Weekends at Georgetown bring with them several telltale signs. Solo cups litter the walkways around Village A, frantic calls are made to Tuscany Café and the Leo’s brunch becomes ground zero for friends gathering to talk about the previous night over French toast sticks and omelets.

Too often, these talks degrade into something that I call slut-shaming, or the dissection of someone’s – usually a girl’s – sexuality and personality based on how she dressed last Friday or who she danced with at Third’s. In our society, the ideal young woman should be good-looking, fun and sexual – but not too sexual, or she risks being perceived as sleazy and classless.

Even amid the recent spate of slut-shaming focused on public male figures caught in well publicized adultery, the women of the scandals have gotten as much press as the men. The flood of public apologies from the likes of Eliot Spitzer, John Edwards, Tiger Woods and, most recently, Sandra Bullock’s husband Jesse James have brought the issue of adultery to the forefront of pop culture. Their pleas for privacy lead to the opposite: an intense discussion of the private life and psyche not only of the adulterer, but also of the women he had relations with.

The media attention on the affairs of Tiger Woods and Jesse James has seemed to focus as much on the trashiness of the mistresses as on the moral character of the adulterers. The parade of cocktail waitresses, strippers, pin-up models and porn stars that have followed their recent revelations of infidelity has led to the public shaming of the men for not only cheating on their wives, but also for cheating with cheap women. Would Woods have gone to rehab for a sex addiction if he was sleeping around with female golfers and housewives instead of women involved in the sex industry? What if he were having affairs with brain surgeons and college professors?

We are so used to blaming women for being easy that, when faced with a man who could share those characteristics, we often blame the women he slept with. It’s second nature to us to criticize women for being sexualized, and so we focus on them even when the situation doesn’t warrant it. Society also expects women that are already “fallen” or sexually compromised in some way (bikini models, Hooters waitresses, et cetera) to be mistresses to famous men more than, say, rocket scientists. It is as if that type of women are somehow responsible for a man’s decision to stray from a marriage. What’s more, while a Tiger Woods has an identity beyond his transgression – can go to rehab to try and correct his problem – a overly sexualized women is often defined solely by that trait, an is therefore seen as permanently corrupted.

Of course, it doesn’t help that with every recent revelation of adultery, women have very freely come forward claiming to be the mistresses of a famous man. Their openness makes me wonder what they hope to gain. The pervasiveness of easy fame in our reality-television culture makes me think they are angling more for notoriety or a few minutes of fame than respect.

As Ashley Dupré learned after she came forward as the prostitute hired by Eliot Spitzer, however, that fame is fleeting and name recognition is not always positive. And that seems to be the crux of the matter. We are fascinated enough by the tales of celebrity infidelity to give these women a spotlight. But, at the same time, we are conditioned to judge them at least as harshly, and often more so, than their famous partners. Granted, the male adulterers do not escape without taking a hit. But the energy we devote to scrutinizing sexualized women detracts from our criticism of the equally sexualized men. Ultimately, we only raise these women to the public stage is so that we can attack them and bring them right back down.

Whitney McAniff is a sophomore in the College. The 52 Percent appears every other Monday at thehoya.com.

Weekends at Georgetown bring with them several telltale signs. Solo cups litter the walkways around Village A, frantic calls are made to Tuscany Café and the Leo’s brunch becomes ground zero for friends gathering to talk about the previous night over French toast sticks and omelets.

Too often, these talks degrade into something that I call slut-shaming, or the dissection of someone’s – usually a girl’s – sexuality and personality based on how she dressed last Friday or who she danced with at Third’s. In our society, the ideal young woman should be good-looking, fun and sexual – but not too sexual, or she risks being perceived as sleazy and classless.

Even amid the recent spate of slut-shaming focused on public male figures caught in well publicized adultery, the women of the scandals have gotten as much press as the men. The flood of public apologies from the likes of Eliot Spitzer, John Edwards, Tiger Woods and, most recently, Sandra Bullock’s husband Jesse James have brought the issue of adultery to the forefront of pop culture. Their pleas for privacy lead to the opposite: an intense discussion of the private life and psyche not only of the adulterer, but also of the women he had relations with.

The media attention on the affairs of Tiger Woods and Jesse James has seemed to focus as much on the trashiness of the mistresses as on the moral character of the adulterers. The parade of cocktail waitresses, strippers, pin-up models and porn stars that have followed their recent revelations of infidelity has led to the public shaming of the men for not only cheating on their wives, but also for cheating with cheap women. Would Woods have gone to rehab for a sex addiction if he was sleeping around with female golfers and housewives instead of women involved in the sex industry? What if he were having affairs with brain surgeons and college professors?

We are so used to blaming women for being easy that, when faced with a man who could share those characteristics, we often blame the women he slept with. It’s second nature to us to criticize women for being sexualized, and so we focus on them even when the situation doesn’t warrant it. Society also expects women that are already “fallen” or sexually compromised in some way (bikini models, Hooters waitresses, et cetera) to be mistresses to famous men more than, say, rocket scientists. It is as if that type of women are somehow responsible for a man’s decision to stray from a marriage. What’s more, while a Tiger Woods has an identity beyond his transgression – can go to rehab to try and correct his problem – a overly sexualized women is often defined solely by that trait, an is therefore seen as permanently corrupted.

Of course, it doesn’t help that with every recent revelation of adultery, women have very freely come forward claiming to be the mistresses of a famous man. Their openness makes me wonder what they hope to gain. The pervasiveness of easy fame in our reality-television culture makes me think they are angling more for notoriety or a few minutes of fame than respect.

As Ashley Dupré learned after she came forward as the prostitute hired by Eliot Spitzer, however, that fame is fleeting and name recognition is not always positive. And that seems to be the crux of the matter. We are fascinated enough by the tales of celebrity infidelity to give these women a spotlight. But, at the same time, we are conditioned to judge them at least as harshly, and often more so, than their famous partners. Granted, the male adulterers do not escape without taking a hit. But the energy we devote to scrutinizing sexualized women detracts from our criticism of the equally sexualized men. Ultimately, we only raise these women to the public stage is so that we can attack them and bring them right back down.

Whitney McAniff is a sophomore in the College. The 52 Percent appears every other Monday at thehoya.com.