A few days ago, I sat down to do something I hadn't done since middle school: watch the WB Network. I started avoiding it after the success of Dawson's Creek led them to pump out several more similarly-themed shows. (How many times can you watch the same show in one night?)  I wondered if the teen-drama genre had changed much since I left it.

At 5 p.m., I was able to catch an episode of Smallville, a show that tells the story of a young Superman (a.k.a. Clark Kent). The premise sounded interesting and definitely different. Clark and Lex Luthor were once friends? I couldn't believe I hadn't started watching earlier.

But my enthusiasm faded as the hour went on. However different the basis of most shows directed at teens might seem, the same rules still apply. First off, the characters are still pretty flat; each falls into a rigidly defined role. And there is still very little deviation from the same standard of attractiveness that has persisted for years, for both males and females. Naturally, teens are still highly sexualized beings. We see this in various ways, most notably with Clark in a wet T-shirt, outlining his perfect stomach, and Tina sniffing Lana's undergarments.

"Abnormal" teens are present (read: nonwhite girls with short and/or curly hair who aren't size two, and guys who aren't six-foot or taller), but they aren't allowed to be love interests. Their primary function is to supply comic relief at the beginning of the show and in the middle, when things get a little tense.

There also seems to be a direct link between how closely one matches the beauty standard and how much airtime one receives. On Smallville, for example, the beautiful ones—Clark, Lana, and Whitney—are featured in all scenes, but the normal-looking ones—Chloe and Pete—aren't ever given a scene that doesn't include Clark or Lana.

The overwhelming message I received was that in order to be loved—like the lead characters of these shows—I need clear skin; long, straight hair; and thighs that never touch. It also helps to have a lighter skin tone; exotic is OK, as long as you aren't too different. And I shouldn't bother with guys who aren't tall with perfect abs and strong, chiseled facial features.

 

Hitting a Nerve?

I wondered if I was the only one who saw things this way, so I got some feedback from other teens. A few, like Shauna Moroney, 17, of Edison, NJ, feel it's nothing to get upset about.

"I personally think that you should be strong enough to know what's a TV show and what's real life. If not … well, you probably need some help," says Moroney.

Others feel very strongly that these images are potentially harmful. Jinnie Lee, 17, of Ridgewood, NJ, believes that the entertainment industry can be extremely exploitative.

"If you think about it, most of the people who control show business are these 40-something men who can shape teen actors and actresses into whatever they wish … so, they all look like models with perfect bodies, skin, and hair. Then real teens think they have to look that way or else they believe they're completely flawed," says Lee.

Amy Rosen, 17, of Blue Bell, PA, agrees.

"These shows bombard us with images that lower our self-esteem, just to promote products [during commercials] that promise to boost it back up," she says.

Rosen's right. I definitely noticed that during each commercial break of Smallville, a commercial for Neutrogena or Slim-Fast aired.

 

Getting Media Savvy

What's going on here?

Mark Crispin Miller, author of Boxed In: The Culture of TV, is a media critic and professor of media ecology at New York University. I asked him why these shows keep coming out every season.

"What we're seeing is a constant desperate effort to attract as many young viewers as possible, so as to sell the all-important advertising," he explains.

Miller says that few media corporations will move beyond the stereotypical teen shows and characters or have the nerve to try something "unexpected, challenging, and thoughtful."

"If such a risky project fails, those responsible will lose their jobs. It's much safer to do the usual thing—come out with yet more versions of whatever's selling at the moment. It's something of a sure thing to pitch a show full of cheesy sex and melodrama," he says.

So basically, the formulaic teen drama—populated by "beautiful" teens—is repeated, because, quite simply, it gets the desired result. I mean, who had ever heard of American Eagle clothing before Joey started climbing into Dawson's bedroom window? It's understandable that a company—sensing that it has a product that may attract teens—would advertise during a show that promises to draw a large teen audience. But I still don't think it's nice for them to say that I should use Slim-Fast just because I don't fit into Lana's jeans.

 

Holding Out

Still, I believe that, in all of this, there is a glimmer of hope. After all, there is more diversity on TV now than ever before, even if these ethnically diverse characters are marginal. And occasionally, someone writes a show with characters with some depth, like Gilmore Girls. Though there are a lot more shows that rely heavily on wet T-shirts and sexual tension to get viewers, every once in a while something good comes along.

I'm holding out for something good.