The Online Reflector

Alana Thompson, better known by her self-given nickname “Honey Boo Boo Child,” is the definition of a beauty pageant underdog. Upon first glance, one would never guess that this little Georgian firecracker is indeed a successful star.  Sure, she boasts a few extra pounds, carries an edge of Southern twang in her booming voice, and tosses around more obscenities than the average American 7-year-old, but she can strut her stuff up on the pageant stage. Better yet, it’s her personality that takes the stage, unlike many of the other contestants, who often are little more than mechanical Barbie Dolls wound up by obsessive mothers living vicariously through their daughters. The appeal of Honey Boo Boo lies in the way her inner beauty, her spunky personality and admirable ambition, intersects with her outer beauty, her bouncy blond ringlets and her sometimes crooked smile.

Perhaps the best part of Honey Boo Boo is that she is absolutely not intimidated by her differences. Heck, this girl is known to grab her belly rolls and feign a goofy voice to imitate these rolls talking…on national television. How many of you Honey Boo Boo haters out there are that confident in your own skin? This girl has got a healthy dose of self-esteem, which, when juxtaposed with the starvation-inducing “thin-is-in” mentality of today’s beauty industry, is actually a bit refreshing. Alana brings a whole new meaning to the “flaunt what you’ve got” philosophy, without being the stereotypical, superficial beauty pageant contestant.

Of course, “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” is not only the story of Alana, but her entire family as well. As anyone who has ever watched even a fraction of an episode knows, they are not exactly the picture-perfect, nuclear American family. In fact, they’re far from it, and the show’s cameras are documenting that. It’s virtually impossible to watch the show for a few minutes without hearing something vulgar, watching disgusting behavior, or witnessing a family member pass gas or burp.

Just because the show may elicit excessive cringing and thoughts along the lines of, “What in the world?” doesn’t mean it’s not worthy of watching. The comedy inherent in the belching and flatulence may be seen as elementary or “immature.” But let’s face it: it’s hilarious.  I’m a 20-year-old college student, and I still can’t suppress a laugh when someone farts in public, let alone on national television. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I laugh at this stuff. “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” brings us that appealing “ew-gross-funny” factor that producers have long used to reel in viewers, the not-so-pure but incredibly laughable comedy.

For those who describe Alana’s family with stereotypical tags such as “redneck,” “white trash” or “low-class,” or phrases such as “the epitome of American obesity,” you are missing the point. Shame on you. If you are too concerned with the way Sugar Bear talks or Mama June’s deformed “forklift foot,” then you need to reconsider the lens through which you are watching this show. Get off your pedestal, and “redneck-ognize,” as Alana says, this is a show about a family and a girl with a dream, not a collection of derisive stereotypes and labels.

Honey Boo Boo is a dose of lighthearted, albeit rough-around-the-edges humor embedded in the story of a real-life “Little Miss Sunshine.” In all of the episodes, she is normally the only overweight contestant, which immediately makes her the underdog. Luckily, though, the judges are often able to see through to her inner beauty, her crazy personality. And what about us, America? Can we not see past the surface of this eccentric family and through to their big hearts? Alana’s family may be a little dysfunctional at times, but at the end of the day, they all love each other. Mama June and the rest of the family have made considerable sacrifices along Alana’s unlikely journey, from “Toddlers in Tiaras” to their very own, crazily popular reality show.

“Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” is reality television that’s about as real as it gets. In today’s world of overly scripted shows and faked “reality TV,” we should appreciate this display of Alana and her family’s uncensored, real life amidst the stuffy, artificial world of beauty pageantry.