Bitch Flicks – Page 110 – The radical notion that women like good movies

Celebrating ‘Sesame Street’

So what does idealistic, feminist children’s television look like? It looks like ‘Sesame Street,’ which over the course of its 45-year run has won more than 120 Emmy Awards. ‘Sesame Street’s frank and honest treatment of race, women’s rights, adoption, breastfeeding, death, childbirth, incarceration, divorce, HIV, health, bilingualism, and poverty throughout the years has added a dimension of social understanding to a show that also deals with teaching children their ABC’s and 123’s.

Written by Leigh Kolb as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

Until I was in kindergarten, the only channel I ever saw was PBS. For all I knew, it was the only channel that existed. I was an only child on a small farm, and in addition to the woods and barns, Sesame Street was my playground.

The diversity and multiculturalism that the show has prioritized since it debuted in 1969–45 years ago this year–not only exposed me to a world outside of my rural homogeneous upbringing, but it also certainly shaped who I would become.

Sesame Street‘s roots–as progressive, authentic, research-based, educational television for children–transformed the way generations saw television, education, and themselves.

With a background in education and journalism, Joan Ganz Cooney set out in 1967 to study how television could be used to educate children. Seeing a need for education–academic and social–she penned “The Potential Uses of Television in Preschool Education” after traveling the US and interviewing teachers, child psychologists, child development experts, and children’s TV producers. From the study, she created the Children’s Television Workshop to produce a “new kind of children’s program” (one whose format would be influenced by Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In and commercials). She wanted to create a show that “would hold children’s interests, its characters would become their friends, and it would teach.”

Ganz Cooney’s resume and influence have made her an incredible force–she’s a woman whose name we should know. A self-described feminist and idealist, she was one of the first female television executives in America. She was CEO and chair of the Children’s Television Workshop until 1990, and continuously has served on nonprofit boards and worked toward literacy and education advancement for children.

So what does idealistic, feminist children’s television look like? It looks like Sesame Street, which over the course of its 45-year run has won more than 120 Emmy Awards. Sesame Street‘s frank and honest treatment of race, women’s rights, adoption, breastfeeding, death, childbirth, incarceration, divorce, HIV, health, bilingualism, and poverty throughout the years has added a dimension of social understanding to a show that also deals with teaching children their ABC’s and 123’s. A recent study showed that children who watched Sesame Street have GPA’s that are 16 percent higher than those who don’t; perform better in math, English, and science; read books for pleasure more often (and read better in kindergarten); and express “less aggressive attitudes.” Jim Henson’s Muppets and a cavalcade of guest stars over the years have helped make Sesame Street a popular, groundbreaking children’s television show.

Idealistic, feminist children’s television looks pretty good.

In its first year on air, Sesame Street landed three Emmys, a Peabody, and a TIME cover. — In its first year on air, *Sesame Street* landed three Emmys, a Peabody, and a *TIME* cover.

Of course, as a child of the 80s, I’m most familiar with the “classic” Sesame Street format and episodes. Recent years have shown growth with the times–a larger web presence, apps, streaming services, online games, and online activities have given Sesame Street a much larger network to educate and influence young minds. Over the last 45 years, Sesame Street has built an empire with the goal of not just entertaining children, but giving them a broader perspective on life and education.

Here are some highlights:

“Women Can Be”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpjmeyI2pfI”]

Buffy Sainte-Marie (who was a series regular in the late 70s and early 80s) Breastfeeding

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2RwZW2j3-U”]

Roosevelt Franklin’s “The Skin I’m In”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ax2mf9IDvno”]

Nina Simone’s “To Be Young, Gifted and Black”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-f3PYJT5mU”]

“Goodbye, Mr. Hooper”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxlj4Tk83xQ”]

“I Love My Hair”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A-BHkoWV0g”]

Maya Angelou’s “My Name”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhTK0LM39ZU”]

Gordon’s “If I Had a Kid Like You” (Gordon and Susan would later adopt)

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFzPXurun5M”]

“Change the World”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHOgHPBt8oQ”]

“Feeling Good/Feeling Bad”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgYiJWVf1EY”]

“I Love Every Part of You”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=as0rHfgeuvg”]

Sonia Sotomayor: “Princess is Not a Career”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHICz5MYxNQ&feature=player_embedded”]

“We All Sing the Same Song”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYXJlfcfFKU”]

I still am moved by the touching and transformative Sesame Street segments that powerfully show that we are both unique and not alone in this world. We need more of this kind of media for children (and for adults).

___________________________

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature, and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

‘She-Ra’: Kinda, Sorta Accidentally Feministy

‘She-Ra: Princess of Power’ represents a network of powerful women who not only like each other, but they support each other, organize a rebellion against an oppressive patriarchal regime, and get shit done. The example this powerful group of women set for impressionable girls like myself is tremendous.

She-Ra: Princess of Fucking Power

This repost by Amanda Rodriguez appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

Confession: as a child of the 80’s, I refused to watch cartoons that didn’t have a significantly visible representation of women in them, and the more visible and the more badass, the better. GI Joe and Transformers were out, but Jem and the Holograms, Thundercats, and He-Man made the cut (don’t ask me to explain my little girl logic). Though Jem had a ton of women in it and I loved the series obsessively, She-Ra: Princess of Power was my favorite because not only did the show have tons of women in it, but they were all kickass warriors. I still think about and talk about the show more than is probably considered “normal” (whatever that bullshit word means). Now as an adult looking back, I’m compelled to figure out why that show has been so prominent in my consciousness then, as an impressionable young girl, and now, as a feminist grown. First, we’ve got to compare He-Man and She-Ra, twins with magical, transformative, empowering swords. He-Man’s non-magical alter ego is Prince Adam, while She-Ra’s is Adora. Prince Adam takes on the persona of the lazy, whiny, spoiled, conceited prince who is generally a coward, while Adora is the smart, organized, capable, and charismatic leader of The Great Rebellion. While He-Man had to spend half his time pretending to be a fuck-up and to this day people mock Prince Adam (I strongly advise you to watch the video below for some serious yucks), Adora was an example of a tactically astute, benevolent leader who included the talents and ideas of others.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjVugzSR7HA”]

When the twins transform into their superhero selves, both have equally unmatched physical strength (though She-Ra is more prone to doing flips and super sweet spin kicks while shouting “Hee-Yah!”). The jewel in She-Ra’s sword isn’t the only difference between her and He-Man’s swords of birthright. Her sword can transform into nearly any physical object she commands (a shield, a lasso, a ladder, even a helmet that lets her breathe underwater).

She-Ra: “Sword to ice-maker.” Great for making ice cream or freezing over lakes to go skating on warm summer days.

She-Ra also has innate powers that are denied He-Man. She can communicate via telepathy with animals. Not only that but she can heal the injured with a good old-fashioned laying on of hands. It’s easy to see some of her additional powers as the writers attempting to feminize the character. Her empathic communication with animals and healing powers could certainly be coded as “nurturing” and therefore more traditionally feminine, but at the same time, She-Ra is just as strong as He-Man. Let’s face it, with her extra abilities, she’s an even bigger badass than he is.

Then we’ve got to consider the sheer number of female heroes in She-Ra.

From left to right: Glimmer, Angella, Castaspella, She-Ra, Frosta, and the villainous Cat-Ra

Like most shows geared toward young girls around that era, there were a lot of female characters and a notable dearth of male characters. In fact, Bow was She-Ra’s only regularly featured male hero to be included in The Great Rebellion. I also remember She-Ra more consistently involving and more fully featuring its wide range of female characters than, say, My Little Ponies or Rainbow Brite.

In part because of the huge female cast, She-Ra also showcased tons of Bechdel test-passing female friendships.

From left to right: Perfuma, Castaspella, Mermista, She-Ra, Glimmer, Angella, Frosta

These women all work as a team for a noble common cause under a female leader, Adora. Glimmer and Angella are even an inter-generational mother-daughter duo with a profoundly strong connection as shown in the He-Man/She-Ra feature-length film The Secret of the Sword wherein She-Ra is introduced to the He-Man universe and must rescue Queen Angella from a minion of The Evil Horde. Glimmer is also clearly Adora’s best friend. In all actuality, the general lack of female rivalry should be attributed to the pre-sexualized nature of the show’s target audience. Though there are some crushes throughout the series, they are all harmless and never consummated (even with a kiss).

Unlike many superheroine mythologies, She-Ra isn’t the only one with astounding abilities. In fact, her friends possess a plethora of mystical qualities that make them assets to The Great Rebellion. Though the female characters are not diverse in their race or in their slim and buxom builds, they are diverse in their talents. Flight, clairvoyance, teleportation, creation of energy shields, spell casting, uncanny aptitude for disguises, power over frost, and physical transformations are just a handful of the amazing strengths She-Ra’s friends possess. To a woman, they are all brave, leaders in their own right, and capable of working as part of a collective.

She-Ra: “Ladies…um, and Bow, let’s kick some ass!”

Let us not forget that The Great Rebellion is a predominantly female rebellion from its leaders to its foot soldiers to the monarch they hope to enthrone. Glimmer’s mother, Angella is the Queen of Bright Moon and is considered the “rightful ruler of Etheria.” A benevolent matriarch, She-Ra and The Great Rebellion fight the evil Horde in order to restore Angella’s kingdom. All these women have joined together to fight Hordak, who is a symbol of the tyranny and oppression of the patriarchy. Don’t believe me? Just think about it: in the film The Secret of the Sword when we meet Adora, she is known as Force Captain Adora, and Hordak is a father figure to her. He has indoctrinated her into the Horde, leading her to believe that the Horde is just and the rebels evil. Hordak also surrounds himself with patriarchy-complicit women like Cat-Ra, Entrapta, Scorpia, and even the mother figure, Shadow Weaver who casts her spells to subdue Adora to the will of Hordak. Essentially, Hordak has lied to Adora about reality. Once she becomes aware of his lies, Adora turns against Hordak, discovers her true, empowered identity as She-Ra, joins a band of women, and fights to supplant him with a matriarchy.

She-Ra…for…the…win…

Yes, all the women of She-Ra are white (except for a handful of obscure cameos by Netossa), and they’re all scantily clad, thin ladies with big boobies. Yes, She-Ra is a calculated He-Man spin-off designed to bring in a female audience and sell more toys in the never-ending quest for more money. And, yes, it’s probably an accident that the girl power vibe and transparent anti-patriarchy theme are so strong. Whatever the studio’s reasoning, the end result is a network of powerful women who not only like each other, but they support each other, organize a rebellion against an oppressive patriarchal regime, and get shit done. The example this powerful group of women set for impressionable girls like myself is tremendous. In the 80’s, I had a glittery She-Ra sword that I felt completely justified in swinging around because I, like She-Ra, was the heroine of my own story.

PS: Mom, sorry about that lamp I broke.

Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.

‘Gravity Falls’: Manliness, Silliness, and a Whole Lot of Awesome

Figuring out who you are in the face of societal pressures that buffet you every which way is the trial of growing up, and helping people to do that is one of feminism’s goals. It’s also at the heart of ‘Gravity Falls’, which helps cement this for me as an exciting show.

This repost by Max Thornton appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

I am too old for the Disney Channel. The bright candy colors, the rapid-fire pacing, the saccharine music and headache-y flash-cuts and forced zaniness – it all adds up to one massively hyperstimulating, sugar-coated migraine. Half an hour of all that on a Saturday morning and I am ready to bounce off the ceiling before crashing to earth semi-comatose for the rest of the day.

If you can overcome (or, better, avoid entirely) the excruciating commercials and the overstimulation of the Disney Channel milieu, however, you can experience maybe the most exciting television debut of 2012.

Welcome to Gravity Falls.

Gravity Falls established a pretty dense mythology for itself, jam-packed with occult imagery, cryptograms, conspiracies, clever callbacks, and hidden Easter eggs (and there are already plenty of websites devoted to deciphering this stuff). It’s an enormously fun show, chronicling the supernatural adventures of 12-year-old twins Dipper and Mabel in the creepy, not-quite-right town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. The level of care and detail lavished on the world-building is matched by the depth and – if I can say this of an animated Disney Channel show – realism of the characters.

Dipper and Mabel, voiced by Jason Ritter and Kristen Schaal, are wonderfully characterized as not just siblings but true friends: despite their personality differences, they enjoy spending time together, and although they needle and mock each other, they always have each other’s back. As somebody whose siblings are my best friends, I find it rings very true to life, and the only other show I can think of with a comparably close sibling dynamic is Bob’s Burgers –where, coincidentally, one of the siblings is also voiced by Schaal.

The twins’ age is a savvy writing choice that allows for some spot-on exploration of themes of growing up, pitching the show niftily at the crossover-hit sweet spot for both younger and older viewers. A grown-up trying to convince other grown-ups to watch a Disney Channel animated show can certainly relate to the twins’ swithering between the childish excitement of their supernatural adventures and their desire to prove themselves cool enough for the local teenagers (including Dipper’s hopeless and completely understandable crush, Linda Cardellini-voiced Wendy). Two specific episodes of Gravity Falls work well as companion pieces exploring Dipper and Mabel’s respective struggles to establish their identities.

Season 1, Episode 6: “Dipper Vs. Manliness”


A cutie patootie.

Dipper is the more introspective, bookish twin – as Mabel puts it, he’s “not exactly Manly Mannington.” When an old “manliness tester” machine at the local diner declares him “a cutie patootie,” Dipper’s insecurity about being a man goes into overdrive, and he seeks training in the ways of manliness from a group of Manotaurs (“half man, half… taur!” “I have three Y-chromosomes, six Adam’s apples, pecs on my abs, and fists for nipples!”).

Anyone who’s been a feminist longer than five minutes knows that the enforcement of gender roles harms men as well as women, and this episode features a lot of great jokes lampooning the sheer absurdity of what’s considered manly in our society: the pack of REAL MAN JERKY emblazoned with the slogan YOU’RE INADEQUATE!, the Manotaur council that involves beating the crap out of each other, Dipper convincing the reluctant Manotaurs to help him (“using some sort of brain magic!”) by suggesting they’re not manly enough to do it.

In the end, it’s Dipper’s love for a thinly veiled “Dancing Queen” pastiche that causes him to defy the Manotaurs’ stereotypical definition of manliness. His enjoyment of something considered “girly” opens his eyes to the nonsensical restrictiveness of traditional gender roles. As he says in his climactic speech to the Manotaurs: “You keep telling me that being a man means doing all these tasks and being aggro all the time, but I’m starting to think that stuff’s malarkey. You heard me: malarkey!”

Rejecting the Manotaur’s version of manliness does not, however, answer Dipper’s agonized question about the nature of masculinity: “Is it mental? Is it physical? What’s the secret?” (And how many times have I myself asked that question?) Although the episode puts a neat bow on Dipper’s arc by offering a pat moral – “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me” – it’s made fairly clear that masculinity and femininity do not have to be discrete, oppositional spheres rooted in stereotypes, and the question of what makes a man is left open – as, perhaps, it should be.

Season 1, Episode 8: “Irrational Treasure”

Mabel is the best. She’s my favorite character, and with every episode I love her even more. Her quest for self in “Irrational Treasure” is not a direct counterpart to Dipper’s search for manliness – Mabel is pretty comfortable with both the ways in which she is conventionally feminine and the ways in which she is not (reflecting the sad reality that girls’ freedom to express masculinity is not mirrored by an equivalent freedom for boys to express femininity). In the show’s fourth episode, “The Hand That Rocks the Mabel,” she confronts the societal pressures around dating while female, as she struggles with how to extricate herself from a coercive romantic relationship with the creepy Lil Gideon – an object lesson in how messed up are our society’s ideas of the romantic pursuit of uninterested women by persistent men – but in this episode she faces a less explicitly gendered problem: how to convince everyone that she’s not silly.

The delightfully goofy hijinks of this episode – involving a conspiracy to cover up the existence of Quentin Trembley, the peanut-brittle-preserved eighth-and-a-half president of the United States – are propelled by Mabel’s quest to prove her seriousness to rival Pacifica Northwest. Pacifica is a pretty stereotypical stuck-up-rich-mean-girl archetype thus far, but it seems distinctly possible that an interesting character arc could await her in future. “You look and act ridiculous,” she tells Mabel with scorn, and Mabel takes her peer’s cruelty to heart the way only a pre-teen can. “I thought I was being charming,” she says dejectedly, “but I guess people see me as a big joke.”


Don’t worry Mabel, you really are so so charming.

As it was Dipper’s non-manliness that ultimately proved him a real man, so it’s Mabel’s silliness that saves the day here, allowing her to crack all the clues for the conspiracy and help President Trembley escape the local police (who, despite being called serious by Mabel, are in fact extremely silly). By the episode’s end, Mabel is impervious to Pacifica’s jibes: “I’ve got nothing to prove. I’ve learned that being silly is awesome.”

Figuring out who you are in the face of societal pressures that buffet you every which way is the trial of growing up, and helping people to do that is one of feminism’s goals. It’s also at the heart of Gravity Falls, which helps cement this for me as an exciting show. (Plus, it’s apparently indoctrinating kids into occult symbolism. Cool.)

‘Hey Arnold!’: A Bold Children’s Show

‘Hey Arnold!’ taught life lessons without the viewer realizing it. An episode called “Stoop Kid” taught kids about the benefits of getting out of their comfort zone. The episode “Chocolate Boy” humorously analogized drug addiction. Arnold’s closeness with Gerald alongside Helga’s rapport with Phoebe highlighted the importance of friendship. The wrongness of first impressions was a reoccurring lesson; a dumb character would have moments of wisdom or a snobby character would have moments of vulnerability or a seemingly lucky rich kid would be shown as unhappy and/or overstressed. My favorite example of this message is in the episode “Ms. Perfect”, which introduced the character of Lila. Her popularity caused female students to envy her at first. But once they learned about Lila’s troubled life, the girls apologized and accepted her.

This guest post by Nia McRae appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

Usually, urban life in movies and television is depicted in a bleak way. Growing up, I found myself confused by why the “norma” high school experience always took place in sunny suburbia. Often times, when school life in urban areas were depicted, it was… well, this:

In Hollywood, all urban areas are Gangster Paradises

Suffice it to say, it wasn’t an experience that I could relate to. The only depictions of city life that somewhat reflected my experience was the original movie, Fame (1980) and the cartoon, Hey Arnold! (1996). It may sound strange to call a cartoon relatable but HA! was unique in that way. It pushed the limits by showing the good, the bad and the ugly sides of urban life without reducing it to another story about poor and troubled minority youths in need of a white savior.

HA! revolved around the lives of fourth-graders attending PS. 118. It was a character-driven show that treated its child viewers like mature and intelligent people. Adult subject matters like addiction, muggings, family neglect, bullying, politics, war, complicated family dynamics, death, desire, gender identity, activism, capitalism, and many others were explored in an age-appropriate and usually humorous manner. All of the characters came from different walks of life. Arnold was the protagonist but he wasn’t the most interesting character per se. The most fascinating character was Helga G. Pataki. She was full of contradictions. Her tough girl attitude and sports activities would technically classify her as a “tomboy” and yet she had a traditionally feminine appearance (except for the unibrow). She was excessively hateful towards Arnold but only because she was secretly in love with him.

She still remains the most complex female character I’ve ever seen in a cartoon. Helga was a bully with a gentler side that she was too proud to show. She came across as a brute in public but in private, she was creative, cultured, and intelligent. Her multilayered characterization made people cheer for her as a character, especially in hopes of her someday becoming romantically involved with Arnold. The dynamic between Helga and Arnold subverted gender stereotypes. The cartoon gender-flipped the cliché of boys being mean to girls as a way of showing affection. She exhibited “masculine” traits of being rude, violent, and insensitive to others. She was also ambitious; in the episode “Married,” she dreamed of being president. Arnold, on the other hand, exhibited “feminine” qualities of being patient, empathetic, and supportive.

Helga had insecurities and anger issues due to her family life. Her dad, Bob was a self-absorbed blowhard who measured a person’s worth by accomplishments. Her mom, Miriam, was a dissatisfied and absentminded housewife. Her sister, Olga, was an overachiever who her parents constantly lavished with praise and attention. Helga was neglected by her family–a fact emphasized by her father’s continual habit of calling her by the wrong name. The episode “Helga on the Couch” revealed that when she and Arnold were toddlers, he was the first to give her positive attention. Because of her extreme loneliness, she responded to Arnold’s kindness with great intensity. The episode gave further insight into why Helga had what’s often viewed as the “masculine” problem of repressing her sensitive side due to the typical “male” fear of being ridiculed and seen as weak.

Despite having qualities associated with boys, Helga wasn’t immune to the pitfalls of being a girl in a patriarchal society. A lot of episodes revolved around her doing stupid things for a guy or being tempted to be more lady-like to please someone. She went above and beyond doing foolish things over Arnold whether it was sabotaging his date with a girl he liked named Lila in “Love and Cheese” or pretending to be very sophisticated in “Dinner for Four” or pretending to be Arnold’s French pen pal in “Arnold’s Valentine.” A lot of things that Helga did for Arnold’s attention were over-the-top for comedic effect. But an episode called “Helga’s Masquerade” was painfully realistic. In the episode, Helga mimicked Lila in fashion and behavior, hoping that Arnold’s affection for Lila would transfer to her.

After she basically turned herself into a carbon copy of Lila, Arnold started giving her the attention she desired. However, she became unsatisfied having changed herself to please him. By the end, she returned to being herself. Another episode that was very informative for young girls was “Helga’s Makeover”; Helga was left out of a sleepover party because she wasn’t girly enough. She conforms despite her best friend, Phoebe, telling her to be true to herself. Once she’s welcomed by the girls, she changes her mind. Its overall lesson was that there’s more than one way to be a girl.

Social commentary about women’s magazines

I was a kid when I first saw these episodes, unaware of how closely Helga’s growing pains would mirror my life in terms of making a guy’s opinion of me way too important or struggling/clashing with expectations of what a girl is “supposed” to be.

They’re nine-year olds, by the way — They’re 9-year olds, by the way

Arnold had personal struggles that also served as inspiration for young viewers. Arnold lived in a boardinghouse that his grandparents owned. He was usually the voice of reason but he sometimes made mistakes. In the episode, “Mugged,” he dealt with being mugged in the wrong way. He had to learn more than once to appreciate his nontraditional family. But overall, he was the embodiment of altruism and a great role model for kids. His tendency to go the extra mile in assisting people caused Gerald to frequently say to him, “You’re a bold kid, Arnold.” His selfless nature was unusual for a kid his age and it made him a target for bullies. Still, he was never self-conscious about being singled out nor was he insecure about his head’s football shape despite how much Helga teased him about it. This clued in the child audience member that it was okay to have physical features that differ from what is considered “normal.”

Just like city life, HA! exposed children to a lot of culture. It had episodes that lovingly and creatively gave its own twist on classic operas and plays. Cartoonish sound effects were balanced out with smooth jazz, making for an eclectic musical score that reflected the essence of the show. Additionally, the introduction of country music in episode “Mr. Hyunh Goes Country,” alongside other episodes that involved a Frank Sinatra-like character named Dino Spumoni, helped kids to develop an early appreciation of music. The refreshingly non-stereotypical Jewish character, Harold was probably the first introduction a lot of kids had to Yiddish words. The show normalized interracial couples; Helga’s best friend, Phoebe, was uneventfully shown to be the product of a white mother and Asian father. Also, she and Gerald–an African American–had brief moments of innocent flirtation throughout the series.

Most bully characters in cartoons are mean just for the sake of being mean. It makes them easy to dislike and dismiss as “bad.” Hey Arnold! didn’t make things easy. Characters that seemed scary were shown to be harmless up close. Harold had an imposing presence and boisterous voice. But his bark was always proven to be bigger than his bite because whenever someone stood up to him, he would cower and sometimes literally cry for his mommy. Helga thought Big Patty was dumb and mean but with Arnold’s help, she discovered Patty was actually reasonable, nice, and perceptive. Helga would be mean to Arnold in public but then hide to secretly profess her love for him and/or express her regret for hurting him. Oftentimes, characters that I thought I was supposed to despise would turn out to have a softer side. As a result, I would feel conflicted and eventually submit to having compassion for them.

The reason why seemingly despicable characters would inspire sympathy is because the show swayed the viewer to see the people from Arnold’s nonjudgmental perspective. There would be episodes that provided explanations, not excuses, for why a bully was mean in order to make children as understanding as Arnold. Helga was not an easy character to pin down and therefore, she challenged young viewers to see the areas of gray. Normally in fiction, a female school bully is reduced to being the catty pretty girl. But Helga’s power didn’t come from being pretty; it came from instilling fear into people with the threat of violence–an attribute that’s traditionally given to a male bully. What kept you from fully hating her is there being episodes that revolved around Helga’s home life that made you feel sorry for her and understand her better.

Hey Arnold! taught life lessons without the viewer realizing it. An episode called “Stoop Kid” taught kids about the benefits of getting out of their comfort zone. The episode “Chocolate Boy” humorously analogized drug addiction. Arnold’s closeness with Gerald alongside Helga’s rapport with Phoebe highlighted the importance of friendship. The wrongness of first impressions was a reoccurring lesson; a dumb character would have moments of wisdom or a snobby character would have moments of vulnerability or a seemingly lucky rich kid would be shown as unhappy and/or overstressed. My favorite example of this message is in the episode “Ms. Perfect,” which introduced the character of Lila. Her popularity caused female students to envy her at first. But once they learned about Lila’s troubled life, the girls apologized and accepted her.

The show also deconstructed the traditional definition of a happy and healthy family. Helga technically had a nuclear family yet they were dysfunctional. Arnold didn’t have a typical nuclear family yet he was emotionally healthy and stable. His parents died when he was young which was explained in the episode “Parents’ Day.” The show never glossed over the pain of losing a love one. There were scenes that showed his sadness and his longing to know more about his parents. The importance of an extended family and surrogate family was highlighted throughout the show; his kooky grandparents were his guardians and the offbeat boarders acted as surrogate relatives. Though the boarders had their funny quirks and various accents, it never went into the territory of caricature. Whatever flaw any character had was attributed to their individual personality, not their race or culture or gender.

An example of the diversity on *Hey Arnold!*

I applaud the show for never babying its audience. It had numerous Halloween episodes that I fondly remember being genuinely creepy. One of the most touching examples of its creative risk-taking is the episode “Arnold’s Christmas,” which revolved around Vietnamese tenant, Mr. Hyunh. He had to separate from his daughter during the Vietnam War to give her a better life. It’s still rare for me to see a show or movie that sympathizes with what ordinary Vietnamese people went through during the Vietnam War. Another episode that had the subject of war was “Veteran’s Day,” in which Grandpa reminisces about his experiences as a World War II veteran. But not all of Hey Arnold! episodes were profound; serious episodes would be balanced with lighthearted episodes like “Beaned,” “April Fool’s Day,” or “Stuck In A Tree,” as to not overburden the viewer.

Hey Arnold! was a show that celebrated diversity and encouraged children to do the same. Like Gargoyles or Batman: The Animated Series, it redefined what a cartoon could be by taking big chances. I’m still awed by the character development, witty dialogue and complicated subject matter it had. Just like Animaniacs, it’s a cartoon show that people can watch again as adults in order to understand the occasional subtle adult humor they overlooked as children. It had great representation when it came to race, gender, class and culture. It was one of the few shows that revealed the positive sides of living in the city, including the richness of knowing people from all walks of life. With humor and sensitivity, it challenged me intellectually and it instilled me with lessons that would be valuable in childhood and beyond.

Nia McRae graduated summa cum laude from Medgar Evers College where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Liberal Studies with a concentration in history. She has a strong passion for critiquing racial and gender politics in the media and putting it in historical context.

‘Anne of Green Gables’: 20th Century Girl

What makes good television programming “for children” is elusive. No demographic is unanimous in its tastes, but children differ from one another more than other groups: what fascinates a 4-year-old can bore an 11-year-old and vice versa. Add to this problem that most critics and programming creators are not children themselves, and we can see why most children’s programming is so terrible: because it, even more than other types of art, is based on, to quote Jane Wagner “a collective hunch.” Still, like a Supreme Court justice famously said about pornography, most of us, even those of us who don’t have children, can recognize excellent children’s programming when we see it, like the 80s made-for-television ‘Anne of Green Gables,’ based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Written by Ren Jender as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

When I was a kid, in the 1970s, children’s television was…strange. As more than one person has pointed out many programs from that period–with their talking golden flutes, soft-rock singers who are part insect, part human and a bizarre underworld in a magician’s hat–seem to owe more to late 60s psychedelia than any common guidelines–besides the obvious ones that prohibit sex, swearing and gore. As critic Pauline Kael pointed out in a review of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, a lot of films that are meant “for children” (including some Disney films) have scenes in them that leave their intended audience profoundly upset, like the death of Bambi’s mother or Dumbo’s mother (hmmm, another mother) chained and imprisoned. Kael recommended a list of films made for adults that were also appropriate for children because all too often films “for children” are the repository for acting that’s too awkward, plots that are too recycled, and scripts that are too terrible to pass muster with an adult audience.

What makes good television programming “for children” is similarly elusive. No demographic is unanimous in its tastes, but children differ from one another more than other groups: what fascinates a 4-year-old can bore an 11-year-old and vice versa. Add to this problem that most critics and programming creators are not children themselves, and we can see why most children’s programming is so terrible: because it, even more than other types of art, is based on, to quote Jane Wagner, “a collective hunch.” Still, like a Supreme Court justice famously said about pornography, most of us, even those of us who don’t have children, can recognize excellent children’s programming when we see it, like the 80s made-for-television Anne of Green Gables, based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery.

The title character (played to perfection by Megan Follows) is a girl (12 years old at the beginning) who is at turns dreamy, dramatic, exploited (as an orphan at the turn of the 20th century, her role in the households that “take her in” is often to care for many other younger children) and impetuous. She recites from books of poetry to get away from the drudgery of her everyday life and speaks to her own reflection in window panes to allay her loneliness. Although she encounters cruelty (as many other girl protagonists in literature, films and TV set in that era do, especially those who are orphans), her love of literature and her imagination have given her a combination of hopefulness and resilience not often seen in other girl characters.

The place where she finds what would now be called a “forever family” is an unlikely one–a small town on Prince Edward Island, Avonlea, in the title home of Marilla (Colleen Dewhurst) and Matthew (Richard Farnsworth) an unmarried brother-sister pair who are closer to the age of grandparents than most foster or adoptive parents would be. Originally they had requested from the orphanage a 13-year-old boy to help out on their farm, and when they see the orphanage has sent them a girl, plan to send her back. But loquacious Anne first charms Matthew, then stern Marilla (who is also reluctant to send Anne to another large family which seems intent on working her to death), so Anne stays for “a trial” that soon ends. She becomes a permanent member of the family.

Dewhurst and Farnsworth were award-winning stage and movie stars in the latter part of their careers, but they don’t have the vanity in their parts that more contemporary stars would: their worn tan faces, with prominent cheekbones, make them look like the older, hard-working (though prosperous) denizens of a farmhouse that these characters are. And because they, along with Follows, are so skilled, they bring a resonance to their scenes, especially those where they show their love for Anne. Farnsworth is especially endearing in a scene at the general store when he postpones buying a party dress for Anne (an item which, as a bachelor farmer, he’s never bought before) by asking for twenty pounds of sugar. Anne never takes their name (her own last name is “Shirley”) and calls them by their first names, never “Mom and Dad” or even “Aunt and Uncle” but the three are very much a loving, if non-traditional family. When the pair see Anne off to a larger town so she can continue her education, Matthew tells Marilla how lucky they were that the orphanage sent them her instead of a boy, Marilla answers, “It wasn’t luck. It was providence. He knew we needed her.”

Although the book was first published in 1908, very close to the time it portrays the TV movie (which has the look of a theatrical release, full of beautiful Prince Edward Island vistas) doesn’t have the sexism that can mar the literature of the past. Everyone (even the town gossip) takes Anne’s education (and the accolades she wins for her studies) seriously, though, in keeping with the period, Diana (Schuyler Grant) Anne’s “bosom friend” who accurately predicts when they first meet, “we’re going to get along really well”, is not allowed to continue school past a sophomore high school level and is instead expected to learn how to keep house.

The other characters are very much of their time too, in their dress, their speech (Marilla, when Anne tells her she doesn’t know how to pray, later tells Matthew she’s a “heathen”) their wall-papered, quilted and curtained houses and unsullied landscapes. Green Gables never has the kind of careless anachronism that even programs that pride themselves on their period accuracy, like Mad Men, do.

Gilbert (Jonathan Crombie) the boy who will become Anne’s love interest (though not until the very end, and with no kissing, so children who hate love scenes are safe) teases her when they first meet, at the town’s one-room schoolhouse, calling her “Carrot” because of her red hair. But instead of giggling, pouting or crying (the go-to reactions for girls in literature, TV and movies) she breaks a slate (which the children write on instead of paper) over his head.

Both Anne and Diana are drawn to Gilbert, but they don’t compete for his attention, realizing their friendship is far too central to their lives to ruin for a boy, even in their small town where the selection of potential “beaus” is limited. Green Gables is full of observations about living in a small community (which can also apply to living in the super-small communities of family–or a relationship): often showing Anne finding affinities and support from characters (many of them women) who seem unlikely allies at first.

Gilbert, although he is often Anne’s main rival for prizes and scholarships at school still respects her intelligence: early in their acquaintance he is rumored to tell a friend, “smart is better than pretty.” But Anne, though she begins Green Gables in pigtails, a smock and a tattered straw hat becomes a poised Gibson girl and a teacher by the end, with a cameo at her neck and gloves on her hands, her hair worn “up”–both beautiful and smart.

(All stills accompanying this review are © Sullivan Entertainment)

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czJi_FpLBYY&feature=kp”]

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Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks has appeared in The Toast, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Why I Love ‘Adventure Time’

‘Adventure Time’ is a Cartoon Network animated series that combines surrealistic comedy, fantasy and science-fiction. Based on a 2008 short by Pendleton Ward that went viral, it parodies the tropes, archetypes and cliches of fairy tales, video games and childhood action figure battles. The basic premise is about Finn, the last remaining human, and his best friend/adoptive brother Jake (a shape-shifting dog), going on your typical slay-the-monster-save-the-princess adventures. Now in its fourth season, it’s an enormous hit with all genders and age groups and shows no signs of slowing down. And let me tell you, as a feminist, why I am absolutely celebrating this show.

This repost by Myrna Waldron appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

Title screen for Adventure Time

Warning: Spoilers up to the end of Season 3

Adventure Time is a Cartoon Network animated series that combines surrealistic comedy, fantasy and science-fiction. Based on a 2008 short by Pendleton Ward that went viral, it parodies the tropes, archetypes and cliches of fairy tales, video games and childhood action figure battles. The basic premise is about Finn, the last remaining human, and his best friend/adoptive brother Jake (a shape-shifting dog), going on your typical slay-the-monster-save-the-princess adventures. Now in its fourth season, it’s an enormous hit with all genders and age groups and shows no signs of slowing down. And let me tell you, as a feminist, why I am absolutely celebrating this show.

The main cast of Adventure Time

Almost every female character is a princess, but the typical cliche Damsel In Distress and/or romance-obsessed girly-girl are parodied and subverted for all they’re worth. In several instances, the princess characters (Bubblegum especially) show little interest in romance, and far more interest in their own personal hobbies. Even more encouraging is that often the female characters are completely able to rescue themselves, and don’t need Finn and Jake’s help.

The characters are given genuine honest-to-goodness flaws. Finn is heroic, but has a terrible bad temper and an impulsive streak. Jake is easygoing, but not nearly as clever or level-headed as he thinks he is. Princess Bubblegum is a scientific genius, but can be incredibly callous about the feelings of others. Marceline is a talented musician, but also has deep insecurities about how her friends perceive her. Flame Princess is astoundingly powerful, but also has dangerously passionate emotions. In all of these cases, there’s no black and white morality. It’s an important lesson for children (since this is a children’s show) to present morality as it really is – in shades of grey.

I love all the female characters, including the gender flipped versions of Finn and Jake, Fionna and Cake. My main complaint with the series is that the female characters don’t appear nearly often enough, and especially not together. We eventually do get some Bechdel Test passing goodness (Bubblegum and Marceline don’t get along too well – and people have naturally interpreted this as sexual tension) but so far the three main female characters have not yet all appeared in the same story together. I suspect that the main reason for this is because each story is about 11-12 minutes in total, and there’s only so much time for introducing characters and conflicts.

Jake stretching around the other main cast members

Speaking of Fionna and Cake, I can see now why that episode is so astoundingly popular amongst the fandom. It’s easily my favourite one of the series. Fionna is an absolutely adorable character – slightly chubby instead of unrealistically slender, tomboyish instead of traditionally feminine, and she still retains her male counterpart’s bravery and heroicism. She still fights with a sword. For my fellow gamers, think of all the games you’ve played in which a female character is a sword fighter. Not very many, right? But there’s no reason they can’t, and this is one thing I really love about the gender flip episode. I also practically exploded with joy at the final scene where Fionna talks about how she has lots of guy friends, but isn’t interested in/isn’t ready to date them, and that there’s nothing wrong with that. THANK YOU. It’s incredibly frustrating how many people think that somehow something is missing if you don’t have an official romantic partner, or that men and women can’t have a platonic friendship. Shippers could do well to remember this – you can like someone without wanting to bang them. (Also, as a Sailor Moon fan, you can’t imagine my joy at seeing Fionna’s ballgown homage to Princess Serenity’s outfit) At any rate, I hope the Gender Swap episodes happen on a regular basis, rather than a once-a-season deal. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had more shows about an ass-kicking girl and her feline best friend? (*coughcoughSailorMooncoughcough*)

This is a fairly obvious point, but I really love how Princess Bubblegum’s interest in science is depicted. She’s an absolute genius – shattering the still pervasive stereotype that the sciences are the domain of men – and she also bucks the stereotype that nerdy/geeky people are unable to have fun or to relate to others. Similarly, Marceline’s interest in punk/indie rock also combats the stereotype that rock is a genre made by and for the enjoyment of men. Girls like to headbang too!

The Christmas special, which reveals that pseudo-antagonist Ice King was actually a human antique dealer driven insane by his find of a magic crown, is an interesting way of approaching and explaining his very archetypal tendency to kidnap and try to marry princesses. In the Ice King’s case, it’s not so much a wanting to stick to traditional fairy tale gender roles, but a manifestation of his grief over losing the fiance he used to nickname “Princess.” The Ice King is primarily a comic character, but this episode finally established him as being tragic.

Fionna and Cake

I appreciated that, for once, romantic tensions are resolved rather than dragged on, and on, and on, and on. They make it clear that while Princess Bubblegum likes Finn as a person, she feels she’s too old for him, and her sometimes callous treatment of his feelings proves that she isn’t the right partner for him. Flame Princess isn’t the perfect girlfriend either, but at least in their case, Finn and Flame got together very quickly, changing the romantic plotline from “Will they or won’t they?” to “What happens now they’ve got together?” I also like that Jake and Lady Rainicorn’s relationship is loving, positive, literally interracial, and well…adult. (Lady Rainicorn’s dialogue is only in Korean, and bilingual viewers have revealed she says some incredibly raunchy things that only Jake can understand)

In the “Memory of a Memory” episode, Marceline’s (ex) boyfriend tries to bully her into traditional gender roles. He even pulls the “Go back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich” bit. She finds out he tried to trick her, and kicks his ass. (Also, dear men who think this joke is funny: Wow. You’re original. YES I AM GOING TO GO IN THE KITCHEN AND I’M GOING TO MAKE LOTS OF DELICIOUS FOOD WHICH YOU CAN’T HAVE.)

In some ways, other than Marceline, Lumpy Space Princess is my favourite character. She is absolutely hilarious as a sassy valley girl type who, by most accounts, should not be as confident about her body and her sexiness as she “should” be. After all, she’s literally a purple ball of lumps. But this is an important message – you DON’T have to match cultural standards of beauty to be sexy. It’s all about confidence. I’m a fatass, and I’m friggin’ sexy if I do say so myself. And in her own way, LSP is sexy too. At least to fellow Space Lumps.

Finn

The show just keeps getting better every season. The quality of animation has spiked, the character arcs are realistic and well-defined, and the storylines are mature without losing their comedic edge. I’m absolutely hooked on this series, and it’s a refreshing feeling that this year, along with Gravity Falls, I got to watch some great new children’s shows that deserve every bit of praise they receive.

Lastly, I love the sense of humour in the show. I’ve always been a fan of surrealism, as well as referential humour. And I’m also a big fan of fart jokes, like the one where Jake morphs himself into a farting cheetah. I’m 25 years old, and fart jokes are still funny.

Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

Was ‘Jem and the Holograms’ a Good Show for Little Girls?

Though the show’s focus on romantic love, fashion, and female rivalry are of dubious value, there are definitely a lot of good things going on with ‘Jem and the Holograms’: the notion that fame and fortune should be used for philanthropic means, that female friendships can be strong and form an important network of support, and that a sense of community is crucial.

This repost by Amanda Rodriguez appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

As a little girl growing up in the 80s, I loved the show Jem and the Holograms. I confess that I still have a bunch of the songs from the show that I listen to from time to time (occasionally subjecting my spin class attendees to a Jem track on my workout playlists). Looking back now as an adult feminist, I’ve wondered how the show influenced me and whether or not that influence was a positive thing. *I did a similar assessment of another of my much-loved 80’s cartoons called: She-Ra Kinda Sorta Accidentally Feministy.*

There are a few potential not-necessarily-empowering aspects of Jem. Firstly, the show is fashion-obsessed and revolves around the characters’ fashionability. Unlike most cartoons where the characters mostly wear the same outfit in every episode, the thin female bodies of Jem‘s characters are adorned in multiple wardrobe changes often within a single 20-minute episode. Fashion and modeling, we know, are traditionally coded as female. The fashion world is extremely hard on women, placing undue emphasis on their bodies, especially on the thinness of those bodies. The drummer (and Black bandmate) Shana, however, designs clothing, so there is an aspect of fun creative expression at play here. Not only that, but the band Jem and the Holograms gets into the world of fashion and music in order to maintain the foster home for young girls that they run.

In this light, being on the cutting-edge of fashion, making money, being famous, and maintaining their record label (Starlight Music) is all a means to a philanthropic ends. The band often performs benefit concerts, singing many songs that deliver a positive message about fair play, hard work, creativity, education, and friendship to its young, predominately female audience. Jerrica Benton (Jem’s alter ego) must become a savvy business woman in the advent of her father’s death in order to run her inherited huge record label while living with her beloved foster girls, trying to give them good, happy lives. Jerrica and her friends are capable, ambitious women who thrive in the business world and do so for noble reasons. That type of female representation is all too rare in any pop culture medium, and it definitely had a positive effect on my impressionable younger self.

Another aspect of the show that could be a negative for little girls was all the female rivalry. The primary focus of the show was the often high-stakes band rivalry between Jem and the Holograms and their nemeses (another all-female band), The Misfits.

Misfits Close-up — The Misfits: Roxy, Pizzazz, & Stormer

The Misfits were mean, reckless, and ruthless in their pursuit to beat Jem at everything. They’d lie, cheat, commit crimes and sabotage, and endanger the lives of Jem and her bandmates in order to win at any cost. They even had a song called “Winning is Everything.” True story.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMlneySmI3g”]

Though Jem passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors, this dangerous female rivalry is troubling, reinforcing mainstream media’s insistence that women can’t be friends; they must, instead, compete for resources, men, and general approval. Instead of the bands being able to cooperate and collaborate, they are mostly at each other’s throats (with The Misfits, of course, being the instigators). The upside of this rivalry is that the major players are all women. The characters with all the talent, power, and agency are women. The epitome of this is the all-powerful matriarchal figure of Synergy. She’s a basically sentient hologram generating computer system. She gets Jem and her crew out of countless jams, operates as home base for their operations, and acts as a concerned, maternal mentor for them. Though Synergy is a computer system, she has awesome power and Jerrica/Jem often goes to her for counsel.

Synergy to Jem — “Synergy, create a hologram of Jem.”

Not only that, but even the cruel Misfits are given depth over time. My favorite character (on whom I had a serious girl-crush) was Stormer, the blue-haired Misfit who was a bad girl with a heart of gold. When her bandmates crossed the line, she would always undermine their machinations in order to do the right thing, often saving the day. We also learn that Pizazz, the ringleader and front woman for the band, struggles with her former identity as: Phyllis, a rich girl with a neglectful father whose approval and attentiveness she could never garner. Despite the contentiousness of the rival bands’ relations, the fact that women are the primary actors and reactors gives the show a variety of female perspectives and permutations, which is what’s so often lacking in current female representations in film and on TV.

In fact, there are hardly any male characters in the show at all. There are only two to speak of: Jem/Jerrica’s love interest and road manager, Rio Pacheco, and The Misfits’ slimy band manager, Eric Raymond. Later the lead singer of The Stingers, Riot, enters the scene with his ridiculous hair and obsession with Jem. These male characters’ relevance and even usefulness was often in question. Eric was incompetent at all of his scheming in a distinctly Road Runner style. Jem/Jerrica couldn’t even confide her secrets in Rio, and he was often left waiting in the dark for situational resolutions. I often questioned how healthy for young girls the representation of the love triangle involving Rio, Jem, and Jerrica was. It was bizarre that Jem was Jerrica, so Rio was essentially cheating on his girlfriend…with his girlfriend. There was even an episode where Jerrica gets tired of being herself and her Jem personae, so she dons a hologram of a completely new appearance. Rio falls in love with her, too, and they share a kiss. Though the inherent deception on all sides of the relationship is not good role modeling, maybe it’s important that Rio loves Jerrica no matter what physical form she takes on.

I am in love with this Rio & Jem cosplay duo. — I am in love with this Rio and Jem cosplay duo.

The band itself, Jem and the Holograms, was also surprisingly racially diverse. The drummer, Shana, was Black, and the lead guitarist, Aja, was Asian. They later added a new drummer, Raya, who was Latina, when Shana took up bass guitar. Though the front woman for the band (who couldn’t actually play an instrument) remained a white woman, with the addition of Raya, there were actually more women of color in the band than white women. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that kind of ratio on a TV show that wasn’t specifically targeted at people of color.

Jem and all the Holograms — Jem, Kimber, Aja, Raya, and Shana

Though the show’s focus on romantic love, fashion, and female rivalry are of dubious value, there are definitely a lot of good things going on with Jem and the Holograms: the notion that fame and fortune should be used for philanthropic means, that female friendships can be strong and form an important network of support, that a sense of community is crucial, especially that of an older generation of women actively participating in that of teenage girls, that the arts should be respected and fostered, and that the virtues women should value in themselves should include honesty, compassion, fairness, determination, and kindness. Maybe I’m biased because I always thought the show was “truly outrageous,” but the good seems to outweigh the bad, giving us a series about women that tried to teach little girls how to grow up to be strong, ethical, and believe in themselves.

Why ‘Jessie’ Is the Worst Show on Disney Channel

For those who don’t know, ‘Jessie’ is a Disney Channel series about a girl from Texas who moves to New York City and becomes nanny for a Brangelina couple with four adopted children from around the world. If done well, it could allow for very educational programming for children about diversity and identity. Spoiler alert: it hasn’t been done well. It’s been done terribly.

TV poster for Jessie — TV poster for *Jessie*

This cross-post by Katherine Filaseta appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television and previously appeared at her blog Complaining About Things I Like.

For those who don’t know, Jessie is a Disney Channel series about a girl from Texas who moves to New York City and becomes nanny for a Brangelina couple with four adopted children from around the world. If done well, it could allow for very educational programming for children about diversity and identity. Spoiler alert: it hasn’t been done well. It’s been done terribly.

Ravi wearing an Om shirt and probably speaking Hindi

Ravi is the newest addition to the family, recently adopted from India. He brought with him his water monitor (Mr. Kipling), whom he met as a baby. He talks with an exaggerated accent and is constantly referencing Ganesh, samosas, tigers, non-violence, fortune telling, and curry – to name a few. He teaches a yoga class and wears sherwanis.

This entire character is straight out of Edward Said’s Orientalism. Essentially, orientalism is when Westerners lump the entire continent of Asia into one foreign land with which they can associate everything they don’t understand. Things from this exotic land are instantly mystical and weird, because orientalists don’t understand them. This is okay, because orientalists prefer things to be unknown and mysterious and magical. As one of my professors put it: Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern is orientalism; Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations is not. Jessie is orientalism.

Ravi as a stereotypical Indian tourist, despite living in NYC

The idea that Ravi found a random lizard egg and decided to be best friends with it is one example of the orientalism used in this show. India does have a lot of wildlife, but it isn’t quite teeming with exotic creatures – one issue in India right now is how to protect the few tigers left on the planet, all of which live in India, mostly under precarious conditions. Especially since globalization, India is not really the image we have in our heads from Disney’s The Jungle Book, even though Disney is perpetuating this misconception through Ravi and Mr(s). Kipling’s friendship. We’re also exaggerating the influence Rudyard Kipling actually had on India. He traveled there a few times over a century ago; I’m pretty sure a random kid off the streets of India wouldn’t be naming his pet after him.

More importantly, even a “fresh off the boat” 8-year-old Indian kid who had not previously been exposed to American culture would not say things like “great Ganesh!” This isn’t a thing I have ever heard an Indian person say. I also don’t know any Indians who are constantly consulting their crystal balls and other magical ancient devices. A majority of the stereotypes Ravi embodies in the show aren’t even real stereotypes of India, so I really don’t understand why they are so prevalent. Also, how did an 8-year-old get certified to teach yoga? Is this also just because he is Indian?

Zuri was apparently adopted from Africa as a baby and raised by an upper-class white family. However, her catch phrases are things like “mmmmhmmmm” and “oh no you didn’t,” both said in a very stereotypically Black way. She also has a major attitude problem that the adults never address, probably because they just assume all Black people act that way.

The worst part about her character to me is that not just the stereotypes, but the fact that she is exhibiting urban Black stereotypes despite never having been a part of urban Black society. She lives in an Upper East Side penthouse and was born in Uganda. It is reminiscent of early 20th century ideas: things like social darwinism. These characteristics of Zuri exist in her genetics just because of the color of her skin.

Emma wearing pink and Luke being a sloppy boy

Emma and Luke are the two white children in the family. Emma is a typical “dumb blonde”; all she appears to be able to think about is boys, fashion, glitter, and celebrity gossip. She is constantly making ditzy comments and screaming high-pitched screams because she broke a nail. Luke is just a typical “boy,” which means he is always hitting on girls and using sexual innuendos. The sexual innuendos in themselves are in my opinion inappropriate for a children’s show; even if the target audience for these innuendos is parents, the children are the ones saying them. It isn’t just the innuendos in themselves, however – it’s that Luke’s character is perpetuating this idea that making degrading comments about girls’ bodies is okay, because it is just a “thing boys do.” Despite societal expectations, pretty blonde girls can care about more than looking good, and boys don’t have to constantly treat girls like objects.

The least offensive stereotype in this show is of Jessie. Since she’s from Texas, her dad is in the military and taught her how to shoot a gun when she was 5 years old. She also is always talking about how great Texas is. Typical Texan…

Recently, Disney Channel aired the worst episode of this show yet: “To Be or Not to Be.” In it, every character ends up switching bodies (a la Freaky Friday). If anyone had been watching the show and somehow didn’t realize how offensive all the stereotypes were, this episode makes it even more blatantly obvious. Jessie gets to put on a “Black girl” accent (I didn’t even know there was a “Black girl” accent?), and the butler does a terrible imitation of an Indian accent (think Ashton Kutcher Popchips ad, but worse). Wholesome Disney fun with hilarious racial stereotypes!

Edit: It just got even better. The new episode that aired 19 April 2013 has a women’s singer-songwriter show that Jessie is invited to perform at. Apparently the only people who would ever go to support aspiring female artists are other women – specifically, women who don’t shave their legs, hate all men, and wear ‘sensible shoes’. Hey, Jessie! You don’t have to hate men and fashion to be supportive of women. In fact, you can even be a man! And/or wear high heels!

Katherine Filaseta is a recent graduate of Washington University in Saint Louis, who is currently living and working with kids in New York. She really likes Bollywood, education, feminism, the performing arts, and apparently children’s TV. Follow her on twitter and wordpress.

The Feminism of ‘Sailor Moon’

This has been a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’m an absolutely die-hard fan of ‘Sailor Moon,’ and part of that is because it served as my childhood introduction to feminism. That might be a little bit hard to believe, considering the superheroines of the show are known for outfits not much more revealing than Wonder Woman’s. Silly outfits aside (you get used to them), this show was absolutely groundbreaking. Its protagonists are 10 realistically flawed, individual and talented teenage girls (and women) who, oh, you know. Save the world.

Sailor Moon characters

This repost by Myrna Waldron appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television.

This has been a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’m an absolutely die-hard fan of Sailor Moon, and part of that is because it served as my childhood introduction to feminism. That might be a little bit hard to believe, considering the superheroines of the show are known for outfits not much more revealing than Wonder Woman’s. Silly outfits aside (you get used to them), this show was absolutely groundbreaking. Its protagonists are 10 realistically flawed, individual and talented teenage girls (and women) who, oh, you know. Save the world.

First, let me take you back in time to the summer of 1995. I’m a 9-year-old Canadian girl with a lot of time on her hands. I’m bored out of my mind, because there’s very little on television that appeals to me. Sure, there were shows made for girls back then. But they were Care Bears and My Little Pony (and I sure as heck don’t mean the Lauren Faust version) and obviously meant for very young girls. Jem and She-Ra are long since off the air, and the Powerpuff Girls won’t premiere for another three years. Generally, my choices were gender-neutral shows like Alvin & The Chipmunks, or male-audience shows like the 90s revival of Spider-Man. I wanted a little action. And, bless the alignment of the stars, I see this commercial for this new show called Sailor Moon. The stars aligned so perfectly that I happened to tune in on August 28, 1995, the day that Sailor Moon premiered on YTV. I was hooked after one episode, and I can honestly say that this show changed my life.

So why is Sailor Moon feminist, besides having a mostly female cast? I have decided to take a page from my previous feminist Disney Princess essay and go through the characters individually, and explain why I, as a feminist, value them. Although I initially got into Sailor Moon via the English version, I will be basing my analysis off of the Japanese version of the series. I have long since felt that the English version does a disservice to its fans by making the characters immature, censoring homosexuality, and stereotyping what it is to be a teenager. I will also plead artistic license on the spelling and order of the names. So, without further adieu, the Sailor Soldiers.

Sailor Moon/Usagi Tsukino:

Our heroine. Our very flawed heroine. And how refreshing that is! Instead of a very boring Superman who could do no wrong, here was a fairly young teenager thrown into an overwhelming situation, and reacting negatively to it. She’s clumsy, she’s a glutton, she’s a crybaby. And that’s okay! Teenagers are allowed to have flaws, and superheroes should too. Usagi has demonstrated time and time again that her love for her friends and family is more important to her than anything else in the world. She will give anything, including her life, to make sure that they live on in peace and happiness. As we see in flashbacks during the R movie, she’s the type of person who is willing to be friends with everyone, including the loners and the outcasts. She’s got a tremendously strong moral compass, and is a consummate optimist. Her relationship with Mamoru is firmly established as one of unconditional trust, support, and equality. Overall, Usagi’s character establishes that a good leader does not have to be someone unrealistically perfect. A good leader just needs to care for everyone equally.

Sailor Mercury/Ami Mizuno:

Ami is by far the most popular character in the show (on both sides of the Pacific). It has been theorized that this is because she exhibits the character traits most valued in Japanese society. She’s incredibly studious, brilliant, analytical, and humble (some might even say submissive). What I appreciated most about Ami is how she approaches situations with logic rather than with emotion. Her style of fighting is mostly defensive, so she acts in a support role on the team. She is by no means not valued by the others, as they often turn to her to give the answers that intuition alone cannot determine. In her civilian life, we see that she is very shy, and is sometimes uptight. She also exhibits a tendency to be insecure, and has taken it very hard that her devotion to her studies has ostracized her from her peers. Ami’s character establishes that even the most mature teenager doubts themselves sometimes, and that it’s okay to do so. It’s very feminist to say that we’re allowed to see doubts in ourselves, and that it’s okay to play a supporting role rather than to be a leader.

Sailor Mars/Rei Hino:

Rei’s character is probably the most unfairly treated by the fans, and especially by the dub. Yes, she and Usagi argue all the time. Friends sometimes do that. One aspect of Rei’s character that gets lost in translation is just how close she is to Usagi. The inners usually refer to each other with the “-chan” suffix, which usually denotes a female friend. Rei, however, just calls Usagi “Usagi.” To leave off a suffix indicates incredible closeness, like the relationship between best friends. Now, as for Rei herself, she has some traits that feminists definitely value. She’s very ambitious – she has some interest in men, but would rather focus on achieving her career dreams first. She’s also quite generous – she offers up space in Hikawa Shrine for her friends to study in, and joins them, even though she doesn’t need to take a high school entrance exam. She does this entirely out of solidarity. She also regularly uses her gift of premonition to help her friends, not herself. Rei is someone who knows exactly what she wants out of life – her confidence contrasts nicely with Ami’s character. Here is a character who encourages women to dream, and dream big.

Sailor Jupiter/Makoto Kino:

Makoto is one of the more interesting characters when cast into a feminist light. What Makoto is good at, and the things she loves doing most, are traditionally domestic hobbies like cooking, baking, and cleaning. Being domestic is not the least bit anti-feminist, as women should be able to be whatever makes them happiest. One subtle aspect of her character is her body insecurity, which is a common issue for women that gets comparatively little media attention. As a very tall, athletic and curvy girl, Makoto often feels self-conscious about her body – especially since she is stereotyped by others as a tomboy. She breaks the stereotype of what certain “types” of women are “supposed” to be interested in. She is much more boy-crazy than the others, but I see this more as a manifestation of loneliness. She is an orphan, and while incredibly independent, she has no one besides her friends to confide in. Makoto is one of my favourite characters because she does not allow herself to be confined to anyone’s idea of what a young woman should be. Her protective instincts and fierce independence are incredibly admirable.

Sailor Venus/Minako Aino:

Minako combines a few of the traits of the others (leadership and bad habits from Usagi, ambition from Rei, athleticism from Makoto) but still manages to stand completely on her own. As the personification of the Goddess of Love, Minako’s made it her life’s mission to bring love and joy to others. Her career ambitions are even more defined than Rei’s, as she is shown actively pursuing becoming an idol singer. She was also chronologically the first Soldier to awaken, and this was an inspiration of strength, independence and courage for Usagi. Her backstory, which revealed that she chose to fake her own death rather than come between her two best friends’ romance, despite being in love with one of them, shows tremendous self-sacrifice. Although I would hope no one would have to make the choice Minako did, it’s an important message that sometimes our dreams don’t work out, but that people go through tremendous maturity and growth when they learn to let them go and seek out new dreams. Venus’s self-confidence and determination towards her dream career is another good message – learn what you’re good at, love what you’re good at, and don’t let anyone try to bring you down.

Sailor Chibi-Moon/Chibiusa Tsukino:

Long story short, she’s Usagi’s future daughter, and she’s like her in every way. Starting with the S season onwards though, she starts to come into her own as a distinct character. Usagi has a natural ability to befriend people, but Chibiusa is lonely and, having grown up in isolation as the crown princess, doesn’t really know how to approach people. She also starts out spoiled, but it is excused in that she is physically about 5 years old at her introduction. Where Usagi is ditzy and flighty, Chibiusa is often surprisingly wise beyond her years and is an excellent student – traits, I believe, she inherited from her father. One feminist aspect of her character is her devotion and admiration for her mother. By this, I mean Neo Queen Serenity, not Usagi. Chibiusa values NQS’s grace, maturity and strength. Her greatest dream is to become a mature young woman like her mother eventually became. Chibiusa herself eventually ages to about preteen/early teen age and is much more emotionally mature than how she was at the beginning of the series. This shows the series’ willingness to allow its characters to grow and change, like a real woman would.

Sailor Pluto/Setsuna Meioh:

The Outer Senshi as a whole are noted for being a little bit older (with one…interesting exception) and a little bit wiser than the Inner Senshi. No one personifies the gifts of age and wisdom better than Setsuna. She is the Guardian of Time, and is thus more-or-less immortal because of her duties. However, her duties, as important as they are, are also a curse. She must remain aloof and separate from the others, except in times of crisis. We see glimpses of the loneliness (loneliness is kind of a theme in this series) this causes, but she is incredibly stoic and refuses to let this on to others. She is not truly aloof, as we see in her relationship with Chibiusa. She is incredibly kind and supportive to her, and many have recognized this as a kind of bittersweet maternal instinct. When she adopts a civilian life, she is established as a brilliant scientist, with skills in both biology and physics. This is an important feminist message, as it reaffirms that women have equally valuable skills to offer in the maths and sciences.

Sailor Uranus/Haruka Tenoh:

I’m going to digress a little before I get into analyzing Haruka’s character. Uranus and Neptune were my first introduction to homosexual relationships. Although they were never shown kissing, it was obvious to me that they were in a romantic relationship. And, because I benefited from a largely agnostic upbringing, my only thought as a kid was, “Well, that’s unusual, but so what?” I credit these two characters for showing me that a lesbian relationship is just as loving and just as valid as any other one. It is a feminist belief that people should be allowed to embrace and affirm their sexual identities. Now, as for Haruka herself, she’s one of my absolute favourite fictional characters. She’s even more tomboyish than Makoto (she often physically presents herself as male, though since she identifies as female she is not transgendered) and is an incredibly talented athlete and race car driver. She also possesses a genius intellect. Despite her tough exterior, she shows a “softness” streak in her personality. In the S season, she is much more uncomfortable with the harsh choices she and Neptune must make in order to prevent the world’s destruction. In the episode when Usagi’s heart crystal is stolen, Haruka is shown slamming down in frustration and grief at the thought of having to sacrifice Usagi’s life should her heart crystal be one that forms a world-saving talisman. Haruka is wracked with guilt and sees her hands as being dirty, and must be reminded by Michiru that although the sacrifice of three innocent people is horrible, the destruction of the world is much worse. She is thus an example of someone who defies the stereotype of the tough, masculine woman by demonstrating empathy and vulnerability. In addition to this, many of the younger fans have had difficulty understanding Haruka’s appearance and sexuality (such as thinking that she’s a hermaphrodite or carries the soul of her nonexistent twin brother or something), so she’s an important example of how gender expression and sexuality can and will differ from the “norm.”

Sailor Neptune/Michiru Kaioh:

The polar opposite of Usagi. And that’s great, because one of this show’s greatest strengths is to show how diverse young women can be. Michiru is a gifted artist, both as a violinist and as a painter. She is about 15-16 when she is introduced, but has already made a career as a world-class performer and artist. Haruka often plays piano as her duet partner. She is also quite athletic, but prefers swimming (since it is her element) to running. She complements Haruka’s outward masculinity by presenting herself with a traditionally feminine appearance. Similarly, while Haruka is the “softer” of the two when it comes to performing their duties, Michiru defies the ultra-feminine stereotype by having a much colder and more determined outlook. She and Haruka are absolutely inseparable; two sides of the same coin. She serves as another important feminist example that “traditional” gender performance and sexuality have nothing to do with each other. She defies yet another stereotype of women, especially lesbian women.

Sailor Saturn/Hotaru Tomoe:

My personal favourite. Another character who experiences incredible loneliness, her character arc explores her new friendship with the equally lonely Chibiusa while she struggles with poor health and a mostly absent (and as we learn later, possessed) father. Her friendship with Chibiusa is absolutely adorable. It is an almost ideal best friend situation – no rivalry, no clashing of personalities. They just genuinely enjoy spending time with each other. Chibiusa, now having learned how to be a good friend, worries about Hotaru and does everything in her power to help her. In the S season, Hotaru has the incredible burden of carrying three separate identities – the good (herself), the evil (Mistress 9) and the neutral (Sailor Saturn). Uranus, Neptune and Pluto’s mission is to prevent the awakening of Sailor Saturn, who has the power of life and death and is prophesied to destroy the world. At the end of the season, Hotaru overcomes Mistress 9’s possession by drawing power from her love for others, namely her father and Chibiusa. This love also allows her to turn the prophecy on its head; she uses her destructive powers to destroy evil from its inside, knowing that she will not survive the effort. But, since she also has the power of life, she is instantly reincarnated as a baby, and rescued by a despondent Sailor Moon. She is similar to Usagi in this sense since she is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for others. Her storyline is resumed two seasons later in the Stars season, and has some very interesting feminist subtexts. Sailor Pluto, recognizing that Saturn’s power will soon be needed once more, adopts Hotaru from her amnesiac father. Due to the pressing need for Saturn’s power, Hotaru grows physically and intellectually at a staggering rate. Setsuna, Michiru and Haruka raise her together, and Hotaru sees each one equally as her parent, calling them Setsuna-mama, Michiru-mama, and Haruka-papa. Similarly to how positively Haruka and Michiru’s relationship is depicted, alternative families are thus depicted positively in this series as well.

I hope you have enjoyed my feminist analysis of the main Sailor Moon cast. This will not be my only examination of the series, as there is so much more I want to say and not enough room in one Tumblr post to say it. The main point I want to get across is just how incredible and important this series is for women of any age. It depicts female characters of incredible strength, ability, kindness and diversity. It shows us just how badly we need more shows like Sailor Moon in the world, and how very little attention is given to superheroines. (Still waiting on that Wonder Woman movie, Warner Bros.) 20 years later, Sailor Moon is still groundbreaking, still influential, still feminist. And in the name of the Moon…that’s pretty awesome.

Original source for the character images borrowed from Manga Style!.

Myrna Waldron is a 25-year-old pop culture fanatic with a special passion for animation. She can be reached on Twitter at @SoapboxingGeek, where she muses openly about whatever strikes her fancy.

Seed & Spark: Hollywood’s Leading Ladies: To Be a Mom or Not to Be; What Role Will You Choose?

For a very long time, women who didn’t want to have children were deemed “selfish,” because — well, I’m not quite sure why. Men, however, although maybe a disappointment to their mothers, weren’t really labeled anything. They were bachelors, at worst.

In many movies, the struggle that men have is not a result of a decision involving kids. But in most romcoms and dramas, if there is a female role of a certain age, it centers upon the subject of children.

I wanted to look at three current movies and their depiction of parents, particularly how their children influence their decision making and where the children fit into their lives.

I chose to examine three movies where the lead was nominated for Best Lead Actress in 2014 and in a fertile age range, which led to the movies ‘Blue Jasmine,’ ‘American Hustle’ and ‘Gravity.’

This is a guest post by Kelsey Rauber.

I wanted to look at three current movies and their depiction of parents, particularly how their children influence their decision making and where the children fit into their lives.

I chose to examine three movies where the lead was nominated for Best Lead Actress in 2014 and in a fertile age range, which led to the movies Blue Jasmine, American Hustle, and Gravity.

As I told a friend about the idea of this article, she immediately interjected: “But it’s not just film! It’s across the board!” She proceeded to name at least four of her very good female friends, whose husbands travel a lot, while they hold a full time job as are the primary person responsible for the child’s well-being. Is this still justified in a world where nearly two-thirds of women are the primary breadwinner of the household?

(May contain some spoilers.)

Blue Jasmine by Woody Allen

Jasmine, recently widowed, with no kids of her own but a stepson that no longer speaks to her, makes a good case for child-free living. Her husband cheated on her and embezzled lots of money. To top it all off, her mental health is questionable.

Blue Jasmine, as a movie, feels like a possible realistic take on women–who they can be, how they can fail and the choices that they make. Jasmine, obviously blinded by wealth, doesn’t quite understand what it means to care about other people.

On the other hand, we have Jasmine’s sister, Ginger, who is probably the truest depiction of an underpaid, divorced woman that I have seen in a movie in a long time. The supporting role is her role in life.

She works hard (in a grocery store), doesn’t get out often (hasn’t been to a party in years), and looks for love in all the wrong places because she was never made to believe that she is worthy.

She and her ex-husband share custody of their two boys, but the boys live with their mother. The one thing I find most fascinating about her: She doesn’t complain. She has her life and she lives it. She isn’t unhappy. As far as she’s concerned, she is doing her best and it is good enough.

None of the men that either Jasmine or Ginger date throughout the movie comment on having kids.

American Hustle by Eric Warren Singer and David O. Russell

Though I wasn’t a huge fan of this movie as a whole, it is interesting in its different take on the paternal role. Here, it is actually the protagonist, Irving Rosenfeld, who makes a sacrifice for his adopted son. When an FBI agent busts Irving and his partner in crime/mistress, Sydney, she proposes they pack and leave the country. Irving isn’t willing to do it, because he feels a strong sense of responsibility toward his son.

Irving’s wife, Rosalyn, is depicted as a pretty terrible mother. She constantly blows things up seemingly out of sheer boredom. She’s also portrayed as an alcoholic, which fuels her inability to take care of her child (which is her full-time job).

What is interesting here is that the viewer walks away with a feeling that Irving is a good dad. I’m not saying he is a bad father, he clearly cares about his son, but the information that we don’t get in the film is how long he disappears for when he is with his mistress— he manages to have a whole other life with Sydney. I can’t help but feel that this movie sets the viewer up to feel a certain way toward the father/son relationship, even though we really only know part of the story.

If they decided to make a sequel to this movie about the boy, I think we’d see that there is no hope for this kid; his male role models are his adoptive father, a crook, and his mom’s new boyfriend, who works for the mafia.

Gravity by Alfonso Cuarón and Jonás Cuarón

Gravity is easiest to discuss given its confinement to two main characters. The viewer is left alone with two strangers for more than two hours, so inevitably things get personal.

Ryan Stone, a medical engineer, specialized in hospital scanning systems and is on her first mission in space. She gets stranded with Matt Kowalski, who is on his final mission, about to retire.

Very early in the movie, Ryan opens up about her deceased daughter: “She was playing tag—she slipped, hit her head, and that was it.”

This revelation sheds some light on Ryan’s passivity. Any loss of this magnitude would change a person’s perspective on life. The viewer is left to wonder, who was Ryan before the loss of her daughter? Was she fun and optimistic? Was she absent a lot because of her job? Would she be in space right now if her daughter was still alive?

Matt, like most Clooney characters, is a recently divorced, childless, charismatic individual. He doesn’t open up about why he doesn’t have kids. The question is never posed.

I can’t help but wonder, if Matt would’ve been replaced by a female character, would the fun, charismatic individual, who knows the ins and outs of space, not fight a bit harder to save both their lives, rather than sacrificing her own life for a woman who doesn’t give anyone the impression there’s much to live for?

I’m usually fan of movies that defy stereotype. (Un)fortunately, it still seems like a niche quality, mostly found in Indie films.

All of these movies were written by men and some depict women better than others. Generally, women are given great jobs, great flaws, and a human touch, which is great since… you know, we are human.

What does it mean to not have children, or not want them as a woman? Where can we get answers to these questions? My first response would be: Not Hollywood.

My interest in this topic erupted from my recent diagnosis with PCOS, which is one of the leading causes of infertility in women. I’m also gay, so the thought of having children had already been slightly complicated.

I don’t know if I want kids. I do know that I’d like the option.

After consulting with family and friends, I took an interest in the portrayal of parenthood, as well as the absence of normalcy surrounding not being a parent for women in Hollywood movies, which led to this article as well as the short we are crowdfunding for, titled We Had Plans.

The production company I work with, CongestedCat Productions, drives content with a less generic, more realistic take on individuals whom are usually forced into a box based on gender, sexuality, race, etc. We portray people as people and expect our audience to look at them that way and relate to them on an emotional level. We don’t do caricatures or stereotypes. If this is something you can get behind, we are making films you’ll want to see.

Kelsey Rauber is a New York City-based screenwriter and an integral member of CongestedCat Productions. She was named Grand Prize Winner in the comedy division for her feature About a Donkey by the 2012 New York Screenplay Contest. That same screenplay was also a semi-finalist in the 2013 LA Comedy Shorts Festival. She is the writer and co-creator of the comedic web series Kelsey, which premiered on blip.tv in September 2013 to rave reviews and consistent press coverage, being named a Critic’s Pick and one of the best comedy web series of 2013 by Indiewire. She is currently crowdfunding on Seed&Spark for her next projects.

Why All Our Daughters Need to See ‘Maleficent’ Right Now

We need heroines who tell girls that they are strong and capable entirely on their own, that they don’t need a family and ESPECIALLY don’t need a lover in order to become themselves. We need heroines who prove in action that no one ever—EVER—has the right to take your livelihood or body or home away from you, as well as that—if it happens—it doesn’t have to destroy you forever. Girls need to see that it’s okay to seek and use power, that there is nothing at all wrong with being a strong, emotional, powerful leader as a woman.

This is a guest post by Melissa Cordner.

***Sole warning: contains all the spoilers.***

Reviews and friends will tell you that Maleficent was predictable, at times slow, and seemed to be primarily an excuse for the artists to show off their CG skills (that dragon though!). In terms of action-based plotlines, this is fair, but those who are bored by the film are overlooking one key factor: character development. Maleficent is a classic stereotypical “total bitch”—and THAT’S PORTRAYED AS A GOOD THING.

Maleficent was a sweet little girl, adored by her community and brave enough to defend it peaceably. She fell in love, as we are prone to do, and had her heart broken when the object of her affections left to chase fame and fortune, as we are also prone to do. This heartbreak made her cautious, but it did not destroy her. No, it was when he came back, soothed away the pain of years with his sweet talk and cuddles, and then drugged her and brutally hacked off and stole her wings, that she went a little crazy with pain and rage.

The importance of the wing theft seems a little underplayed in the film; at no point does Maleficent come out and say “the person I was in love with broke my body and spirit by taking away my main source of pride, mobility, and identity.” She spells it out a little for Aurora when she explains that her wings never faltered and were always dependable, but that doesn’t quite get to the heart of it either. On one level, her wings were what made her a fairy and made her the protector of the moors; without them, she is landlocked and crippled, incapable of work and even play. This would destroy anyone, but the fact that her wings were stolen not in battle but under the guise of romantic love adds another more complicated layer to the trauma. This man felt entitled to her body; he felt it fair to drug her and take what he wanted with no respect for what she wanted or needed or how she would survive afterwards. He took away her identity, her pride in her body, and her livelihood. He never asked permission, he never apologized, and she was left with trust in nothing and no one—not even herself.

It is interesting to note that he could not bring himself to kill her, but chose to cause her a lifetime of pain and suffering instead. Like Maleficent in the Sleeping Beauty saga, Stefan is easy to read as evil and malicious; however, we see he still has a bit of compassion when he can’t bring himself to drive the blade into her back. Of course he still destroys her in every way possible by tearing off her wings; does this make him better, or worse, than a murderer? He also could have used the knife and let her bleed to death from the experience but chose instead a chain which (we can guess) was made of iron and therefore cauterized the wounds; is this compassion, or cruelty? Even here, Maleficent shows that things are not always black and white.

It is also important to note that her wings—which Stefan keeps locked under glass as a bizarre morbid trophy—come to life and return to Maleficent when she is about to die, immobilized by her inability to fly away from the power-sapping iron (another secret her once-lover has used against her as a way to destroy her, for those of you keeping track). It is no accident that those wings lay dormant behind that glass for sixteen years while Maleficent’s heart was consumed by a bitter storm of resentment and revenge. It is no accident that they came to life when Maleficent was about to die, AFTER she had told Aurora to run, using close to the last of her strength to protect what her heart cherished most. It is no accident that sixteen-year-old Aurora is who topples that trophy case and frees the wings to return to the fairy. Maleficent’s wings return because her heart does when she puts Aurora before herself, just as they disappeared when her faith and ability to love were stolen. You don’t erase a rape or betrayal—ever— but it IS possible to get your livelihood back and become proud of your body again.

The fact that Aurora— the child upon whom Maleficent cast a vengeful curse so powerful even she could not undo it—is the reason Maleficent’s heart (and wings) return to her is hugely important. This shows audience members that we don’t only deserve love, even when we run from it; we also deserve forgiveness. Maleficent was bitter and hurting and angry and made a bad decision. She made a huge mistake that destroyed an innocent person’s life for the sake of revenge… and that person LOVED HER ANYWAY. If Aurora hadn’t loved Maleficent as much as Maleficent loved her, even after finding out the source of the curse, the kiss would not have been of true love and the spell would not have been broken. We know this because the kiss from Phillip didn’t work; they didn’t know each other well enough, they didn’t love each other truly enough. As in Frozen (and Enchanted now that I think about it), Disney finally gives us the message that love at first sight is not all it’s made out to be.

This generation of girls has had sassy, brave and strong heroines before Maleficent, of course, but all these heroines have left us wanting more complexity. I grew up with Hermione, the cleverest girl at Hogwarts—who solved riddles for the main male character and played a vital-but-still-merely-supporting role to his adventures. Teenagers now identify with Katniss, the badass figurehead of the rebel movement in The Hunger Games—an emotional, confused girl who bravely defended her sister and then forevermore served as a puppet for the movement rather than a leader. Disney’s movies have participated in this movement as well. Tangled’s Rapunzel dared to question authority but was still fulfilled by finding love and a throne; Brave’s Merida valued herself as more of a person than a princess and learned the value of bravery without a supporting man but remained a princess and even—painfully enough—underwent a “makeover” to become more stereotypically beautiful/soft/feminine later on. Frozen gave us female characters with a bit more emotional complexity, but even Anna—who proved that true love does not have to be romantic love—was sweet and a little bumbling and would never hurt a fly… and even she ended up with a boyfriend. All of these women show girls that it’s okay to be emotional and scared, it’s okay to rely on others, and it’s possible to be brave and strong and true to yourself while you do it. That is a message that our girls, who still dress up like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella, need desperately to hear.

But I, for one, think it’s time to take the “you don’t need to be helpless and dependent to be feminine” theme a little further. We need heroines who tell girls that they are strong and capable entirely on their own, that they don’t need a family and ESPECIALLY don’t need a lover in order to become themselves. We need heroines who prove in action that no one ever—EVER—has the right to take your livelihood or body or home away from you, as well as that—if it happens—it doesn’t have to destroy you forever. Girls need to see that it’s okay to seek and use power, that there is nothing at all wrong with being a strong, emotional, powerful leader as a woman. It’s time we tell our girls that you can fight back, even using defensive violence, and still be a good person. It’s time to tell our girls that they can make mistakes and even hurt the people they love, and still deserve that love. Yes, Maleficent DOES have a slow plot, instead centering almost entirely on the character development of one woman—and it is about damn time.

‘Our Spirits Don’t Speak English: Indian Boarding School’

Time for a serious interlude. ‘Our Spirits Don’t Speak English: Indian Boarding School’ is an 80-minute documentary that tells a story about the Indian boarding school experience from the Native American perspective. The dark history of Indian boarding schools sanctioned by U.S. government policy is a stain on this nation, but one that very few people know about. This film provides an emotional and logical overview of these boarding schools and the continuing effects on today’s Indigenous populations.

Time for a serious interlude. Our Spirits Don’t Speak English: Indian Boarding School is an 80-minute documentary that tells a story about the Indian boarding school experience from the Native American perspective. The dark history of Indian boarding schools sanctioned by U.S. government policy is a stain on this nation, but one that very few people know about. This film provides an emotional and logical overview of these boarding schools and the continuing effects on today’s Indigenous populations.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1TCQf2NTFc”]

The film begins with a voiceover by August Schellenberg as white text punctuates a black screen to emphasize certain words and phrases. Interviews with Native peoples who survived the boarding schools and those who had parents or grandparents who survived them provide some of the most compelling information – the first-person story. Produced by Rich-Heape Films, a Native American owned company, Our Spirits Don’t Speak English weaves interviews, narration by Gayle Ross, a Cherokee historian and storyteller, historical photographs, and contemporary stories of experience for the Indigenous peoples who continue to be affected by the cultural, emotional, and spiritual damage done by these boarding schools.

Cherokee historian and storyteller, Gayle Ross

Gayle Ross explains after the opening segment, “In the beginning, going to school for Indian children meant listening to stories. These tales were metaphors for life experience, often involving heroes and monsters, conquest and survival. It’s not unlike the story we’re here to tell today, for one of the most formidable challenges in our past was the Indian boarding school experience.”

Dr. Clifford Trafzer, professor of American Indian history, director of public history, and director of graduate studies at the University of California, Riverside, provides some historical perspective: “Columbus, and those who came in his wake, expected Indian people to become European-like. That has been the educational system of Europeans and Americans from the start, to try and destroy that which was Indian.”

This perspective leads into a personal story told by Rose Prince Prince (Yupik, Wrangell Institute). Her anger and emotions are held in check, but clearly bubbling beneath the surface of her words and eyes: “I want to tell you where I came from. A safe, warm, loving home. I was never hungry, I was never cold. My parents took good care of me. I was well-dressed, had all that I needed, I was loved. And I was taken from that and put in a cold institutional environment, made to strip. My identity was taken away. Who I was was gone.”

One of many Indian boarding schools: Carlisle, 1885

These stories and perspectives continue throughout the film, deepening the viewer’s understanding of the cultural genocide that occurred here not that long ago. In 1819, the American Congress pass the Indian Civilization Act, designed to “civilize the Indians and, indirectly, Christianize them” (Boarding School Blues 10). Established in 1879 by Captain Richard Henry Pratt, the Carlisle Indian Boarding School in Pennsylvania was a “living experiment” in which to “destroy the cultural foundation of Native Americans so that they could enjoy full citizenship” (Boarding School Blues 14 and 101). If any of this surprises or shocks you, or if it is new information, you should spend the 80 minutes to watch Our Spirits Don’t Speak English. Begin your education anew and while watching this film, remember that it presents a decidedly negative view of the boarding school experience.

There are Indigenous peoples for whom the experience was more positive. However, most scholars accept that the over-arching experience was ultimately a negative one for most who lived through it. The range of stories and perspectives on this cannot be contained by one 80-minute documentary, but it is a good start.

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Recommended reading for anyone interested in the subject and history of Indian boarding schools:

Boarding School Blues (2006), edited by Clifford Trafzer, Jean Keller, and Lorene Sisquoc
They Called It Prairie Light: The Story of Chilocco Indian School (1994) by K. Tsianina Lomawaima
Education for Extinction: American Indians and the Boarding School Experience 1875-1928 (1995) by David Wallace Adams

Our Spirits Don’t Speak English is available from Rich-Heape Films for home or public viewing use and can also be purchased from such retailers as Amazon, but is not available to stream. This film would make an excellent addition to any curriculum discussion of American education, Native American experiences, American history, or government treatment of citizens.

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Dr. Amanda Morris is an Assistant Professor of Multiethnic Rhetorics at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania with a specialty in Indigenous Rhetorics.