Brigitte Bardot has died. She was once considered one of the world’s most beautiful women, a sex symbol men wanted to be with and women tried to be. She was also a disgusting racist who was convicted five times for inciting racial violence in France and a woman who mocked actresses who didn’t think they should be sexually harassed and assaulted by men in their chosen industry. If you’ve followed me for a while here at Substack, you would probably assume she’s exactly the kind of human being I wouldn’t platform in any way. I find her repugnant, after all. So, when I sit down every day to pick a photograph of an artist to share with you in my Notes feed, why do I still sometimes post images of her?

The answer is: because I want you to respond.

The same way an artist who hangs a startling artwork on a gallery wall wants their audience to respond.

The response is the point.

The tension between those who see one thing and those who recognize something very different.

The same could be said about, say, John Wayne – whom I share photos of even though I found him to be both an offensive human being and indicative of a larger problem with American culture (which is why I penned the essay, “The Church of John Wayne’s Star-Spangled Wang”, which you might’ve read). My passion for art and using it as a way to understand ourselves better is so extreme that I don’t want to provide you only the most sanitary (or sanitized) versions of our reality. Yes, there are limits to what I’ll share, don’t get me wrong. But what a Brigitte Bardot or a John Wayne represent to our culture is a conflict between myth and reality – and we should spend a lot more time, if we want to be media literate, learning how to interrogate the difference between the two.

Anyway, Brigitte Bardot has died. She starred in some great films (Jean-Luc Godard’s CONTEMPT is a personal favorite). She liked animals a whole lot more than anyone who wasn’t white. She defended all kinds of abhorrent behavior and political views. I’m going to go enjoy another cup of coffee now (and probably never write anything about her again).