Another day, another nude Instagram from Ms. Miley Cyrus.

Miley Cyrus Flashes Sideboobs and Pussy Lips on MTV VMA

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Miley?

We live in an age where to criticize a woman for making a choice to be photographed this way is to be instantly accused of “slut shaming,” a phrase that now is tossed about any time a female is “judged” for expressing herself in an overtly sexual way.  Women own their own sexuality and have agency over their own bodies, but, all pearl clutching aside, why does that so often mean putting themselves in a position (literally)  solely to titillate men and play into the patriarchy, instead of being viewed as a thinking, feeling sentient beings for whom sexuality is just one  very important part?
I have probably spent more time than is healthy thinking about Miley Cyrus these past few days.
It’s been a very busy week for the former Hannah Montana (not that she hasn’t done everything within her power to obliterate to smithereens her former Disney persona). She hosted  MTV ‘s Video Music Awards, released a free album of drug-addled music—some of it lovely, some of it startlingly self indulgent— and she posed for Interview magazine in various stages of undress.
Today, more photos from Cyrus’s Interview photo shoot surfaced, including one where she is mainly nude and appears to be masturbating. My immediate reaction—and maybe this is because I am old enough to be her mom—is sadness that she seems to have no filters at all between what is public and what is private.

We live in an age where to criticize a woman for making a choice to be photographed this way is to be instantly accused of “slut shaming,” a phrase that now is tossed about any time a female is “judged” for expressing herself in an overtly sexual way.  Women own their own sexuality and have agency over their own bodies, but, all pearl clutching aside, why does that so often mean putting themselves in a position (literally)  solely to titillate men and play into the patriarchy, instead of being viewed as a thinking, feeling sentient beings for whom sexuality is just one  very important part?
Since turning 18—she’s now 22— Cyrus seems to be in a race to see how quickly she can fall down some Molly-laced rabbit hole. Some of it is for shock value— though I don’t know how surprising it is to see her pleasuring herself given that semi-nude photos of Cyrus in provocative positions seem to be nearly daily fare now. It actually feels a little ho-hum and as if it’s just one more way to keep herself in the news.
And here’s where I’m conflicted. Cyrus is seriously talented. She is a strong singer, whether it’s on “Wrecking Ball BLL +0.00%,” her cover of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” or even party anthem, “We Won’t Stop.” But is that not enough anymore for someone who was raised in the age of social media? Who believes that if a moment is not chronicled and shared it didn’t happen— even if that moment is of things we considered private only a few years ago, like taking bong hits or nude selfies? She’s grown up on camera- first as Hannah Montana and now as her own creation, and it seems she, to quote her own lyrics, won’t stop, can’t stop, sharing.
And that brings me to Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz, the album Cyrus released Sunday night for free streaming after the VMAs. Inspired by the deaths of her dog Floyd, her fish Pablow, and a friend’s cat, Twinkle, the album is a hazy blast of musical pot smoke, blowing around in a messy swirl with Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne as Cyrus’s main enabler or muse–however you want to look at it.
The album opens with “Dooo It,” a non-song about how much Cyrus loves smoking pot. We get it, Miley, we really do…you’re baked 24/7 basically—so much so that you’re bringing a joint back into the press room at the VMAs and everyone is supposed to be refreshed by your openness.
The 23-track project isn’t without its charms: on “Karen Don’t Be Sad,” she wisely advises, “got to hold on to your soul because they’ll crush it if they can” and the profane “BB Talk” is fun, on first listen, for its prurient value since it feels like we’re eavesdropping on a phone call between Cyrus and a past beau— perhaps Patrick Schwarzenegger.  But, on the whole, it feels like a  hot mess. No wonder her label, RCA, decided not to put it out and the fact that the press release even evokes David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust alter ego and his Spiders From Mars backing band in the same breath is laughable.
There seems to be no one who will just say no to Cyrus,whether about her drug use—who knows how much of that is for show— or her belief that an album about mourning her dog, fish and a friend’s cat is  viable, sustainable subject matter (I say this as a pet owner, who has been devastated, though never creatively motivated, by the loss of her pets). Sinead O’Connor, who certainly has had her share of regrettable moves, tried two years ago, and Cyrus lashed back.
And maybe no one should try. Saying she needs to be “reined in,” reeks of sexism and reverse ageism to me, but I wish she were making different choices. She is extremely intelligent and thoughtful (just check out her AMFAR speech and her work in support of the transgender community. Her sincere desire to be inclusive is one of the most appealing things about her) and maybe she is steering her ship exactly in the direction she wants it to go, but lately it feels like it’s running aground.