Stephanie Rogers – Page 12

Sophia Loren dazzles L.A. yet again from the Los Angeles Times

Hollywood Won’t Learn: It’s a White Summer Again from The Wrap

Electro Feminism: Girls Like Us from Bitch Media

‘Orgasm Inc.’ Pits Drug Companies Against What Women Really Want from the Hartford Advocate

Dissed Identifications: Desi Stereotypes at the Expense of the Other [TV Correspondent Tryout] from Racialicious

Leave your links!

Guest Writer Wednesday: Girl Power in Sucker Punch, Hanna, and Winter’s Bone

This guest post by Marina DelVecchio also appears at Marinagraphy.

In the past year, directors have been trying to feed our womanist pangs for more girl power in films. At least this is how I see the trend. Because as a woman and a mother, I want to see movies that represent my gender as empowered, important, and intelligent. I want to see them as real and as true and valued members of society. I want to have faith in humanity—in this world, even though it is still centered on patriarchal values and systems that perpetuate the notion that a woman is necessary only in her sexuality—her ability to bring a man to his knees with the want of her. But this is not a real woman. She does exist, but she does not represent women like me—late 30s to early 40s, a mother and educator, struggling to cast out the voices that tell her she is nothing, old, and imperfect if she doesn’t fit the role patriarchy has assigned her. I want to see movies that show me what power feels like—the kind of power that is accessible to me and my daughter—normal women in a normal and imperfect world. The last few months have found me thinking about the female characters depicted in films and how much power they really have. Here they are:

Sucker Punch (directed by Zack Snyder) left me with a knotted feeling in my stomach, as well as with conflicted emotions. I loved the idea of a character escaping her reality of abuse and institutionalization by folding within herself and locating a place of refuge deep in her subconscious. Whatever was happening to her body in real life, her mind was not aware of it because she was in another realm—a more powerful one. I didn’t like that she escaped the reality of a mental institution and an impending lobotomy into a brothel where the girls were being sold off to men. A girl would not escape to this kind of world out of choice, even if she knew she was going to be lobotomized at the end of her journey. And to suggest that sex-trafficking is better than a lobotomy is insane in itself—lobotomize me any day of the week. To have her find refuge into a brothel was definitely an attempt at appeasing the men in the audience of this film. It would not appeal to women. What did appeal to me was that I did not have to watch this beautiful girl gyrate and dance provocatively in order to seduce the highest paying john—who of course, is an old, fat, cigar-smoking and money-padded man with power and political standing.

I loved that she escaped that kind of self-selling image of provocateur to land in a fantasy world wherein she wielded machine guns and knives with natural expertise, power kicks and punches that never missed, and a confidence that all people should have—and all young girls and women should possess. In this fantasy world, she kicked ass, but again, to appeal to the men she had to be called “Baby Doll,” (which brings up the image of a hot red or pure white negligee, depending on the individual man’s fantasy), and she had to look like a little girl in Prep school uniform complete with short skirt and below-the-curve-of-her-busty-bust-shirt. She had to be sweet, sexy, and powerful at the same time—and perhaps because of this—because we cannot seem to have a heroine who is powerful without being sweet (innocent girl) and sexy (slutty siren) at the same time—because we cannot have a heroine who is just powerful, just dominant, and who is not expected to appeal to men’s desires in any way—then Baby Doll (Emily Browning) just doesn’t cut it as a strong female character—and Sucker Punch doesn’t fit the bill of a good, strong, and powerful representation of Girl Power. When the female character has to appeal to men’s sexual yearnings to achieve power, she fails to be powerful.

In contrast, I was pleasantly surprised with Hanna, (directed by Joe Wright), which just came out. 16-years-old, Hanna (Saoirse Ronan) is raised by her father, an ex-CIA operative who has taught her everything she knows. We first meet her in the wild forests of Finland, very unsexy, un-pretty, and completely covered in layers. And we find her hunting with a bow and arrow, sprinting after her prey, killing it, and then gutting it with her bare hands. So unsexy, and yet so powerful. A small girl, she is smart, fast, and logical.

But there is one problem—she is not normal—she is a genetically engineered girl who was part of a CIA project to build perfect soldiers from birth. And because she is this kind of “soldier,” she is not someone we can relate to in any way. Her skills were not simply developed with the aid of her father; they were made possible because of the genetic modifications that had been made to her while she was still in her mother’s uterus. She was born a soldier, not developed into one, and this reality makes her an unreal hero—at least to me. If she had been a normal little girl, then all the skills she had learned would mean something—maybe that all girls can achieve this kind of mental discipline, this kind of physical prowess—but this message disappears when we learn about her origins. Still, I loved this movie, and as a heroine, Hanna is very powerful compared to Baby Doll. In addition, Cate Blanchett’s character, although the villain in this film, is strong also in her tailored shin length skirts and suits jackets, sporting a short bob haircut, and toting a gun or two or three. The women characters in this movie were quite compelling, including the mother she encounters on her journey, who refuses to wear makeup because she considers it to be dishonest. I’d like to read her story.

Which brings us to Winter’s Bone. I rented this movie one Saturday night, and although it has been criticized for its stark and depressing mood, it is real, gutsy, and a true feminist—womanist—girl power-ish film, lacking in pretensions, sexism, or glamor. 17-year-old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) is a real-life girl in the real world, born into the “patriarchal male honor culture of the Missouri Ozarks” (James Bowman, 2010), who feeds her siblings squirrels, and teaches her brother how to hunt, kill, skin, and make a meal of it—all lessons a father would teach to his son. But he’s not around. Part of this culture highlighted by drugs and murder, he is missing; her mother is mentally depressed and useless; and Ree is left to tend to her younger siblings and make sure their house isn’t taken away from them. She is cajoled, lied to, threatened, beaten by men and other women in this clan, and she faces the reality of her real-life responsibilities with quiet fortitude. Accepting the fact that her father is dead, it is left up to this girl to find proof of his death in order to keep her parents’ house from being taken away and leaving her and her mother and siblings homeless. She puts her life in danger to accomplish her goal, and she also gives up her dream of escaping this kind of corrupt life by joining the army and making something better of herself and her future. She is able to save her house and family, through sheer nerve and guts, alone, and for this, she is a true hero—a real life heroine that we can feel confident in advocating as strong.

There is no guile to her—no sex—just smarts and courage—which is more of what I would like to see in movies and their portrayal of women and young girls. Not surprisingly, this is the only movie of the three mentioned directed by a woman, Debra Granik. Although she adapted the film from a novel written by a man, Daniel Woodrell, Granik gave us the kind of heroine that we need; a heroine who fights for decency and justice, and who does not use her sex or appeal to men’s sexual desires to attain that which she is in need of. We need less of Sucker Punch and Mean Girls; less of Charlie’s Angels and Sin City. But we do need more of Ree Dolly’s. So many more. So bring them.

How about you? What film heroine kicks ass for you—preferably a non-sexualized, eroticized, or generated-for-male-consumption heroine?

Marina DelVecchio is a writer and a College Instructor. She has a BA in English Literature, an MS in English and Secondary Education and has completed thirty credits towards a Doctorate in Feminist Theory, Rhetoric and Composititon and 19th century Women Writers. Originally from New York, she began teaching on the High School level and then moved up to the College level in 2005. She presently teaches English Composition, Research, and Literature at a local Community College in North Carolina.

Tangled: A Feminist Film Review

This guest review by Whitney Mollenhauer first appeared at Not Another Wave in December 2010.

Last Friday, I saw Disney’s Tangled with my husband. I thought it was a pretty good feminist-y movie, especially considering that it was a Disney princess-type movie. Because I am lazy, I have written my review in bullet-point form:

Rapunzel’s father (the king) cries on Rapunzel’s birthday as he remembers his kidnapped daughter. It seems like usually in these kind of movies, you see the mom crying and the dad consoling her; but here, it’s the other way around. Win! Men can express emotion, too!

Rapunzel sews and bakes, but she also reads, does astronomy, and paints like no other.

She is so awesome with her hair! She ties the male protagonist up, lets herself down from the tower, and climbs everywhere. Seriously, it’s very impressive. She can do just about anything with that hair–it’s not just for show.

Rapunzel ends up with short hair! Okay, that’s just a little thing, but have you ever seen a Disney princess with a pixie cut before? Even Mulan had longer hair!

So yeah, the mom is the bad guy because she’s vain/wants to be young forever, blah blah blah. But I don’t know how they could have had a male villain or some other way for the mom to be the villain without straying too far from the original. But at least she gets some jokes.

The frying pan proves to be a superior weapon compared to the sword! This might be getting a little too psychoanalytic, but I saw the frying pan as symbolizing a kind of feminine/transgressive power, while the sword represents traditional masculine power. I just thought it was neat. You don’t have to be a swashbuckling dude to kick butt.

Her story and her adventure starts not because the guy “whisks her away” or something; but rather, she plans and schemes: she catches him breaking into her tower, and strategically decides to use him to reach her goal of seeing the flying lanterns on her birthday.

Spoiler alert: in the end, she’s not “saved” because of her compassion, but in spite of it–her compassion might actually have been her downfall. Unlike other movies/fairy tales where a woman’s only redeeming quality is self-sacrifice, this ending suggests that self-sacrifice isn’t always such a good thing–or at least that it’s not solely the domain of women. Men can be self-sacrificing too! (Didn’t want to reveal too much here. Go see the movie if you want to figure out what on earth I’m talking about.)

I liked the ambivalent nature of how it shows her mom’s and her relationship when Rapunzel leaves the tower for the first time. She feels guilty, but MAN is she happy and excited and brave!

She doesn’t get married at age 18!!!!

In my opinion, the relationship was not even really a central feature of the story, but rather a sub-plot. The main plot was getting away from her mother, figuring out her actual identity, getting to the flying lanterns she wanted to see.

I felt like it was good and feminist because it was a major improvement from how Disney usually is. Also, overt sexism did NOT distract me from what was otherwise a visually appealing, witty movie (as it usually does). And that is really saying something.

Even the rich, hypermasculine stereotype is challenged–the male protagonist reveals his true name/identity, as an orphan, and she says she likes him better than the fictional (hypermasculine) character that he aspires to be like.

In the end, I think it makes a good case for women’s “proper place” NOT being just in the home, but out in the world/public sphere! I’m not sure how you could get any other moral out of it. Even in Mulan, after she saves China, she ends up returning home, and (we suspect) marrying the army captain guy, instead of taking a job with the emperor. In Tangled, the movie’s premise is centered around the idea that it’s wrong and horrible to expect a woman to spend her whole life at home.

When the male protagonist breaks into her tower, she kicks his butt; she stands up for herself in the bar; and she stands up to her mother in the end (about having been kidnapped).

At the end of the movie, SHE dips HIM and kisses him. (I always hated it when guys would dip me. If I want to kiss you, I am going to kiss you, so just let me stay on my own two feet.)

Body image stuff: Okay, so Disney’s not breaking down any boundaries here. Also, infantilization much? Rapunzel’s face is that of a two-year-old.

So, I’m not very good at remembering specifics, but I DO remember not getting angry at seeing her needing rescuing again and again and again. It seemed like mostly she was able to save herself, and the guy didn’t save her a whole lot.

In the bar, Rapunzel and the guy (Flynn) meet a whole bunch of rough guys. They sing a song about how everyone’s got a dream: the one tough guy says to Flynn, “Your dream stinks,” referring to his dream of getting rich. The other tough guys have dreams of becoming mimes, finding love, being a pianist, becoming a baker–and one made little tiny unicorns. Even tough guys have nuance and feminine qualities!

Rapunzel’s animal companion is Pascal the chameleon. Pascal is super cute, and is possibly named after Blaise Pascal the mathematician (suggesting that Rapunzel is a math nerd like me, though that could just be me reading too much into it). Pascal can’t talk, and I felt like that was a good thing (feminist-wise), so he couldn’t show her up and become the hero (remember Mushu the dragon in Mulan?)

My points are random and some are not very significant. But still, small wins! And when it comes to Disney princess movies, any hint at feminist ideology is a HUGE win. And if nothing else, it at least passes the Bechdel Test:

Whitney Mollenhauer is a graduate student in California where she studies sociology. She has an awesome husband who doesn’t mind her running feminist commentary when they watch movies together. And, she loves cereal.

Quote of the Day: bell hooks

In 1997, the Media Education Foundation produced an interview with bell hooks, a renowned author, feminist, and social activist, called, “BELL HOOKS: Cultural Criticism & Transformation.” hooks discusses a variety of pop culture topics, including rap and hip-hop, Madonna’s influence, Hollywood, and the often negative representations of race, class, and gender within them. You can watch the full interview in parts on YouTube, and you can read the entire transcript of the interview, but I want to quote from just two sections; the first deals with the feminist backlash in mass media:

One of the issues that no one wants to talk about is that finally, the most successful political movement in the United States over the last twenty years was really the feminist movement, and that there is a tremendous backlash to feminism that is being enacted on the stage of mass media. So that films like Leaving Las Vegas really are about ushering in a new, old version of the desirable woman that really is profoundly misogynous based and sexist. It’s no accident; we know that when women went into the factories in the World Wars because men were not here–that when those wars ended–mass media was used to get women out of the factory and back into the home. Well in a sense, mass media is being used in that very same way right now, to get women out of feminism and back into some patriarchal mode of thinking, and movies to me are the lead propaganda machine in this right now.

hooks said this in 1997. Almost fifteen years ago. So have movies gotten better or worse since then in contributing to the feminist backlash? When I try to come up with some truly great feminist-leaning films released (in Hollywood) in those fifteen years, it’s admittedly a struggle–and that doesn’t mean I’m saying they don’t exist. Yet when I think about sexism in Hollywood films, it takes about three seconds to recall a handful of misogyny-laden movies released only within the past several months. In fact, it’s virtually impossible not to find sexist films hitting the mainstream every opening weekend.

hooks continues her discussion of movies, referencing the filmmaker Spike Lee and critiquing representations of blackness in Hollywood:

A major magazine like Time or Newsweek just recently carried a story on Spike Lee as a failure. I mean, it just was amazing! How could you talk about Spike Lee as a failure? It was something like, Malcolm X was made for thirty-seven million, but it only made forty-some million. And I thought, well, how is that a failure? You not only paid for your movie, but you had some excess profit–though not a great deal, not what Hollywood would want. But that can become talked about in mass media as a failure, even though Woody Allen, who has made many films that do not make a lot of money, does not then get talked about as a failed filmmaker. And so that is in the interest of a certain structure of white supremacy and patriarchy, to put Spike Lee down at this point in his career, and to make it seem that somehow he could not deliver the goods, because part of that is about sanctioning white people to become the new makers of so-called black film.

As in, for example, a film like Waiting to Exhale, which is sold and marketed in ways that suggest this is a black film. I mean, people kept telling me, this is a film about black women, this is going to be for black people. In fact, this was a typical Hollywood shitty, uninteresting film–the script written by white people, all marketed as being a film by and about blackness, successfully. Nothing Spike Lee has done can match the financial return of this piece of shit. This is how blackness can be done successfully, and the problem lies not with the terms of what makes blackness successful in Hollywood or on the screen, but with Spike Lee as an individual. And that I think is tragic because so many black people are buying into that mode of thinking. That Spike Lee somehow represents a failure, when in fact, Spike Lee will continue to be the most successful black filmmaker in the United States, and he’s not by any means a failure.

Here’s a way in which, as Hollywood decides to occupy the territory of blackness, it becomes very useful to say, “We let black people have that territory, and they just didn’t know what to do with it. They made these strange films like Girl 6–it didn’t even have a plot. I mean, Crooklyn didn’t even have a plot.” Which of course is completely bogus, because the plot of Crooklyn was very obvious and very simple; it was about a family where the mother is dying in the family. But I can’t tell you how many white reviewers wrote that it didn’t have a plot. When what they should have said is that it didn’t have a plot that interested us. That White America is not interested in black mothers that are dying. So I think that is going to have deep ramifications for the future of representing blackness in Hollywood–because it is really almost a public announcement of the white takeover of that particular territory, the issue of representing blackness in Hollywood.

It’s interesting to look at how films represent blackness in Hollywood currently, and if it’s changed for the better or for the worse within the past fifteen years. Tyler Perry has certainly become one of the most prolific and successful–if not the most successful–black filmmakers in Hollywood, but there’s also much controversy surrounding his representations of race in film. Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, garnered Oscar nominations and a Best Supporting Actress win for Mo’Nique, and Dreamgirls catapulted Jennifer Hudson’s career after she won her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. And within these past fifteen years, the Best Actress Oscar was awarded, for the first time ever, to a black woman, Halle Berry.

I don’t have the answers. I think it’s important in general to look at the kinds of roles Hollywood rewards women for playing; but it’s perhaps even more important to keep insisting that Hollywood filmmakers create better roles for women. Overall, I’d argue that we’re much more inundated with pop culture imagery everywhere now than we were fifteen years ago, with advancements in technology (and the increased and constant advertising that comes with it). So if the representations of race and gender in the media, and movies in particular, haven’t changed much–or have in fact gotten worse–and the pop culture and mass media machine is churning out this shit faster than it ever has in history, where does that leave us?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

The Jury Awards – International Women’s Film Festival 2011 from Women and Hollywood

A Black Woman’s Plea for Justified – The Red-State Western You Should Be Watching from Racialicious

Redefining Dora: From Explorer to Princess from Marinagraphy

Meek’s Cutoff: Professor Kelly Reichardt’s Filmmaking 101 Primer from Thompson on Hollywood

Tropes vs. Women #3: The Smurfette Principle from Feminist Frequency

Arianna Huffington is a sex symbol from Feministe

Slutwalks and the New Political Incorrectness from Slate XX Factor

Leave your links in the comments!

Guest Writer Wednesday: Your Review Is Scarier Than Scream 4

This guest post by Kevin Wolf is cross posted at Shakesville.

[Trigger warning for misogyny, eating disorders and body policing, ableist language.]

The masses were clamoring for another Scream sequel (people simply would not stop talking about it!) so Scream 4 was manufactured and hits theaters today. Hence, the posting of reviews across the internets, including this one from Michael O’Sullivan at The Washington Post, which opens:

“Scream 4” has issues.

If it were a person, and not a movie, it would be a 17-year-old bulimic girl, desperate for the attention of 17-year-old boys and alternately bingeing on cheesy slasher-flick cliches, and purging, by pointing out, over and over, just how gag-me-with-a spoon cheesy they are.

On the one hand, it is obsessed with itself, winking and pouting in front of the metaphorical mirror of self-referential scrutiny that the series — directed by Wes Craven and written by Kevin Williamson — is famous for. On the other, it suffers from a case of crushingly low self-esteem, reminding us at every turn just how lame it is. (In a sense, it won’t shut up about how fat it looks in these jeans.)

Mr. O’Sullivan is not a teen, bulimic or otherwise. But because this is a movie for and about teens, he evidently felt obliged to wedge something “teenagery” into his review. And because this movie has “issues,” he must represent our hypothetical teen as a “girl” who is bulimic, who is desperate for boys to notice her, and who is so “lame” and self-involved she won’t shut up about how fat [she] looks in these jeans!!

Now, I’m not the target audience for the movie, nor the target of O’Sullivan’s horrific clusterfuck of misogynist, fat-hating, exploitative, condescending bullshit, yet for some reason I’ve taken offense. Why? Because I hate the assumption made by this critic that it’s gonna be just fine with me that he represent this film and its audience in this carelessly stupid, thoughtless, and endlessly privileged way.

I’m going to suggest to O’Sullivan that he take another look at this review and compare that opening with a paragraph further along: “At the heart of the film is a joke: What’s happening on screen is just like a bad horror movie. Except that, by acknowledging its own badness, ‘Scream 4’ hopes to turn itself into a good horror movie. Or at least a hip, funny and self-aware one.” Notice, Mr. O’Sullivan, that you have here said essentially the same thing (the movie is agonizingly self-conscious and wants to be hip) without personifying the film as an offensive stereotype and thus demeaning teenage girls with disordered eating in the process. And it was so easy!

Please, Michael O’Sullivan: Stop trying to be hip and clever. For a start, you’re about as hip and clever as an Allstate commercial. And your lack of self-awareness and empathy is painful—one guesses especially so for the targets of your “humor.”

Fast Five Trailer

Hey, so Fast Five is coming out soon. With Vin Diesel and The Rock! Naturally, I thought we’d take a look at its potential awesomeness. See, it’s a movie about a bunch of guys and cars, so we can certainly count on testosterone-fueled action sequences and all sorts of My Dick Is Bigger Than Your Dick moments, including Hot Babes used as trophies and sex objects. Because nothing says Masculinity Manhood Penis Manliest Masculine Man’s Man Big Penis like walking around with partially-clothed women on your arm who don’t say much:

Okay, okay, I’m being unfair. As you can see from the trailer, there are only, like, 25 camera close-ups of women’s asses and bikini-clad bodies–which is very important to include in trailers, so we can know in advance what the movie’s about. But all that objectification of women is clearly balanced out by a shot of a woman jumping off a building and a shot of women sitting around a table. Oh yeah, and the clip of the scared and abused women in the underground dungeon who watch the money go up in flames.

So, going by the trailer alone, the film’s target audience appears to be young, heterosexual men. Or just heterosexual men regardless. Score! We honestly don’t get to see many films geared toward pleasing the heterosexual men in the audience, especially during summer blockbuster season. End sarcasm. Because the best thing, truly, about movies like this is the occasional flashes of 80s action movie homoeroticism. If by occasional I mean a nonstop orgy of Masculinity Manhood Penis Manliest Masculine Man’s Man Big Penis.

For those who see the film, please report back to us. Because Vin Diesel. And The Rock. You know?

Ashley Judd Speaks Out About Rape Culture: The Roundup

Ashley Judd

Last week, all hell broke loose when an excerpt from Ashley Judd’s new memoir, All That Is Bitter & Sweet, hit the internet. This is the offending passage:

YouthAIDS created hip public service announcements for TV and radio using popular local and international celebrities and athletes and was participating in the MTV World AIDS Day ‘Staying Alive’ concerts. Along with other performers, YouthAIDS was supported by rap and hip-hop artists like Snoop Dogg and P. Diddy to spread the message … um, who? Those names were a red flag. As far as I’m concerned, most rap and hip-hop music—with its rape culture and insanely abusive lyrics and depictions of girls and women as ‘ho’s’—is the contemporary soundtrack of misogyny.

After a serious backlash in which prominent members of the Rap and Hip Hop community (including Questlove of The Roots and rapper Talib Kweli) criticized Judd’s comments, Judd reached out to her friend Russell Simmons and clarified her stance on Global Grind:

As a thoughtful friend put it, “fans stand behind their artists,” and rightfully so. Hip-hop and rap — which are distinct from one another, although kin — stand for a lot more than a beat and vibe. They represent more than I, an outsider, has the right to articulate. This tweet capture’s the essence of what you have taught me: “Rap is something you do….Hip-Hop is a CULTURE you live! Don’t let a few bad apples’ lyrical message speak for a whole culture!” My equivalent genres, as an Appalachian, an oppressed and ridiculed people, would be mountain music and bluegrass. Those genres tell the history, struggles, grief, soul, faith, and culture of my people. In imagining how I would feel if someone made negative generalizations about that music, I am deeply remorseful that anything I may have said in “All That Is Bitter & Sweet” would hurt adherents of genres that represent their culture. This book is an act of love and service. Insulting people of goodwill is the antithesis of its raison d’etre.

I have looked closely at the feedback I have received about those two paragraphs, and absolutely see your points, and I fully capitulate to your rightness, and again humbly offer my heartfelt amends for not having been able to see the fault in my writing, and not having anticipated it would be painful for so many. Crucial words are missing that could have made a giant difference. It should have read: “Some hip-hop, and some rap, is abusive. Some of it is part of the contemporary soundtrack misogyny (which, of course, is multi-sonic). Some of it promotes the rape culture so pervasive in our world…..” Also, I, ideally, would have anticipated that some folks would see only representations of those two paragraphs, and not be familiar with the whole book, my work, and my message. I should have been clear in them that I include hip-hop and rap as part of a much larger problem. (You can read her full statement here.)

I’ve had a difficult time figuring out how to write about this. I understand that people, especially people of color, will rightfully get pissed when they perceive a privileged white woman to have insulted Black culture. And as a privileged white woman, I don’t always feel comfortable engaging in race-related issues like this because, frankly, I’m afraid I’ll either make ignorant assumptions (because of my privilege) or not contextualize my points appropriately (because of my privilege). Ashley Judd has been criticized for doing both those things. In the aftermath, she’s gotten some seriously misogynistic vitriol thrown at her (just spend a few moments on Twitter, if you’re curious) and has even received death threats because of it.

But the truth is, when I first read Judd’s comments, I read them as a factual indictment. Rap and hip hop often contribute to rape culture because all of culture contributes to rape culture because we live in a fucking rape culture. Since that’s the only way I know how to articulate my feelings on this, which is arguably unintelligible and at the very least lacking any kind of analysis of rape culture (I did that here), I’m rounding up some articles that do a much better job than I can of examining race and gender as intersecting oppressions, and how Judd’s recent remarks fit into that discussion. [Major trigger warnings for discussions of rape, sexual assault, misogyny, and violence against women.]

Sound-Off: Ashley Judd Was Right about Hip Hop by Sophia A. Nelson, from Essence:

My people, my people, when will we face the music and save ourselves from ourselves?

Here we go again, yet another well-meaning White person who makes a common sense, very reasonable, factually based statement about something (in this case rap music) that we all know is TRUE and what do we do? We jump all over her and demand that she apologize for “offending us.” Really?

Seriously, what will it take for us to stop the madness? Who among us in his or her right mind can actually defend openly mysoginistic, hateful and demeaning lyrics geared toward Black women and Black culture? I am no C. Delores Tucker, but I find myself asking some hard questions lately relative to where we are as Black people when it comes to how we value our most precious commodity: Black women.

Ashley Judd and Hip-Hop Culture by Kevin Powell, from ThyBlackMan.com:

I am a hip-hop head for life, since my days dancing on streets and at clubs and writing graffiti on walls; to my days as a writer for Vibe magazine and curating the first exhibit on hip-hop history at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; to my current task of writing a biography, the next several years, on the life of Tupac Shakur. So I know there is a difference between hip-hop culture, which I represent, and the hip-hop industry, which is what Ashley Judd is referencing in her book.

And we’d be lying to ourselves, hip-hop heads or not, if we actually could say, with straight faces, that hip-hop culture has not been severely undermined, turned inside out, and made into an industry that promotes some of the most horrific images of women and men, that encourages oversexualization and materialism, that pushes anti-intellectualism and a brand of manhood that seems only to exist if one is engaging in the most destructive forms of violence and degrading of one’s self, and of others. That is not hip-hop. That is called a minstrel show, circa the 21st century. And if you really love something the way I love that some thing called hip-hop, then we would be honest about it and not go on ego trips attacking an Ashley Judd for having the courage to say what we should be saying ourselves.

That enough is enough of this madness, that it is no longer acceptable to say our culture is just reflecting what is going on in our communities. Art is not just to reflect what is happening. Art, at its best, is also about dialoguing about and correcting the ugliness in our communities. That will not happen if art is just as ugly as real life, if we are at a point where we cannot tell real life from the staged life.

For sure, Ms. Judd mentions this in her book when she talks about 50 Cent offstage, how professional and polite he was, then the moment he took the stage out came the hyper-masculinity, the bravado, the posturing, the manufactured character. Rather than curse out or disparage Ashley Judd, I think we should instead ask ourselves who we are, truly, in these times, and why so many of us continue to have our identities programmed and directed by record labels and radio and video channels under the illusion of keeping it 100 percent real? Real for whom, and at what cost to our communities?

Back in the 1990s, when I was writing for Vibe, I did an interview with the late C. Delores Tucker, an older Black woman who led a crusade against what she thought were indecent rap lyrics. I was so much younger emotionally and in terms of basic common sense, and did everything I could to make Ms. Tucker look like a buffoon in the printed interview. I really regret that because these women, the real leaders on our planet, are right. Why should it be acceptable to tolerate any culture, be it hip-hop, rock, jazz, reality television, video games, or certain kinds of Hollywood films, that create a space that says it is okay, normal, to denigrate women and girls with words and images?

Way to Teach Ashley Judd a Lesson! Now, How Are We Better for It? by Christelyn Karazin, from Madame Noire:

What we really need to do is examine why rappers are so invested in silencing someone who could have been an advocate for causes and interests of black women. Perhaps the answer lies in what one commenter said on a popular feminist website: “Black male celebrities almost ONLY get pissed about racism in public discourse if it threatens black *masculine* culture and are either totally silent or indifferent about the ways in which black women are effected by racism, sexism in general and sexism from the men within their own racial group. (re: Spike Lee and others who have come out in support of Chris Brown).” She has a point. When was the last time black men, en masse, mobilized because someone offended a black woman? And before you start Googling, let’s stick to this decade, please.

I’m fuming right now because with all of the attacks on Ms. Judd, we, black women, have lost an ally. And it’s not like we have so many to spare. Never mind that Judd has worked tirelessly for the betterment of all women around the world, and she expresses a genuine concern, I guess she’ll learn her lesson next time to dare defend black women, and this incident will teach anyone else who comes along that does not align with The Guardians of All Things Dark & Lovely in the future.

Why, oh why are we so quick to defend the very men who abuse and debase us? Why does Chris Brown have a stable of black women cheerleaders behind him after he pounded Rihanna’s face in? Why did Jay-Z, a drug dealer who shot his own brother at only 12-years-old, make his millions off the backs of black women and become a pinnacle of success? Why do we have spokespeople in the New Black Panthers rallying behind more than a dozen black boys who raped an 11-year-old child and join the pile-on in blaming her?

With That Said … by Ta-Nehisi Coates, from The Atlantic:

[in response to Questlove’s assertion via Twitter that “EVERY genre of music has elements of violence.”] I mean yeah it does. But as a hip-hop fan, and as a music fan, it’s really hard for me to believe that all musical forms are equally misogynistic. If we’re being honest, I think it’s worth noting that Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” isn’t just a song, it’s actually is an entry into a rather prolific sub-genre that that spans from “That Girl’s A Slut” to “I Ain’t The One” to the original “Gold-digger” to “Sophisticated Bitch” to “Black Vagina Finda” to “Treat Her Like A Prostitute” to “Davy Crockett” to “The Bitches” to “Dead Wrong” to “Wildflower” to “Hoe Happy Jackie” to “Truly Yours” to “Beautiful Skin” to “The Nappy Dugout” to “I’m Only Out For One Thing,” to “Let A Ho Be A Ho” to “Bitches Ain’t Shit” and so on…

Ashley Judd was right about hip hop … Kinda. by Rob Fields, from BoldAsLove.us:

Let’s get some things out of the way early. We know that this statement doesn’t apply to all hip hop. There are thoughtful, creative artists whose music is not based on denigrating women. Mos Def, Talib Kweli, J-Live, The Roots, Toki Wright, Shad, Pigeon John, P.O.S., and Blitz The Ambassador, are some that come immediately to mind. And there are plenty of women who represent hip hop, as both MCs and spoken word artists. Think Invincible, Jean Grae, Jessica Care Moore, Toni Blackman, Bless Roxwell, to name a few here.

So, what I think Ashley is guilty of is over-generalization. But the fact is that too much of hip hop does, in fact, denigrate women, be it through lyrics or videos. Recent examples such as Kanye’s Monster video or most of the work of recently celebrated teenagers Odd Future fall in this bucket. And Girl Talk samples what I think are some of the most vile examples of hip hop for his mashup albums.

What you end up with is work that creates an environment that devalues women. And it’s true: Rappers talk about women in the third person, as sexual objects or body parts, or women are seen gyrating half-naked in videos as a symbol of some dude’s material success. Call women bitches and hoes enough times over dope enough beats and an attitude gets normalized.

Hip hop is a global pop cultural phenomenon. It not only defines how a generation sees itself, but it also has become the shorthand for what’s cool around the world.

Rap’s Rape Culture: Ashley Judd Had a Point by James Braxton Peterson, from The Root:

When Jay-Z signed Jay Electronica to Roc Nation label, it seemed like a triumph of underground hip-hop culture — the talented Jay Electronica, along with Jay-Z’s formidable business and promotional acumen, could change the game for the better. Instead, the rapper has elected to use some troubling language in his live performances, polling his audiences to inquire if women “like being choked during sexual intercourse.” Many feminist bloggers and activists challenged Jay Electronica directly.

For the survivors of violent sexual assault and for those of us who understand that sexual assault against women is a critical problem for all of us, this sort of thing is simply unacceptable. Maybe I am sensitized to this because my daughter just turned 10. But I’m also aware that even though individuals must be responsible for their own acts, too many are susceptible to subtle (and unsubtle) cues — from pop culture and the public sphere — that subject women to male dominance, and reaffirm the sexism and misogyny that lead to sexual violence against women.

That we, myself included, are always ready to defend hip-hop is a good thing — I think. Hip-hop cannot be the scapegoat for every talking head who is looking for an easy way to dismiss and degrade youth culture or black music. But rap and the industry that has developed through its popularity must be held accountable for its contributions to the world — and that includes any role that the industry might play in the construction and cultivation of rape culture in society. If you don’t want to hear it from Ashley Judd, then maybe you can hear it from me.

From Liquor&Spice:

Can I, a Black woman, talk about rape culture from my point of view, please? YES there’s a shit ton of rap and hip hop and r&b that is violent and degrading to me. It’s usually the shit that WHITE PEOPLE BUY THE MOST AND PUT ON THE RADIO AND SING ALONG TO IN THE CLUB! You know how many white girls yell at the top of their lungs to, “and when he get on, he leave your ass for a white girl!” It usually occurs after they violate my space and my body telling me to “shake that ass” and petting my hair like I’m a goddam dog. Can I talk about THAT part of rape culture please?!?!? The rape culture fueled by white chicks thinking they can take my identity to fuel their jungle bunny fantasies? Who think it’s awesome to smack my ass or comment on my body out loud to their friends?

And those songs suck! It sucks that they’re popular! It sucks that it validates how white people WERE ALREADY TREATING ME LIKE PROPERTY. LIKE THEY BEEN DOING FOR CENTURIES BEFORE RAP WAS INVENTED.

And it’s SO AWESOME how nice, white ladies find the time to tell me most of rap and hip hop are violent and rapey while not giving a fuck when I tell them SO ARE YOU! So are your white people books and movies and news and college curriculums and professors MEN AND WOMEN. All of them degrade my Black womanhood EVERY GODDAM DAY!

On Ashley Judd and the Politics of Citation by moyazb, from The Crunk Feminist Collective:

Black women have been talking about (and back to) misogyny in hip-hop since it’s inception. Y’all remember Roxanne Shanté right?

It’s frustrating when all the work that black women have done to speak back to music that has particular, real world consequences in our lives is ommitted and unacknowledged. We’ve also done this talking back with an analysis of the systemic forces that make black men/rap music the scape goats for societal oppression of women. I know it’s a personal narrative, but can some hip-hop feminist foremothers get a shout out?

If we can all turn to the Ten Crunk Commandments for Re-Invigorating Hip Hop Feminist Studies, we’ll see that the first commandment reminds us to “know and cite” authors who have shaped the field of hip-hop feminism. This commandment doesn’t just apply to Judd but also to some of her defenders. If you are going to defend her position, can you cite the black women who have actually done work on the issue in scholarship, film, and action? The “she has a point” camp feels dismissive of decades of resistance and carefully crafted projects by hip-hop feminists and activists.

Leave your links!

Quote of the Day: Susan Faludi

Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, the 15th Anniversary Edition, by Susan Faludi

Below is an excerpt from Susan Faludi’s famous Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women. It comes from her chapter, “Fatal and Fetal Visions: The Backlash in the Movies.”

Hollywood joined the backlash a few years later than the media; movie production has a longer lead time. Consequently, the film industry had a chance to absorb the “trends” the ’80s media flashed at independent women–and reflect them back at American moviegoers at twice their size. “I’m thirty-six years old!” Alex Forrest, the homicidal single career woman of Fatal Attraction moans. “It may be my last chance to have a child!” As Darlene Chan, a 20th Century Fox vice president, puts it: “Fatal Attraction is the psychotic manifestation of the Newsweek marriage study.”

The escalating economic stakes in Hollywood in the ’80s would make studio executives even more inclined to tailor their message to fit the trends. Rising financial insecurity, fueled by a string of corporate takeovers and the double threat of the cable-television and home-VCR invasions, fostered Hollywood’s conformism and timidity. Just like the media’s managers, moviemakers were relying more heavily on market research consultants, focus groups, and pop psychologists to determine content, guide production, and dictate the final cut. In such an environment, portrayals of strong or complex women that went against the media-trend grain were few and far between.

The backlash shaped much of Hollywood’s portrayal of women in the ’80s. In typical themes, women were set against women; women’s anger at their social circumstances was depoliticized and displayed as personal depression instead; and women’s lives were framed as morality tales in which the “good mother” wins and the independent woman gets punished. And Hollywood restated and reinforced the backlash thesis: American women were unhappy because they were too free; their liberation had denied them marriage and motherhood.

The movie industry was also in a position to drive these lessons home more forcefully than the media. Filmmakers weren’t limited by the requirements of journalism. They could mold their fictional women as they pleased; they could make them obey. While editorial writers could only exhort “shrill” and “strident” independent women to keep quiet, the movie industry could actually muzzle its celluloid bad girls. And it was a public silencing ritual in which the audience might take part; in the anonymity of the dark theater, male moviegoers could slip into a dream state where it was permissible to express deep-seated resentments and fears about women.

The pop culture backlash against women might’ve begun in the ’80s, but it’s certainly seen a resurgence as of late. Only this time, people kinda don’t think it’s a big deal, or, they don’t read it as sexist. Susan J. Douglas calls it “enlightened sexism,” and she argues that:

Enlightened sexism is a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism–indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved–so now it’s okay, even amusing, to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women. After all these images (think Pussycat Dolls, The Bachelor, Are You Hot?, the hour-and-a-half catfight in Bride Wars) can’t possibly undermine women’s equality at this late date, right? More to the point, enlightened sexism sells the line that it is precisely through women’s calculated deployment of their faces, bodies, attire, and sexuality that they gain and enjoy true power–power that is fun, that men will not resent, and indeed will embrace.

Take the recent release of Sucker Punch and last year’s The Social Network. Both films have gotten flack for their sexist and offensive portrayals of women. And in these films, male moviegoers don’t necessarily need to, as Faludi argues, “express deep-seated resentments and fears about women,” because the women display sexuality in such a way that it’s fun! And powerful! Representing a kind of power that, as Douglas argues, “men will not resent, and indeed will embrace.” So where does that leave us now? Hollywood certainly continues to make the kinds of films Faludi discusses; in fact, it’s hard to think of a recent woman-centered film where women aren’t at some point set against other women. But in addition to the “good mother,” now we’ve got the “MILF.” In addition to the “independent career woman,” now we’ve got characters like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde (independent and brilliant and gorgeous and HasItAll).

Worse, if Hollywood joins the backlash “a few years later than the media” (which Faludi points out about ’80s cinema), what in the fuck kinds of movies do we have to look forward to in, say, 2015? I’m betting on, Abortion Is, Like, So Five Years Ago, written and directed by Hollywood. And, When Rape Was Illegal: a Documentary, sarcastically narrated by the signers of the Free Polanski Petition. Thoughts?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Women In Media from Channel One News

O Apatow, Where Art Thou? from The Funny Feminist

Oscar-Winner In a Better World’s Box Office Slashed by Harsh Reviews UPDATED from Thompson on Hollywood

Vancouver Whitecaps sexualize soccer with painted nude model from About-Face

The battle hymn of a dangerous black woman … from Angry Black Bitch

The Misogyny Machine That Rules Hollywood Comedies from Women and Hollywood

Women in Economy: Geena Davis on Her Career from MarketWatch

Tropes vs. Women: #2 Women in Refrigerators from Bitch Magazine

Leave your links in the comments!

Guest Writer Wednesday: Sucker Punch

Sucker punched by “Sucker Punch”– Girls and guns don’t equal female empowerment

This is a cross-post from What Tami Said.

This really is the best movie ever cuz its like hollywood finally said to me Fuk yeah you my man are all we care about heres some awesome shit for you to get off on and everyone else can just go fuk themselves and you get to watch. Read more…

I just “liked” Flick Filosopher Maryann Johanson on Facebook solely on the basis of her Sucker Punch review, written in what oddly sounds like the voice of the guy who sat behind me yesterday afternoon when I went to see the movie. Based on the predominately male and middle-aged audience in the theater, I am likely the only woman who fell for the previews and thought Sucker Punch might be some video game or graphic novel-based film about ass-kicking chicks who slay dragons and other cool shit. Well, actually, that stuff does happen, but it’s surrounded by too many other porny, fetishy, gender- and race-biased tropes to be any sort of empowerment tale. The characters were too cartoonish to be relatable. And the fight scenes and CGI weren’t exciting enough to allow me to forget the analysis and enjoy the fun. Sucker Punch comes off like a slightly twisted adolescent’s wet dream–if said wet dream had the benefit of a cool score and awesome computer-generated graphics.

Set some time in the late 50s/early 60s, Sucker Punch tells the story of 20-year-old Baby Doll (Emily Browning), who accidentally kills her little sister, while attempting to save the girl from being sexually assaulted by their stepfather. The act earns Baby Doll, whose mother dies in the film’s first frames, commitment to a Goreyesque Vermont mental facility, and, after her stepfather pays off a weasly orderly, a date with a lobotomist (Jon Hamm, who seriously must be saying “yes” to every acting job now), due at the hospital in five days. As Dr. Don Draper stands poised above a bound Baby Doll, wielding the long, sharp orbitoclast he will pound into her frontal lobe, Baby Doll (and the audience) escapes into the fantasy that is the rest of the movie, including a second world, where Baby Doll and her fellow inmates are enslaved at a “dance club,” where they are forced to offer sexual favors to keep the moneyed, male clients happy.

Let me concede that the dirty, gothic look of Sucker Punch was arresting. The soundtrack, with an ominous cover of the Eurythimics’ “Sweet Dreams,” was fantastic. I’ve already downloaded it. It’ll be great accompaniment when I haul my butt off the couch and start my spring running regimen. Also, I’m gonna need to explore more of actor Oscar Isaac’s oeuvre. The fight sequences in Sucker Punch were pleasingly flashy and loud with lots of leaping and flashing steel and steampunkery, but ultimately they were made hollow by repetition and uninspired choreography. We’re more than a decade on since The Matrix debuted. You gotta give me more than slow motion shots of a character leaping past bullets and dragon fire.

Since Sucker Punch couldn’t entertain me with its sound and fury, I couldn’t help but notice the larger problem in the movie: A disturbing and regressive treatment of women masquerading as “girl power.”

**Spoilers Ahead**Spoilers Ahead**Spoilers Ahead**Spoilers Ahead**Spoilers Ahead**

We can start with the infantilization of the lead character, Baby Doll, a 20-year-old rendered as woman child–tiny but big-headed, with large eyes and white blonde, pig-tailed hair, perpetually dressed in schoolgirl drag. She is mute and trembling through much of the first half of the film. The result is that Sucker Punch plays on “jail bait” fantasies using the cover that its heroine is truly an adult woman.

So too does the film leverage implied threats to women to titillate–particularly sexual threat. From the earliest scenes, when Baby Doll’s hulking stepfather eyes her lasciviously and tries to push his way into her bedroom, Sucker Punch highlights the protagonist’s sexual vulnerability–not to make a point about violence toward women, but to render her more fragile and endangered, and by extension, to underscore her femininity and desirability.

And it must be said here that the key to Baby Doll’s persona and her place in the film is her whiteness. Sucker Punch genuflects to the traditional views of womanhood that have historically been assigned exclusively to white women (to the detriment of ALL women). It is not a mistake that, of the gang of female characters, Baby Doll is the blondest and most alabaster of skin. She is the most innocent. It is she that is reserved for the most special of the fantasy club’s clients, the High Roller. It is her dancing that is so arousing that it hypnotizes the men who witness it. It is Baby Doll that the swarthy pimp/orderly (depending on the fantasy world) must have and who he intends to take by force. (A nasty nod to the white women in danger of rampaging dark men stereotype.) Conversely, it is the women of color in the film–Amber (Jamie Chung) and Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens)–who are drawn as the flattest of the flat characters, with no back stories or desires, but to serve Baby Doll. And it is those women whose lives are unwillingly sacrificed (literally) so that one pretty, blonde, white woman can live the life she deserves.

The most obvious sign that Sucker Punch is no female empowerment film–not even a Kill Bill (which I really liked and to which Sucker Punch plays homage)–is the plot itself. The idea that a young woman, who has recently lost her mother and sister; who is imprisoned for fighting against domestic violence; who may have endured rape at the hands of her stepfather or just narrowly escaped it; who is about to endure a forced medical procedure would, for relief from her trauma, retreat into a fantasy world where she is a sexual slave who must dance provocatively for strange men…absurd.

Sucker Punch is no female fantasy. Sucker Punch isn’t about women at all, despite the female leads. Josh Larsen of Larsen on Film describes exactly what Sucker Punch is:

…it’s the fantasy of a 14-year-old boy steeped in kung fu, “Call of Duty” and online porn. Read more…

And this is why I should start reading film reviews before I see films not after.

Tami Winfrey Harris writes about race, feminism, politics and pop culture at the blog What Tami Said. Her work has also appeared online at The Guardian’s Comment is Free, Ms. Magazine blog, Newsweek, Change.org, Huffington Post and Racialicious. She is a graduate of the Iowa State University Greenlee School of Journalism. She spends her spare time researching her family history and cultivating a righteous ‘fro.

Seriously? These Are the 40 Greatest Movie Posters?

Look, it’s not like I want to keep sending traffic to the Total Film site. Especially after they treated us to their list of the 100 Greatest Female Characters. But last Wednesday, they published another list of greatness, this one involving movie posters. Well, I love movie posters, and I understand that my Greatest Ever list won’t match Amber’s Greatest Ever list, or anyone else’s Greatest Ever list, and that one’s reaction to and appreciation of all forms of art is subjective and often deeply personal. So I’m not here to discuss whether these are, in fact, the 40 Greatest Movie Posters. I’m here to talk about how Total Film talks about the posters that feature women. (I’m using the word “feature” here loosely, as most of the posters that dare include a woman often objectify, obscure, and/or dismember her.) Feel free to look at their list of all 40 posters, but I’m including only the posters that “feature” women below.

I take it back. I am going to talk about the offensiveness of these shitty selections. Out of the nineteen posters above–and that’s nineteen out of Total Film’s forty that actually contain some semblance of a woman’s image–most either sexually objectify the woman or show her getting attacked. Or she’s dead or dismembered. I mean fuck, out of Total Film’s list of 40 Greatest Movie Posters, Bitch Flicks has previously criticized the posters of American Beauty, Choke, The Silence of the Lambs, and Secretary for showcasing dismembered women. That’s bad enough. But the way the Total Film writer, George Wales, talks about the women/characters in these posters is just … problematic at best.

Jaws: “Nubile young swimmer versus hungry giant shark. We know who our money’s on …” Um, nubile? Really?

Rosemary’s Baby: “They should stick one on the wall of every Boots. Sales of contraception would skyrocket!” Why even bother selling contraception anymore? Just force doctors to make every girl, immediately when she begins menstruating, sit in an an empty room alone with this poster. I’m sure we can get some legislation passed on that if we just casually mention it to a nearby Republican.

The Silence of the Lambs: “The presence of the moth over the girl’s mouth …” The girl’s mouth? She’s not five.

Pulp Fiction: “Uma Thurman practices her best come-to-bed expression …” Is that what she’s doing? Practicing? That’s a thing she sits around practicing? Like learning to play an instrument?

Secretary: “Okay, so it’s more than a little pervy, but given the subject matter, that’s probably fairly appropriate. And there’s a wonderful symmetry to the image … oh who are we kidding?” I don’t even know what this means. What’s pervy? The poster? The film’s exploration of fetish and S & M? The writer of this article?

Hard Candy: “Every parent should mount one of these in their child’s bedroom to ward off sexual predators …” Look, George Wales. You can’t tell from the poster that this is a film about sexual predators. And even if you could, you’re basically implying that it’s the responsibility of the victim to ward off a potential attack. A child has no responsibility in warding off sexual predators, okay? A child abducted and abused by a sexual predator is a victim of kidnapping and sexual abuse. End. Of. Story.

Brick: “The more hard-boiled elements aren’t on display, but the amount of fragile beauty conjured up by a single wrist is most impressive.” Yeah, when I look at a dead woman’s hand floating in the water, I’m all, “OMG the gorgeous subtlety of a woman’s probable murder.”

Being John Malkovich: “Cameron Diaz’s make-under is also on full display.” Because that’s important to note.

Choke: “It certainly captures the off-kilter mood, although we must clarify that Sam Rockwell doesn’t actually eat any women in the film.” He doesn’t?!! What a misleading rip-off. Reminds me of the title of an article I just read at Total Film called, “The 40 Greatest Movie Posters.”