We see her in vivid Technicolor. The popstar, center-stage, eyes wide, dramatic, doe-like stare, flanked by ridiculously dressed dancers, a cordless mic wrapped through her snaky, sweaty blonde hair. She’s singing her latest hit, punching her tiny fist in the air, while pyrotechnic sea anemones flash and pop red, white, and blue around her. But to the left of the stage, back behind security, up against a table covered in deli trays, Diet Coke cans, and a plastic wrapped case of Dasani is her mom. She’s mouthing the words, a clenched fist held up to her mouth. The stage mom. The slave-driver. The pimp.
It is an age-old story. Kids too young to know any better. Parents with issue-guided ambition and zero business background. Record labels looking for quick payoff. Parents become managers. Kids lose their childhood. It’s a gory shame and–more often than not–climaxes with the kid getting the shit-end of the stick.
Age-old stories: Joe Jackson drives his boys too hard and turns son Michael into someone known as a child-fellating social cripple. Macaulay Culkin divorces his douchebag dad. Parents like Brooke Shields’ mom become manager,
chauffeur , agent, appointment coordinator, fan club president, PR rep, and end up in a lawsuit, their child buckling hard under the pressure.
But it’s never worse than with teen girl popstars. You’ll hear a lot of gossip. Unconfirmed stories of Britney Spears’ mom Lynn and her bloodthirsty envy of her daughter’s life. Or Hilary Duff’s mother burning bridges in Hollywood. Inflated self-importance only rivals crushed egos when these soccer mom valkyries go on the warpath.
One thing you won’t hear is the girls trashing their moms. Journalists being journalists, the question always comes up: “Is your mom a controlling bitch like everyone says?” Of course, the girls, still under their parents’ roof–or at least thumb–have to hold the happy family party line. When asked by Time whether her mom is a tyrannical stage mom or not, Hilary Duff–whose mother helped direct and produce A Cinderella Story–answered robotically, “I love my mom. I totally look up to her, and she just doesn’t let anybody take advantage of me.”
Christina Aguilera told cameras the same thing at a Soul Train taping, as did 13-year-old R&B singer JoJo when asked by MTV about her mom/manager. The responses are usually the same–mechanical, reflexive, drenched in fear.
In Simon Cowell’s book I Don’t Mean to Be Rude But… he blames Americans–both parents and kids. He says Americans are lazy by nature and see fame as an easy way out–that if you cut a demo, send it to record labels, (and if you’ve got talent) it’s a 24/7 tropical vacation from there on out.
But blaming kids is rare. Most experts–from online fame guide Idol-Dreams.com to NY gossip columnists–hold parents at fault and site examples like the Bravo series Show Biz Moms and Dads and VH1’s Driven: Stage Moms as indicators that things have gone too far. The general consensus is that an overall naiveté of how the business works fosters a lack of perspective. Of course their 13-year-old sounds good to them warbling “Desperado” in front of the sofa. And of course their friends and family won’t dare speak ill of the baby genius. It’s blind optimism. These parents see their kids as destined for stardom–a meal ticket for the whole family, an American Dream built on chubby, newly sprouted tits and a killer voice.
The whole mess might be funny if it wasn’t so destructive. But what can anyone on the sidelines do other than tell parents to chill out and let their kids make their own decisions? It’s a tough call, and there aren’t many hard answers. One thing’s for certain though, the entertainment business is only entertaining to those on the outside, those who only see the gloss and smiles. Inside, kids are getting fucked over, and parents are buying into the concepts of fame as immortality and celebrity as a qualifier of personal worth. But no amount of moralizing will fix that. The change has to start with parents and because of that, the outlook seems extremely fucking dark.