo 311

Appendix I: Interview questions

About the participant and their leisure/sporting lifestyles - (approx.) 10-15 minutes

1. Tell me about yourself in as much details as you want to give [‘gimmie’ question, to relax participants]. 2. How would you describe your family background? 3. Where did you grow up and what was it like? How does this differ to now? 4. What do you do for work? 5. How did you get involved in [insert activity]? 6. Why did you get involved in [insert activity]? 7. What do you like most about it? 8. What do you like least about it? 9. How and when do you read men’s magazines?

[break for participants to familiarise themselves with images]

“Here are a few images that I’d like to have a chat about. If you could flick through them for me, just to familiarise yourself with them. Let me know when you’re ready to crack on and we can start.”

Questions relating to images – (approx.) 30-45 minutes

1. Which image(s) is most like you? Why do you think this? 2. Which image(s) are least like you? Why? 3. Which image(s) would you most like to be like? Why? 4. Which image(s) would you least like to be like? Why? 5. Which image(s) do you think others would think to be the most desirable? Why? 6. Which image(s) comes closest to your version of the ‘perfect man’? Why? 7. Which body or bodies are most like you? Why? 8. Which body or bodies are most like you? Why? 9. What does the term masculinity mean to you? 10. What do these images suggest to you about what masculinity is? 11. What do the images suggest to you about ‘race’? 12. Do you detect any stereotypes in these images? 13. What does the term ‘race’ mean to you? 14. [if they identify as such enquire:] What do these images say about being a white man? 15. Please take a look at the check list. Looking at the images in front of you (I will present them with KH’s (2 9: 6) ‘personal checklist’), pick 5 words that best describe the ways the images make you feel about yourself? 16. Can you briefly say why you chose these words? 17. Is there anything else that you’d like to say about anything that we have spoken about today?

Notes:

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Appendix J: Using Nvivo

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Appendix K: Gym Poster

ATTENTION ALL GYM USERS

OBSERVATIONAL RESEARCH IS TAKING PLACE IN THE GYM

IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE INCLUDED IN THE STUDY PLEASE SEE A MEMBER OF STAFF SHOULD YOU WISH TO OPT OUT.

THANK YOU

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Appendix L: Consent Form

Consent Form

I, ______, have been made aware that by signing this consent form Y N I am consenting to participate in an interview for this study.

I have had an opportunity to ask any questions about this research project.

I have read the Information Sheet about the research.

I understand that all data from and about me will be kept safely and securely.

I give the researcher permission to use the data generated to be used as part of a PhD study and subsequent academic publications which may follow.

I am aware that some of my responses may be produced verbatim in the final document; however, my name and/or personal details will be kept confidential and will not be known to anyone apart from the researcher.

I am aware that I can stop the interview at any time or refuse to answer any question(s) I feel uncomfortable with.

I understand that I have the right to withdraw from the research at any time and for any reason which will result in all information collected about me being destroyed

I have read this document and agree with all of the above statements.

Signed Date

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Appendix M: Leeds Metropolitan University – Research Information Sheet

Contact: Stefan Lawrence Carnegie Faculty Leeds Metropolitan University [email protected] 0113 8127324

What is the study aiming to achieve? The study intends to analyse how media representations of athletic bodies influence the (ethnic and masculine) identities of white males and their perception of their own and Othered bodies.

What will the research involve? The research will maintain a very informal and flexible approach. It will involve the observation of a number of sport and leisure environments wherein those persons meeting the participant criteria may be approached for an informal chat. Further into the research process, some persons may be approached and offered an opportunity to be interviewed.

Can I choose whether or not I take part? Participation in this study is entirely voluntary. No research will be undertaken should participants or facility/club managers not consent. Should you, at any point in the research process, feel uncomfortable or have a change of heart you are more than welcome to inform the researcher who will be sympathetic. Should you choose to contribute to the study you will be required to sign a consent form.

Is the research Confidential? Any data that will be generated from your involvement in the study will be disguised during the final document(s). Every effort will be made to ensure anonymity; thus, no distinguishing features of places or people will be identified. Should you wish to see the document before it is published, for your own piece of mind, the researcher only need be approached.

What if I need to know more about the project? Should you require further information you are welcome to contact me (via the details listed above) at any time or my supervisor Dr. Kevin Hylton at [email protected].

What next? If you agree to be interviewed please respond to the letter of introduction which should accompany this document.

Can I make a complaint about this study? Yes. If you have any complaints please contact Dr. Hayley Fitzgerald at [email protected]

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