Research

The McCultural Reset: How McDonalds India wove Cultural Storytelling into their Glocalisation Strategy

Posted on by Roshni Anand

Introduction

Glocalisation, a multifaceted phenomenon marrying the concepts of “globalisation” and “localisation”, reflects the complex process by which global products, ideas and practices are adapted to local contexts and cultures (Roudometof, 2016). It underscores the coexistence and mutual influence between global and local dynamics in the modern world, challenging notions of homogeneity and cultural hegemony associated with globalisation (Roudometof & Dessi, 2022). Present across several cultural domains like film, food, music and art (Sedda & Stano, 2022; Musa, 2022; Oh & Jang, 2022), glocalisation also manifests in business, where multinational corporations (MNCs) tailor their products to cater to local interests. With its presence in almost every country, McDonald’s emerges as a trailblazer in the realm of glocalisation, wielding a proven formula that drives marketing strategies while straddling global brand identity and local consumer preferences. This study aims to analyse McDonald’s India’s #FestivalsMakeFamilies advertising campaign through a semiotic lens to uncover insights into how the brand adapts its messaging to resonate with Indian cultural experiences and values. The subsequent findings will inform a broader understanding of McDonald’s glocal communication strategies in India.

Literature Review

William (2016) investigated McDonald’s renowned global market penetration with a focus on its marketing techniques. Operating in 119 countries, the brand was found to blend universal appeal and standardised quality with localised adaptations to its product, prices and promotional strategies. This ‘glocal’ approach with an unwavering focus on brand consistency allowed McDonald’s to adapt to diverse culturescapes, tailoring its products to fit local tastes, preferences and cultural norms while maintaining an omnipresent brand identity (ibid.).

Vignali (2001) conducted a detailed examination of how McDonald’s employs an internationalised approach to customise marketing strategies, rather than a globalised perspective of international markets as a single entity. By grouping countries by social, cultural, religious and economic similarities, the brand carves out a distinct space for itself to dominate market share in whichever country it operates in (ibid.). With vegetarian options to cater to South Asian consumers, halal meat for Middle Eastern and Malaysian markets, kosher food production in Jewish markets and seafood product variations in Japanese branches, the hybridisation of McDonald’s menu aided its success in international markets over competitors (ibid.).

The Indian consumer landscape proved to be drastically different from McDonald’s domestic market for a variety of reasons. As Tilwani et al. (2020) point out, McDonald’s traditional American menu paled in comparison to the familiar flavours of Indian street food, with cultural attitudes fostering a preference for ‘homestyle recipes’ over Western fast food. Non-vegetarian food consumption in India was overshadowed by dietary habits informed by cultural and religious views. Furthermore, the consumer demographic in India is segmented into distinct urban and rural income brackets with a majority being lower middle class, which heavily influenced consumer behaviour. The biggest problem, however, was its public image as a foreign entity disrupting the delicate ecosystem of the Indian market (ibid.).

McDonald’s turbulent entry into the Indian market was quickly improved by comprehensive localisation tactics as per Rangnekar’s (2014) study. 75% of the menu was customised to suit Indian tastes, distinct kitchens were established to separate the production of vegetarian and non-vegetarian food, the company positioned itself as a fine dining establishment to align with societal preferences for dining experiences, and offers were adapted to serve the majority economic class and the cultural ethos of ‘group meals’. Most notably, marketing campaigns localised their messaging as per the demographic in India (South, West, North and East) with regional language use, celebrity endorsements and festive promotions (ibid.).

Research Question

How did McDonald’s India leverage cultural storytelling in its advertisements to appeal
to local audiences and strengthen brand affinity to its global identity?

Methodology

This study employs semiotic analysis to investigate the mechanisms of glocal marketing strategies embedded in cultural storytelling in McDonald’s India’s #FestivalsMakeFamily advertisements. A semiotic analysis offers a comprehensive framework for decoding the symbolism used in the campaign to resonate with Indian audiences and allows for multimodal analysis of the interplay of various elements in conveying meaning and evoking desired responses (Kettemann, 2013). Moreover, a semiotic approach will help shed light on how these advertisements shape McDonald’s brand identity and positioning within the Indian market.

The main source of data for this qualitative study is two advertisements released in 2022-23 as a part of McDonald’s #FestivalsMakeFamilies ad campaign, accessible for public viewing on YouTube. While the videos were dubbed in multiple regional languages for McDonald’s India West and South (ET Brand Equity, 2022) the study will focus on the original Hindi versions for analysis. The ad films will be broken down into their constituent visual, linguistic and cultural signifying elements for analysis. After deconstruction, their meanings and associations will be interpreted within the context of Indian culture and McDonald’s brand identity. The findings will be analysed to uncover overarching themes within the brand’s advertising that strategically leverage semiotic elements to appeal to Indian audiences.

Ethical Considerations

The sources of data for this study are available online on YouTube, a public domain. Therefore, there are no notable ethical concerns regarding the usage of data. However, utmost care will be taken to preserve cultural sensitivities when analysing the linguistic and visual elements of the advertisements and presenting the findings of the study to not make generalisations about the communities being represented.

Findings

Advertisement 1: McDonald’s India Ramzan

Visual Elements

The advertisement contrasts the traditional festive attire of most characters with the modern workwear of the three main subjects, highlighting their exclusion from the Ramzan potluck and emphasizing their status as ‘freshers’ who typically cannot afford frequent dining out. This sets up the cultural context, their economic status, and their initial isolation. As the ad progresses, the three employees move from sitting apart to sharing a table at McDonald’s, visually representing their growing bond. The final shots of them sharing a meal underscore their ‘found family’ bond, mirroring the cultural emphasis on communal eating. The meal, featuring local menu items, showcases McDonald’s adaptation to meet Indian tastes, catering to various vegetarian and religious dietary restrictions, especially during the month of Ramzan, showcasing the brand’s commitment to localization.

Linguistic Elements

The initial introduction where the three subjects mention their different hometowns resonates with a lot of young Indian professionals who migrate for better job opportunities, causing intense feelings of isolation. The line “This is our potluck” at McDonald’s reclaims their sense of belonging and transforms the restaurant into a space of connection and inclusion. The line “Despite being away from home during Ramzan, I’m not homesick for the first time” encapsulates the joy of finding a ‘home away from home’ and McDonald’s role in fostering a familial atmosphere and community among the employees. The ad features a chirpy Hindi song with lyrics reflecting the growing friendship between the three subjects, enhancing its emotional tone, and transitions into McDonald’s signature 5-tone jingle to reinforce brand recall.

Cultural Signifiers

The depiction of the Iftar potluck, with other employees in traditional attire, sets up a culturally rich backdrop. The three subjects break their fast together after sunset, a deeply communal and familial act during Ramzan, anchoring the ad in a cultural context. Choosing McDonald’s as their Iftar spot highlights the brand as a vehicle for cultural bonds, and the sharing of chicken wings reflects the importance of communal activities in India’s collectivist society. The ad effectively uses cultural storytelling to position McDonald’s as a place where meaningful connections are nurtured between employed diaspora, enhancing brand affinity among young professional audiences.

Advertisement 2: Meals Make Families

Visual Elements

The advertisement showcases a large family in traditional attire celebrating a festival. The diverse age groups presented underscore family unity and position McDonald’s as a cherished part of family traditions, enhancing brand affinity across generations. The abundance of yellow in attire, flowers and jewellery resonates with the Hindu cultural association of the colour with the deity Vishnu, and ties to McDonald’s iconic golden arches. Similarly, green decorations present all over the house allow McDonald’s vegetarian product packaging to blend in seamlessly, catering to common dietary practices during Hindu festivals. Red ethnic clothing against yellow backgrounds evokes McDonald’s brand colours, embedding the brand in cultural festivities. The ad consists mainly of tight shots of individual activities but shifts to a wide shot of the entire family enjoying a communal meal, portraying McDonald’s as integral to familial celebrations.

Linguistic Elements

Narration is used to evoke emotional connection, starting with “Why do we get so excited about festivals?” The narration then lists out festive activities — traditional clothing, decorations, songs, dancing, and family interactions — establishing a relatable cultural context for Indian viewers. McDonald’s is then introduced into the festive tableau, reinforcing the brand’s integration into cultural festivals. The concluding line “Maybe, this is the reason”, accompanied by visuals of the family sharing McDonald’s food, implies this excitement is intertwined with the food, making the brand a staple of festive celebrations. A track with traditional Indian instruments and vocalization creates an authentic festive atmosphere and enhances the ad’s cultural resonance. The transition to McDonald’s catchy 5-note jingle at the end ties this deeply cultural context to the brand, reinforcing the brand’s integral role in the same and boosting recall.

Cultural Signifiers

The presence of several generations reflects the traditional Indian structure of a joint family. This depiction highlights family unity and respect for elders, resonating with Indian audiences. The final shot of the family gathered around McDonald’s food showcases the brand’s role in bringing families together — an integral aspect of Indian festivals. By linking this cultural norm with the brand, McDonald’s is positioned as a facilitator of community bonding during cultural traditions.

Conclusion

This media report employed semiotic analysis to examine how McDonald’s India’s #FestivalsMakeFamilies advertisements use cultural storytelling to resonate with local audiences and boost brand affinity with its global identity. The analysis revealed the complex interplay of culturally significant themes, signs, and indices with elements of the McDonald’s brand. Striking a balance between standardization (Brand colours, product names, core values) and adaptation (market positioning, product ingredients), McDonald’s seamlessly weaves the brand into sociocultural aspects of Indian society, including religious diversity, regional traditions, and familial structures.

While the advertisements considered target different audiences — with one positioning it as an affordable option for young professionals and the other reinforcing its diverse offering to several age groups and dietary preferences, they are tied together by the overarching theme of McDonald’s being a meal that is best enjoyed with loved ones. This aligns with an integral cultural aspect of the collectivist society in India, especially during religious occasions — communal meals and familial bonds. This study offers valuable insights into the strategic leveraging of semiotic elements in McDonald’s glocalisation marketing strategy to appeal to Indian consumers.

Beyond Binary Swipes: A Qualitative Analysis of Gender Non-Conforming Experiences on Dating Apps

Posted on by Roshni Anand

Introduction

Dating applications have emerged as one of the most popular methods to find a significant other, with over 348 million users creating online dating profiles in 2023 (Curry, 2024). Revolutionising how individuals seek romantic and sexual connections, these platforms offer unprecedented convenience, access to a larger dating pool and significantly lower risks associated with meeting potential dates. However, they pose a unique challenge for non- binary individuals, often having been designed with binary gender norms in mind. While some mainstream dating platforms like Tinder, Hinge and Bumble have made notable strides towards inclusivity by giving users the option to choose a diverse range of gender identities and pronouns (Rahbari, et al., 2023), non-binary users often face systemic barriers on these platforms that hinder their user experience and occasionally encounter social biases that bleed into the digital dating landscape (Callander, et al., 2019). Discrimination, harassment, fetishisation and a lack of understanding from other users create an exclusionary and unsafe environment for gender-nonconforming individuals. Despite these problems, transgender and non-binary individuals continue to use dating apps to form social, romantic and sexual connections, as research points to the comparative lack of opportunities for gender minorities to meet and connect offline (Chan, 2016).

This study aims to investigate the experiences of transgender non-binary and gender non-conforming individuals on dating platforms and their motivations for using the same. The results of this study will inform broader research into the dynamics of online dating as a non-binary individual and help expose areas of improvement for app developers to make their platforms more inclusive to transgender users.

Literature Review

Love Starts with a Swipe

The dot-com boom of the late 1990s familiarised users with virtual social networking, propelled by technological advancements and widespread internet accessibility. Dating platforms like eHarmony and OkCupid, launched in 2000 and 2003 respectively, capitalised on this expanding market, leveraging algorithms and personality tests to match users based on compatibility (Finkel, et al., 2012). The cultural acceptance of online dating grew in parallel to the integration of internet usage into daily life (Rosenfeld & Thomas, 2012).

In the 21% century, online dating evolved to serve specific demographics, ushering in the era of ‘niche dating apps’. Websites like ChristianMingle and DillMil (for the South Asian diaspora) tailored their services to specific communities, enabling users to connect with potential partners with similar cultural backgrounds and religious beliefs. This trend, as elucidated by Tanner (2022), aided the effectiveness of online dating for marginalised groups and offered  sanctuary from online harassment and discrimination.

Digitising Queer Connections

Similarly, the emergence of queer dating apps such as Grindr and HER have revolutionised the dating landscape for LGBTQ+ individuals. Miller (2015) notes that, by offering spaces for queer people to express their identities, experiment with their sexual preferences and seek platonic, romantic and sexual relationships freely, these dating apps provide an escape from the homophobia prevalent on mainstream dating sites.

Academic enquiries into these queer dating apps reveal that they not only facilitate social connections between queer individuals but also foster a broader sense of belonging within the LGBTQ+ community. As Fox and Ralston (2016) discovered in a qualitative analysis of LGBTQ+ social media usage, users often turn to these apps to escape the heteronormativity and binary gender norms of mainstream social networking sites and create affirming connections with members of a community that understands and respects their identities.

The Trans-non-binary Dating Experience

While inclusive features on online dating apps allow users to create authentic images — crucial for their safety and comfort in digital spaces — studies show these “non-essentialist” gender categories are predominantly motivated by data collection and revenue opportunities. Bivens and Haimson (2016) explored the tension between users’ self-identification and advertisers’ interests, revealing that fluid algorithmic gender options on social networking sites are often superficial. They found that these options tend to reinforce the binary by grouping ‘custom’ gender options into one category for targeted marketing. This has significant implications for features like ‘filter by gender’ on dating profiles.

Non-binary (NB) identities often encounter higher levels of discrimination and microaggressions in romantic relationships compared to binary transgender individuals (Fiani & Han, 2019). Lloyd and Finn (2017) found that transgender non-conforming identities on dating apps face invalidation, misgendering and harassment. This systematic erasure makes it hard for NB users to feel affirmed in their identities and find matches. Additionally, the prevalent dominance of masculinity leads to frequent hypersexualisation and fetishisation of transgender identities, creating a hostile online environment (Gordon & Cooper, 2020).

Research Question

What are the experiences of trans-non-binary (TNB) and gender non-conforming (GNC) adults using dating apps?

  • Why do non-binary individuals use dating apps?
  • What influence have dating apps had on non-binary individuals’ gender affirmation and romantic/ sexual experiences?
  • What obstacles present in dating apps hinder their usage by non-binary people, and how can app developers make them more inclusive?

Methodology

This qualitative study focuses on the experiences of TNB / GNC users on dating applications. McNamara (1999) identified interviews as the most suitable method of analysis that yields in-depth responses with the opportunity to request more information and clarity if necessary to uncover overarching themes in subjective thoughts and experiences. A semi-structured interview framework was chosen to give the researcher control while allowing a more flexible flow of questions to discern the participants’ experiences, emotions and thoughts (ibid.).

In this study, previous knowledge of the phenomenon being studied informs the initial interview guide, and an informal conversational method aids in establishing rapport and guiding further exploration of perceptions and opinions about sensitive issues (Barriball & While, 1994). Each interview lasts 30 minutes to one hour, accommodating potential distractions and in-depth responses. While the researcher is free to ask additional questions to expand on the participants’ responses and align with their interests, information unrelated to the research questions and themes being studied will likely emerge, so it is critical to redirect the interview to obtain useful data. Before conducting the interview, participants are informed of confidentiality, assured of data anonymisation, and familiarised with the interview format. Interviews are audio-recorded for verbatim transcription to ensure accurate data capture, and recordings are stored in a password-protected system.

Participants were selected based on three criteria: (1) Over 18 years old, (2) Identify as trans-nonbinary/ gender non-conforming, (3) Have used one or more dating apps. Five participants were recruited from the researcher’s network through a purposive sampling frame. The interviews were conducted over Zoom.

Ethical and Practical Considerations

Several measures will be taken during the data collection to ensure the study’s integrity and sensitivity, considering the personal nature of the topic and the vulnerable population involved. Questions about sexual experiences, gender identity and discrimination necessitate building a rapport with participants first to ensure they feel comfortable and safe. Fostering a trusting environment where participants do not feel coerced into sharing personal information and maintaining the neutrality of questions and interviewer behaviour is crucial.

Participants will be informed of their right to withhold information, ensuring voluntary participation. Anonymity of participants is paramount, and identifying information will be anonymised during the analysis of responses.

The potential for researcher bias arises when considering the small sample size of five participants, recruited through purposive sampling. This may also limit the diversity of responses. However, it allows for an exhaustive exploration of each participant’s experience through semi-structured interviews, yielding rich qualitative data. Finally, contacting potential participants through trusted networks and communities, and conducting in-depth interviews while aligning with participants’ availability and comfort is time-consuming. Thematic analysis of responses will require attention to detail to effectively capture the nuances of each interviewee’s experiences and opinions, providing valuable insights into TNB and GNC user experiences on dating apps.

Findings

After interviewing five participants, the following conclusions were reached regarding the experiences of TNB and GNC individuals on dating apps. 80% of participants started using dating apps casually — seeking sexual validation and out of curiosity. Over time, they shifted towards seeking deeper, more meaningful connections, reflecting a maturation in their approach to these platforms. However, all of them focused on building social connections with like-minded people who understood transgender experiences, using the apps to find queer friends and integrate into a supportive community emphasising a sense of belonging that was otherwise lacking in their local environments. The ability to present their identities clearly and build social capital is paramount, underscoring the importance of inclusive and affirming spaces on these platforms.

“Dating apps gave me the platform to find people who share my identity and understand
how it feels to be alienated because of your identity.”

– P2, 26, non-binary transmasculine (they/them)

All participants emphasised the importance of expressing their NB identities authentically using the extensive customisation options for pronouns and gender identity but struggled to do so because of invalidation, rejection, ridicule and algorithmic bias against visibly femme individuals. 60% of participants noted the tension between balancing femme and masculine presentations, appreciating the option to include multiple pictures and prompts to explain the nuances of their gender and sexuality, but expressing frustration with societal perceptions of NB identities that deviate from “expected androgyny”, effectively forcing them to present themselves in ways that go against their identity.

Some participants played down their self-expression to appeal to a larger dating pool and to avoid banning and sexualisation. Discussing the binary constraints of dating apps, they explained how the many features to express their gender identity on their profile often fall flat when it comes to being perceived accurately by matches.

“You have to be careful how to present on dating apps because people want you to look like
your pronouns”

– PS, 22, transfeminine (she/they)

A unique challenge identified by two participants was the tendency for some transmasculine individuals to list their gender as women to avoid being grouped with cisgender heterosexual (cishet) men which, while protective, led to feelings of invalidation. Other participants echo these concerns, using app features to filter out cishet men — despite their attraction to them — and gauge potential connections’ likelihood to respect their identity, indicating a strategic approach to safely navigating these platforms. Avoiding interactions with cishet men was a common thread, with participants preferring to avoid Grindr due to its pervasive masculine queer culture that hypersexualised femme-presenting individuals.

This reveals a broader issue of safety in expressing gender identity on dating apps – a significant concern for all participants, each highlighting distinct yet interconnecting issues. While individuals employ diverse filtering tactics and profile customisations on apps like Hinge to facilitate safer preliminary vetting ability, encounters with invasive questions, inappropriate images and stalking underscore the risk posed by geolocation features, oppressive heteronormativity and sexualisation of deviant gender identities.

“It’s difficult figuring out which app you should be using as a non-binary person (…) that will
give you the most luck meeting people that aren’t predatory”

– P1, 24, non-binary transmasculine (he/them)

The experience with cis men misusing labels to target bisexual and pansexual individuals was also a common thread among participants, which highlights the fetishisation of queer identities. These encounters forced participants who were not attracted to men to further police their activity and presentation, censoring their political beliefs, queer rights activism and gender-affirming pictures online. NB individuals thus have to navigate between safety and authenticity, particularly when transitioning from online interactions to real-life meetings. 60% highlighted the need to present more masculine online out of safety, which creates tension when expressing femininely offline.

Dating apps also often accelerate the pace at which relationships develop, which was noted to lead to premature endings because of the overtly sexual nature they tend to take on. As TNB/ GNC individuals, conversations regarding genitalia and intercourse can negatively impact their gender affirmation. Crossplatform interactions also expose NB individuals to scrutiny when moving from a curated dating profile to an authentic personal social media account, fraught with fears of rejection and ridicule. However, dating apps also play a significant role in the broader social lives of NB individuals, affecting offline support systems and serving as a bridge to genuine self-expression and community building. Additionally, participants noted that their long-lasting and most meaningful friendships with queer individuals stemmed from dating apps, due to their ability to seek out people with shared lived experiences.

“I could comfortably and safely present more authentically non-binary in real life after
building a relationship with the person online first”

– P3, 22, non-binary (he/she/they)

A predominant theme across all interviews is the inadequacy of filtering options on dating apps, namely the inability to filter by sexual orientation. A cause of gender dysphoria, participants expressed the frustration for transmasculine NB individuals to avoid mismatches with straight women and gay men, and for transfeminine NB individuals to avoid straight men and lesbians. Safety and moderation issues were another common thread, with rampant sexualisation of non-male identities making it unpleasant to spend time looking for genuine matches.

“I never want that kind of attention from men (…) | don’t feel comfortable putting up
(femme presenting) pictures anymore.”

– P4, 23, gender non-conforming (she/him)

Participants also raised issues regarding the usability of these apps, with paywalls restricting more specific filters and customisations to tailor their experience. A final commonality was the desire for safer, queer community-oriented dating apps. The lack of moderation, dysfunctional UI and predominant cis-normativity of existing queer dating apps made them exclusionary for TNB and GNC individuals. One participant even suggested partnerships between queer social events and queer dating apps to enhance community engagement and shed light on an underserved marginalised populace to increase their chances of finding love.

Reflections

The sample size was only five participants, which should ideally be increased in further investigations to generate more diverse responses and gain a better understanding of the experiences of more TNB and GNC identities on dating apps. The sampling frame could have been more precise since this study did not account for the differences in the cultural and regional backgrounds of the international students that formed the sources of data collection.

The questionnaire was lenient enough to allow participants to elaborate based on their understanding of the question, but sometimes explanation was required from the researcher about the specific requirements of each question. This implies a need for stronger wording and fewer open-ended questions. However, what worked well was leaning into the participants’ train of thought, giving the researcher a fleshed-out understanding of their experiences.

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Callander, D. et al., 2019. The 2018 Australian Trans and Gender Diverse Sexual Health Survey: Report of Findings. doi: 10.13140/RG.2.2.15975.68005

Chan, L. S., 2016. How Sociocultural Context Matters in Self-Presentation: A Comparison of U.S. and Chinese Profiles on Jack’d, a Mobile Dating App for Men Who Have Sex With Men. International Journal of Communication, Volume 10, pp. 6040-6059.

Curry, D., 2024. Dating App Revenue and Usage Statistics (2024). [Online) Available at: https://www.businessofapps.com/data/dating-app-market, [Accessed 21 May 2024].

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Gordon, J. L. & Cooper, M., 2020. Transgender and gender non-conforming (TGNC) online dating experience. doi: 10.5281/zenodo.3929195

Lloyd, C. E. & Finn, M. D., 2017. Authenticity, validation and sexualisation on Grindr: an analysis of trans women’s accounts. Psychology & Sexuality, 8(1), pp. 158-169. doi: https://doi.org/10.1080/19419899.2017.1316769

McNamara, C., 1999. General Guidelines for Conducting Research Interviews.

Miller, B., 2015. “They’re the modern-day gay bar”: Exploring the uses and gratifications of social networks for men who have sex with men. Computers in Human Behavior, Volume 51, pp. 476-482. doi: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2015.05.023

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Examining the Dynamics of Power, Language, and Gender in Modern Pole Dancing Culture

Posted on by Roshni Anand

Pole dancing. From its origins in the 1890s “Hoochi Coochi” dance troupes, gentleman’s clubs and sleazy speakeasies, it has established itself as a multi-faceted phenomenon embraced by individuals worldwide for exercise, self-expression, and empowerment. Motivated by a variety of reasons — from social needs for support and community, psychological needs for autonomy and self-acceptance, to fitness-related goals — diverse communities now use this stigmatised art form as a means of reclaiming agency over their bodies and sexuality, and challenging societal rules (Nicholas, et al., 2018; Mottley, 2022; Pfeiffer, et al., 2023). However, beneath its sequinned surface lies a complex interplay of power dynamics, linguistic constructions and gender norms that shape its cultural significance.

Pole dancing culture as it exists today can be traced back to Fawnia Dietrich (Griffiths, 2023), a Canadian “exotic” dancer, who began offering pole lessons to non-performers in 1994 as a way of proliferating the art form as more than just an erotic spectacle. Since then, pole dancing studios, training programs and online communities have become a widespread occurrence, with social media democratising access to the practice to individuals seeking to explore its physical and creative dimensions (ibid.). This shift is reflective of broader societal changes in attitudes towards the expression of female sexuality, the feminine body and sex work. Yet, despite its growing popularity and cultural acceptance, pole dancing has yet to shed its historical confines, remaining a contested terrain fraught with lingering stereotypes and tensions surrounding gender, power and representation.

By critically analysing pole dancing through the lenses of Foucault’s theories of power and knowledge (1978), Derrida’s deconstruction of linguistics (1978), and relevant feminist literature, this essay aims to gain a deeper understanding of how pole dancing intersects with broader discourses of misogyny, sexuality, and embodiment in the 21st century.

Ashea Wabe belly dancing as “Little Egypt”. 1890s. (Image courtesy https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoochie_coochie)

What’s in a Name?

The first glaring issue with pole dancing culture rests in its very denomination as an “exotic art form”. First associated with Eastern European, Middle Eastern and North African travelling troupes in the 18th century, the terminology serves as a mechanism to differentiate their performances from socially acceptable and respectable art forms. The sensual nature of their dances — coupled with exaggerated costumes and makeup, courtesy of the Orientalist sensibilities of the period — stood in violation of the predominant ethos surrounding sexual expression, discourse and enjoyment. Using Foucault’s concept of how power operates as a pervasive force influencing knowledge, discourse and the regulation of bodies in society (Foucault, 1978), the term “exotic” — carrying with it connotations of otherness and fetishisation of Eastern cultures — positioned these dances outside ‘polite society’, depicting them as inherently sensual, primitive and inferior (de Lauretis, 1990).

Moreover, Foucault’s analysis of discourse emphasises how language serves as a site of gender power relations, shaping the contours of acceptable knowledge and behaviour (King, 2004) In the case of pole dancing, the discourse surrounding it was, and still is, heavily influenced by prevailing attitudes around the regulation of female desire and pleasure. The use of Orientalist imagery (Said, 1994) in the characterisation of pole dancing underscores how language operates to simultaneously dehumanise and eroticise these artists, reinforce dominant notions of sexual repression and censorship, and regulate and control bodies that deviate from normative standards of behaviour.

The Good, the Bad, and the Deconstructed

Cultural discussions and perspectives were coloured by pole dancing’s label as an inherently provocative form of entertainment catering to the sexual desires of men, which situated it snugly in the arms of the Male Gaze (Mulvey, 1975; 1999). Well into the 21st century, feminist scholars still grapple with erotic dance culture, oscillating between condemning it as a form of sexual exploitation to hailing it as a brilliant reclamation of female sexual agency (Bradley-Engen & Ulmer, 2009).

The former perspective is echoed in the writings of Ariel Levy (2006) in her condemnation of “Raunch Culture’, a term she used to describe the infiltration of contrived sexualities that once existed in the “sex industry” into mainstream culture. Levy argues that pornographic and sexually explicit content is a mechanism for men to exercise their control over female bodies and sexuality, and that to claim female empowerment in the wilful wielding and encouragement of sexualisation and eroticisation is a performative action that happens within the narrow confines of this patriarchal objectification. Similarly, scholars argue that positioning sexual liberation at the pinnacle of the feminist movement ignores and undermines the influence of the backdrop against which it is placed — a society that routinely normalises sexual violence against women and privileges male sexual pleasure (hooks, 1984; Raymond, 2013; Stokes, 2012).

However, others have highlighted how, by subverting notions of idealized femininity, pole dancing culture functions as a site of resistance within feminist discourse (Dodds, 2013). In her review of Mulvey’s work, Studlar (1985) challenges the passivity of female bodies in their objectification, suggesting instead that they are not objects but active holders of the Male Gaze. This critique of female passivity resonates with feminist authors who examined the undercurrents of counter-power expression in pole dancing and sex work, recontextualizing ideas of femininity and sexual agency (Holland, 2010). This decentring of dominant gender binary and sexuality norms was investigated by Jensen & Thing (2022), whose findings revealed an intentional renegotiation of traditional ideas of gender and sexual expression.

Portland’s Pole Palace – Inclusive safe space for exploring bodily autonomy (Image courtesy https://www.pole-palace.com)

Derrida’s concept of deconstruction emerges as a powerful framework to shed light on the shifting meanings of female empowerment, agency and sexuality within pole dancing culture. As he outlined, deconstruction involves the examination of language and discourse to unpack the inherent contradictions and ambiguities present within them. In his explanation of “free play” in linguistics (1978) — the notion that signified concepts are ever-changing and their establishment is deferred — he highlights how words can have multiple meanings that change with time, societal attitudes and hegemonic control over language.

By interrogating the binary oppositions underpinning traditional understandings of masculinity and femininity, modest and provocative, or even the passivity of “looked-at-ness” (Mulvey, 1999) and the activeness of holding the Male Gaze, deconstruction offers a means to understand the fluidity of gender roles and bodily autonomy within pole dancing culture (Whitehead & Kurz, 2009). Since the destabilisation of fixed categories opens up space for alternative modes of self-expression, evolved understandings of gender identity, sexuality, attraction and liberation can be continuously reconstructed as the discourse surrounding the practice changes (ibid.).

As evidenced by history, the development of language used to describe and examine pole dancing culture has undergone tremendous shifts owing to feminist social movements, the development of cultural and racial sensitivities, and technological advancements that democratise access to and encourage participation in public discourse. In line with Derrida’s line of reasoning, as societal norms and expectations changed and evolved, so did the meanings in the language used to discuss this marginalised art form and those who perform it.

In conclusion, modern pole-dancing culture behaves as a microcosm for broader societal tensions regarding essentialist notions of power, gender and sexuality. Peeling back layers of discourse and power dynamics within it reveals a tapestry of resistance, empowerment and subversion that challenges normative ideology and invites critical engagement with the fluidity and complexity of human experience.

The Sexualisation of Women in Bollywood Item Numbers – A Feminist Media Analysis

Posted on by Roshni Anand

Don’t knock at my door, mister, just come straight in
Spread flowers, put on perfume and rejuvenate me
(Aao Raaja – Gabbar is Back, 2015)

These words, repeated multiple times over an upbeat backing track, create the chorus of Aao Raja, the breakout song from the blockbuster movie Gabbar is Back (2015). Enhanced by close-up shots that follow the hands of Chitrangada Singh’s ‘Rani’, slowly tracing up her legs, exposed waist, chest, and neck as she sensually dances with other female performers, this song is just one example of many that have made popular Bollywood cine-culture their home. Not a novel occurrence, they contribute to a phenomenon unique to South Asian films – the Item Number.

Chitrangda Singh in Aao Raaja (Gabbar is Back, 2015)

In modern India, engaging with sexualised women is either constrained or viewed with societal shame, resulting in clandestine and taboo attitudes surrounding the public perception or imagination of female sexuality (Shah & Cory, 2019). Consequently, due to the restricted, secretive, and alluring connotations associated with these subjects, item numbers emerge as an acceptable means to openly confront and engage with notions of women and sexuality in the public sphere (Shah & Cory, 2019). This essay aims to explore the sexualisation of women in popular Bollywood item numbers, using feminist media theories to dissect how they are represented through the item numbers’ formulaic aesthetic.

The term emerged as common parlance to refer to a cine segment featuring a conventionally attractive woman – often coded as a sex worker, a racy song, a vivacious dance and an atmosphere radiating sexual energy and excitement (Brara, 2010). Tracing the genealogy of this term back to 1950s Bollywood, item numbers referred to the risqué musical performances by Bollywood’s token ‘vamp girls’ – staple fixtures within the film’s cast that provided ribald entertainment to audiences (ibid.). Sexualised by their revealing costumes, provocative mannerisms and suggestive lyrics, these ‘vamp girls’ existed as estranged counterparts to the female leads of the same films their songs appeared in. They were immodest when the heroine was unassuming, brazen when the latter was demure, and – most notably – attainable when the heroine was not.

While their iconic presence on the screen and promotional posters had always brought scores of audiences to the cinema (Brara, 2010), it was only in the 1990s that item numbers cemented their distinctive existence outside their productions due to the widely popular music video channel MTV. As Brara (2010) writes, the infusion of the term’ item number’ into the South Asian lexicon attests to its significance as a “cine-sexual concept that is savoured by spectators, incarnated in contemporary Bollywood films and broadcast by the print and visual media, quite apart from film magazines”.

The Annihilation of Women under the Male Gaze

I’ve become a mint for you to consume, darling
I’ve become a cinema hall for you to watch, darling
Munni’s degraded herself for you, darling
(Munni Badnaam Hui – Dabangg 2010)

The opening shots of the item number Munni Badnaam Hui (2010) starkly encapsulate the concept of the Male Gaze introduced by Laura Mulvey in her influential essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” (Mulvey, 1975). The song begins with a shot of a woman’s navel and tilts up, focusing on her exposed abdomen and breasts and lingering on her face for a fraction of a second before pulling away to reveal a cabaret nightclub full of lascivious men. Immediately, it becomes clear that the initial subject on screen is not a real woman but a cardboard cut-out. In these few seconds, the reduction of a Munni, a female figure, to a mere object of sexual desire is cemented, providing the basis for the aesthetic construction of the rest of the song, reinforcing Mulvey’s argument that films play on erotic ways of looking structured around a masculine perspective, objectifying women through cinematographic alignment with the heterosexual male desire (ibid.).

Freud’s ideas on Scopophilia underpin Mulvey’s concept of the Male Gaze – the pleasure derived from transforming and viewing another as a source of pleasure. Mulvey defines this as an active form of spectatorship, involving ‘taking other people as objects, subjecting them to a controlling and curious gaze’ (Mulvey, 1999). This objectification of the female form necessitates deliberate cinematic, narrative and framing choices aimed at transferring the agency and identity of the on-screen woman to her male counterpart, keeping in line with Freud’s phallocentric theory of woman as a ‘symbol of lack’ and man as the central element of organisation in the social world.

Mulvey  (Mulvey, 1999, p. 838) posits that,

“Traditionally, the woman displayed has functioned on two levels: as erotic object for the characters within the screen story, and as erotic object for the spectator within the auditorium, with a shifting tension between the looks on either side of the screen.“

Bollywood’s incorporation of ‘displayed women’ into item numbers, which emerge as disparate cine segments within the film’s plot-driven narrative, marries their twin functions of being desired by off-screen audiences and their on-screen surrogates. As Brara (2010) explains, the insertion of item numbers in films allows for a brief removal of context and narrative flow, enabling this erotic spectacle to exist in a vacuum. This absence of narrative context– or rather, the blissful ignorance of a plot – mirrors the privacy created by conditions of modern screenings, which, as Mulvey (1999) describes, “promote the illusion of voyeuristic separation” and “give the spectator an illusion of looking in on a private world.” (ibid.)

Malaika Arora in Munni Badnaam Hui ( Dabangg 2010)

With reference to Munni Badnaam Hui, the erotic objectification of the woman on screen happens in parallel to the bolstering of the three-dimensional space occupied by the on-screen male, embodying an ego ideal that audiences can liken themselves to. While Munni sings provocative lyrics laced with double entendres, she fades into the background as the male protagonist, Inspector Chulbul Pandey, played by Salman Khan, emerges into focus. While he dances to the upbeat music as well, the treatment of his presence by the camera is in stark contrast to that of Malaika Arora’s Munni. There is no overt focus on his hips, chest or legs, and neither are there fastidious close-ups of his eyes, lips and backside in time with provocative lyrics. His shots are eye-level, pulling the audience into his point of view, while Munni’s on-screen presence is visualised through low-angled tracking shots, urgently guiding the audience’s attention to specific parts of her body. In doing so, once the male protagonist becomes the focus of the song, his presence makes apparent the trivial nature of Munni’s sexuality – an object of desire, but an object nonetheless.

The trivialisation of women is one of the three ways in which, as Gaye Tuchman described in her work “The Symbolic Annihilation of Women by the Mass Media” (2000), the image and characterisation of women are destroyed in media. Through a substantive analysis of the portrayal of women in broadcast and print mass media, Tuchman emphasised that trivialisation, in combination with exclusion and condemnation, contributes to the symbolic destruction of women as a social group through implications of their culturally defined value – or lack thereof – in matters of discourse. (ibid.). I believe this claim also finds pertinence in the restrictive portrayal of the ‘vampy women’ of Bollywood films.

The concept of item numbers birthed a distinct cinematic role in Bollywood – the Item Girl. Unambiguously an objectification – with the word ‘item’ denoting a promiscuous, attractive woman in Mumbai slang (AMS Sexual Assault Support Centre, 2015), these roles are defined by three prominent characteristics: (1) her fleeting appearance on screen, usually to perform the item number, (2) her inconsequentiality to the film’s plot, and (3) her overt sensuality (Brara, 2010; Kamble, 2022; Jha, 2014; Purohit, 2019). The lack of narrative impetus offered by these female roles reduces them to conduits of erotic spectacles that serve to attract audiences, specifically heterosexual male viewers, and catalyse box office earnings (Purohit, 2019). Frequently, the female performer assumes an anonymous identity within the cinematic narrative, denoted solely as ‘the item girl’ within the credits. Tuchman’s critique thus resonates when considering the reduction and subsequent destruction of women in item numbers.

Mulvey’s theory has long since been contented by scholars, citing neglect of alternative feminist perspectives, assumptions of passivity of female audiences, generalisations of masculine spectatorship practices, and overdependence on Freudian psychoanalyst ideas (Gamman & Marshment, 1988). Author bell hooks’ introduction of the concept of the ‘oppositional gaze’ (1992) poses the argument that Mulvey’s Male Gaze primarily reflects the experiences of white women and fails to consider the intersectional differences in engagement with cinema, thus inadequately addressing the experiences of women of colour. Gaylyn Studlar’s work on fetishism and masochism (1985) challenged Mulvey’s determinist views on the subject, claiming that it restricts male viewers to a controlling role, seeing the female as an object to possess but never to identify with or view as a symbol of authority. Studlar (1985) also challenged the notion of women as a ‘symbol of lack’, suggesting that the female is not an object but an active holder of the male gaze.

However, with close reference to the lyrical narrative, camera movements and mise en scene of Bollywood item numbers, the relevance of Mulvey’s theory rings true and clear. As seen in Munni Badnaam Hui, the stripping of Munni’s agency and perspective occurs immediately and overtly by deliberately excluding her face. Her introduction happens through repeated shots of her exposed back, contrasted by cutaway shots of the male lead’s reaction to her performance. These emphasise the power dynamics at play early on – it is the men, taking on the active role of watching, singing and dancing with Munni, with whom lies the agency to further the plot and the ability to be likened to by the audience. This consigns Munni to a ‘bearer of meaning’ (Mulvey, 1999) which is bestowed upon her by the men on screen.

On-Screen Power in the Age of Raunch Culture

When I come and dance with you
I’ll shake my hips around
Strike down your gaze with mine
(Kamariya – Stree 2018)

The focus of feminist media studies has been to analyse how film, television and print reinforce hegemonic power structures. Borrowing from Foucault’s power, discourse and knowledge creation theories, Theresa de Lauretis (1987) explored how power operates in constructing gender and sexual identities and how desire and identity are represented and maintained in discursive practices. In “Eccentric Subjects: Feminist Theory and Historical Consciousness” (1990), de Lauretis quotes Catharine MacKinnon to emphasise how male dominance expresses itself through objectifying the female. By asserting itself as the only “way of knowing”, the male perspective differentiates men from women by eroticising the latter, therefore defining the social, cultural, and, in film, audience perception towards women. An analysis of the item number Kamariya epitomises MacKinnon’s claim that “Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at.”

Nora Fatehi in Kamariya (Stree 2018)

An unnamed female performer performs Kamariya, the sole dancer surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic, drunken men. The protagonist, played by Rajkumar Rao, holds a party blower in his mouth that unfolds as he watches her dance – an incontestable allegory to the sexual arousal he feels. The camera circles her in slow motion as she dances, zooming in on her exposed waist, chest and back, alluding to how the men on-screen pick apart her body with their hungry eyes. A significant detail in her treatment by the camera is how she is portrayed as so sensual that she is unattainable to the men, implying that she holds power over them. However, a closer inspection of the framing of shots in time with suggestive lyrics would show that this power exists within the confines of her objectification by the men on screen and the camera. The control that she wields is a product of her eroticisation. The heterosexual male perspective is thus impressed upon film audiences – the woman is othered by virtue of her sensuality (de Lauretis, 1990).

Jacques Lacan’s theoretical framework of ego formation and identification posits that individuals develop their sense of self through identification with external images or objects. In the context of Bollywood item numbers, the women in the audience are confronted with a narrow and sexualised portrayal of femininity on screen, shaped by the male perspective, through which they may perceive and identify themselves. Over the years, scholarly discourse on item girls’ empowerment within this narrow portrayal has attempted to reframe this objectification as sexual liberation. Shah and Cory (2019) argue that “item numbers intentionally subvert the (heterosexual) Male Gaze” by serving as a means for women to reclaim the narrative, thereby reclaiming control of their bodies and their sexuality. This line of reasoning is echoed by post-feminist scholars concerned with gendered power dynamics that see sexual freedom as the key to female independence and emancipation (Gill, 2007; Genz & Brabon, 2017) and evidenced by an increasing sexualisation of twentieth-century cultural products termed ‘Raunch Culture’ (Levy, 2006).

In her book “Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture” (2006), Ariel Levy argued that Raunch Culture was a product of unresolved conflict between the women’s liberation movement and the sexual revolution. She defines Raunch Culture as a mechanism through which women may gain power and status in a patriarchal society (Levy, 2006). However, in a misogynistic system wherein she exists as a sexual object, a woman cannot rise above her rank without perpetuating the same system that dehumanises and exploits her body (ibid.). This paradoxical battle seems to wage in the scholarly discourse and ethos surrounding item numbers. The item number as an acceptable means for Indian men to engage with the sexuality of women, as pointed out by Shah and Cory (2019), mirrors its usability as a medium for women to familiarise themselves and freely experiment with ideas of their ‘inherent’ sensuality.

Borrowing from psychoanalytical literature to discuss the sexualisation of women by Bollywood item numbers, the Maddona-Whore dichotomy based on Freud’s Oedipus complex emerges as a significant factor in understanding their success. Referring to the phenomenon of viewing women as two distinct and separate personas – the sexless ‘Madonna’ or the sensual ‘Whore’ – this trope has made itself known in a wide range of mass media (Kimbell, 2002; Greer, 2016). Separating women into these two opposing categories allows men to assign specific characteristics to them, thereby assigning them hierarchical cultural and moral values. Bollywood has historically written the ‘vamp girls’ of item numbers as ‘Eastern interpretations of Western women’ – sexually liberated, immoral, loud and opinionated (Jha, 2023). This characterisation, in complete opposition to traditional Indian ideals of a respectable, ‘good’ woman, allows for and encourages objectification.

While headstrong women in Bollywood films are not scarce, the distinctive feature that sets them apart from item girls lies in how the latter are presented. Item girls are intended to be watched and desired without invoking empathy from the audience, unlike the former, who actively engage viewers emotionally at different junctures in the storyline. This definition holds to date, with the objectification of Munni, Rani, and the nameless dancer from Kamariya wedged into the narrative of their respective films to highlight the opposing ‘respectable’ qualities of their films’ heroines.

To conclude, the intricate analysis of Bollywood item numbers using feminist media theories unravels a complex interplay of power dynamics and objectification that contextualises the societal reception and attitudes towards them. Kamariya’s stint in the upper echelons of Bollywood music charts – similar to Munni Badnaam Hui and Aao Raja – reveals a system that accepts, normalises and celebrates the sexualisation of (certain) women. As Bollywood continues to produce item numbers, their cultural significance and impact on societal perceptions of women persist. The analysis presented here underscores the need for a critical examination of these representations and a broader discourse on the evolving role of women in popular cinema, challenging ingrained power structures and stereotypes.

 In the words of Ariel Levy (2006),

“Objectification is rooted in disrespect, condescending views of the opposite gender, and power struggles. When men realize that they have the capability to fundamentally respect women, and women realize that they have the power to present themselves as empowered, fully capable people, raunch culture may moan its last and final faked orgasm.”