Bitch Flicks – Page 33

‘Felt’: When the Final Girl Comes Home

While the exact parameters of Amy’s scarring experience are never disclosed, hints are dropped, including an awkward conversation about date rape and the artist’s newfound fixation on creating nightmarish costumes featuring exaggerated genitalia and blank faces. We know, without having to ask, that Amy has endured some sort of sexual violation, visited upon her by a man.

This is guest post by Claire Holland previously appeared at Razor Apple and is cross-posted with permission.

The majority of horror movies end with a “final girl” (so christened by Carol J. Clover in her pioneering book, Men, Women, and Chainsaws) conquering her attacker and would-be murderer in a final battle: Sally Hardesty bellowing in the back of a pickup truck as it drives away from Leatherface, who waves his chainsaw in useless frustration; Ginny Field stabbing Jason with his own machete; Sydney Prescott shooting Billy Loomis between the eyes as he lunges toward her in a failed attempt at one last assault. All of these women literally and figuratively stick it to the man, and by extension, to the patriarchy, if only temporarily. But what happens to these final girls – both fictional and, all too often, real – after the credits roll, and they are expected to reintegrate into a society that remains unchanged by their personal traumas?

That is the inherent question in Felt, a micro-budget indie film from Jason Banker about an artist, Amy (Amy Everson, also the co-writer), recovering from an unnamed, but easily assumed, ordeal. While the exact parameters of Amy’s scarring experience are never disclosed, hints are dropped, including an awkward conversation about date rape and the artist’s newfound fixation on creating nightmarish costumes featuring exaggerated genitalia and blank faces. We know, without having to ask, that Amy has endured some sort of sexual violation, visited upon her by a man.

It’s a classic setup for a rape revenge movie, except that there is no rapist–not a specific one that we meet, anyway. Felt is missing the inciting incident, which is surely a deliberate move. Whether or not a rape occurred is beside the point – the point is that Amy obviously feels deeply, painfully intruded upon in one way or another. She continues to feel further invaded and degraded throughout the film, while socializing with her roommate’s aggressive boyfriend or while on a first date with a man who becomes exasperated when she doesn’t acquiesce to his desires. In this way, the audience feels the buildup of these small and not-so-small intrusions along with Amy, from strangers and friends alike. Unlike your typical rape revenge movie, there is not one rapist, not one villain at which to lash out, but rather potential villains everywhere. Society is the villain, and Amy is just doing her best to cope with this new reality.

Her method of coping, and to an extent fighting back, involves frequent use of the aforementioned costumes. Most of them are grotesque caricatures of the male form – Amy roams the woods in a beige leotard with a large, dangling penis and a yarn head; another suit features freakishly bulging arm muscles that she pretends to flex, the camera panning down to her breasts, bound and flat. She dons a mask with tufted hair and stubble when her roommate tries to talk to her about her strange behavior. As things grow too somber, Amy sticks her tongue out of a hole in the mask, causing her friend to physically recoil. The suits are armor and weapon combined.

Later, Amy takes part in a seedy hotel room photo shoot, but instead of getting naked for the pimp-like photographer, she shows up wearing fake padded breasts and a pair of granny panties adorned with a lurid, intricate cloth vulva. The photographer uncomfortably tries to laugh it off and turn her away, but she and the other model, Roxanne, end up taking over the shoot, asserting their power in a situation where they previously felt powerless. The two women become fast friends, instantly linked by a shared mistrust of the opposite sex and, as Roxanne puts it, a desire to “leave [their bodies].”

The friendship is knocked off-balance when the two meet a guy named Kenny at a bar. The encounter begins as just another bonding activity of sorts for the women – Amy and Roxanne pick Kenny up, but then abandon him on the side of the road, laughing hysterically. Later, though, Amy runs into Kenny on the street and they seem to connect, resulting in a tentative, tender relationship that Roxanne has trouble accepting. Because this is a horror movie, we know that nothing good can come of it.

From there, Felt follows the familiar trajectory of the rape revenge flick, and the ending feels as inevitable as it does predictable. That, too, seems deliberate. When a person is stripped of her agency and her humanity, sometimes the only option she can see is to strike back. The movie meanders, often sacrificing tension or a cohesive narrative for the dull ache of authenticity, merely putting off what we know is to come. The sheer predetermination of the story may well be its message. We watch as the plot marches toward its inexorable conclusion, the cycle of violence playing out yet again.

Claire Holland is a freelance writer and author of Razor Apple, a blog devoted to horror movies and horror culture with a feminist bent. Claire has a BA in English and creative writing, but she insists on writing about “trashy” genre movies nonetheless. You can follow her on twitter @ClaireCWrites.

‘Stonewall’ Under Fire

The director missed an important opportunity to bring visibility to a highly marginalized and forgotten about group of people with ‘Stonewall,’ but instead he made a film that was more easily digestible for a mainstream audience. It comes as no surprise then that members of the queer community have had such strong negative reactions to the film.

This is a guest post by Danika Kimball.

Throughout his career in Hollywood, Roland Emmerich has built a career on destroying the world with mutant lizards, global disasters, and aliens. Many critics who have seen his latest film Stonewall, have come to the conclusion that he has created “yet another disaster movie” by masking a violent protest led by radical queer women as a coming of age story for an attractive white male. Some reviewers have gone so far as to say, “There are not enough bricks in the world to throw at Roland Emmerich’s appalling Stonewall.”

The film has been under fire since the release of its trailer in early August, with hundreds of thousands of members of the queer community boycotting its release. Rightfully so, given the erasure of trans womyn of color, butch lesbians, drag queens, homeless queer people, sex workers, gay, bi, and pansexual people who actually put in the grunt work during the riots.

Image Courtesy of USC

Emmerich’s erasure of the Black transgender women who incited the riots is a disappointment in and of itself, but when you analyze the statistics for LGBTQ representation in film, the numbers are even more bleak. Professors at the University of California’s Annenberg School of Communication analyzed 100 of the most popular films in 2014 and found that out of 4,610 speaking characters, only 19 total were either gay, lesbian, or bisexual. There were zero transgender characters.

The director missed an important opportunity to bring visibility to a highly marginalized and forgotten about group of people with Stonewall, but instead he made a film that was more easily digestible for a mainstream audience. It comes as no surprise then that members of the queer community have had such strong negative reactions to the film.

Emmerich has responded to the harsh criticism in one of two ways. In an interview with BuzzFeed, he claimed that putting the character Danny at the forefront of the drama was a conscious choice to appeal to both gay and straight people. Later on he remarked that he put a white gay male in the film because he himself is white and gay.

Other times, the director has responded to criticism with a well-intentioned “Kum bah Yah” sentiment, trying to tug at the heartstrings with a “we are all in this together” speech.

Roland Emmerich responds to Stonewall backlash

Though his comments are certainly well intentioned, Emmerich exemplifies an attitude that many cisgender white gay males share: the idea that all queer people share the same oppressions. But it’s harmful to assume that there is a blanket of oppression over the entire LGBTQ community. In focusing on how all queer people suffer from the same oppressions, Emmerich ignores the ways in which race, class, ability, and gender identity intersect to create different levels of oppression.

Emmerich’s experience as a cis white man is very different than the trans women of color who should have been represented in the film. This fact makes the erasure of the Black trans leaders who were at the core of the Stonewall riots all the more problematic, and impossible to stomach.

Reactions to Emmerich’s Facebook post

Another thing I found interesting about Emmerich’s sentiments on Facebook is his emphasis on LGBT homeless youth. The only seemingly positive headlines surrounding the film seem to be because of Emmerich’s activism in this arena. In an interview with Entertainment Tonight, Emmerich expresses that one of the driving forces in the film centered on the story of homeless gay youths who fought bravely in the Stonewall riots. While homelessness in the LGBTQ community is a problem that needs to be addressed, it’s troublesome that it’s being filtered through the lens of someone who believes all queer people are going through the same struggles.

In the year 2012, the homeless population was at a staggering 633,782 people throughout the United States. Mental health issues, addiction, physical health issues, and domestic violence were among the main reasons contributing to this number, according to research conducted by Professor Kelly A Schwend of Bradley University’s Department of Nursing.

LGBTQ individuals represent a significant portion of that number. According to the Williams Institute, 40 percent of homeless youth identify as LGBT, 43 percent of clients served by drop-in centers are LGBT, and 30 percent of outreach clients identify as LGBT. These individuals experience a higher percentage of violence, abuse, and exploitation compared to their heterosexual peers. Transgender people are particularly at risk due to a lack of cultural acceptance, and are often turned away from shelters, making them susceptible to even more abuse and violence.

Other studies suggest that Black people represented nearly 40 percent of the U.S. homeless demographic, a startling number when you also consider that according to the U.S. census, Black people make up only 13.2 percent of the U.S. population as a whole.

All of this information paints the picture that Black trans women are in all likelihood the most susceptible to experience violence and homelessness at some point in their life. Black trans women were also the most active in instigating the riots in the first place, so tell me again why these women are underrepresented in the film itself?

From his actions in erasing these women from his film, a historically dramatized narrative, it becomes hard to argue that he is concerned about anyone who isn’t a cisgender white gay male. Again, this isn’t to say that Emmerich wasn’t well intentioned in pointing out the problem, but reinforces the idea that he might not be considering intersectional points of identity when doing so.

Emmerich expressed to Vulture that he believed the film represented the diversity of the Stonewall clientele (around 70 percent Black/Latin@) “very well,” but if the trailer and reviews are any indicator we’ll be seeing more what we see in all of Hollywood: a white man in the foreground, and the people of color behind him. I mean, the still from the climax of the movie speaks for itself.

All in all, Stonewall was a film with great potential, but this fictionalized version of the story changed the narrative from one that was about violent, radical resistance, to a watered down coming of age story for a young cisgender white man. Once again, a gay white male becomes the face of a movement, and historical narratives of the rest of the queer community are erased.

Danika Kimball is a musician from the Northwest who sometimes takes a 30-minute break from feminism to enjoy a TV show. You can follow her on twitter @sadwhitegrrl or on Instagram @drunkfeminist.

Call For Writers: Violent Women

In the month of Halloween, we’ll be examining tropes of women and violence. There are many permutations of violent women throughout history and throughout genres. What is the connection between femaleness and violence? Why do we sometimes accept some types of violent women but not others? What do these value judgments say about our society?

Our theme week for October 2015 will be Violent Women.

In the month of Halloween, we’ll aptly be examining tropes of women and violence. There are many permutations of violent women throughout history and throughout genres. In many cases, the viewer experiences the violence of female characters as empowering. Revenge and self-defense are frequent motivations for violence, which are often coded as justified, and audiences can bathe in the cathartic violence of Kill Bill‘s Beatrix Kiddo (aka The Bride) taking vengeance on her rapist and those who betrayed her and left her for dead. We can cheer on Ripley in Aliens or Laurie Strode in Halloween because they are acting from the basic animal instinct of self-preservation.

Many women glory in the model presented by the physically capable, self-assured women of sci-fi and action genres like pre-apocalypse soldier and mother Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgment Day and secret agent extraordinaire Mallory Kane in Haywire. Films like these give women the opportunity to revel in strong female bodies and in women who take charge.

Sometimes, though, violent women are coded as frightening and unknowable. They violate cultural mores. They cannot be contained within society and must, therefore, be destroyed. The eponymous heroine of Carrie is a young, timid woman who comes of age and finds enormous power inside herself, but such a power cannot be controlled or understood; it has no other choice but to obliterate itself. The film Monster, represents Aileen Wuornos, a real-life woman who had every hard luck in life, as a woman who takes revenge too far until she’s an out-of-control serial killer who must be executed. On the other hand, through the desperate and violent shenanigans of its heroines, Thelma & Louise accuses the world itself of being an ill-equipped place for women who refuse to play by rules that only subjugate them.

What is the connection between femaleness and violence? Why do we sometimes accept some types of violent women but not others? What do these value judgments say about our society?

Feel free to use the examples below to inspire your writing on this subject, or choose your own source material.

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so get your proposals in early if you know which film you’d like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.

Most of our pieces are between 1,000 and 2,000 words, and include links and images. Please send your piece as a Microsoft Word document to btchflcks[at]gmail[dot]com, including links to all images, and include a 2- to 3-sentence bio.

If you have written for us before, please indicate that in your proposal, and if not, send a writing sample if possible.

Please be familiar with our publication and look over recent and popular posts to get an idea of Bitch Flicks’ style and purpose. We encourage writers to use our search function to see if your topic has been written about before, and link when appropriate (hyperlinks to sources are welcome, as well).

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, Oct. 23, by midnight.

Carrie

Under the Skin

Foxfire

The Matrix

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

Ginger Snaps

Basic Instinct

Foxy Brown

Battlestar Galactica

I Spit on Your Grave

The Exorcist

Underworld

American Horror Story

Game of Thrones

Hard Candy

Duke of Burgundy

Haywire

The 100

Jennifer’s Body

Single White Female

Misery

Mad Max: Fury Road

Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Halloween

Alien

Sin City

Batman Returns

La Femme Nakita

Planet Terror

Aliens

Gone Girl

Friday the 13th

Kill Bill

Monster

Mommy Dearest

Thelma & Louise

Audition

‘Family Guy’ and Sex Positivity…or Lack Thereof

So the only difference between Meg and Lois is that while Lois is forthcoming about her sexuality, she is attractive so it’s OK to see and hear about it because the audience (and creators) can shame her for it later, whereas Meg is presented as ugly/unattractive and therefore we don’t even want to hear or see her in any sexual way unless it’s making fun of her.

This is a guest post by Belle Artiquez.

Seth MacFarlane’s Family Guy is a massive hit show that has gained popularity over the course of its ten odd seasons. Even with this immense following, the show portrays the idea of sex positivity in a solely masculine light. It passively portrays a kind of controversial sexism that appears as a joke, but still perpetuates existing problematic topics of concern for women and the Queer community. A Public Display of Misogyny is one that is sometimes done in a playful manner, but with full intention of insulting women, while at the same time making it look like said women can’t handle a simple joke. When in reality, women are quite simply fed up with the constant sexism that is rampant in today’s society but considered less than important. Other times it is done to look sexy: often seen in advertisements or music videos where women are seen in a suggestive pose surrounded by more than one half naked man. These are the kinds of misogyny that Family Guy hurls out in nearly every episode. The creators of the show attempt to normalize this behaviour and make it appear acceptable, because again, it is done in a comical, whimsical light, so… where’s the harm?

Quagmire, a character who’s only ever portrayed as a pervert, kidnapper, sexual abuser and quite frankly disgusting human being (to those of us sane enough not to laugh at the jokes associated with his behaviour) is presented in a humorous way, an outrageous and exaggerated way, but for comedic effect all the same. Even this kind of repulsive sexuality is considered acceptable to MacFarlane, because it’s funny. Female sex positivity and anything Seth MacFarlane creates do not mesh, they don’t belong, and that’s due to MacFarlane’s hyper masculine idea of sexuality being something only (straight) men can truly own and have agency in. Any depiction of male sex, no matter how perverse, is set in a positive way; this is why Quagmire is saved from serving actual jail time for his (hundreds of) sex crimes in the episode “Quagmire’s Mom.” The one episode where viewers thought that finally there was going to be some retribution for his despicable behaviour–but we couldn’t even have that, he gets away scot-free–and continues with his extremely violent sexual assaults even blaming his behaviour on his promiscuous mother (because its always the mother’s fault!) but it’s OK, because it’s all fun and cartoons. So Quagmire can really do no wrong, he won’t lose his friends when they see half naked Asian women run from the boot of his car, he won’t be reported to the police when he blatantly date rapes a woman, his sexuality is accepted in Quahog because he is a straight male.

We see women in Quagmire’s trunk numerous times throughout the show before they run for their lives.

With female sexuality and sex positivity though we have a total different story. Lois Griffin is portrayed as the extremely attractive married woman, but she is completely sexualized and fetishized throughout the show. It’s almost her only characterization, other than the nagging wife. We see her multiple times in the role of dominatrix, a few times with Peter, and once even with her own son Stewie. She is often very aggressively sexual, and some might argue that this is due to her owning her sexuality which is totally sex positive and body positive too, but I see it differently. When we see her in these roles it’s played for laughs, for shock value, that a mother and wife would have such a sexual history and violent fantasies. And this is all connected to the idea that she is presented as the Bad Mother archetype. We see her in this role quite a lot, but most often (in nearly every episode) when it comes to Meg, her daughter. She is only ever presented in this light, and it’s not hard to see why she fits this bad Mother role; she constantly laughs at meg and belittles her, she diminishes Megs sexual experiences and laughs them off, she literally steals one of Meg’s Boyfriends, insults Meg (and her appearance) and is constantly trying to control Meg’s love life, and those are just the examples that involve Meg. These are not the qualities of a mother who loves her children. So, I’m not saying that I disagree with Lois being so open about her previous and on-going sex life, or even that I have problem with her being into BDSM, I don’t think Lois is a “slut,” as she has affectionately been called on many Family Guy forums; however, I do have a very serious problem with the way in which her sexuality is directly presented to make her look bad, to make her look like a horrible woman/mother/wife.

This is not the only time her sexuality is presented in a negative light. “Mind Over Murder” is an episode that sees Peter opening up a bar in his basement. After Lois ends up singing one night, she finds that she really enjoys it so decides to make a regular appearance singing and dancing giving a jazzy feel to the bar, she feels confident and sexy but more importantly she is happy. Peter on the other hand finds the attention she gets from his male friends too much to handle and demands she stop, because it’s her fault the men don’t know how to control themselves around a woman showing a bit of skin. But also, how dare she be in control of her own sexuality. It’s fine for her husband, Quagmire, and even her son Stewie to place her in a sexual role, but for her to put herself there is outright unacceptable. She refuses to stop, giving a middle finger to slut shaming, and continues, enjoying the spotlight and attention (since she gets neither in her marriage). Her happiness does not last long, and again her sexuality, with which she is in control of, is depicted in a negative light. Soon the women of the town have a problem with her too, seeing her as a threat to their relationships with their husbands. This entire idea is meant to say that it’s a woman’s fault for men looking at her, Lois is put down, belittled and slut shamed, all because these women’s husbands don’t know how to respect women. Peter doesn’t want anybody seeing her as a sexual being because once you are married you should lose all sexual appeal to other people. That’s not sex positivity, that’s female sexual oppression and it’s extremely unfair.

Lois Griffin is extremely sexualized to the point of it being nearly her only consistent characteristic.

And that’s with a character that is considered conventionally attractive. Poor Meg is depicted as the eternal joke purely because of her appearance. Because she is frumpy, she should never have a boyfriend, she should never, ever marry an attractive boy (even though she had to lie about being pregnant in order to get down the aisle), and most of all she should never be in control of her sexual experiences. We see her in one episode making out with a guy who turns out to be Chris in a closet at Halloween, and she is depicted as so desperate for any sort of sexual attention that she will even wonder if he is going to text her the following day, she also ends up making out with Brian, a dog, but even he doesn’t want her, then another extreme, becoming obsessed with a married Joe. All these scenarios have one thing in common: they all make her out to be so starved of male attention that she will literally kiss a dog, try to take a married man or even want a sexual relationship with her own brother, so we have bestiality, incest and delusional husband stealing. These most certainly are not sex positive experiences. What’s even more infuriating is MacFarlane could have actually made a positive statement with Meg’s character; there are many teenagers who feel neglected, isolated, unattractive and ignored, who wholeheartedly understand what Meg goes through, and yet the fact that her feelings and experiences are invalidated with a simple “Shut up Meg” by the very people who are supposed to want her to be happy, turns her into another punching bag for the sake of it. It turns all of these teenagers isolation into nothing more than a joke. Meg has so much boy trouble and is even turned into a transgender man purely as a joke that she is not feminine, not attractive and not wanted. This transgender issue isn’t even explored in the show, it’s a one off joke…it the she’s not feminine, so she must want to be a man hetero-biased argument that is extremely offensive.

This basically sums up Meg’s life. Always the physical and metaphorical punching bag for her family.

This is all based on heteronormative sexuality, and as anybody who watches Family Guy knows, there are a lot of representations of the LGBT community in the show. But does MacFarlane depict these in positive ways? Absolutely not. The presentations of queer sexuality are deeply stereotypical: gay men are extremely feminine and lesbian women are masculine. One episode that really stands out, but is not even nearly the only episode, concerning this issue is “Quagmire’s Dad” (I feel like Quagmire and his family are the centerpiece of sex misrepresentation in the show). Quagmire’s father, a war hero veteran, comes to town to visit his son, and very suddenly characters are remarking on how “gay” he appears, because he drinks cosmopolitans and his voice isn’t the low masculine they expected of a war hero. Stereotyping, it appears, is rampant when it comes to the discussion of gender identity. As it turns out, Quagmire’s father is not gay, but transgender–he wants to transition into a woman. He describes wanting to change his future his future not his past and how he has dealt with these feelings for a long time, this so far is not a negative portrayal of trans folk and their experiences, but the sympathetic portrayal ends there. In the hospital for his operation, Lois refers to the entire thing as a “circus,” the conversation revolves around the chopping off of his penis and there is basically no actual support for this man who is about to go through a life changing transition.

Stewie showing how transphobic the characters (and show) are.

After the transition, Quagmire’s father, now known as Ida, is treated with contempt by everyone, Lois throws out a pie Ida makes and Peter asks inappropriate questions about Ida’s breasts and lack of penis. Everyone is wholly unaccepting of Ida, until Brian meets her at a pub, and instantly falls for her. They end up spending the night together and Brian is absolutely smitten with this wonderful woman he met the night before. That is until he finds out who she is , then he vomits everywhere, forgets about the “wonderful” woman he met the night before and is totally focused on the fact that she was a man. It’s important to note that Brian is used on numerous occasions to highlight the “sexually unwanted” aspect of numerous characters. It’s the “not even a dog would have you” theme. Unfortunately for Ida, her sexuality is thus seen as something wrong, disgusting and unpleasant. Yet again Family Guy fails to interpret very real experiences in a way that is not exploitative. And that’s just one transphobic episode that seemed dedicated to being just that, unaccepting and a massive joke. There are plenty of transphobic references throughout the show, one recurring joke includes Stewie, who is presented as increasingly Bisexual (since he appears to have relationships with girls, loves dressing as a woman, hits on gay men, and has sexual fantasies of his teddy bear Rupert) as the show progresses. His sexual identity is as confusing as a cat that barks: we know that he has to be gay, in the very least, as he enjoys seeing the male body, relaxing in gay bars etc. However, on numerous occasions we see him either date or kiss girls (also babies just in case you were wondering) which could either be Stewie trying to fight his homosexual nature, which just doesn’t seem plausible because he appears to be quite open about it, or he is in fact bisexual. Whichever it is, this is played for laughs, and is not in any way an accurate representation of a child growing up under the spotlight that is patriarchy’s hatred of anything but hetersexuality. Instead we have cheap laughs at Stewie dressed as a woman, acting as a stereotypical gay or even spying on unsuspecting men in the shower (similar to Quagmire’s behaviour).

Stewie often dresses as a woman, and enjoys the occasional relaxing night at a gay bar.

So MacFarlane’s definitely not sex positive when it comes to women or anybody of the LGBT community, but is somehow accepting of a hyper-masculine rapist/pervert’s sexuality! Logical? No not at all. Offensive? Absolutely. And hey, that’s all Family Guy strives for–to be as offensive as possible regardless of how it portrays its sexual minorities.

Belle Artiquez graduated from film and Literature studies in Dublin and since has continued her analysis and critique of film, TV, and literature (mainly in the area of gender politics and representations) as well as cultural and societal critiques on such blog spots as Hubpages and WordPress.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week – and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

The Top 5 Most Feminist Moments From the Emmys by Anita Little at Ms. blog

Viola Davis’s Emmy Speech at The New York Times

An S&A Recap of the Historic 67th Primetime Emmy Awards and a Look at Next Year’s Possibilities by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

50% of Amazon’s Next Pilots Created by Women; Tig Notaro, Anna Camp, Christina Ricci to Headline by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

Shonda Rhimes on Power, Feminism, and Police Brutality by Robbie Myers at Elle

The New Stonewall Film is Just as Whitewashed as We Feared by Leela Ginelle at Bitch Media

He Named Me Malala Shows the Making of an Activist Icon by Anita Little at Ms. blog

‘The Keeping Room’ Movie Review: Badass Women Star In A Feminist Western by Kaya Payseno at BUST

WATCH: Octavia Spencer and Crissle West Depict ‘Drunk History’ Of Harriet Tubman’s Union Spying by Sameer Rao at Colorlines

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Sex Positivity: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts from our Sex Positivity Theme Week here.

Virtue, Vulgarity, and the Vulva by Erin Relford

The equality of men and women on the basis of healthy and consensual sex is sex positivity according to the Women and Gender Advocacy Center. Thus, to desire sex positivity is to be inherently feminist.

Clitoral Readings of The Piano, Turn Me On, Dammit, and Secretary by Brigit McCone

But how can female arousal be visually expressed? If women stereotypically prefer to read literary erotica over watching porn, with erotica’s descriptions of the interior sensations of female arousal, is that because many women imagine that female performers of porn are uncomfortably simulating their pleasure? Can there be a clitoral cinema of female arousal, and what would it look like?

Let’s Talk About Sex (Positivity for Women) in Animated Comedies by Belle Artiquez

There are animated shows that do present female sex positivity and appear to subvert the current patriarchal control of female sexuality in media. Archer and Bob’s Burgers are both refreshing examples of portrayals of positive female sexuality.

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries: Killing the Stigma of Sex by Emma Thomas

Besides occasional sex jokes, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries features episodes about vibrators, abortion, and women’s rights. It also highlights a wealth of one-night stands, and while the men are attractive, the camera glances over the bodies of Miss Fisher’s lovers as lovingly as it does her gorgeous outfits. It is, in an odd way, the perfect combination of the male and female gaze.

Yas Queen!: In Praise of Female Friendship and Sex Positivity on Broad City by Alexandra Shinart

As emerging adults, Abbi and Ilana are free to explore their sexuality as they choose. Choosing to be sexually active means the women have the possibilities of exploring love and sex, casual or within a relationship, in a way that best serves them as 20-something single women. Although Abbi and Ilana each explore their sexuality differently, the women share a common mentality- that they will embrace the many sexual adventures they embark on and support and empower each other every step of the way.

The Audacity of Sex and the Black Women Who Have It by Reginée Ceaser

Being Mary Jane provides the dialogue and the safety net in saying out loud ,”I see you, I’ve been there too and you are not alone.” The embracing of positive sexuality of Black women on television is not progressive feminism. It is the hope that future depictions of such will not be labeled progressive, but just as common as the stereotypes that have lingered for too long.

Slaying Dudes and Stealing Hearts: The Tell-All Sexuality of Mindy Lahiri by Shannon Miller

Sex positivity, for instance, is frequently presented in an oversimplified, inaccurate package of rampant promiscuity and generally assigned to a side female character, like a free-spirited best friend or sister. Meanwhile, the main character frequently serves as the antithesis to said behavior who is later rewarded with “true love.”

The To Do List: The Movie I’ve Been Waiting For by Leigh Kolb

And then I saw it–a film that extols the importance of female agency and sexuality with a healthy dose of raunch, a film that includes a sexually experienced and supportive mother, a film that celebrates female friendship and quotes Gloria Steinem, a film that features Green Apple Pucker and multiple references to Pearl Jam and Hillary Clinton.
Yes. This is it.

Concussion: When Queer Marriage in The Suburbs Isn’t Enough by Ren Jender

This film about a queer woman is, unlike the same year’s Blue Is The Warmest Color, directed and written by a queer woman (Stacie Passon who was nominated for “Best First Feature” in the Independent Spirit Awards and will be will direct an episode of Transparent this coming season), and in many aspects is the answer to those who dismissed Blue as a product of the male gaze.

The Day Mindy Lahiri Ate Seashells and Called Me Immature by Katherine Murray

I like Mindy Kaling and I like her show, but the season premiere demonstrates how, like many series, The Mindy Project has ambivalent feelings about what kind of sex is OK.

To Boldly Go: Star Trek: The Next Generation Explores the Limits of Sexual Attraction in “The Host” by Swoozy C

Once Beverly decides that so little of her attraction to Odan was wrapped up in his host body, the floodgates of sex, sexuality, gender, and physical attraction were wide open.

The Fosters, Sexuality, and the Challenges of Parenting While Feminist by Stephanie Brown

In Stef and Lena’s case, they face the much more complicated question of how to talk to their kids about sex in a way that balances their feminist ideals of sex positivity with their parental need protect and discipline their kids. Two scenes in particular stand out to me as exemplars of the ways in which Lena and Stef strive to make sure their kids are not ashamed of their sexuality while simultaneously conveying the importance of being safe, ready, and responsible.

Starlet and Tangerine: A Look At the Sex Work Industry Through the Lens of Chris Bergoch and Sean Baker by BJ Colangelo

Sean Baker and Chris Bergoch are spreading an important truth with their films: that sex does not have to be definitive. Tangerine and Starlet are two monumentally groundbreaking films, and they should be required viewing for all.

“I Want to Slap His Hideous, Beautiful Face”: Sexual Awakenings and First Crushes in Bob’s Burgers by Becky Kukla

Honestly, Tina Belcher is the role model young girls have been waiting for, and I’m so glad she’s finally arrived. However, “Boys 4 Now” – the episode that made me really believe Bob’s Burgers is *probably* the best show I’ve ever watched – deals with Louise getting her first crush. Rage-filled, insane, absolute genius Louise gets a crush on a boy. Unsurprisingly, she does not take this news well.

How the CW’s The 100 Is Getting Sex Positivity Right by Rowan Ellis

In fact, it’s the aspect of love and intimacy, rather than lust and sexuality, which makes Clarke’s part in Finn’s demise so difficult–the show plays with the idea that human connection, whether it’s through friendship, family, alliance or romance, is painful because it matters, not because it is fundamentally wrong.

Sex Worker Positivity in Satisfaction by Cameron Airen

Normalizing all sexual fantasies seems to be one of the main themes of the show. ‘Satisfaction’ offers a lot of varied sex positivity onscreen that centers on women. The show sets an example for what more television shows and films could portray when it comes to women, sexual desires, and sex work.

The Honest Sexcapades in You’re The Worst by Giselle Defares

Gretchen leaves Jimmy and states, “Well as my grandma used to say, ‘It’s only a walk of shame if you’re capable of feeling shame.’ See you later, thanks for doing all the sex stuff on me.”

Unity Through Differentiation: The Radical Sex Positivity of Sense8 by Emma Houxbois

The net effect, woven throughout the series, is a sex positivity that both embraces differentiation and recognizes the universal experiences that can work to close gaps of gender, orientation, and race that routinely stymie the discourse.

Living Single and Girlfriends: The Roots of Sex Positivity for Black Women on TV by Lisa Bolekaja

There were never any shows that centered happy, single, child-free Black women that prioritized good sex as part of successful living. That is until two television shows came on the scene, Living Single (1993-1998, created by Yvette Lee Bowser) and Girlfriends (2000-2007, created by Mara Brock Akil).

Unity Through Differentiation: The Radical Sex Positivity of ‘Sense8’

This guest post by Emma Houxbois appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Sex positivity, as a movement and concept in general, is open to a great deal of interpretation and criticism because of the multitude of forms that it’s taken over the years. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the heated debates that formed what are alternately described as “the feminist sex wars” and “lesbian sex wars” in establishing where the boundaries between legitimate self expression and exploitation lie in areas like commercial pornography and BDSM lie.

Discussions of power, privilege, and control typically remain central to the topic of sex positivity, and they’re vitally important when considering film in particular, a medium where female expressions of desire are more often than not conceived of and executed by men. While these discussions are vital, they can also stand to be expanded into what sex positivity can look like when it moves beyond the idea of liberating self-expression to recognizing and understanding other people’s desires.

Prior to the debut of Sense 8, Lana and Andy Wachowski were not typically considered to be filmmakers with a particularly sex positive agenda, but the roots of their broad and inclusive conceptions of sexuality in their Netflix series (co-created with J. Michael Straczynski) go all the way back to their debut Bound, a heist flick that starred Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly as lovers. At the time, the Wachowskis reached out to erotica writer and famed proponent of sex positive femininity Susie Bright to offer her a cameo in the film as thanks for her work’s influence in creating the film. Bright, who fell in love with the script, countered with a readily accepted offer to be their consultant on film and provide direction on how to film the sex scenes between Gershon and Tilly.

It’s an under-discussed part of the Wachowskis’ career that Bound, through arrangements made by Bright, had its debut at the San Francisco Gay and Lesbian Film Festival at the Castro theater, establishing a queer context to their work years before Lana came out as transgender. However it’s easy to see a recapturing of the spirit of their collaboration with Bright in Sense8, as they expand from the lesbian romance of Bound to expand into a multitude of simultaneous expressions of sexuality.

Key to much of the conversation around the series and its depiction of sex is how central, and explicit, the relationship between Nomi, a trans woman, (played by Jamie Clayton) and her girlfriend Amanita (played by Freema Agyeman) is. In and of itself it’s a tremendous victory for trans representation that scores the unheard of trifecta of a trans woman character being played by an actual trans actress, recognizes that trans women experience same gender desire, and doesn’t construct her sexuality around deception of any kind. The Wachowskis clearly communicate their triumph in this with the close up shot of a well-lubricated rainbow dildo dropping to the floor at the close of their first sex scene together, but Sense8 sets out to accomplish far more than just a sex toy mic drop.

In addition to Nomi and Amanita’s relationship, the series develops the romance between closeted Mexican actor Lito Rodriguez (played by Miguel Angel Silvestre) who is among the seven other characters Nomi shares an empathic bond with, and his boyfriend Hernando, as well as blossoming heterosexual romances between other members of the group. Nomi and Lito’s relationships are given the bulk of the development as the series progresses, but the Wachowskis use that focus as an opportunity to build a conception of sex that celebrates differentiation while also tapping into the universal aspects of sex and intimacy that everyone experiences regardless of gender or orientation.

This is primarily and most noticeably achieved in a sequence in the sixth episode where enough of the emotional energy of the sensates is focused on sex to trigger a full blown orgy between several of them, including Nomi, Lito, and two of the straight male characters. The focus and direction of the sequence, which was described by Silvestre as Lana Wachowski yelling directions from the sideline, which sounds much like what Bright believed her role in Bound’s production would be interpreted as. (“I think they imagined that meant I stood over Gina and Jennifer with a riding crop, snapping, “Deeper , Harder, A Little to the Left!”) But the scene does also communicate the same language and visuals that Bright intended for Bound:

“There were two main ideas on my mind. One, unlike most Hollywood lesbian scenarios, this movie shouldn’t insinuate oral sex– that’s not the kind of characters we were looking at. BOUND is about getting inside someone very fast, trusting them with everything-these women had to be fucking each other. Penetration was the act we wanted to imply. Yet obviously we weren’t going to get away with gynecological or hardcore shots in a movie that was headed for America’s shopping malls.”

“My idea, stolen from the ‘Kathy’ footage, was that we show a woman’s legs, straining and squeezing, and that we see that her lover’s forearm between her thighs. We dwell on that arm for a moment, moving back and forth in a fucking rhythm, looking sure, steady and unrelenting. Then, instead of following her arm all the way up to her lover’s pussy, we would cut to her stomach, fluttering like a little butterfly in that spasm we all recognize as orgasm. I loved the idea of eroticizing a woman’s belly like that. A lot of men making sex movies try to show a woman’s sexual pleasure by focusing the lens on her cleavage. Maybe that’s what they’re looking at, but hey, there’s a lot more going on!

“The other key idea was to eroticize the women’s hands whenever they were flirting or making love with each other. ‘A lesbian’s hands are her cock, they’re the hard-on of the movie, that’s what you want to follow,’ I said, like some veteran pornographer. When I see Corky’s hands on screen, I want to imagine how they would feel inside me. They’re the metaphorical substitute for the genital shots that you won’t be showing.”

Eroticizing the hands is the technique most keenly felt that follows through from Bound, but toward a somewhat different purpose in Sense8. Bright was looking for a way to get the idea of the kind of sex she imagined being most relevant to the plot and character beats of Bound across without being able to use explicit detail. She wanted to communicate genuine queer female desire to an audience who had never seen it presented in a manner equal to the depiction of straight sex in mainstream film. In Sense8, the first thing that focusing on eroticizing hands and grasping does is communicate the universality of desire across characters who identify as gay, lesbian, and straight. It depicts a physical element of sex that everyone, no matter their gender or orientation, can easily grasp and identify with. What it also does, just as Bright sought to evoke penetration in the sex scenes as part of the overall themes of Bound, is communicate how the individual sensates have been grasping toward each other in the series, trying to reach an understanding of their circumstances and who each other are.

Differentiation cannot be overlooked as being a major component of how the series presents and celebrates sexuality, despite the centrality of the “orgy” sequence that communicates a universality to human desire. Immediately following that sequence is a conversation in which Nomi tries to make sense of why she shares an empathic bond with the others, stating that it would seem more logical to her if the others were closer and not further from her identity and experiences. The response from Amanita’s mother is that she teaches the importance of differentiation through her classes on evolution. The implicit idea is that if differentiation is a key catalyst in biological evolution, it cannot be overlooked when considering the evolution of attitudes around sex that include queer and trans experiences.

Elsewhere in the series we see the critical importance of differentiation outside of sex, most notably as Lito and Wolfgang trade places in each others’ lives at the climax of their individual storylines. Lito, having pushed the situation with his blackmailer as far as he can by acting, falls back on Wolfgang to literally finish the fight. Then Wolfgang, having reached the limits of his skills as a thief and fighter in dealing with his rival, allows Lito to step forward and ply his trade as an actor. Each facet of the characters’ lives and experiences are as vital to the others’ towards their shared survival whether it be Sun’s martial arts skills, Capheus’ driving abilities, Lito’s acting skills, or Nomi’s computer wizardry.

Emma Houxbois is a fiercely queer trans woman whose natural habitat is the Pacific Northwest. She is currently the Comics Editor for The Rainbow Hub and co-host of Fantheon, a weekly comics podcast.

‘The Fosters,’ Sexuality, and the Challenges of Parenting While Feminist

This guest post by Stephanie Brown appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

In my frequent lectures to friends about why they should take time out of their busy television (and real life) schedules to watch ABC Family’s drama The Fosters (2013-present), I usually refer to an exchange from the season two episode “Mother Nature” in which Stef (Teri Polo) and Lena (Sherri Saum) have an argument born out of a season-long simmering tension over their respective parenting roles:

Stef: Please stop making me feel like I have to the disciplinarian dad in this family.

Lena: That’s awfully heteronormative thinking.

The first time I watched this episode, I actually paused the show to process my excitement over the fact that a TV show ostensibly for teenagers included a casual reference to the social construction gender roles. Can you name many other shows on basic cable in which you could hear the word “heteronormative” being thrown around? Though, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Over its first three seasons, I’ve been impressed many a time with the range of complex issues thoughtfully addressed by The Fosters, from societal issues of racism, the broken foster system, addiction, and religion to familiar teenage issues like friendship, school, and rival dance teams.

The Fosters, if you aren’t familiar, centers around Stef and Lena and their brood of biological, adopted, and foster children. I will admit that the title of the series is a little (OK, very) on the nose, but I’m willing to forgive it a series that, as you may have gathered, features characters and stories that we don’t usually get to see on TV. The inciting incident for the pilot is that Stef, a cop, and her wife Lena, a high school principal, decide to foster Callie (Maia Mitchell) and her younger brother Jude (Hayden Byerly) after they have been through a series of abusive foster homes. The Adams-Foster family also includes Brandon (David Lambert), Stef’s son from her previous marriage to her police partner Mike (Danny Nucci), and twins Mariana (Cierra Ramirez) and Jesus (Jake T. Austin and Noah Centineo due to a Roseanne-like recasting situation) who were adopted by the family when they were toddlers.

The Foster-Adams family is a big, loving, messy group, which fits well into the network’s “A New Kind of Family” brand. Since ABC Family rebranded in 2006 with this new slogan, they have produced several engaging, interesting, underappreciated dramas. From Greek (which Entertainment Weekly once referred to as “better than it has any right to be”) to Switched At Birth, a show in which scenes are frequently shot completely in sign language, the network frequently spotlights characters and storylines you won’t find anywhere else on television. Of course, as with most pop culture associated with teenage girls, the network’s innovative storytelling is often banished to the world of non-serious TV (a fate that befell the WB, UPN and now the CW as well).

Of course, as you might expect from a show that centers on a family with five teenagers, sexuality is a prevalent theme in The Fosters. Not only do the teenagers on the show deal with issues like having sex for the first time, sexual assault, the questioning of their sexuality, and love triangles, but refreshingly, Stef and Lena also deal with their own adult sex life. While same-sex couples are often desexualized (see Modern Family), Stef and Lena are given storylines that revolve around sex. In one such episode. Lena and Stef have frank discussions about the effect their busy lives and big family is having on their physical relationship and Lena’s fear of succumbing to “lesbian bed death” (2. 16). Stef and Lena not only talk about sex, they’re also shown cuddling post-sex, kissing, and generally showing physical affection for each other. Not only does the series treat sex as a multifaceted an integral aspect of adult relationships, it of course, also normalizes lesbian sex, which has historically either been ignored or relegated to the realm of the salacious male gaze.

The other notably refreshing aspect of Stef and Lena’s on-screen parenting is the way in which they often have to navigate their dual roles as feminists and parents of teenagers. As a woman who doesn’t have kids, I can’t identify with complexities of parenting while feminist, but as a feminist I can absolutely identify with the complexities of living in the world while feminist. To this point, the series raises important questions about the often challenging task of applying our deeply held feminist ideals our messy, everyday lives. I know, for instance, that the unholy alliance between advertisers, the beauty industry, and patriarchal constructions of gender and beauty have combined to make me think twice before leaving the house without putting on mascara. And yet.

In the season two finale, “The End of the Beginning” (2.21), 13- year-old Jude confides in Lena that he and his friend Connor had made out in their tent on a school camping trip. When he breaks down crying out of a mix what is likely fear, relief, and guilt at having lied to his parents about what happened, Lena makes sure he understands that he has nothing to be ashamed for acting on his attraction to Connor, while reminding him that school-sanctioned trips are not the place to fool around. Similarly, in the summer finale of season 3, “Lucky” (3.10), Lena and Jude have the sex talk after Connor’s dad finds him and Jude making out in Connor’s room:

Jude: So, I’m not in trouble?

Lena: No. No, but you’re probably going to wish you were. I think it’s time we had the talk. I’m really happy that you found someone as wonderful and as kind as Connor. I really am. And when sex is shared between two people…

Jude: OK, OK. Connor and I are not having sex.

Lena: Oh, OK, good. Good. Um, so. When any kind of physical intimacy is shared between two people who care about it each other. It’s a beautiful thing. I mean, OK look, if I’m being honest, I don’t really know a whole lot about the logistics of two men being together, but I definitely want you know how to take care of yourself, and to be safe when the time comes. Which hopefully won’t be for quite some time.

Again, Lena walks the line between reassuring Jude that sex is wonderful and normal, while at the same time making it clear that she hopes that he waits until he is mature enough emotionally, physically, and mentally.

In Mariana’s case, the conversation with her parents happens after she has already had sex for the first time, though under less-than-ideal circumstances. Mariana had planned to have sex with her boyfriend, but when he asks her to wait until he gets back from his band’s tour, she takes his delay as a rejection and ends up hastily having sex with Callie’s ex-boyfriend (“Wreckage,” 3.1).

After harboring a guilty conscience for several episodes, Mariana finally comes clean to her moms in “Going South” (3.5). Throughout the initial conversation, Mariana is defensive of her choice as her moms struggle not to shame her while simultaneously trying to understand her decision.

Stef: Losing your virginity at 15 is a big deal, Mariana.

Mariana: I thought you guys were feminists

Lena: Don’t play that card. We said the exact same thing to your brothers.

Stef: I don’t understand why you think that this is some kind of race.

Mariana: Well I did, OK? And I’m not a virgin anymore, so.

Lena: Honey, I think what your mother’s trying to say is that we love you and we just want to understand your choices.

There is tension not only between Mariana and her moms, but also between Stef and Lena as they negotiate how to handle the situation as parents and feminists. Mariana, knowing her moms well, goes so far as to play the “feminism” card, seemingly daring them to make her feel ashamed of her decision so she can claim the moral high ground by calling out their hypocrisy. In a follow-up conversation, the issue is resolved as Stef and Lena reassure Mariana that she should not be ashamed of having sex or of making a mistake.

Stef: I wasn’t trying to shame you, Mariana. I wasn’t.

Lena: But sex is a big deal. Every time you have sex it’s a big deal. You’re sharing a vulnerable and precious part of yourself. You should always make sure you feel good about it.

Similar to Lena’s conversation with Jude, the goal of the “sex talk” isn’t to scare or shame their kids away from sex, but rather to encourage them to take sex seriously and wait until they’re ready. Stef and Lena also want to assure Mariana that they love her unconditionally, and that our mistakes don’t make us bad people, they make us human:

Stef: My love you know what. We all do things we wish we hadn’t. But we learn from them. And if we manage not to repeat them, man, it feels really, really good.

The talks that Stef and Lena have with Mariana and Jude about sex are emblematic of the way the series treats a range of sensitive subjects with care, warmth, and complexity. As with every situation, Stef and Lena strive to ensure that their kids feel, above all else, unashamed, supported and loved. Of course, The Fosters is by no means a perfect show. It can veer into sentimentality and overwrought melodrama, but I will happily take being manipulated into tears (I was a fan of Parenthood, after all) when it comes with a side of progressive storylines about family, sexuality, and gender. As one of the few shows my mom, my sister and I all watch, The Fosters is a series I hope families across the country are also watching and enjoying together.

Stephanie Brown is a television, comedy, and podcast enthusiast working on her doctorate in media studies at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. You can follow her on Twitter or Medium @stephbrown.

‘Starlet’ and ‘Tangerine’: A Look At the Sex Work Industry Through the Lens of Chris Bergoch and Sean Baker

Sean Baker and Chris Bergoch are spreading an important truth with their films: that sex does not have to be definitive. ‘Tangerine’ and ‘Starlet’ are two monumentally groundbreaking films, and they should be required viewing for all.

This guest post by BJ Colangelo appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

When I was 19 years old, I was living in a shoddy dorm room in the middle of nowhere and absolutely desperate for cash. There were enough strangers on the Internet sending me requests for “topless video blogs” about horror films already, and so began my short-lived stint as a personal session cam girl. What I did or didn’t do is frankly, no one else’s business but my own, but this “dirty little secret” of mine is still something I struggle with every day regarding whether or not I tell people how I managed to pay for all of my books despite being a broke college student. Had I not written this paragraph, there would be plenty of people I know that would have never guessed this is something I had done in the past. Unfortunately, there are those that have known me for years but will see this short-lived moment in my life, this minute aspect of my personality, and choose to solely define me for it. Sex workers, porn stars, and cam girls are often defined exclusively by their professions.

This is where Chris Bergoch and Sean Baker’s stunning films Starlet and Tangerine come into play.

Tangerine has been generating quite the buzz around the indie circuit. The film follows Sin-Dee Rella (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) and Alexandra (Mya Taylor), two transgender female prostitutes in Los Angeles on the day of Sin-Dee’s release from prison as she discovers their pimp (and Sin-Dee’s boyfriend) Chester (James Ransome) has been cheating on her with a cis-gender prostitute named Dinah. The majority of the characters featured in this film are either sex workers or consumers, and never once is the audience meant to see them as anything less than people. A married cab driver with a desire for pleasuring transgender prostitutes is never meant to be seen as a monster, and the women who provide him his pleasure are always seen as women just doing their job. There is no shame in the game for anyone rolling the dice, and if anything, the people we are to see as villainous are simply those that refuse to accept that they’ve already lost the game before ever trying to play.

We are given access to see an authentic look at the world of sex workers, one that isn’t littered with Showgirl glitter or Taxi Driver moral dilemma. It’s an honest and sincere look at people who work in the sex industry for reasons other than rehashed storylines from Law & Order: SVU. Tangerine is centered on sex workers, but this isn’t a movie about sex working. Sure, we see our actresses turn a few tricks, but that’s like saying Clerks is about the convenience store industry. Just because we’re watching these women do their job, does not mean that they are their job. Being a sex worker doesn’t define their characters, it just happens to be what they hold for a job. Sin-Dee is shown as an excellent negotiator and furiously funny, and Alexandra is presented as levelheaded and a gifted vocalist. Being a sex worker is something they do, but it isn’t everything they are.

Before Tangerine, Bergoch and Baker made another indie flick called Starlet, a tale of a young girl named Jane (she also answers to Tess) who finds an unlikely friendship with an elderly woman named Sadie. For nearly an hour of the film, we watch this non-traditional friendship blossom between the young, vibrant, and leggy Jane (played by Dree Hemingway) and the bitter old Sadie (first-time actress Besedka Johnson), before we are made aware of what Jane does for a living, and why she also answers to “Tess.” Jane, as well as her roommates Melissa and Mikey, all work in the porn industry. There’s no emotionally depressing reveal and it’s never used a shock tactic. In fact, the porn industry is presented as any other business one could work within.

Jane’s work in pornography is such a non-vital aspect of her personality, she could have easily been a waitress and this film would have still had the same effect. This isn’t a story of a “whore with a heart of gold” nor is it a film showing a redemption arc for a “troubled girl who made poor choices.” No. Jane works in pornography, and she’s also befriending an older woman simply because she enjoys her company. Yes, Jane works in the porn industry, but she’s also an avid garage sale enthusiast. Starlet isn’t trying to make a “porn stars are people too!” sort of film, it’s a genuinely interesting film about the way we relate with other people, and one of the characters just happens to work in pornography. Jane is not defined by her profession, and she isn’t demonized for it either.

BJ Colangelo is the woman behind the keyboard for Day of the Woman: A blog for the feminine side of fear and a contributing writer for Icons of Fright. She’s been published in books, magazines, numerous online publications, all while frantically applying for day jobs. She’s a recovering former child beauty queen and a die-hard horror fanatic. You can follow her on Twitter at @BJColangelo.

“I Want to Slap His Hideous, Beautiful Face”: Sexual Awakenings and First Crushes in ‘Bob’s Burgers’

Honestly, Tina Belcher is the role model young girls have been waiting for, and I’m so glad she’s finally arrived. However, “Boys 4 Now” – the episode that made me really believe ‘Bob’s Burgers’ is *probably* the best show I’ve ever watched – deals with Louise getting her first crush. Rage-filled, insane, absolute genius Louise gets a crush on a boy. Unsurprisingly, she does not take this news well.

This guest post by Becky Kukla appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Society, education, media and film all contribute to the shame that young girls feel as they approach their teenage years. The shame of sexuality, the humiliation and disgust that goes hand in hand with newfound desires and feelings – most of which teenage girls are not equipped to handle due to the constant stigmatizing of female desire. Whilst this shaming is apparent within schooling (especially religious influenced education), it is also reinforced in countless forms of media which children are reading, watching, or reacting to on a day to day basis. Young girls are subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, reminded that their sexuality is a sin and should be silenced.

We see this trend in many television shows. My Wife & Kids, Fresh Prince, 8 Simple Rules, and even the “progressive” Modern Family use the tired old protective father trope. The teenage daughter of the family is portrayed as promiscuous and/or less than intelligent, and protecting her virginity becomes another day to day task for her father. Any sign of her sexuality is alarming to her family, especially the male relations. Shows like American Dad and Family Guy go the other way, and depend on routine jokes centered around ridiculing their teenage girls. Meg Griffith, for example, is constantly the butt of every joke in her family and this is only worsened as she gets older and becomes interested in boys. The “Meg Griffin” problem, as we’ve come to know it, is more symptomatic of writers being too lazy or uncomfortable with writing half-decent storylines for teenage girls. Especially as it means they may have to write about sexuality, sexual fantasies or just a silly little crush from the perspective of a fourteen year old girl. Scary stuff, right?

So many television shows, animated or otherwise, like to poke fun or ridicule their young teenage girls, especially when those girls start that painful and mostly awkward transition into “womanhood.” It’s an outdated concept, and one that seems to apply exclusively to women. Teenage girls must not show any sign of outward sexuality, they mustn’t be open about their sexual awakening, and the boy must make the first move. If you break any of these rules, you’re a slut.

This is where Bob’s Burgers comes into its own. I’m sure you are all aware that the character of Tina Belcher was originally intended to be a teenage boy, until the writers realised that it was much more exciting and interesting to have a young girl who is so confident of herself, her sexuality and her fantasies. We rarely see this in films or on television, especially as Tina receives full support from her parents in everything she does; from writing erotic friend fiction to dating two boys at once. Honestly, Tina Belcher is the role model young girls have been waiting for, and I’m so glad she’s finally arrived. However, “Boys 4 Now” – the episode that made me really believe Bob’s Burgers is *probably* the best show I’ve ever watched – deals with Louise getting her first crush. Rage-filled, insane, absolute genius Louise gets a crush on a boy. Unsurprisingly, she does not take this news well.

A brief synopsis of the episode: Linda and Bob have to take Gene to the Table Laying Finals (yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like), so Louise is stuck tagging along to a Boys 4 Now concert with Tina. At first Louise is distinctly disinterested, perplexed and annoyed by all the pubescent girls who are crying and screaming at the boy-band onstage. That is until Louise lays eyes on Boo Boo – the band’s youngest member. She is transfixed–partly consumed by love, partly horrified at herself. She can’t help but look at him, enchanted by his singing and his youthful face. “Who the frick am I!?” she exclaims to herself in the toilets, trying to force the crush out of her system. It’s no good. Louise has been bitten by the love-bug.

Louise, as a character, largely regards Tina with both disinterest and derision. Louise doesn’t understand her sister’s obsession with boys and butts, and often the two of them have very little in common. However, in “Boyz 4 Now,” Louise confronts her crush head on by revealing it to Tina, as she already has an acute awareness that Tina has been through these feelings before. There is no judgement, no mockery – just the simple understanding that this is perfectly normal, and that Louise has got it bad. Louise turning to Tina is a sign of respect, showing that Louise sees Tina’s own crushes as legitimate issues and that Tina is the expert to be consulted. It’s a moment of bonding between the two sisters who, before this moment, never really had anything to connect over.

Frequently, in other television shows, our young female character will change beyond recognition as they start to become sexually aware, or to have sexual desires. Physically, and in their personality, girls are expected to become “a woman” as opposed to “a girl.” There are many phrases associated with this phase–brink of womanhood, blossoming, flowering… I could go on. What they all serve to mean, is that our young girl is now becoming a woman, and will change completely and forever. But in Bob’s Burgers, Louise manages to retain her own personality, despite having gone through an apparently life changing transition. She is still full of rage (“I want to slap his hideous face!”) and she still overreacts to the given situation (“I’m infected, pull it out!”). Louise proves that girls and women simply do not change as a result of becoming sexually aware and actually the experience of your first crush/losing your virginity doesn’t make any difference to who you are as a person. Despite popular culture claiming otherwise. Also, Louise is pretty on the money about how having a crush feels!

The affirmation of “Boyz 4 Now,” however, has got to be at the very end, after the girls have been kicked off the tour bus and Louise has succeeded in slapping Boo Boo in the face. Louise tells Tina that she is a strong woman, and questions how Tina can be alive if her life is just one long string of crushes. As Louise says, “It’s exhausting.” There is a clear moment of understanding between the two of them. Tina is a departure from the stereotypical female daughter on television. She’s a geek who masters her own sexuality and refuses to change for anyone. This context allows us to see how hard it is for Louise to express her own sexual desire, but that this expression is made so much easier by having Tina as an older sister. An unapologetic girl who wants to date the entire softball team and doesn’t see anything wrong with that. Why should she? Louise, when battling her next crush as is inevitable, will be in safe hands.

Whilst most TV shows try and shame young girls for having completely natural and human desires, Bob’s Burgers positively adores them for it. Praises them, relishes them and above all reminds them that it’s normal. The feelings, the sexy feelings, are all normal. And awesome. Tina and Louise’s crushes are never portrayed as gross or indecent. They are never downplayed, and the girls do not end up as the butt of some joke about how stupid teenage girls are or how funny it is that they obsess over a boy-and. It preaches that girls should never be ashamed of their fantasies or of that awkward phase that sits uncomfortably between girl and woman. It’s hard to negotiate, and mainstream TV often makes it even harder. Thankfully Bob’s Burgers is here to put it right.

Becky Kukla is a 20-something living in London, working in the TV industry (mostly making excellent cups of tea). She spends her spare time watching everything Netflix has to offer and then ranting about it on her blog.

How the CW’s ‘The 100’ Is Getting Sex Positivity Right

This guest post by Rowan Ellis appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

This article contains spoilers for the first two seasons of The 100 … be warned!

On the surface, it might seem like we live in a sex positive society already, I mean, I just wrote an article about Channing Tatum’s intimidatingly chilled torso for this very website. We hear things like “sex sells” all the time, meaning it’s clearly viewed as positive for our economy if nothing else. But the tiniest scratch below that oiled up muscly surface shows something more complex and gendered. Women’s sexualities and sex lives are viewed in turn as both precious fortresses and exploitable commodities, by a world which can’t quite make up its mind whether it wants to protect us or fuck us. But then men and boys are being taught not to respect either a “weak” woman who needs protecting, or a “slutty” woman who wants to be fucked. So it came as a ridiculously pleasant surprise to see the portrayal of sex and sexuality in the CW’s teen dystopian show The 100.

The 100 is one of those shows that snuck up on me; I watched the pilot when it first came out, and promptly dismissed it as an OK series that I might try again if I got bored and it ended up on Netflix. It’s the story of obligatory-CW-beautiful Clarke (Eliza Taylor) and 99 other teenage prisoners who lived on “The Ark,” a collection of space stations which houses all that is left of the human race, floating above the Earth. I say “lived,” past tense, because pretty much as soon as the show opens all 100 of them are blasted down onto the surface of our messed up planet to see if it’s survivable. One-hundred delinquent teenagers alone on a potentially deadly planet. What could go wrong? Honestly, I only gave the show a real chance after Tumblr excitedly informed me that the lead character wasn’t entirely straight, and it came under the radar as a show with increasingly great representation. So I gave it another chance, and by the time half a season had gone by, it was clear they were building a series that wasn’t afraid to give the middle finger to easy outs and happy endings. And yet, none of those difficult choices or moral and physical suffering were linked to the characters’ sex lives.

Although we like to talk about characters as if they were independent entities, it is the writers who choose character’s choices and the consequences of their actions; traditionally morality plays and novels had marriages to reward the good and death to reward the bad. Sometimes the only way to tell that an otherwise progressive woman was meant to be perceived as good was the fact she was allowed to marry at the end (Jane Eyre, anyone?). And so it is the consequences of sex on screen, not just the having of sex itself, which can truly show an audience how sex positive a show is. Meta-fictional films like Scream and Cabin in the Woods draw attention to this idea when they comment on the absurdity and sexism inherent in the horror trope “The Final Girl” and the importance placed on virginity, where “pure” women are allowed to survive, and having sex carries a death sentence on screen. Although in a show like The 100 the Venn diagram of “characters who have had sex” and “characters who suffer” has a lot of overlap, this is vitally not a causal relationship; the death of Finn and the horrific struggles that Clarke faces as a leader, are not because of their sexual relationship. In fact, it’s the aspect of love and intimacy, rather than lust and sexuality, which makes Clarke’s part in Finn’s demise so difficult–the show plays with the idea that human connection, whether it’s through friendship, family, alliance or romance, is painful because it matters, not because it is fundamentally wrong.

Teen shows have in the past been guilty of using sex to drive melodrama, or of using it only sparingly in “very special episodes” to give a warning. But The 100 uses its post-apocalyptic future setting to frame a version of the sexual worldview as a non-issue, suggesting that we as a collective species get the fuck over it when we have stuff to worry about like the end of the world. Is this realistic? Meh, who cares, I don’t watch sci-fi for realism, I apparently watch it for bisexual lead characters and complex moral decision-making with psychological consequences… but we’ll get on to that in a second. This lack of realism, I think, also extends into what makes the show an enjoyable watch for all its tragedy; there are some things that are safe, namely the sex. As a teenage girl being abandoned on an inhospitable planet with a number of teenage guys who all seem pretty invested in violence, gaining control, and hedonism, rape would be an immediate threat in my mind. Yet the CW set up of the show, and the storylines so far, seem to be completely removed from this fear, which gives me as a viewer a sense of security in a lot of ways. Similarly, the way the show pushes back against stereotypical or soap-like storylines, means as a viewer I am also not that concerned with the seeming lack of condoms or birth control going on, because I feel pretty secure that they won’t include “warning” storylines around safe sex with pregnancy and disease based on the tone of the show. At first, I was worried that the relative sexual freedom which the teenagers had found on the Earth’s surface would become a problem once the parents were reintroduced, with apologies and stern looks. But, again, they had more pressing matters to deal with.

A negativity around women and sex is not just doled out from those in positions of power, the “I’m not like other girls” phenomenon between female peers is rooted in ideas around sexual promiscuity and femininity being lesser. This negativity towards sex is a tool used to pit women, and girls, against each other, rather than being a tool for raising up fellow men or boys because of their perceived sexual prowess. The double standard is hardly new and can be seen in real life as well as being played out on screen in films like Gone Girl, where Flynn criticises the idea of the “cool girl” aesthetic as creating a personality and way or acting based on your desirability to men. This is why it was so refreshing to see the treatment of Clarke and Raven’s relationship, as two women who were interested in the same guy, be secondary to their other connections. There is no passive aggressive MeanGirl-esque in fighting fraught with jealousy; Clarke can’t turn off her feelings for Finn, but immediately understands she can’t be with him, and gets on with what needs to be done. This decision is completely in line with her nature as someone who sees things as they are as far as she can, who is practically minded, who corrects Finn even as he is trying to be romantic when seeing that Raven falling to Earth isn’t a shooting star at all. Clarke is the first person to see Raven on Earth and witnesses her essential rebirth on the planet, they share an interesting relationship in their different ties to Abby, Clarke’s mother, and their friendship is of vital importance based on their respect for each other. The show ultimately rejects the jealous ex paradigm which it seemed to be setting up, and identifies itself as unexpectedly progressive in its portrayal of female friendship.

The portrayal of bisexual women in society at large, is one of “greedy” girls showing off for the attention of men. They are often viewed as more likely to be unfaithful or “slutty,” and both the straight majority and gay community seem to be wracked with worry that their bisexual partners are secretly monosexual. The portrayal of Clarke (the clear lead of the show) being attracted to and forming relationships with, both men and women, plays away from these shallow stereotypes, while not denying her an active sex life. The tragedy in the storylines with both her partners is not caused by her sexuality, although her very real feelings for them heighten the pain for both her and us as an audience. Killing Finn and having to watch as Lexa betrayed their political alliance, took a huge psychological toll on the teen, but ultimately her hardest decision- to kill the population of Mount Weather- was connected to familial and friendship based bonds that created the community of the 100. However, historically the b-word has been conspicuously missing from the screen, even in forcefully progressive shows like Orange is the New Black, and so it is too for The 100. This can be explained away with the idea that the future is as liberated about sexual orientation as it is about sex, and that labels are no longer used or required. But that reduces the real need for bisexual viewers right now to have representation on screen and arguably contributes to the bi-erasure which it could so easily be combatting.

Ultimately, this is a show that features some really beautiful humans having sex, and in that way it isn’t unusual. What The 100 is getting right is creating a narrative where the usual toxic cliches are subverted, and the characters are all the better for it, rather than ignoring sex and praising characters for that instead. There are of course ways to improve: I hope that next season we have Clarke voice her sexuality specifically, because that explicit labeling would be a pioneering act in representation. I would also like to see more diversity, particularly in body type, having an active sex life on the show, which is often missing or played for lazy and crude laughs on screen more widely. How likely is that to happen? My experience with shows in the past tells me, not very. But at the start of The 100 I’d never have guessed they would make any characters queer, and look what they did with their lead. So, if you’re reading this writers of The 100, I’d really love for you to prove me wrong again.

Rowan Ellis is a British geek using her YouTube videos to critique films, TV, and books from a queer and feminist lens.

Sex Worker Positivity in ‘Satisfaction’

This guest post by Cameron Airen appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

There aren’t a lot of positive portrayals of sex work in film and television. Sex workers are typically seen as less than human–their lives disposable. The sex worker is often an object used for men’s domination, to shame her for the work she partakes in, or to be feared and avoided like she has the plague. How many times have we heard a woman in a film or TV show express something like, “Oh my god, I look like a whore!” or “She’s a whore!” in total disgust? It happens more often than we are conscious of because whorephobia and the stigma of sex work is deeply pervasive. We’ve been taught from the beginning not to look, or act like or be a whore. Being a whore is thought of as the low of the low; it is a shameful position in society.

Because sex workers are seen and thought of as inferior, violence against them is seen as normal, like we see in the film Dressed to Kill (1980) where a serial killer psychiatrist specifically targets sex workers. If a sex worker is not the target of violence, then they’re being objectified like in the recent film The Escort (2015) where Lyndsy Fonseca plays a sex worker whose story wants to be written by a white man. With the title “The Escort” you might think it would be HER story but she ends up being the pawn for his interesting journalism further perpetuating what the media does to sex workers consistently, objectifying them, which further perpetuates the stigma of sex work. But, I have good news.

One of the few shows that depicts sex workers in a positive way by challenging stereotypes of sex workers and the sex industry is the Australian drama, Satisfaction. Satisfaction centers on a circle of six women who work out of an upscale, legal brothel in Australia (where sex work is legal but its regulations vary regionally). The show doesn’t only focus on their sex work, but their friendships with each other, their personal sexual and romantic interests, and other parts of their lives unrelated to sex work. Satisfaction shows a realistic experience of sex work (for more privileged workers anyway), of sex workers’ clients and situations. Not every work situation turns out to be a positive one for these sex workers, but most do. It shows an assortment of realities that happen within sex work like clients falling in love with a sex worker or vice versa, the various fetishes that clients possess, coming out to loved ones about doing sex work, and dozens of dozens more. Also, safe sex is portrayed in Satisfaction by showing the workers doing STI checks on their clients before each session. When do we ever see safety around sex onscreen?

“People pay me to have sex with them, and yes, I’m OK with that” –Lauren

Satisfaction offers a variety of personalities and representations of its main characters. It gives older sex workers a voice with characters like Lauren, a receptionist of the brothel who picks up sex work after discovering that she has a knack for it, and Mel, an independent sex worker. It represents the kink side of sex work through Heather, who works as a Dominatrix, and Nat, who explores her kinky sexuality. Chloe, “the best sex worker in the brothel” as Nat describes, has been in the business a long time and is a mother of a teenage girl. A younger and more intellectual type of worker is played through Tippi, a bubbly girl who wants to study creative writing. The brothel is owned by Nat’s dad but Nat manages it with a strong business intent. Satisfaction also adds a male sex worker in season 3 showing some diversity among gender.

Heather, a lesbian Dominatrix

I do want to point out that Satisfaction is not as diverse as it could be. Heather is the only prominent gay character and sex worker of color. The rest of the women are white and heterosexual. All of the women are in a more privileged position in the sex industry. They have the privilege of working out of a safe and structured, fancy brothel, where clients are screened, instead of on the streets. Plus, they have the privilege of working in a region where sex work is legal. There is a new character in Season 3 who struggles financially, but up that point, no one else seems to struggle to pay the rent or bills on time. The show also lacks the representation of trans or genderqueer sex workers.

A great aspect of Satisfaction is that it focuses on and normalizes fetishes. When do we ever see sexual fetishes portrayed in a positive light onscreen? Fetishes are seen as a normal part of a person’s sexuality, and not just among the clients but among some of the women as well. It’s another way the show defies sexual and gender stereotypes and gives kink a voice.

Nat, manager of the brothel and latex Queen

While the last season of Satisfaction took a downturn overall by subtracting familiar characters and adding new ones, it explores one of the more interesting sexual expansions of one of the main characters, Nat. In Season 1, Nat, discovers her sexual appetite for latex. In the “Rubber Dubber” episode (Season 1, episode 7), Nat is intrigued by a client of Heather’s who enjoys being wrapped up in latex from head to toe. As she escorts the client in and out of the room, she is excited by the smell of latex and her curiosity begins. In Season 2, Mel’s younger brother, Sean, comes to visit, ends up being a sex worker, and crushes out on Nat. For a while, Nat doesn’t know what to do with this new guy pursuing her but ends up trying to date him. Her relationship with Sean leads her even deeper into her kink and fetish desires that has her wanting to open up their relationship. This is another sex positive moment because we hardly ever see people, but women in particular, wanting and initiating an open relationship with their partner onscreen.

Nat and Sean

Season 3 broadens Nat’s sexuality when she starts seeing Bernie, one of Heather’s ex-clients. They end up having a strong S/M connection that allows Nat to explore her relationship to intimacy, fetish, and kink in ways that are more authentic to her. Nat realizes that she needs and wants to be with someone who is more compatible to her desires. This is a great portrayal of showing how women can get their sexual needs and desires met no matter what they may be. Normalizing all sexual fantasies seems to be one of the main themes of the show. Satisfaction offers a lot of varied sex positivity onscreen that centers on women. The show sets an example for what more television shows and films could portray when it comes to women, sexual desires, and sex work.

You can watch all seasons of Satisfaction for free on Hulu.

Cameron Airen is a queer feminist with a M.A. in Anthropology and Social Change who did her ethnography with sex workers in the Bay Area. When she’s not obsessing over women & gender in film/TV, Cameron is trying to create a (mostly) vegan cookbook. She resides in Berkeley, Calif. You can follow her on Twitter @cameronairen.