VivaVibe

So much to write about! Last night's episode of Gossip Girl had movement, homosexual parents, sexy school uniforms, and that golden moment when Blair finally gets busted at her own game. That crumbling look on her face when she realizes she's the biggest bitch to walk this side east of Manhattan since Ru Paul? Precious. And S. and B. may be friends again! Let's bond over our dysfunctional families and mascara-tinged cheeks. But for lack of space, I'm going to be focusing on two major gripes I had with the show: the subjects of college admissions and race.

It's Monday and back to school for the kids. Confronted with Ivy Week, the juniors face the daunting prospect of courting representatives from their top-choice colleges. "For those of you that dream of attending an Ivy League school, this mixer is the most important event of your life," declares the school headmistress. Of course there's a catch: no mere plebeian is allowed to attend—no, you must interview for an usher position, which is chosen strictly by a last-name basis, class rank and extracurriculars notwithstanding.

I went to a competitive preparatory school growing up, and let me tell you, the college admissions process was nothing like that—at least, not now. Sure, there was some whispering and resentment, a lot of "so-and-so's father owns this…" and "she only got in because…". But GG's representation of an Ivy Week is archaic. Rumor has it that representatives from Harvard, Yale, and Princeton visited the boys division of my school and passed around a paper to sign up for whatever school they pleased. But that was in the early 1900s! A century later, at a time when second-tier schools are now top-tier, even a five-word last name, quadruple legacy, and a stadium can't get the class idiot in. And they didn't. And the smartest, not richest, kids in my class ended up going to Ivys. But what do I know? This was all in Baltimore, eons away from the UES.

In the meantime, Dan's father Rufus adopts a ludicrous self-deprecating attitude. "Nothing—not my last name, not my bank account—will keep you from what you're capable of," he swears to a heartbroken Dan, who was denied Dartmouth's usher position. Rufus, once the armpiece of Mrs. Van der Woodson, stoically sends his children to a private school even if it banishes him to a Brooklyn apartment by the bridge (and one that I would do, um, anything to live in). But he lacks an infuriating amount of common sense regarding class systems. Rufus pries his children about their feelings on their lower social status, getting Jenny to admit embarrassment and ostracization, but then humbly accepts it while promising to struggle through it together. Oof. All this feels strangely manipulative, as if we're supposed to sympathize with the family for having a sweet apartment, in a sweet neighborhood, leading an educated and privileged life better than 90 percent of the city.

As for my minority-girl update? Every week, my coworker Fred approaches me to discuss the show's blatant "Frejudice," his coined term for anything regarding sexuality and race. And GG offers a lot of ammunition for fire. Practically mute, ostentatiously dressed and subservient, the Asian and black sidekicks are seen massaging Blair's legs as she bosses them around, snarling at them like pesky animals when they no longer are of use. In fact, they're only worth bothering with when Blair is afraid of being alone. And it's risible when the duo slip on black-rimmed glasses at the Ivy party, suddenly smart and spilling academic verbiage. Their passivity renders them twins, hardly worth noting when standing apart. Lacking an identity, the girls must latch onto a third person—Chuck, Blair, or a college representative, intermittently—to give them life, not unlike a fungus.

What could the producers be thinking? Are these bit parts originally color-cast in the books, or was this executive producer Josh Schwartz's attempt at integrating some diversity? Had they cast white actresses in these roles, would they be as easy to dismiss? I know that every aspect of the show plays on clichés, but to slap on tired stereotypes to supporting characters is painfully out-of-touch and downright offensive. (An interesting fact: actress Nan Zhang, one of the minoritytwins in GG, studies neuroscience in the meantime at Johns Hopkins, so her three-second mumble-jumble at the Ivy Party in the beginning may be, like, for reals.)

Popwatchers, what do you think?

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