Jade Goody, and Dying for the Cameras

It's almost a cultural pastime in England to make celebrities out of their working class, chavs.  A Chav, is British slang for lower-class whites that typically wear ostentatious hip-hop clothing while acting loutish. English fascination with chav culture has been satirized endlessly in British pop culture, most famously with Sasha Cohen's Ali G character and Little Britain's Vicky Pollard. Even national football heroes like Wayne Rooney and his wife find themselves in the papers for their chav lifestyle, more often than his accomplishments on the pitch.  So you could imagine the public's glee when Jade Goody, a real life lower-class chav plucked off the streets became a contestant on the 2002 UK edition of Big Brother.



The tabloids made her a regular target of ridicule, mocking her for her drunken antics, and apparent lack of intelligence; a poor Paris Hilton. She was famously quoted as not knowing that Portugal was a country (and not a part of Spain), or where common parts of London could be found on the map.

Despite her ignorance, she parlayed her notoriety into a fortune, substantial enough to finance a lavish lifestyle, while continuing to make money by releasing a series of dubious cookbooks, perfumes, and fitness DVDs.

She eventually became so popular with audiences, albeit not for especially flattering reasons, that she was invited onto the 2007 edition of Celebrity Big Brother. After that, the 2008 Indian edition of Big Brother, entitled Big Boss came calling. By then, she had become so famous that some English polls found her a more recognizable figure than the Prime Minister. She even achieved some international fame, when true to her chav roots, she engaged in borderline racist taunting of a Big Brother housemate of Indian descent. The British tabloids, never known for their subtlety, went crazy. The cover of The Daily Mail ran a headline that simply read, ‘Jade We Hate You'.

But, the fun soon came to an end.

 In August of 2008, after years of chronic health problems, she discovered live on camera that she had terminal cancer. She soon left the show, and returned home to England. The British tabloids acted as expected, praising her for her courage in the face of death as shamelessly as they had mocked her months earlier.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the grave. Rather than fade away quietly, like many had expected, Goody decided to die as she lived; on television.



Rather than shun the press, Goody, bald and gaunt from cancer treatments, regularly appeared in front of the cameras, updating them daily from the hospital on her condition. She even broadcast her wedding to fellow reality star, Jack Tweed a few days ago for the ITV network. (She was heavily medicated, while he wore an electronic ankle bracelet; he was on a day-pass from prison where he is serving time for assault.)

There have been the expected reactions to Goody's behaviour. Many are unnerved, especially in England where death, like everything else, is to be met with quiet dignity and a stiff upper lip. Others feel that Goody is exploiting her disease and the emotions of her family (she has two young sons).  Their reactions are certainly understandable.  To die on television almost cheapens the act. Shouldn't some things be kept sacred? Or at least private? Hasn't modern society belittled death enough? Studies show that the average child will see over 8000 murders on television by the time they finish elementary school.

And while not completely analogous, there are surely some following Goody's death with the same morbid curiosity as those who would watch a Faces of Death DVD, or a fatal accident on YouTube. Surely we can agree that someone dying is the last place we should  for entertainment? (And to broadcast something, anything on television, implies at least some intrinsic entertainment value.)

And yet, despite all of the reasons not to, I find myself sympathizing more and more with Goody's decision.

When researching Goody I found that we were the virtually the exact same age. The naturally introspective and existential sort, I've pondered death, but like all young people, my own seemed like a distant and faraway matter, something to be contemplated far into the future. Goody's plight reminds us that fate does not always listen to our best laid plans.

Goody also reminds us that death is the definitive solitary experience.

No matter what illusions we have about our self-importance, the world will continue on its merry way after each and every one of us passes, ultimately indifferent to our demise. Goody, who lived the majority of her life in impoverished anonymity knows this;

She's lived her life in the media spotlight for seven years. Those seven years have been the happiest, most self-fulfilling of her life.

Max Clifford, Goody's Publicist

As the cameras roll and she slips closer and closer to her death, who wouldn't take at least a little comfort in knowing that millions are there with you in spirit? The great Spanish film director Luis Bunuel once said, that what upset him most about dying, was not being able to read tomorrow's newspaper. Goody can at least take some solace in knowing she'll be somewhere on the front page.