On Being an Edge Woman

Iam emerging from the closet, once and for all. I am not ashamed to admit it. I was a staff member of the infamous Inside Edge.

That's right, the magazine infamous for its goals in life: "parties...sex...beer." And I am a female. Please, no heart attacks--there has already been enough controversy and sensationalism about the magazine to last a while. And cut the gasps of, "You were one of THEM?!" I won't take offense at yet another such reaction, but they really are getting old. Get original, at least.

There are probably many of you out there who are wondering why any self-respecting Harvard-Radcliffe woman would associate herself with such a publication. There is, after all, a stereotype associated with the "Edge Man" and anyone else having anything at all to do with the magazine. The extreme version depicts a man who uses women as objects, bashes homosexuals and gets pounded every weekend with the boys.

It might surprise you to hear that I don't exactly associate myself with such a stereotype either. So, what was the lure of the magazine, then? I mean, heaven forbid that any liberal would voluntarily work on such a publication. In a word: experience. Editing a nationally distributed publication was certainly a step up from editing a high school yearbook. Not many people can say that they have helped produce a marketed magazine from scratch.

This is not to say that I never question my involvement with the magazine. When the prototype first came out, I had a few qualms about the stereotypical audience to which the magazine catered. The articles were specifically geared towards an image of the "typical" teenage male, strongly resembling the "Edge Man." I am still not sure exactly who the "Edge Man" is, though I have met some rather convincing impersonators. Whomever he is, I seriously doubt that he would ever be a close friend of mine.

According to the editors, however, that was just the point. Inside Edge was not meant to cater to Harvard students. In fact, it was very probable that the more outraged the reaction from Harvard students to our magazine, the higher the sales were likely to be nationwide. Based on the overwhelming local and national response to the first issue, this probability became a reality. Unfortunately, I couldn't escape the fact that the magazine's success ultimately proved the mass existence of aspiring "Edge Men." As a female member of the staff, I was both encouraged and disillusioned.

In such a controversial position as one of two females editing an obviously male-oriented magazine, I was also placed in a social dilemma. Once the magazine was released, I started to worry about what my family and friends would think of me, especially since a few liberals had already started a battle cry against the first issue. For instance, did I really want my dad to read this? After all, Inside Edge isn't something that "Daddy's little girl" would take on as a pet project. Would people think I had compromised my integrity as a female?

Ireassured myself with the knowledge that there was a definite female perspective in the magazine, a perspective which critics tended to overlook entirely. I could see how people could get offended by some of the views presented in the first issue. Some of the views offended me, and I worked on the issue! Just as offending, however, was that those offended often disregarded the female perspective that was included.

The "Ask Monique" section, for example" gave some serious female feedback to real questions. However superficial the name "Monique" or the accompanying photo of "Monique" may have seemed, the responses did not conform to the "Edge Man's" beliefs about women but rather confronted them. It was both reassuring and flattering, after dealing so frequently with the "Inside Edge" image, that many male readers actually appreciated Monique's candor. (No, Monique did not accept any date offers, with or without photograph.)

Because Inside Edge's first issue did not have as broad a distribution as more established publications, my parents did not see Inside Edge until I took it home with me for the summer. I had warned them of its contents, telling them that it was probably not what they expected and not to get their hopes up--this was not some literary manifesto worthy of the Nobel Prize.

Nevertheless, I handed over the magazine with a great deal of apprehension. Even though I wasn't really sure what kind of reaction to expect, I had not foreseen the reaction I received. It was one of those times in which you realize that you've underestimated your parents yet again.

My mom was laughing so hard she was crying. My dad ruffled my hair and said, "So this is the sleaze you work with." Okay, so it didn't boost my ego, and I felt a bit foolish for worrying, but their reaction did remind me not to take the tension over the magazine so seriously.

Some may say that I have shirked a moral responsibility and contributed to the perpetuation of vices ("parties...sex...beer," as the slogan goes). Some may say that I have betrayed my sex by working for a male-oriented magazine. I say that's all ridiculous. I do have to admit that it has been exciting to work on a project that's raised such controversy.

Working with the magazine has kept people who thought they had me pegged still guessing as to what kind of person I really am, making me unlabelable, if there is such a word. As a female, I have realized that no one has a right to determine whether of not I've "compromised my integrity" but myself.

At the very least, I have provided entertainment value--for those males out there who have finally found a magazine they relate to; for those people who have been given a new source of stereotypes to challenge and another object to attack; or for people like my parents who can honestly laugh at both the magazine and those who attempt to take it too seriously in any manner.