A Plea For More Roseannes and Norma Raes: Addressing The Lack of Working-Class Female Characters on American Screens

Working-class female protagonists remain rare, however. More often than not, working-class women play supporting roles as mothers, wives or lovers. Their characters are invariably underwritten or stereotypical.

Grey’s Anatomy

 

This repost by Rachael Johnson appears as part of our theme week on Women and Work/Labor Issues. 

Noam Chomsky recently observed that America is engaged in “a long and continuing class war against working people and the poor.” I would add that American popular culture does not, for the most part, represent poor or working-class American citizens. US television shows and movies about less privileged people are exceptionally rare. This lack of representation is becoming increasingly indefensible in the face of acute–and expanding–economic inequality. It is also a vital feminist issue as women are still poorer than men in the United States. The US government itself released a report in March 2011–the “Women In America” report–showing that a wage and income gender gap between men and women still exists in the 21st century. Poverty rates for less advantaged women are higher because they are in low-paying occupations and because they are often the sole breadwinner in their family. There are stories behind the figures, of course, but they are seldom told on the screen. Clearly, it is time for filmmakers of all backgrounds to address this unjust and frankly absurd lack of representation. The issue should also, of course, be of interest and concern to both critics and consumers of American popular culture.

Monster
Monster

 

Of course, it goes without saying that there are not nearly enough American movies with female protagonists and characters in general. Even less common, however, are features with less advantaged women. An arbitrary list of films with female protagonists and important characters covering the last decade might include Lost in Translation (2003), The Kids are Alright (2010), Black Swan (2010), Under The Tuscan Sun (2003), Up in The Air (2010), Julie and Julia (2009), Secretariat (2010), Eat Pray Love (2009), Bridesmaids (2011), Sex and The City 1 (2008) and 2 (2010), The Devil Wears Prada (2006), The Holiday (2006), Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) Fair Game (2010), Young Adult (2011), Zero Dark Thirty (2012), Stoker (2013), Side Effects (2013) and Gravity (2013). Clearly, all these movies are about professional and/or privileged women.

The heroines of contemporary American television are, also, for the most part, professional, upper-middle or upper-class women. Over the past decade, there have been a fair number of US TV shows revolving around the lives and careers of doctors, surgeons, medical examiners and lawyers. Damages, Gray’s Anatomy, The Mindy Project, Body of Proof, Bones, Private Practice and The Good Wife are among them. Currently, there are also shows depicting the lives of women who work for, or have a history with the US government, such as VeepParks and RecreationHomeland and Scandal. The heroines of 30 Rock and Nashville work in the entertainment industry. It was a similar scene, of course, in the late 90s and early part of the Millenium when shows like Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives enjoyed mass popularity.

My point is not to knock the shows and movies cited. Some are interesting, stylish and entertaining, and a number have compelling female protagonists. It is, also, of course, essential that we see female characters make their own way in professions traditionally monopolized by men. They reflect social change as well as inspire. It is equally essential that women of power are portrayed on the big and small screen with greater frequency as well as with a greater degree of complexity. American films and television programs should not, however, block out the lives of working-class and poor women. So many stories, struggles, journeys and adventures, remain unacknowledged and untold. It is a strange and troubling thought that contemporary American audiences are simply unaccustomed to seeing interesting, strong and resourceful working-class women. Whether ordinary or extraordinary, working-class women of all races and backgrounds, need greater representation.

 

Silkwood, 1983
Silkwood

 

I am, of course, aware that the term “working class” is rarely used in American public discourse. The term “middle class” is, in fact, used to refer to average Americans. The definition of “middle class” is, in fact, quite a fuzzy one but that does not stop US politicians from using it. For many non-Americans, this is a curious thing. Although the US definition of “middle class” is bound up with the meritocratic ideals of the American Dream, it ultimately represents a denial that class itself exists. To quote Chomsky again, it is a deeply political tactic used to mask social division and economic inequality: “We don’t use the term ‘working class’ here because it’s a taboo term. You’re supposed to say ‘middle class,’ because it helps diminish the understanding that there’s a class war going on.” This article specifically refers to the lack of representation of working-class and poor women on the screen. I am talking about the lives of waitresses, factory workers, maids, cleaners, cashiers, childcare workers, married home-makers and single mothers as well as those on the margins of society.

I am also fully aware of the eternally repeated claim that American audiences do not like TV shows or movies about poverty and working-class life because they find them just too damn depressing. Let’s take a look at that claim. Firstly, we have to ask ourselves who’s making it.  To be blunt, it smacks of privilege and complacency. Who’s the American audience in question anyway? Advantaged viewers? And what about working-class audiences? Do they not want to see their lives represented on the screen? Surely American popular culture should not merely provide narcissistic identification for the comfortable and well-heeled. Behind the contention lies the implication, of course, that working-class life is invariably depressing. This is patronizing and, frankly, offensive. Although poverty should never be romanticized, both American television and cinema should recognize that humor, love, and culture are all part of life for less privileged people. The fact that I have to even make this ridiculously obvious point is an indication of the way millions of people been obscured from the national narrative of the United States. The powers that be–and their pundits–should also, in any case, not make assumptions about what movie or show will be a great critical or commercial success. Nor should they patronize contemporary American audiences about what they can or cannot handle. Many of the best-loved shows of the Golden Age of TV have featured unsanitized, hard-hitting scenes showing human life in all its ugliness and glory. Can’t poverty be processed by TV audiences? Will class always be unmentionable?

The Good Wife
The Good Wife

 

We also have to ask if there is strong historical evidence to back up the claim. A quick study of American films and television shows over the last 40 years or so shows that working-class female characters have, from time to time, actually been celebrated in popular culture. Roseanne is, of course, the most famous small screen example. Featuring a fully realised working-class female protagonist, the hugely popular, award-winning sitcom ran from 1988 to 1997. Roseanne was, in fact, exceptional in that it gave the world a ground-breaking TV heroine as well as a funny and compassionate portrait of an ordinary, loving blue-collar American family. Memorably played by Roseanne Barr, the matriarch of the show had warmth and wit as well as great strength and character. She was that most uncommon of creatures on US television: a working-class feminist. I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that America and the world needs the wise-cracking words of characters like Roseanne more than ever. A cultural heroine is currently badly needed today to deflate the criminal excesses of corporate masculinity.

2 Broke Girls
2 Broke Girls

 

In the 70s and 80s, there were even films about heroic female labor activists. Take Norma Rae (1979) and Silkwood (1983). Drawing on the real life experiences of advocate Crystal Lee Sutton, Norma Rae (1979) tells the tale of a North Carolina woman’s struggle to improve working conditions in her textile factory and unionize her co-workers. Silkwood (1983) chronicles worker and advocate Karen Silkwood’s quest to expose hazardous conditions at a nuclear plant in Oklahoma. Both films feature well-drawn, dynamic, complex female protagonists, vital, persuasive performances and compelling story lines. Meryl Streep is customarily exceptional as Karen Silkwood while Sally Field won a Best Actress Oscar for Norma Rae. The latter’s “UNION” sign is, in fact, the stuff of cinema history. Although these narratives center around the individual–in a classically American fashion–they are, nevertheless, about women who are fighting for others. There have been other female labor organizers in American history, of course. Why are filmmakers not interested in their extraordinary careers? Why can’t there be biopics about women like Dolores Huerta? And tell me this: Why is no one interested in the pioneering life of Lucy Parsons?

Wendy and Lucy
Wendy and Lucy

 

A few mainstream films have endeavored to expose brutal maltreatment of working-class women in American society. Based on a true story, The Accused (1988) is about the gang rape of Sarah Tobias (superbly played by Jodie Foster), a waitress who lives in a trailer home with her drug dealer boyfriend. Jonathan Kaplan’s drama is actually quite unusual for an American film in that it acknowledges the factor of class in the victimization of its female protagonist. For the “college boy” rapist in particular, Sarah is nothing more than “white trash.”

Have there been more historically recent exceptions to the bourgeois rule? Over the last decade or so, there have been a small number of films that have featured disadvantaged female protagonists. Patty Jenkins’ Monster (2003) is a striking example. Monster is based on the real-life story of Aileen Wuornos, a street prostitute and killer of seven men in Florida in the late 80s and early 90s. Unusually, sexuality, gender, and class intersect in the film. A sex worker in a relationship with a young lesbian woman, Wuornos defied the gender and sexual norms of her time and place. Money–the lack of it–is also seen to play a pivotal part in her fate. Jenkins paints Wuornos as an unstable, brutalized woman wounded by past abuses. Monster is a controversial film. Some argued that provided a too sympathetic interpretation of the convicted killer. Was Wuornos an unbalanced, victimized woman or simply a cold-blooded psychopath? What is clear is that Monster tries to contextualize violence. Not many American filmmakers dare to seriously address the social and psychological effects of poverty and abuse in their portraits of murderers. Channeling the fractured psyche of this most marginalized of women, Charlize Theron’s Oscar-winning incarnation as Wuornos is, simply, a tour de force. Why Monster was not nominated for Best Film or Best Director tells us a great deal about misogyny and classism inside the Academy.

 

Norma Rae

 

Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby (2004) is another well-known film also about a less-advantaged woman. It is the story of Maggie Fitzgerald (played by Hillary Swank in another Oscar-winning role), a waitress who wants to be a boxer. While its portrait of the movingly dogged and committed Maggie is greatly sympathetic, that of her family–including her mother–is deeply offensive. They are characterized as “white trash” welfare parasites. Maggie is depicted as a very different, noble creature who must cut loose from her nasty roots and class. In Million Dollar Baby, we have, in fact, a well-drawn, sympathetic female character of modest origins as well as an ideologically loaded, hateful take on working-class men and women. Maggie is a working-class girl who has been emptied of all class-consciousness. Audiences and critics alike always need, therefore, to ask themselves how less-privileged women are being portrayed on the screen and how class is being represented. They should call out discriminatory portraits.

More recently, there have been movies about less-advantaged women but they remain uncommon. Debra Granik’s Winter’s Bone (2010) is a critically successful case in point.  Set in a crime-scarred community in the rural Ozarks, Winter’s Bone is the story of Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence), a 17-year-old girl struggling to save her family home. Ree’s missing father, a local meth cooker, has put the family property up for his bail bond and she must find him or risk losing everything. Granik provides the viewer with a sympathetic portrait of a determined yet disadvantaged young woman at risk. Winter’s Bone never, however, drowns in sentiment. The scene where Ree surrenders her horse–she can no longer afford to keep it–is portrayed in poignant yet understated fashion. Winter’s Bone contains intimate scenes of quiet power. We watch Ree teach her younger siblings to prepare deer stew and to shoot and skin a squirrel. This is a world you rarely see in Hollywood movies. Winter’s Bone has its flaws, all the same. The skies are perpetually grey and there is an improbable lack of humor in the community portrayed. More importantly, while it depicts hardship and shines a light on rural social problems, Winter’s Bone cannot really be said to critique class or structural inequities. Its narrative is typically or mythically American. Granik’s heroine is engaged in a personal rather than collective struggle. In the end, Winter’s Bone is a tale of a tough, sympathetic individual fighting for her family’s financial security.

Roseanne
Roseanne

 

There are other filmmakers who are interested in the lives of struggling and dispossessed women. Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy (2008) is a deeply humane story about a young woman’s search for work in the American North West. It is a simple tale that provides the viewer with a little understanding of what life is like for a girl (Michelle Williams) who sleeps in a car, with only her beloved dog for company. Its sensitive observations and empathetic insights, in fact, make Wendy and Lucy quite invaluable. Released the same year, Courtney Hunt’s excellent crime drama Frozen River is about a store clerk who becomes a people smuggler. Its central character (terrifically played by Melissa Leo) is a strong woman who has chosen to take a criminal path to support her sons and save her home.

Working-class female protagonists remain rare, however.  More often than not, working-class women play supporting roles as mothers, wives or lovers. Their characters are invariably underwritten or stereotypical. A case in point is the character of Romina (Eva Mendes), a diner waitress and lover of the male protagonist in Derek Cianfrance’s tragic though self-indulgent sins-of-the-fathers epic, The Place Beyond the Pines (2013). The purpose of Romina, it seems, is to wear a pained expression and bear witness to reactionary patriarchal sentiment. Again, we need to respond to representations of working-class women critically.

While sexual abuse and domestic violence is a fact of life for women and girls across the socio-economic spectrum, it is, arguably, more common for working-class female characters to be portrayed as victims on the screen. I am not, of course, saying that filmmakers should not shine a light on the suffering of poorer victims of abuse. What I am suggesting is that the imbalance locks less privileged women and girls into the victim or martyr role in cultural representations. As powerful a depiction of abuse Precious (2009) is, it arguably perpetuates deeply offensive classist and racist stereotypes.

Winter's Bone, 2005
Winter’s Bone

 

Less privileged women are perhaps even more poorly represented on the small screen. Some may suggest that the question of money, or the lack of it, is being addressed in shows such as Girls and 2 Broke Girls. The former, of course, revolves around the personal struggles and adventures of a 20-something woman finding her way in New York. The comedy-drama, however, does not explore what it’s really like to be without money in a big city and its characters are not, of course, working-class girls with few options and no cushion. The comedy 2 Broke Girls does have a working-class protagonist. Yet while it is about women who have two jobs, and while its humor is, in part, directed at privilege, it cannot be accused of being a great satirical comedy about economic inequities. It is, in fact, both classist and racist in its humor. Are there, in fact, any contemporary US comedies that truly target economic inequality? Are there any US dramas that express anger at class divisions? What is, unfortunately, apparent is that the current Golden Age of American television does not have authentic working-class heroines.

Clearly, there needs to be a much greater representation of working-class and poor women in US popular culture. How can the lives of millions of American citizens be reflected so rarely on the screen? There should also be socially aware portraits of such women. Filmmakers should respond to the outrage of millions and confront economic inequality. They should, also, not be frightened of being political. Economic inequalities should not remain unanalyzed and unchallenged. Hardship should not be hidden but movies and TV shows that represent working-class life should capture both its joys and struggles. Working-class women need not be portrayed as angels or martyrs. Vivid, complex characters are needed. Filmmakers need to remind themselves that there have been great working-class heroines in American film and television. More stories are needed about less privileged women who work to change the lives of themselves and others. Writers and directors should portray the lives of politically active working-class women as well as the careers of great social activists. They are the stuff of great drama. The huge popularity of Roseanne illustrates that Americans have been more than willing to embrace shows about working-class life. Roseanne also showed that the lives of working-class women can be depicted with both heart and humor. Imagine, if you will, a satirical sitcom set in a Walmart-like store. If braver choices were made, and if braver filmmakers were given greater attention, a working-class feminist consciousness would be given a voice in American popular culture.

 

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Megan‘s Picks:
Why ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ Is the Best Film of the Year by Christopher Orr via The Atlantic
How Walt Disney’s Women Have Grown Up by Judith Welikala and Emily Dugan via The Independent
She Who Will Not Be Ignored by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood 

Queer Lead Sophia Swanson Makes MTV’s ‘Underemployed’ Worth Watching by Riese via Autostraddle

Bollywood Joins Public Outrage Against Brutal Gang-Rape in India by Nyay Bhushan via The Hollywood Reporter
BBC Outs Itself for Gay and Lesbian Stereotypes by Stuart Kemp via The Hollywood Reporter
5 Lessons for My Tween from Anne Hathaway by Joanne Bamberger via Babble
What have you been reading this week?? Tell us in the comments!

Quote of the Day: Nico Lang On Gaycism

A month ago, Lauren Bans coined the term gaycism, defined as “the wrongheaded idea that having gay characters gives you carte blanche to cut PC corners elsewhere.” Bans fingered the sitcoms Modern Family, The New Normal, Partners, and Two Broke Girls as major offenders.
The case of Two Broke Girls is especially frustrating. I want to see a show centering on two women who have ambitions beyond the romantic. I want to see an awesome show about female friendship which tackles class and economic issues and has characters of color. I want to watch and like that show; Two Broke Girls is not that show.
Two Broke Girls is like your white gay friend who thinks he’s entitled to say whatever he pleases because he’s been oppressed, so he’s allowed to oppress other people and call it being an “equal opportunity offender.”  He’s earned the right to be a racist, insensitive asshole, because I guess he asked Audre Lorde and she said it was okay?

Lang also criticizes The New Normal, which comes to us from the mind of Glee‘s Ryan Murphy:

Remember hipster racism?  This is that turned up to 11, like Murphy throwing a big blackface party on TV.  However, the biggest issue with pointing it out is that people often don’t realize that such “ironic racism” is still just racism.  And what actually makes the show’s gaycism so doubly troubling is that the act of being systemically oppressed should make people more aware of the ways in which they have the ability to marginalize others, because they have experienced the same thing themselves.

Read the whole piece; it’s great, and full of links to other great pieces.
Television right now is a bitter disappointment. It gives with one hand while taking away with the other. You can have a show about female friendship, but only if it’s full of racist stereotypes. You can have a show about gay parents, but only if it’s crammed with racist jokes. You can have one nice thing, but only if it’s garnished with horribleness.
My television will be intersectional or it will be bullshit. This year, the networks seem to have picked bullshit.
Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Rape Jokes Are Taking Over TV and I’m Sick Of It

[Trigger warning for rape]
Newsflash, rape jokes are not funny. Ever. So why are so many sitcoms succumbing to them? 2 Broke Girls, Work It, Rob, Whitney, Up All Night, Two and a Half Men, Workaholics, Modern Family, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Family Guy, Glee, and The Soup (NO, Joel McHale!) have all attempted laughs at the expense of rape.
Rape jokes aren’t edgy. They’re lazy, misogynistic, insensitive and violent. And yet they are everywhere.
On Whitney, there’s a rape joke Whitney’s boyfriend had nonconsensual sex with her when she was passed out from medication. Workaholics jokes about having sex with a woman when she’s sleeping, aka “sleep assault.” Yeah, cause having sex with a woman while she sleeps is SO funny. In 2 Broke Girls, the most frequent offender, Katt Dennings says,
“If you go back there, you’ll need a bite guard and a rape guard.”

“That’s not what rape feels like.”

“Rapists don’t knock and wave.”

“Stop fighting it, just give into it. I don’t know why I’m quoting a rapist.”

“Somebody date raped me and I didn’t think I’d live through it. But I did and now I’m stronger and uh, still needy.”

A UFC fighter was fired last year for tweeting a joke on “surprise sex” (cause that’s uber hilarious) from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia:
“If a rape van was called a surprise van more women wouldn’t mind going for rides in them. Everyone like surprises.”

Work It, an updated Bosom Buddies cancelled after 2 episodes (thank god!), aired a rape joke within the first 2 minutes of its premiere. Wow, they didn’t waste any time being assholes:
“As a woman, I’m going to have to ask you to stop comparing prostate exams to the pinball scene in The Accused. It’s not okay.”

The Accused is a film about a woman, played by Jodie Foster, gang raped. “The pinball scene?” Yeah, let’s call it what it is…a rape. Comparing a vital physical exam by a consenting adult to rape, a nonconsensual, violent crime is idiotic and horrific. And not funny. At all. Of course this is the same show spewing sexism, racism and transphobia.
A rape joke appears in the TV trailer for the movie Horrible Bosses. In the fucking preview. Jason Sudeikis and Jason Bateman walk down a street when Sudeikis says, “I can’t go to jail. Look at me, I’ll get raped like crazy.” Then Bateman replies, “I’d get raped just as much as you would, Kurt.” “No, no—I know you would.”
Since when did rape become fucking flattery?! Rape is not a compliment. Not ever.
In the movie, when Charlie Day accuses “man-eater” boss Jennifer Aniston of rape she replies, “Just hold on there, Jodie Foster,” alluding to The Accused. Oh, cause it’s so much better when a woman makes a rape joke. Yeah, it’s not.
Lady T at The Funny Feminist discusses rape jokes and female comedians like Sarah Silverman’s infamous and controversial joke: “I was raped by a doctor, which is so bittersweet for a Jewish girl.” Lady T goes on to write that she hates jokes that imply rape is funny, trivialize rape or makes fun of victims. Yet she can “appreciate jokes that make fun of rapists or rape culture or acknowledge that rape is underreported and terrible.” But since rape jokes can be triggering to survivors, she wonders if it’s even worth it.
Are you as sick of the bombardment of fucking rape jokes as I am?? 
A few months ago Facebook removed rape joke pages from their site after an outpouring of protests on Change.org and Twitter. Some of the lovely page titles included, “Riding your girlfriend softly, cause you don’t want to wake her up” and “You know she’s playing hard to get when you’re chasing her down an alleyway.” It’s disturbing it took a public outcry to remove them. Who the hell actually thinks these pages are okay to put up in the first place?!
Julianne Escobedo Shepherd at Alternet questions whether rape jokes are ever OK to tell. Regarding their prevalence, she writes:
“The fact that people find these lines fun, or funny, is systematic of our society, where 60 percent of sexual assaults are not reported to police precisely because of the perceived lack of seriousness toward rape (along with stigma and victim-blaming/shaming, among other reasons).”

Rape culture normalizes and accepts sexual violence. Society teaches us men are assertive, having uncontrollable urges (a la “boys will be boys” mentality) and women are passive, their sexuality something to control.
Wanda Sykes is one of the rare comedians broaching the subject of rape with genuine humor. She jokes about the benefits of having a “detachable pussy” so women won’t have to worry about being attacked when they go out jogging late at night. To me this isn’t a rape joke but a humorous commentary on the stupidity of trying to control women’s behavior.
And society is forever trying to control women’s behavior. In her must-read Ebony article, “Stop Telling Women How Not to Get Raped,” Zerlina Maxwell writes:
“For so long all of our energy has been directed at women, teaching them to be more “ladylike” and to not be “promiscuous” to not drink too much or to not wear a skirt. Newsflash: men don’t decide to become rapists because they spot a woman dressed like a video vixen or because a girl has been sexually assertive.

“How about we teach young men when a woman says stop, they stop? How about we teach young men that when a woman has too much to drink that they should not have sex with her, if for no other reason but to protect themselves from being accused of a crime? How about we teach young men that when they see their friends doing something inappropriate to intervene or to stop being friends? 

“The culture that allows men to violate women will continue to flourish so long as there is no great social consequence for men who do so.”

Too often, people toss around the word rape or laugh off rape jokes, not fully comprehending the severity of the word or realizing their insensitivity to rape and sexual assault survivors. Rape jokes “dismiss and normalize the idea of rape.”
Nearly 1 in 5 women in the U.S. has been sexually assaulted.” We live in a rape culture that laughs at rape jokes and too often condones rapists and abusers.  We put the responsibility on rape survivors. We blame their actions and their behavior. Rape is not a sexual act. It’s about power, control and dominating another. People do not asked to be raped and cannot bring rape upon themselves. We need to place the blame where it belongs, with the doucebag creeps who rape and abuse.
In her brilliant “Over It” anti-rape manifesto, activist and playwright Eve Ensler writes:
“I am over people not understanding that rape is not a joke and I am over being told I don’t have a sense of humor, and women don’t have a sense of humor, when most women I know (and I know a lot) are really fucking funny. We just don’t think that uninvited penises up our anus, or our vagina is a laugh riot.”

Rape shouldn’t be a taboo topic to discuss. Survivors shouldn’t be shamed into silence. We need to have open dialogue about sexual assault. While humor can be a great way to confront tough issues, rape jokes trivialize someone’s painful plight.
Like Eve Ensler, I’m over bullshit rape jokes too.

Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘2 Broke Girls:’ How NOT to Respond to Criticism that Your Show is Racist

(L-R): Kat Dennings, Matthew Moy, Beth Behrs; ‘2 Broke Girls’ still frame

Written by Lady T. Originally published at The Funny Feminist. Cross-posted with permission.
I watch 2 Broke Girls. Do you watch 2 Broke Girls?
Watching that show from a social justice perspective is a bizarre experiment in emotional whiplash. On the one hand, it’s a show about a complementary friendship between two smart, hardworking young women, whose storylines do not revolve around dating or shopping, but about their entrepreneurship and growing bond. It’s one of the few shows in my recent memory that frequently passes the Bechdel test.
On the other hand, it’s a show about two white girls who work at a diner with a supporting cast of racial stereotypes that make the crows from Dumbo cringe in secondhand embarrassment.
That’s really the problem with 2 Broke Girls right there. Max and Caroline are allowed to be fairly complex (at least for a sitcom), but Earl, Oleg, and Han seem like they’re on a completely different program. They have very few (if any) character traits that exist outside their designated stereotypes.
Fans and critics (not that those two things are mutually exclusive) asked questions about the ethnic/racial jokes and stereotypes at the press tour, to which Michael Patrick King (co-creator of the show) essentially said, “I’m gay so that makes it okay for me to make fun of other marginalized people!”
That’s not an exaggeration. Read more here.

Of course, someone pulled out the “equal opportunity defender” card. Someone always pulls out the “equal opportunity defender” card. We make fun of all groups! FREE SPEECH STOP REPRESSING ME WAAAAH!
I’m so glad Michael Patrick King and his defenders can use the “free speech/equal opportunity” defense for their so-called “irreverent” comedy that “pokes fun at all groups.” Because if there’s something that comedy really needed desperately, it was another sexless Asian male character. Han Lee is a pioneering character in the comedy world, because Michael Patrick King said so.
Reading about this controversy over 2 Broke Girls was oddly refreshing, to tell the truth. King’s butthurt response to the criticism was not refreshing, but the criticism itself was. I was pleasantly surprised to see several members of the mainstream media push forward with the “Seriously, what’s up with all the racist stereotypes?” questions.
In response, King did what any socially responsible or creative person would do: he made a creative decision to add a “hot” Asian male character to his show so people would shut up about the stereotyping in his existing characters.
*facepalm*
This is not an exaggeration, people. Read more at The A.V. Club:

“Keeping CBS’s promises that the future would see 2 Broke Girls creator Michael Patrick King attempt to “dimensionalize” some of its racist stereotypes—this despite King being gay, which means he doesn’t have to—the show recently put out a casting call for a “hot Asian guy” to come and romance Beth Behrs’ character with some of his hot Asianness. The arrival of this hot Asian guy would provide a much-needed balance to the comedy’s Korean caricature Han, demonstrating that there are many colors in the Asian rainbow: hot, hilariously indecipherable, unable to drive, etc. Of course, the blog that first picked up the casting call, Angry Asian Man, argues that showing that Asians can also be hot and worthy of making out with Beth Behrs doesn’t exactly make up for 2 Broke Girls’ egregious, simplistic Asian stereotyping. But then, he’s probably just upset that he’s an angry Asian man instead of one of those hot ones.”

As a feminist and someone who cares about social justice, I feel like I should be outraged. But I don’t have it in me to be outraged because I’m just overwhelmed by the cluelessness behind this P.R. move.
I really need Seth Meyers and Amy Poehler (and Kermit the Frog) to help me with this, because…Really?!
King is criticized because his character Han Lee, the Asian male stereotype, is…well, nothing but an Asian male stereotype. Instead of, I don’t know, fleshing out his existing character, he decides to add a Hot Asian Guy character – like he’ll get EXTRA token points for having TWO Asian characters on the same program, and that it will shut up all those HATERZ who don’t like Han Lee!
Brilliant move, Mr. King. I’m sure Asians will be completely pacified and pleased knowing that you’re throwing in an obligatory Non-Stereotype Character whose sole purpose will be to sex up a white woman and prove that you are TOTALLY NOT RACIST.
I could point out how stereotypical characters just continue to perpetuate stereotypes and how harmful those stereotypes can be, but forget about that for a moment. When you get right down to it, the use of these stereotypes shows a complete lack of imagination.


Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.