Paper towels and gender essentialism
Brawny should hire Judith Butler
For the life of me, I can’t remember when I started thinking WTF about Brawny paper towels. They certainly weren’t advertised to me on social media (my ad algorithms tend to favor dainty gold jewelry; flowy, flowery clothing; a myriad of balms; and recently, pretty wood furniture that apparently snaps quite easily together if Instagram reels are to be believed).
But algorithm or not, WTF to the marketing team at Brawny.
We caregivers (who, for much of history, have been a demographic group primarily comprised of mothers and women), have long been tasked with buying things to maintain and clean the domestic space. Most research estimates that mothers and women make up 85% of household purchases, and ever since companies started actively targeting moms (first in print media, then on TV, now on social media), cleaning-centric ads have typically featured a thin, non-disabled, presumably cis-het, white woman blissfully mopping or scrubbing or Febrezing her way through life.
In other words, the imagery of domestic labor has been explicitly and deliberately gendered feminine for market purposes. Women still don’t have constitutionally protected gender equality, but at least we can expect representation in dish detergent ads, AM I RIGHT?
So what exactly is the rationale behind the mostly headless lumberjack with 5 o’clock shadow? Why the fuck is he supposed to make moms and women buy paper towels?
“The strength to take on tough messes.”
In the context of this tagline, I guess we weak and frail little mommies are supposed to think to ourselves, “It’s our job to keep the home clean because according to cultural constructs of gender essentialism, women are “naturally” and “innately” best suited to domestic work, but we must depend on a “strong” MAN to help us with the “tough” stuff.”
This argument is complicated because it implies that although a Good Mother and/or Woman should devote herself to domestic pursuits, even in the domestic sphere (supposedly the one place she might reign supreme) she should not trust herself to be “strong” enough to tackle “tough” issues without the help of a man. Or at the very least, with the help of a roll of paper towels given the seal of approval by dint of the cartoon man printed onto its plastic encasement.
Or is the mostly faceless dude (who actually might be a Brooklyn-based cheese monger) supposed to remind us WHO exactly we should be keeping our home nice and tidy for? Are we supposed to see Mr. Brawny’s inescapably masculine torso (plus chin) and think, “Ah yes! Time to buy paper towels so I can keep the countertops streak-free so my Husband™ can rest his Briefcase and Pipe upon it after a long day in the Office without being troubled by stickiness or crumbs.”
??
Or is it much simpler than that? Is Mr. Brawny supposed to instill a feeling of innate [feminine] weakness and [feminine] incompetency? Are we so thoroughly socially conditioned to view masculinity as strong and femininity as weak that we see a flannel-clad guy without eyes and instinctively think, “That’s the ticket! That’s the best, strongest, most absorbent paper towel out there! Because flannel man!”
I went way too deep on this shit, and found this article from 2017, which seems to confirm my suspicions that the argument for choosing a dude mascot to represent the “strength” of a paper towel brand is wholly wrapped up in gender essentialism.
Check out this paper towel girlboss!
THE HASHTAG! Also love how it’s a “limited edition” assertion that feminine paper towels can be just as effective as masculine paper towels.
Mr. Brawny. WTF.