We want our celebrities to be everything to us at once. We want someone like Beyoncé, or Megan Fox, or: [insert your favorite famous person here] to be both powerful and vulnerable, secretive and revealing, in our bedrooms and on a pedestal—to look sexy in lingerie while telling the editor of GQ to shove it up his ass. We put these unrealistic expectations on women especially, because even non-famous women are expected to be all things to all people. But those of us who are paying attention—and I do not count Esquire and GQ among us—realize how unfair that is, and how complicated these images really are. We can’t ask famous women to comment on their looks and then commodify those looks and call it a “serious profile.” We can’t accept magazines that objectify famous women on their covers and then trash the famous women who appear there. (Not if we want them to stay famous, anyway.) And until we can look at the bigger picture that is our sexist celebrity culture—one that tells women their value comes from their bodies and then criticizes them for those bodies—and hold ourselves and our media to a higher standard, until we can create a space where Beyoncé actually could wear her own t-shirt on a magazine cover, or Megan Fox could be known for something other than her looks, we’re in for more of the same.