I was unaware until a friend told me last week that there is currently debate in the UK about the raising (or at least not reducing) the minimum age for smear tests for cervical cancer.
The offspring of two drug addicts, she was given her first joint at the age of five, watched her father inject heroin (he later served four years for robbery before dying of an overdose at 42) and helped care for her periodically violent mother after she lost the use of her arm in a motorbike accident.
Goody was catnip to the tabloids. They denounced her for her loudness ("Lob the gob!"), for being overweight (references to "Miss Piggy" abounded) and, after a now-infamous conversation with another housemate about whether "East Angular" was abroad, for being thick. Many of the broadsheets deplored her vulgarity and the high profile she was gaining despite her palpable lack of talent.
Presenters such as Dominik Diamond called her "a nasty slapper" and Graham Norton had a wonderful time working the pig angle in every opening monologue to his show for the duration of Jade's stay on Big Brother. Pulsing underneath it all, however, was the distinct throb of fear.
Because despite the supposed democratisation of television, the truly uneducated, those marked by true poverty and deprivation, rarely appear in our light entertainment schedules. And suddenly, there was Jade, an unapologetic and unadorned symbol of all sorts of uncomfortable truths that we choose to face through the occasional well-chosen documentary.
What the media reaction showed was quite how far we had yet to travel down the road towards social equality. Because Jade wasn't thick. The street smarts she would show in managing her subsequent career would be proof of that. She was woefully uneducated, but damning the school system that left her unable to decide whether Rio de Janeiro was a place or a person wouldn't have made such good copy. First she was failed by her family, then by the school system and then by the collective imagination.
Whether the accumulation of financial capital makes up for the million major and minor difficulties and humiliations a dearth of social capital brings about is an unanswerable question. Perhaps Goody would have wearied of the fame game and come to regret her willing involvement with it. We are meant to see any kind of pact with those who garner us fame and riches as a pact with the devil. But perhaps it isn't always. Perhaps if you are born into a world you never expected to have much control over, people paying to add their contribution to the chaos doesn't seem too bad an offer.
In the Living documentary, Goody curls up, in pain and nauseous, on the back seat of her producer's car as she is taken home alone, since Tweed is in prison and her mother ever more of a hindrance than a help after her first bout of cancer treatment.
She prattles as unceasingly as ever, eternally unreflective ("If you ask me why I'm crying, I don't know, I'm just up and down"), and unwittingly exposed. She doesn't like to ask friends to come with her to the hospital, she says. "But if it was the other way around, I'd be up there no problem, so maybe I should let them "
That she keeps her friends away when times are tough is a relic of her early enforced self-reliance and in that moment, the camera watching her seems to be a substitute for the support network most of us would fall unthinkingly back on at such a time and which Jade had never had and still did not.
In that moment, the question of exploitation does not arise. What we are doing is bearing a kind of witness to someone struggling against the odds as, she must have felt, she had been struggling all her life.
I can't help the doubt that she really died on Friday or Saturday and he witheld the news until Sunday, just for the publicity of it being on Mother's Day.
You're far too cynical. There are such things as coroner's reports.
are these people just stupid or what..
I'm sorry I just can't stand how hypocritical everyone is being.
She's a racist! Does no one now remember the Shilpa Shetty incident?
Meh. That argument gets trotted out every time someone you don't like gets a mention in the paper. We had a couple of days of weeping over Natasha Richardson in the broadsheets, and I didn't have a clue who she was.
Jade Goody took her chance and made the most of it. Reading some comments here, you get the idea that some would like the proles kept in their place... except very few here have had the upbringing she did:
I think it's a sad story, but it's helped persuade many more young women to have smear tests. It doesn't cost anything to have a charitable thought for her and her kids today.
I was unaware of just how awful her childhood circumstances were. That's quite a journey.
He's got a good point though hasn't he...
Have you seen facebook? Springing up with RIP Jade Goody..
are these people just stupid or what..
I'd trade 10 mings like her to save a little orphan in africa or anyone else.
I hope her children get brought up by someone other than Tweed (no doubt they will now Tweed will be off the scene very quickly)
i dunn like her... >_<
i can't believe so many sing praises of such a horrible human, you call her a martyr and a hero when all she was lower class trash and racist at that. And not only this but how do you think her children will feel when there picked on by there friends cos mummy died on tv.
.In her short life, Jade showed how as Britain has spiralled into one of the most unequal and immobile societies on earth, we have begun to openly jeer and sneer at the people trapped at the bottom. We gleefully seized on her as "proof" that the people rotting on abandoned estates were not there because of the grim accident of birth, but because they were stupid and ugly and bigoted. And all we proved with unwitting irony was our own stupidity and ugliness and bigotry
That summer, a string of images of white, working-class women presenting them as bestial imbeciles dominated our screens. Vicky Pollard a single mum so thick she swaps her baby for a Westlife CD, played by a multimillionaire private schoolboy was becoming a national icon. A chaotic single mum established Wife Swap as one of our favourite shows. Words of straightforward snobbish abuse "chav" and "pikey" were becoming acceptable again.
Go to any extremely unequal society, say, South Africa, or South America, and you will find a furiously suppressed sense of guilt. It's hard not to ask, at the back of your mind, "Why am I here in this mansion, while they are in the slums?" This guilt is resolved one way: by convincing yourself that the poor are sub-human, and don't have feelings like you and me. Oh, the people in the barrios and townships? They're animals! They stink! They're stupid! Jade and Vicky and the labelling of the poor as "chavs" filled that role for us. They know nothing! They are repulsive!
Nobody wanted to stop and ask: why doesn't Jade know much? Here's why. Her mother was a seriously disabled drug addict, so Jade didn't go to school much because she stayed at home to look after her. From the age of five, she was in charge of doing the cooking and ironing and cleaning. Jade explained: "As early as I could remember, I'd spent my whole life trying to protect my mum, frantically hiding the stolen chequebooks she used to have lying around the house when the police barged in on one of their raids; desperately denying to the teachers at school that she'd hit me for fear of being sent to social services."
Her father treated her even worse. He stashed a gun under her cot, and her first memory was of him shooting heroin in her bedroom, his eyes rolling back and his body juddering. Eventually, after periods in and out of prison, he was found dead from an overdose in the toilet of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. "He died without a single vein left in his body," Jade said. "In the end, he'd injected every single part of it and all his veins had collapsed, even the ones in his penis."
Despite this, Jade always worked, in shops, for minimum wage, and stayed away from drugs (apart from weed). She applied for Big Brother because her mum was sinking into crack addiction, and she couldn't think of any other way to avoid witnessing it. To the end, she was terrified of matches, and couldn't bear to have tinfoil in her house, because they reminded her of crack.
And so she appeared in British public life, and we jeered and howled and held her up as a poster-girl for "the underclass".
http://www.independent.co.uk/opinio...ed-the-brutal-reality-of-britain-1651722.html
All she was lower class trash and racist at that.
Crawl out of the woods?The fewer of these people about the better it is for the world and hopefully future generations will be better educated so that people like this wont crawl out the wood works again.