Kudos to Adam Sutton for his nuanced and insightful commentary about the ambiguities inherent in the recent Super Bowl halftime show: female empowerment, female objectification or both (“Jennifer Lopez, Shakira and a dad teaching his daughters about beauty,” Feb. 6).
Ironically, similar ambiguities are present in actual game in which the show is embedded. There is the athletic artistry of a wide receiver making a spectacular catch, trailing his toes just in bounds, or the impossible runs by our own Lamar Jackson. Juxtaposed to these ballet-like moves are exhortations for linemen and linebackers to be physically dominant, expectations that in each game several player will be removed by injury, and recollections of the generation of retired, brain-damaged players who destroyed their lives for our entertainment.
So the game contains the same dichotomy as the show: celebration of astonishing athleticism and football intelligence side-by-side with men objectified as gladiators. Unlike Mr. Sutton, I do not have to worry about what I tell my daughters, but about what I tell myself. I continue to watch
Eaton E. Lattman, Baltimore
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