Tag: Ableism

Call For Writers: Unpopular Opinions of Film and Television

Feminists know a good deal about having and voicing unpopular opinions about films and television. There are often uncomfortable truths about well-loved movies or series. While many people prefer to either ignore those uncomfortable truths or deride those attempting to expose them, it is imperative that we remain active participants in the consumption of media.

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Our theme week for November 2016 will be Unpopular Opinions of Film/Television.

Feminists know a good deal about having and voicing unpopular opinions about films and television. There are often uncomfortable truths about well-loved movies or series. For example, Game of Thrones is one of the most popular TV shows of all time and features many complex female characters, but it engages in rape culture, demonizes and discards women of color, punishes sex workers, and is therefore misogynistic. Avatar is ostensibly a beautifully animated film that has an environmental agenda, critiquing resource extractive economies as well as the practice of stealing from and genociding Indigenous people. However, the lead character is a white man masquerading as an Indigenous man, which is a classic instance of the White Savior trope, and the fact that he can only be a hero if he ceases to inhabit a wheelchair is ableist rhetoric. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a groundbreaking feminist series that has become a cult classic; however, the show engages in bisexual erasure and, until late in its final seventh season, the show espouses a purely White Feminism (non-intersectional feminism that focuses primarily on the struggles of white women).

While many people prefer to either ignore those uncomfortable truths or deride those attempting to expose them, it is imperative that we remain active participants in the consumption of media. We must turn a critical eye on even our best loved pieces of art, questioning why we love them, how they are successful, and what inherent stereotypes or potentially damaging tropes they are advancing. It is only through exposing the ways in which film and television fail to accurately represent or include marginalized peoples that we can call for a higher standard and begin creating more intersectional, meaningful, and visionary work.

We want to read your most unpopular opinions about film and television. Tell us how and why a movie or series has failed its audience. You may also have an unpopular reading of a film or show that is inclusive and intersectional, but people are not open to your interpretation. We want to read those, too!

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so please get your proposals in early if you know which topic you would like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts.

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

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Monday, November 28, 2016 by midnight Eastern Time.

Here are some possible topic ideas:

Game of Thrones

Avatar

Star Wars

Apocalypse Now

Girls

The Help

Star Trek

The Last Samurai

Revenge of the Nerds

The Mindy Project

Dances with Wolves

Downton Abbey

Transparent

High Fidelity

The 100

Dallas Buyers Club

Jessica Jones

Frozen

Dangerous Minds

The Amy Schumer Show

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Harry Potter

Modern Family

Sixteen Candles

Can a Dystopian Society Be Redeemed? Lessons from ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’

And, although The Citadel is ruled by powerful men with disabilities, we understand it to be a fundamentally ableist society. Immortan Joe is questing for a “perfect” son and has clearly chosen The Wives for their beautiful, unblemished, able bodies in an attempt to breed one. We understand that this is a patriarchy in its most extreme form where women have no personhood at all.

This guest post by Gabrielle Amato appears as part of our theme week on Dystopias.

Often, dystopia is about exposing where we’re going wrong and giving us a reason to course correct by showing us the worst case scenario of consequences. Human folly is a common undertone in dystopian fiction, especially sci-fi and horror, showing us an exaggerated form of the suffering we will have to endure if we cannot change. In Battle Royale, we see a world where the criminalization of youth has lead a society to fear its own children so much that middle-schoolers are forced to murder each other. In I Am Legend, a proud doctor informs the world that she has cured cancer using an engineered virus, but her hubris is our downfall. The virus kills 90 percent of the population and turns the other 10 percent into ravenous zombies. In Fahrenheit 451, rampant anti-intellectualism produces a world where books are illegal.

Mad Max: Fury Road is less about illustrating for us what consequences await if we don’t change our ways and more about what we must do once those consequences befall us. It’s about whether or not society can, as Furiosa hopes, be redeemed. Fury Road shows us a quick sketch of our situation: the world is a barren, wind-blasted desert; Immortan Joe controls the water and the people, using women to breed and feed an army of War Boys who maintain his grip on The Citadel by sacrificing their lives in battle. The driving plot of the movie is Furiosa and The Wives looking for a way out of this oppressive dystopia.

Although Fury Road does not show us how we arrived here, it does a very good job of identifying exactly who and what is wrong with society. Women are livestock, used for breeding and milking to maintain Immortan Joe’s army. With the exception of Furiosa and her honorable position as the driver of a massive war rig, the only place we see women in The Citadel is within Immortan Joe’s chambers, imprisoned there for his use. In the chase through the desert, The People Eater frequently refers to The Wives as “assets” to be protected.

The Wives have been specially chosen to breed a “perfect” son
The Wives have been specially chosen to breed a “perfect” son

 

And, although The Citadel is ruled by powerful men with disabilities, we understand it to be a fundamentally ableist society. Immortan Joe is questing for a “perfect” son and has clearly chosen The Wives for their beautiful, unblemished, able bodies in an attempt to breed one. We understand that this is a patriarchy in its most extreme form where women have no personhood at all.

When The Wives flee their chambers, they leave behind two explicit messages: “we are not things” and “our babies will not be warlords.” Immortan Joe’s patriarchy doesn’t only objectify and exploit women. Though only older boys are sent riding to war we see many War Pups, boys who haven’t reached puberty yet, some barely more than toddlers, in The Citadel.

Indoctrination starts early for boys in The Citadel
Indoctrination starts early for boys in The Citadel

 

Though these War Pups are too small to drive and fight their faces are still painted like skulls, their little bodies pressed into the service of Immortan Joe. In The Citadel little boys do not enjoy a childhood. They have no experience and therefore no concept of compassion or kindness or human connection. The moment they are useful they are put to work and, more importantly, begin receiving the brainwashing that will eventually render them into fanatical War Boys willing to die at the whim of their leader. Women are livestock and boys are weapons.

It doesn’t matter how the world got this way, but it does matter who made it this way because those people are still in power. Who Killed The World? The implication is clear; it was the patriarchy. It was men like Immortan Joe, The People Eater, and The Bullet Farmer who even now continue the same destructive habits. Resources are tightly controlled by these men to satisfy their greed, and only doled out to others if it will serve the masters. Immortan Joe goes so far as to stage the ceremonial release of water down onto The Wretched just to display and revel in his own boundless power.

Joe’s big show
Joe’s big show

 

It’s a surprisingly explicit reference to the connection between power and abuse: Immortan Joe positions himself as a savior figure while at the same time turning the blame for the suffering of The Wretched back onto their own “addiction” to water. The systematic oppression of The Citadel is denied.

So what can Furiosa and The Wives do under these circumstances? Their first strategy is one most of us would choose. If the place where you live is terrible, you leave it behind. You try to find a new place, a green place. But escaping isn’t so easy. When Furiosa’s war rig breaks down and the fugitives realize that they are being pursued, Cheedo has a crisis of courage. She runs off across the sand toward the coming army, insisting, “We were his treasures. We were protected. He gave us a life of luxury, what’s wrong with that?” Cheedo has learned to survive as an object, and still believes that the best possible life she can hope for is one with the meager privileges of being chosen as the treasure of a powerful man. Although they are far from The Citadel, Cheedo has not left it yet. But it isn’t only Cheedo’s internalized oppression that conspires against these women. When Furiosa at last brings her companions to a place she remembers, the remaining Vuvalini they meet tell her that The Green Place is now barren. Even that piece of earth has gone sour like all the rest. Now there are only two choices left: keep running and hope to stumble across an oasis or return to the only place they know to be capable of sustaining human life.

They cannot escape this dystopia and find a utopia; the former must be refashioned into the latter. Mad Max: Fury Road shows such a remaking of the world is possible by first showing such a remaking of people. When Capable discovers Nux stowed away on the war rig she treats him like a person. She is kind to him and when she touches him she does so with tenderness. This is the first time that Nux has experienced human interaction that isn’t based in violence, as far as we can tell. Early in the film we see that his relationship with other War Boys is based on masculine posturing and competition. In a moment when he is vulnerable, lost, and humiliated Capable meets him with compassion and empathy, and we see how quickly it changes him. Having his humanity validated immediately turns Nux’s loyalties – he doesn’t want to be a thing anymore.

When Cheedo reaches for Rictus Erectus from the hood of the war rig we wonder if she has given up hope once and for all. But instead she uses her own fragility as a trick, and we understand that she has changed too.

Now less fragile but sneakier
Now less fragile but sneakier

 

Even Cheedo, so fearful that she wanted to turn back, has decided that it is better to risk everything for the chance to be a person than to return to being a treasure. She doesn’t want to be a thing anymore either. It is through the transformations in Cheedo and Nux that we see how Furiosa, the Vuvalini, and The Wives will transform the entire Citadel.

“Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland in search of our better selves?”
“Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland in search of our better selves?”

 

At first, The Wives leave with Furiosa because, as she tells Max, they are looking for hope. But Max knows that hope is a mistake; you have to fix what’s broken. It’s Furiosa’s desire for redemption the reveals the right path. The fact is, it is too late to avert disaster. We are already living in an oppressive patriarchy that treats women like breeding stock and men like weapons, and our environment has already been drastically altered by global warming. But there is no green place we can escape to. We cannot leave society and we cannot leave the planet; this is what we’ve got to work with. Further, even if we could run away to some hidden oasis to form our utopian feminist society, who would we leaving behind? Is it right to abandon the War Pups, the Milking Mothers, and The Wretched to save ourselves? Mad Max: Fury Road teaches us that the only way out of the dystopia is through it. You must choose to remake it, and yourself, into something better.

 

Gabrielle Amato received her BA in Liberal Arts from Sarah Lawrence College where she focused on women’s studies. Currently she works in violence prevention, and in her spare time attempts to write useful and interesting articles about feminism, pop culture, and rape culture.

 

 

‘Parks and Recreation’: How Fatphobia Is Invisible

I don’t think it would be quite the same barrel of laughs if the motto of Pawnee were “First in Friendship, Fourth in Poverty.” Fat shaming and fat jokes like the People of Walmart photos are often a socially acceptable stand-in for the classist shaming of poor people. Poor people are more likely to be fat, after all. We get paid less and we’re more likely to be fired. Oh, the comedy!

This guest post by Ali Thompson appears as part of our theme week on Fatphobia and Fat Positivity.

I’ve been binge watching Parks and Recreation episodes on Netflix over the past few weeks, and I really wanted to love it. But every time I am about to decide that I do, Parks and Rec makes a fat “joke.” I have to put the word joke in quotes because the punch line seems to be that fat people exist.

It’s weird that a show that is renowned for its kindness and feminism would rely so heavily on fat jokes, but it also isn’t. The discrimination and microaggressions that fat people endure are invisible to the wider culture, and Parks and Rec is a good example of this.

Fatphobia is a consistent presence in the show. In the “Sweetums” episode Ann Perkins says, “Pawnee is the fourth most obese city in America. The kids here are beefy. They’re just beefy, big-boned, chunk monsters. I call ’em like I see ’em.”

This happens in the second season, and apparently the writers found the existence of fat people so hilarious that they never let up after. Pawnee’s motto is “First in Friendship, Fourth in Obesity.” NBC is still selling shirts and bumper stickers featuring it.

parks-and-recreation-pawnee-bumper-sticker-set-set-of-3_670

I don’t think it would be quite the same barrel of laughs if the motto of Pawnee were “First in Friendship, Fourth in Poverty.” Fat shaming and fat jokes like the People of Walmart photos are often a socially acceptable stand-in for the classist shaming of poor people.  Poor people are more likely to be fat, after all. We get paid less and we’re more likely to be fired. Oh, the comedy!

There are plenty of times that Amy Poehler will say the word “obesity” as the supposed punch line of a joke, and then smirk at the camera slightly, like—“See? Fatties! Amirite??” The joke here seems to be that just the word “obesity” is funny.

I don’t accept the idea that this mockery is ironic or satirical. The assumption here is that the very existence of fat people is funny. That’s not subversive in any way. It’s “What’s the deal with airplane food” of making fun of what people look like. It is tired and lazy and hacky. And it causes real damage.

The word obesity refers to the mere existence of a fat body as a disease that must be cured. This medicalization of fat bodies has led to an increase in the stigma against fat people.  Fat people are constantly confronted with microaggressions related to inaccurate assumptions about our health, even—and especially—at the doctor’s office.

Multiple studies have shown that the majority of medical personnel have negative attitudes about their fat patients and are more likely to see them as lazy and noncompliant.

Parks and Recreation seems to find this stigma hilarious. I don’t. If you had to wade through the never-ending cesspool that is being a fat woman in public and online, you probably wouldn’t either.

Parks and Rec also makes the tired old claim that all fat people have diabetes, which is not only fatphobic but is ableist because it frames diabetes as a punishment for being fat.

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In the “Telethon” episode, the telethon is supposedly a fundraiser to end diabetes, but what they really seem to want to get rid of is fat people. The show repeatedly conflates diabetes and fatness and seems to find this incorrect and ableist conflation a source of high hilarity.

“Tonight we’re hoping the people of Pawnee will dip their big chubby hands into their plus size pockets and donate generously… Coming up, a very special video presentation called Even My Tongue is Fat: The Story of Pawnee.”

The existence of the Sweetums factory, which makes high fructose corn syrup, is supposed to be the reason the characters are concerned about diabetes, but here’s the thing: you don’t get diabetes from eating sugar.

Framing diabetes as the punishment fat people get for their laziness and lack of self-control drains the empathy out of any conversation about the disease. It actively harms people with diabetes because everyone, even their doctors, think they have the disease because they did something wrong. It’s hard to get decent health care when even your doctor blames you for being sick.

The “Soda Tax” episode is an example of some of the worst fatphobia and ableism of the show.  It uses what Dr. Charlotte Cooper calls “the headless fatty”- images that show fat people as symbols of fear and disgust, removing their humanity so that they can be more easily turned into objects—because bodies without heads are bodies without minds or voices.

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“Soda Tax” also continues to conflate fatness and diabetes and to present both as problems to be solved, proposing that a tax on soda could get rid of diabetes, which is wrong and also ableist victim blaming.  The reality is that diabetes existed before soda did. It existed before refined sugar did. The idea that getting rid of a source of sugar will get rid of diabetes is profoundly ignorant.

What it does demonstrate is the current trend of the government increasing revenues by targeting taxes at despised groups. We can’t raise taxes on businesses or the wealthy anymore because that option has been removed by anti-tax partisans, but the government needs money, so who can they get it from?

Why not fat people? Or people who smoke or drink? No one will complain about targeting those people. If you really wanted to offset the harm you believe soda manufacturers are doing, why not target them for taxes, at the point of manufacturer?  But politicians know they could never challenge large corporations that way. So they pick an easy target.

Fat people are the easiest target. We are framed as deserving of every bad thing. We are always available to scapegoat and target.

And then there’s Jerry—the ultimate target.

Jerry Gergich is fat, and he portrayed as stupid and clumsy. He is constantly the butt of mean jokes around the office, bullied by people he considers friends, but who openly talk about how much they hate him.

He is constantly farting. His pants rip when he bends over. He’s so stupid that he will eat anything placed in front of him, including a bowl of glue substituted for his soup. He lies about being mugged in the park, but he really fell into a creek because he was trying to retrieve a breakfast burrito he dropped.

You know fat people! They go WILD over food. Why, they’ll even try to eat food that fell into a dirty creek! Har har har.

Parks and Recreation - Season 5

Jerry’s wife Gayle is played by supermodel Christie Brinkley. The “joke” is how could a good-looking person could find something lovable in fat, unattractive Jerry? Fat people are only supposed to be partnered with other fat people. How could someone so low status and of such little value as Jerry be married to a conventionally beautiful woman?

Comedy!

paunch+burger

It makes no sense to me that a show that uses imagery like this, and refers to fat children as beefy monsters, can still be lauded as the “comedy of super niceness.”

The perception of Parks and Rec as super nice, which ignores the show’s constant, mean-spirited mockery of fat people and people with diabetes, is consistent with the media’s general unwillingness to engage with actual fat people. Reporters are obsessed with getting the other side on some topics, but when it comes to publishing the most recent press release from the Fat People are Terrible Monsters Think Tank (funded by Weight Watchers and diet pills), they just copy and paste whatever and call it a day.

I am a fat woman and the constant positioning of the existence of my body as a huge problem for the entire world to butt in and have a say in solving is insulting and exhausting. My body is not a disease or a problem.

When was the last time you saw someone advocating for the rights of fat people and fat kids? Probably never. What about our right to not be bullied, discriminated against, and shamed by an entire culture?

Everyone talks about fat people, but no one talks to us.

To be fat is to be invisible. Most of the time, I won’t see anyone who looks like me anywhere in the media. And if I do, that person is the subject of mockery.  I believe this contributes to the hatred of fat people and the discrimination against us. We are not considered people. We appear nowhere, except as a mean joke or as a decapitated image of a body—another fat body to be used as an object in the cultural panic that is the Obesity Plague.

The invisible fatphobia of Parks and Recreation is just a symptom of a wider cultural problem. And that problem is that fat people are not treated like people who have feelings and thoughts just like everyone else.

 

Ali Thompson is an artist, a writer, a fat activist, and an unapologetic weirdo. She is the creator of ok2befat.com.

 

Women with Disabilities: The Undiscussed Horror Staple of Female Characters

The slut, the virgin, the bitch, the girl next door, the mother, the creepy old lady, the evil little girl, and the final/survivor girl. Female archetypes and stock characters within the horror genre are rampant and well known. From a movie poster alone, we can often times figure out exactly what a woman’s place and purpose is in a horror film. However, there’s another “type” of woman that we frequently see in horror films that no one seems to want to talk about.

"God closed my eyes so I could see only the real Gwynplaine"

This guest post by BJ Colangelo previously appeared at her blog Day of the Woman and is cross-posted with permission.

The slut, the virgin, the bitch, the girl next door, the mother, the creepy old lady, the evil little girl, and the final/survivor girl.  Female archetypes and stock characters within the horror genre are rampant and well known.  From a movie poster alone, we can often times figure out exactly what a woman’s place and purpose is in a horror film.  However, there’s another “type” of woman that we frequently see in horror films that no one seems to want to talk about.

Physically, sensory, or mentally disabled women have been popping up in horror films from the very beginning. The Man Who Laughs is often regarded as the first horror film, and the female lead was a beautiful, blind woman.  From the very beginning of the horror genre, the damsel in distress character was the quickest way to write a story.  “Girl needs saving from someone or something, man saves girl from someone or something, girl is indebted to man and thanks him by kisses or marriage, the end.”  Whether it was because male writers needed to make their female characters SUPER vulnerable or whether they needed an excuse to make a woman “weaker,” adding a physical/mental/sensory disability to a woman became a quick way to differentiate female characters from the usual damsel in distress.  The beginnings showcased disabilities as a major reason for the demise of female characters.  1959’s The Tingler had a creature that could only be killed by screaming.  The death in the film that acts as the catalyst for the entire movie was centered around a woman who was a deaf/mute, and therefore, could not “scream for her life.”  We can’t have a woman be brave enough not to scream when frightened, so we must make her mute.

Fiona Dourif as "Nica" in Curse of Chucky

Physical disabilities appear in many films as a way to hinder otherwise “strong” female leads.  The 1979 midnight movie The Visitor showcases a woman forced into a wheelchair by her evil daughter in order to prevent her ability to escape her child, and to make her a weaker target for her boyfriend to impregnate her.  More recently, we’ve been exposed to a protagonist who uses a wheelchair in Curse of Chucky, who also plays the only character with any sort of intellect and moral compass.  Putting a character in a wheelchair completely raises the stakes.  Stairs are out of the question, speed is a major concern, the ability to hide is greatly reduced, and the fact someone could easily come behind and control the movement and direction of a character is horrifying.  However, throwing a wheelchair on a character immediately develops a sympathetic relationship between the character and the audience.  We immediately understand the difficulties that can be present for being in a wheelchair, and before anything happens, we immediately feel for her.  This concept presents itself regardless of the age of the woman in the wheelchair.  Would You Rather contains an elderly woman in a wheelchair and from the very beginning of the film; she is immediately the character the victims of the game of “Would You Rather?” want to protect.

Jennifer Lynch's Boxing Helena

 

This then brings us to the characterizations of amputees.  In horror films, amputated women seem to fall into two categories.  We have women who have been amputated as some sort of a punishment, and women who have turned their amputations into something of empowerment.  In Jennifer Lynch’s controversial directorial debut, Boxing Helena, we see a woman who is amputated solely so she cannot run away.  In Saw VI, Tanedra Howard’s character must amputate her own arm to survive one of Jigsaw’s traps, and is later shown in Saw 3D as a painfully angry victim who, although survived death, has been forever punished as a one-armed woman, only gaining a positivity in the form of better parking at the mall.  To counteract these women punished with amputation, we have characters like Cherry Darling in Planet Terror who have taken a very Ash J. Williams approach to amputation by replacing the missing limb with a weapon.  Her machine gun leg has made her character an iconic figure and one of the most recognizable women with a disability in horror.

The mute protagonist of Ms. 45

 

Sensory disabilities (blindness, deafness, muteness) are often used as a catalyst to further along story lines. Ms. 45, The Eye, The Beyond, Julia’s Eyes, and even Orphan included either sensory disabled protagonists or supporting characters. The loss of sight, sound, or speech is something that many people fear to begin with, so much like having a character with a physical disability, presenting a major character unable to see, hear, or speak immediately raises their stakes.  Female characters are often blind or deaf, giving the freedom for story tellers to write circumstances they would normally be unable to construct.  Why can’t Ms. 45 call the cops and find justice for her attack?  She cannot speak.  Why can’t little Max tell when her adopted sister Esther is plotting her demise?  She cannot hear.  Characters in horror films vitally depend on their senses for survival.  Taking one of their senses away change the way the protagonist must play the game to be alive at the end of the film.

Fairuza Balk after going "crazy" in The Craft

 

However, the most problematic portrayal of women in horror lies in the representation of mental illness and mental disabilities.  Unfortunately, society already has a stigma in place for mental illnesses, and artforms reflect this poor mentality.  In 2012, Bitch Flicks ran an AMAZING piece by Megan Kearns titled “That ‘Crazy Bitch’: Women and Mental Illness Tropes in Horror” that encompasses everything that I could possibly write about this topic.  My favorite quote from the piece states:

“And the Crazy Bitch trope helps perpetuate mental illness stereotypes. It has many sister tropes infesting horror too. Like the Hysterical Woman, where female characters are depicted as overly emotional and irrational, The Madwoman in the Attic, a trope where a character with mental illness is locked away, isolated from society, and the Nervous Housewife, where men doubt women’s paranormal experiences and patronize them. Jen Doll at The Atlantic Wire gives us “10 tropes about women that women should stop laughing about,” including “the crazy.” As Doll astutely observes, calling someone “crazy” is a way to put people (often women) down and for the accuser to feel better about themselves, all while being insulting to those who who struggle with mental illness.”

Ultimately, it appears that the growing awareness of ableist behavior is changing the way we treat people with disabilities in cinema, especially with female characters in horror films.  Female tropes and archetypes will always exist, but gaining a stronger educational grasp on why characters are written the way they are is the most sure-fire way to learn how to provide better portrayals and influence less offensive media.  I must thank comic artist and Day of the Woman reader Shannon LeClerc for suggesting that I tackle this topic.  Of course I in no way scratched the surface of disabled women in horror films (is there a book on this subject?), but the best way to make a change and gain a better understanding is to open a dialogue and actually discuss the situation.  Women with disabilities are a prominent character type, and we will only gain a solid understanding if we talk about it.

 

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

Maria Bamford: Challenging Mental Health Stigma Through Comedy

For whatever reason, all the reactionary tropes inherent in pop culture seem to get amplified in comedy. If it’s still rare to find a mainstream comedian with openly feminist leanings, finding one who speaks openly and progressively about mental illness is almost impossible.

Written by Max Thornton.

One of the true blessings of my grad school experience thus far has been a relative openness about mental illness. My fellow students and I compare notes on our medications, encourage each other to get the help we need, even theorize about our mental illnesses in papers and dissertations. Perhaps this is uncommon outside of programs with “philosophy” in the title – maybe even outside of the two graduate institutions I have attended – but it’s certainly almost unknown in wider society.

The more disability and crip theory I read, the more I notice the prevalence of ableist rhetoric in pop culture, from patronizing Hollywood Oscar-bait to problematic portrayals of Deaf culture to miracle cures to the uncritical, pervasive use of the language of disabilities to describe things that are bad.

And, for whatever reason, all the reactionary tropes inherent in pop culture seem to get amplified in comedy. If it’s still rare to find a mainstream comedian with openly feminist leanings, finding one who speaks openly and progressively about mental illness is almost impossible.

Luckily, there's at least one.
Luckily, there’s at least one.

It’s probably incorrect to call Maria Bamford “mainstream,” despite her ongoing voice work on Adventure Time and those Target ads from a couple years ago.

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/Eh9vddkombM”]

“Watch it again. Sometimes it takes a second to get it” is not a bad mantra for Bamford’s stand-up. Hers is an unusual brand of existentialist tragicomedy specializing in the use of funny voices.

My introduction to Bamford’s work came a few years ago, when I stumbled across her series of 20 short videos, The Maria Bamford Show. The show is about Bamford’s experience of moving back in with her (hilariously Midwestern) parents after a breakdown, which was not wholly irrelevant to my own life when I first saw it. Using her endless arsenal of voices and her wonderfully expressive face, Bamford performs all the characters – her parents, her sister, old high-school rivals – in their interactions with herself. It’s odd, idiosyncratic, and hilarious (doubly so once you have heard her parents speak at the end of her Special Special Special and realized just how spot-on her impressions of them are).

My favorite entry in The Maria Bamford Show, hands down, is episode 10, “Dark.”

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/SCqDReW8f_s”]

If I had to pick a single clip as a quintessential encapsulation of what I love about Bamford’s work, it would have to be that one. It’s hilarious and sad, painfully relatable for anyone with experience of mental illness, existential and weirdly comforting, all at the same time.

Bamford also tackles the social stigma around mental illness in a head-on fashion. In the Special Special Special (currently streaming on Netflix! Go watch it!), she uses one of her most brilliant jokes:

People don’t talk about mental illnesses the way they do other illnesses. [snooty voice] ‘Apparently Steve has cancer. It’s like, fuck off! We all have cancer.’

This bit is not incidental to Bamford’s comedy agenda. In interviews, she makes it explicit that, while she doesn’t have an idealistic view of comedy as world-changing, one of her goals is to make a small-scale challenge to the mental illness stigma:

[A]t least I can try to change it for myself. Because I feel super insecure and embarrassed and ashamed about mental health issues.

As wonderful and important as her focus on mental illness is, it would be unfair to reduce Bamford solely to a “mental illness comedian.” As a woman on the far side of 40, she has an important and under-heard perspective on sexism and ageism in the entertainment industry. For example, at the beginning of this clip, she responds to a suggestion that she should use Botox by exploring the range of excellent things she can do with her face:

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/GQyPCcuVHiI”]

Maria Bamford is not interested in conforming to conventional beauty standards. She’s not interested in conforming to convention, period. Thank Diet Coke and People magazine for that.

 

_________________________________

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. Once Maria Bamford favorite one of his tweets. 

‘Switched at Birth’ and Ableist Romance

It’s safe to say that you’d be hard-pressed to find a more disability-friendly show on television. That level of representation for disabled actors continues to be virtually nonexistent, not to mention fleshing them out as actual characters instead of forcing them to be background token minorities.

Switched at Birth promotional poster.
Switched at Birth promotional poster.

Written by Erin Tatum.

In today’s unapologetically ableist media, Switched at Birth is a diamond in the rough in many respects. The narrative follows two teenage girls, Bay Kennish (Vanessa Marano) and Daphne Vasquez (Katie Leclerc) after they discover that a hospital mixup led to them being switched at birth and deal with the fusion of their two families. Daphne also happens to be deaf as a result of early childhood meningitis. Bay’s entire family learns sign language, meaning that coupled with Daphne’s other family and friends, pretty much everyone in the cast had to already be or become fluent in American sign language for the role. The show features Marlee Matlin prominently and casts actual deaf actors to authentically represent Daphne’s life in the deaf community. It’s safe to say that you’d be hard-pressed to find a more disability-friendly show on television. That level of representation for disabled actors continues to be virtually nonexistent, not to mention fleshing them out as actual characters instead of forcing them to be background token minorities.

Emmett finds himself falling for Bay pretty quickly.
Emmett finds himself falling for Bay pretty quickly.

In spite of all the progressivism, arguably the main appeal of the show for most viewers annoys the hell out of me: the relationship between Bay and Emmett. Emmett (Sean Berdy) is a motorcycle bad boy literally described by the writers as a “deaf James Dean.” A staunch advocate of Deaf culture, Emmett prefers his way of life and repeatedly insists that he only wants to date a deaf girl. Of course, this desire is portrayed as stubborn and naively foolish. Emmett initially sulks over a long time unrequited crush on Daphne, but it only takes a few episodes for Bay to start winning him over. This would all be well and good if Bay and Emmett’s blossoming romance weren’t used to paper over and invalidate his original desire to maintain his culture. A firm belief system is only relevant to illustrate how much you’ll change for love! Every character teases Emmett or acts surprised by his feelings for Bay, as if the fact that he fell for a hearing girl proves the inevitable dominance of the status quo. Again, portraying his commitment to deaf values as laughably myopic and unsustainable is unfortunate because it belittles the historic and everyday prejudices against the deaf community. Bay should not be Emmett’s ambassador to the hearing world. Minorities do not “reform themselves” by learning to accept total immersion in the majority. That’s not how that works. Bay’s just another generic Mary Sue whose informed exceptionalism is enough to convince those alleged radicals that integrating into the mainstream is better! Isn’t everything more romantic when you can make the challenges of your marginalized partner all about you?

Emmett practices his speech to make Bay happy.
Emmett practices his speech to make Bay happy.

Predictably, the relationship becomes… all about Bay, and not just because she’s the main character. Bay has to contemplate dating a deaf guy. Bay can’t learn sign language fast enough. Bay wants to know why Emmett insists on remaining nonverbal. To clarify, Emmett chooses not to speak and communicate solely in sign language. I think Daphne is actually the only hearing impaired character thus far who is also verbal. As I understand, it’s a matter of personal preference. Bay assures Emmett that he shouldn’t be self-conscious about his voice around her. She wants them to speak so badly that Emmett takes speech lessons and even considers getting a cochlear implant to please her. We’re supposed to see this as proof of his commitment to her, but this is fifty shades of fucked up. You should never be expected to change a fundamental aspect of your identity for your partner. Emmett already told her that speaking aloud makes him uncomfortable. End of discussion. Curiosity is understandable to an extent, but not if you’re going to pick apart their private lives to see if they live up to your standards. The ableist impulse to “help” disabled people by making them seem more “normal” is disgusting. Making matters worse, Bay is portrayed as the accepting supportive girlfriend when she eventually let go of the idea that Emmett had to become verbal.

Things get heated between Emmett and Daphne when Daphne confesses her feelings for him.
Things get heated between Emmett and Daphne when Daphne confesses her feelings for him.

Bay finds time to play the victim even in the earliest days of her relationship. Daphne has particularly unfortunate timing and decides that she actually does have feelings for Emmett just when Bay and Emmett have made things official. Bay feels threatened due to Emmett and Daphne’s shared deaf experience, rather than worry about more obvious red flags like their deep friendship or Emmett’s massive crush that apparently evaporated. Infuriated by Daphne’s sudden realization, Emmett turns Daphne down and tells her that he is with Bay (but not before kissing Daphne, which is somehow never brought up again because I guess their entire friendship was an elaborate plotpoint to give Bay drama). Emmett rushes to tell Bay that he’s chosen her. God, I hate this trope. Nothing kills the romance in a new relationship more than anxiously waiting to see if you’re someone’s second choice in a love triangle.

Bay braces herself for rejection.
Bay braces herself for rejection.

Bay has already let her insecurities get the best of her and melodramatically announces to Emmett that he might as well be with Daphne since she (Bay) will never understand what it’s like to be deaf. She also makes it seem like Emmett was setting her up to be let down all along with his ~deaf elitism~, when it’s actually been her pushing Emmett to live up to her standards from the beginning. Fuck you, Bay. If you can’t tell, I hate Bay with a fiery passion and I think that she’s a whiny, entitled asshat. God forbid that the privileged able girl feels inferior to – gasp – someone who she knows is widely perceived as socially unworthy! (Her paranoia emcompasses more than just rejection, clearly.) As his final ace in the hole to prove that he really is committed to her, Emmett whirls Bay around and struggles to enunciate the words “I – just – want – you,” the first and only time he has spoken onscreen.

The fandom collectively swooned.

That single sentence was viewed as the ultimate romantic gesture. He overcame his biggest barrier to profess his love to her! So dreamy.

Let me pause for a second before I dissect the worlds of no that accompany that sentiment.

Here’s the thing: disabled people should never, ever have to transcend into “ableness” to make a case for themselves as viable romantic interests. Ever. A romantic relationship can never work if it’s built upon one person patting themselves on the back for being gracious or self-sacrificing enough to be with the other person. That’s not a relationship, that’s elaborate, sociopathic ego masturbation.

By forcing Emmett to speak to keep her from walking away, Bay is essentially admitting that she’ll only stay around if he lets her mold him into the person that she deems acceptable – that is, either a more able person or a person that perpetually highlights her greatness as able savior. Why is the burden on him to prove he’s not that committed to deaf exclusivity? See, it’s not Bay who has to understand a different perspective, Emmett is the one who needs to change and open up his mind! Again, Bay’s exceptionalism is reasserted when the audience is reminded that it’s allegedly Emmett’s agency at work here, because Bay is great enough to throw his lifelong belief in deaf solidarity out the window after a few short weeks of flirting. Yeah, okay.

Emmett teaches Bay the sign for "I love you."
Emmett teaches Bay the sign for “I love you.”

Ultimately, audience response naturalizes passive ableism far mare than the portrayal of Bay and Emmett’s romance in itself. Reaction to the couple often reveals cringe inducing depths of ignorance. The consensus generally seems to be adoration for Bay’s selflessness in wanting to be with a deaf person and learning sign language for Emmett (so she’s a saint for… wanting to talk to the boy she likes?). Most bizarrely, Bay and Emmett’s relationship has produced a desire in many fans to have a deaf boyfriend. Yes, you read that right.

You have to admit the idiocy here is blatant and undeniably impressive.

No other sentiment could better encapsulate the habitual dehumanization of people with disabilities as well as the pervasiveness of ableism.

Even as Switched at Birth‘s resident heartthrob, Emmett is never respected on his own merit. He is only valuable in the ways that he can benefit Bay’s character. If they’re together, the able community can find a palatable way to pretend to embrace trans-ability romance through compulsive and obligatory worship of the able savior.

Disabled people are never equal partners, they’re pets and ego boosts.

People want a deaf boyfriend so that they can relish the idea that they’ll be the only ones who can communicate with them and that closeness will create some sort of special bond.

Do I need to explain why that’s problematic?

You can’t specifically engineer a situation so that your partner is isolated to the point where they’re only physically able to talk to you. That’s unhealthy and abusive, to say the least. And just, the fetishism and infantilism and jesus, everything about the half-baked romanticization of deaf/hearing relationships because of this silly show is so fucking wrong.

Emmett paints a timeline of their relationship milestones to impress Bay.
Emmett paints a timeline of their relationship milestones to impress Bay.

Bay and Emmett get in a fight and Emmett sleeps with another hearing girl (conveniently casting Bay as the victim yet again, surprise). They break up. Despite several attempts to win her back, Emmett has thus far been unsuccessful. They’ve actually been apart as just friends with very little interaction for quite a long time, not that I’m complaining. They’re obviously endgame, but I’m hoping when they do get back together, they’ll be on more equal footing.

Romances shouldn’t be about falling in love with the idea of yourself being virtuous enough to tolerate someone else.

‘Star Trek: Deep Space Nine’ Explores Disability in "Melora"

This is a guest review by Jarrah Hodge. An earlier version appeared at her Tumblr, Trekkie Feminist.
“Melora” is one of many Star Trek episodes that uses an allegory about an alien to comment on an issue in our human society. In this case, Ensign Melora Pazlar comes to Deep Space Nine. She is unable to walk unassisted because she comes from a planet with very low gravity. 
There are some great moments in this episode, which was written by Evan Carlos Somers (and re-written by others), who himself uses a wheelchair. Somers has said:
“I always thought it would be nice to create a disabled character who’s accepted for what she is and doesn’t have to change…The best way to do that on Deep Space Nine was to have Bashir find a cure for the disability, and for the character to turn it down. That was the real driving force behind my wanting to do this episode.”

So how successful was it? I want to focus on a few key scenes featuring Melora and look at what they say about people with disabilities and expectations about their relationships with non-disabled people.
1. Bashir Can’t Wait to Meet Melora! 
Still from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
“Just think what she’s gone through to get here, Jadzia. What it must be like to adjust to our gravity after growing up on a planet with such low surface gravity,” Doctor Bashir effuses to Lieutenant Dax, who will be accompanying Melora on her surveying mission.
The crew sets up ramps for Melora to use, but there will still be places she can’t access in the wheelchair. Dax asks why they can’t just use the transporter.
O’Brien: It makes sense to me, but she sent word that it wouldn’t be acceptable to her.

Dax: I wonder why.

Bashir: I know exactly why. She went through the Academy the same way. Once her basic needs are met, she refuses any special assistance. She’s extraordinary.

There’s an implication here that people with disabilities are supposed to be self-reliant and avoid inconveniencing others … 

2. But Not Too Self-reliant

Melora from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Turns out Melora has a big chip on her shoulder. She’s fed up with people treating her as less capable, which makes what she’s saying totally understandable. For example, when she meets Commander Sisko she’s upset because the senior officers were discussing her mission without her. Sisko explains that’s normal and she replies:
Melora: I’m sorry if I seem overly sensitive, but I’m used to being shut out of the Melora problem. The truth is, there is no Melora problem until people create one. This may sound ungrateful, because Doctor Bashir has been wonderfully helpful in the preparations for my arrival, but frankly, I wonder why a medical opinion is necessary in this discussion.

Dax: Julian [Bashir] knows more of your capabilities than any of us.

Melora: I don’t need a medical opinion to tell me my own capabilities.

This is a great call-out of the medical model, which treats disability as an illness that needs to be cured (by contrast, the social model sees society as not adequately accommodating people with disabilities’ needs).

Unfortunately, after all of her outbursts, all the main characters get this look that seems to say, “Whoa! This lady is totally overreacting. What’s with the attitude?” One commenter on my original post said she thought the flawed response of the crew was written deliberately to reflect what many people with disabilities encounter today. That might be true, but I would’ve liked it to be more obviously challenged.


3. The Doctor Finds a Way In
Bashir and Melora
Bashir tells Melora he’s no longer her doctor, but he’s still trying to fix her by drawing attention to the way she uses sarcasm and criticism to stay at a distance from others.
He softens her up a bit and asks her to dinner. At the Klingon restaurant on the promenade, Melora surprises him by ordering in Klingon, definitely a good attempt to add a bit more complexity to the character.

4. The “Cure” 

Dax helps Melora after her fall
Melora falls attempting to get into a section of the station where there are no ramps. Dax finds and helps her to the infirmary.
There, Bashir (who’s now her doctor again, apparently) treats her and tells her she needs to let herself be dependent on others sometimes.
As he walks her back to her quarters, he says he thinks he might be able to adapt some previous work on “neuromuscular adaptation” that might be able to strengthen her muscles enough that she doesn’t have to use the chair.
She lets Bashir into her quarters and turns down the artificial gravity. Then they kiss and make out. My first thought was this is problematic because he’s her doctor again–he’s actually considering treating her disability!
On the other hand, the romance shows her as someone with sexual and romantic interests and desires, which helps counter the myth that all people with disabilities are uninterested in or incapable of sex.

5. Second Thoughts 
Bashir tries to “cure” Melora
Even though the treatments are starting to work, Melora has second thoughts, and the way that she expresses them gets at the idea that what might be seen as a disability can be part of who someone is–not something that can and should be “cured.”
Melora realizes how valuable she really is when she and Dax are taken hostage by a thuggish alien (part of the B plot in this episode).
The bad guy zaps her with a phaser, with Bashir and the crew in Operations watching via viewscreen, but somehow she revives. She turns off the gravity on the runabout and launches herself into the bad guy, saving the day. 
Melora stops the bad guy
It’s a neat little twist on what could’ve been a very damsel-in-distress-y scenario. It’s also cool that what had been seen as her disability was used in a powerful way. Unfortunately, it was kind of undermined by the explanation of why she survived the phaser blast: because of the neuro-stimulants she’d been receiving as part of her treatments to “fix” her mobility issues.

6. Melora and Bashir Part Ways
Melora and Bashir hold hands
Bashir and Melora have the final scene back in the Klingon restaurant. Bashir is disappointed that she won’t continue the treatment and Melora replies: 
“I like being independent, but to give up everything that I am to walk on land…Well, I might be more independent, but I wouldn’t be Elaysian anymore. I’m not sure what I’d be. Besides, maybe independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I kind of like how it feels to depend on someone for a change. And I’m glad you got me to unlock the doors to my quarters so I could finally let someone into my life.”

And then we never hear Bashir mention her again for the rest of the series.
I think the motivation behind “Melora” was great, but overall I thought the messages were a little unclear. I saw that Melora doesn’t have to change her disability, but she does have to change her attitude. Ultimately, that personal transformation to being more “dependent” was what tied the story together more than a reaffirmation of her uniqueness.
There’s also the unfortunate fact that her relationship with Bashir can’t continue after she decides not to finish the treatments.
But ultimately, no matter what happened in this episode, you’re always going to have problems using a single character as a stand-in for an entire group of people. To really do justice to the diverse experiences of people with disabilities, we need more people with disabilities in TV shows generally (actors and characters), playing a range of parts, including recurring roles that give us a chance to see more complete and complex identities.

Jarrah Hodge is the founder of Gender Focus, a Canadian feminist blog. Jarrah also writes for Vancouver Observer and Huffington Post Canada and has been a guest blogger on “feminerd” culture for Bitch Magazine Blogs. Hailing from New Westminster, BC, she’s a fan of politics, crafts, boardgames, musical theatre, and brunch.

Disabilities Week: ‘Glee’s Not So Gleeful Representation of Disabled Women

Glee poster, Season 3

This is a guest review by Erin Tatum.

It’s no secret that Glee is offensive to pretty much anyone who isn’t an able white male. While Glee has justifiably received a lot of flak for its treatment of certain communities – notable examples include Brittany breaking up with Santana only to be shoved into a nonsensical heterosexual relationship with Sam and relegating Tina and Mike to the background as self-aware Asian stereotypes – viewers have been relatively mum with respect to Glee’s treatment of disability. Artie is Glee‘s resident disabled character, whose rampant sexism is often played for laughs as he rehearses the trope of masculine entitlement no matter how ridiculous the conditions (in this case, the assumption that his disability should normally negate his sexuality, making his womanizing ways all the more ludicrous). Given that Artie’s disability is so wrapped up in issues of male privilege, I was curious to see if or how Glee would handle women with disabilities. Unsurprisingly, the two brief instances of women with physical disabilities were both heavily sexually coded and presented in ways that policed and shamed female sexuality.

Quinn seems to be Ryan Murphy’s favorite punching bag. I don’t understand how someone can get pregnant, give their baby up for adoption, get accepted to Yale, get into a car accident, and be disabled and then miraculously healed again in the span of four years, but Glee does have a knack for redefining the narratively impossible. After said car accident, Quinn makes an implausibly short recovery to return to school weeks later perfectly unscathed except for the presence of her wheelchair.

Quinn Fabray (Dianna Agron) and Artie Abrams (Kevin McHale) in Glee

Flanked by her new BFF Artie – which tells you that this is going to be a very special minority duo bonding episode! – Quinn tells a distraught Rachel that this is the happiest day of her life. I groaned then and there because I knew Quinn wouldn’t remain disabled and this was just going to be her 575th chance to get some perspective (what I like to call Drive-by Oppression as a tool for lazy character development) and realize the benefits of able privilege. The problem is that Quinn’s introductory episode with a disability – rather than highlighting all the strength of the disabled community, is really just a reaffirmation of everything able-bodied people find unsavory about disability and a justification for Quinn’s ableist prejudices.

Quinn and Artie sing “I’m Still Standing”

Quinn and Artie lip-synch to a particularly offensive duet of “I’m Still Standing,” which is meant to be an inspirational metaphor for staying strong and being glad you’re still alive and yada yada. Again, this might actually mean something if the entire episode weren’t devoted to Quinn proving to everyone how not disabled she is because it doesn’t fit her character trajectory. As we all know, just like in real life, those who start out able-bodied never become disabled because that doesn’t logically make sense with how they’re supposed to be!

Artie shows Quinn how to wheel up a ramp

The episode shows some obligatory wheelchair-based bonding between Quinn and Artie, such as Artie teaching Quinn how to wheel herself up a ramp. Can I say that I found the whole Artie as disability Yoda plotline doubly offensive because neither of the actors is disabled in real life? Stop pretending that sitting down in a wheelchair is all it takes to accurately portray disability. Anyway, Quinn gets offended the second Artie insinuates that she might have to plan for life with a disability long-term. As someone who has had a disability from birth, I can’t imagine the turmoil that formerly able-bodied people must go through after suffering an accident. That said, it’s another matter entirely to endorse Quinn’s pessimism as a means of reasserting ableist privilege over Artie because it sends a message that deep down, all people believe that the disabled lifestyle is limiting, tragic, and not all that viable when it comes to achieving overall life goals. Her interaction with Artie pretty much ends here, signaling the start of her ascent back into an able-bodied lifestyle.

Of course, Quinn couldn’t pass through her tenure with a disability without some good old-fashioned disabled sexuality shaming! Yes, Ryan Murphy has her take the stereotypical route of assuming that she’ll never be loved again because of her disgusting wheelchair. Nevertheless, sparks fly between her and dreadlocked, overzealous Christian Joe, a.k.a. Teen Jesus. Many of their fellow glee clubbers exchange knowing side-eyes and suppressed giggles when the duo shares a sensuous duet of “Saving All My Love for You.” The reaction to their performance stands in glaring contrast to those from Quinn’s past romantic duets in its distinctively patronizing tone, already signaling Quinn as an object of infantilism. Disabled sexuality can only ever hope to parody “legitimate” adult sexuality as a spectacle of able titillation.

Quinn uses her reflection in a hand dryer to apply her lipstick

The girls excitedly gossip about Joe’s obvious crush in the bathroom, where Quinn makes the best of her newly lowered height by stoically reapplying her lipstick in the reflection of the hand dryer. Quinn brushes off their teasing by announcing that she’s said goodbye to that part of her life because clearly no one would ever want her when she’s in a chair, as evidenced by Joe’s discomfort during a steamy moment in physical therapy (yes, really). The worst part is that her speedy recovery validates this mentality. It’s moments like this that make me sad for young viewers with disabilities who may actually perceive these characters as role models. For those who have lived with a disability and have no possibility of recovery, all scenes like this do is perpetuate the myth of disability as a sexless Siberia of perpetual isolation. Further, Quinn’s attitude is marketed as noble.

Quinn gets physical therapy from Teen Jesus

But there’s a bright spot, kids! It turns out Joe was only recoiling in horror from Quinn’s crippled body because he apparently has a nasty habit of getting boners around her. This catalyzes a spiritual crisis within him because he is against premarital sex. Quinn finds out via feeling his erection against her leg, causing her to smirk in self-satisfaction because she’s still got it. Joe then saves face by babbling some drivel about how beautiful she is and how she makes him question his faith. The audience is supposed to find his innocence and chastity in spite of boners endearing, making it perhaps the most pervy analog to I Kiss Your Hand ever. I know this show is going for the love after tragedy angle, but I can’t help but think it’s a little too convenient that they paired the abstinent Christian with the recently disabled girl. By coupling up the two characters that appear to be the most logically sexually repressed, the narrative supposedly gives them a happy ending while weaseling out of the obligation to show them actually having any physical intimacy that we could expect with any of the other couples. Perhaps in an inadvertent confirmation of this erasure, Quinn and Joe are not shown to be physically affectionate with each other during any point in their pseudo-relationship. Quinn regains the ability to walk after a measly five episodes, declaring herself a viable vixen once more as she returns to make out with Puck for no reason while never mentioning that Joe or her relationship with him existed.

Betty (Ali Stoker) and Artie in Glee

On the opposite end of the sexual expression spectrum, Betty is Emma’s disabled niece who appears for about three quarters of an episode for the sole purpose of having a one night stand with Artie while checking his ego. Artie barely greets her before she shuts him down with a swift “oh hell no.” Artie immediately whines that she is only rejecting him because he’s in a chair, which I must say is the first time I’ve heard internalized ableism as a reason for friendzoning someone. Of course, Glee would never have the chops to explore the social complexity of internalized ableism, especially in a romantic context, so you know right off the bat that we’re going to be treated to an abridged version of the nice guy chasing the uppity bitch.

Accordingly, Betty is 100% sass. She explains that she doesn’t date “losers in chairs” because she’s blonde, captain of the cheerleading squad, and has big boobs. I guess after Quinn, the writers were desperate to show how inclusive they could be, so they decided to make Betty represent every reverse disability stereotype dialed up to 11 in a single sentence. The problem is that reverse stereotypes usually only mock the given community more because they act as a wink wink nudge nudge to the audience that the original stereotypes are true since the reverse is hilariously unfathomable. Everything in this scene, from the way Betty coyly dismisses Artie to Artie’s dumbfounded expression after every new burn is played for laughs. The exchange is horribly uncomfortable to watch because it has the snide, childish undertone of “LOL, look at the disabled people who think they can have standards!” It’s also incredibly troubling and disappointing that Betty’s self-confidence as a disabled woman translates into her perceiving disabled men as unfit objects of desire, sending the message that even people with disabilities themselves view other people with disabilities as incapable of being romantic partners, which only validates the traditional able conception of our community. Why is it that transcending your minority into the social privilege of majority always involves perpetuating harmful stereotypes and internalized hate against your own community?

Betty and Artie at the dance

Artie confronts Betty later, claiming she is a terrible, mean girl who hates her chair. Betty scolds him for playing the disability card and argues that she did not reject him out of any self-loathing, but simply because he’s an idiot. Artie spends most of his time being a misogynistic douchebag, and it’s a shame that only a woman with a disability could come close to legitimately calling him out on it. Since the powers that be would rather light themselves on fire than let their precious white boys face any criticism, we are left with the formulaic nice guy taming the shrew resolution. A silly montage plays as they dance together how able-bodied people think disabled people should dance, which means swiveling their chairs in a lot of fancy complex choreography.

Betty and Artie after their one night stand

Just to hammer home the fact that disabled people are kidding themselves by trying to have a sex life, the post-coitus aftermath shows Artie and Betty sharing a chuckle over the fact that neither of them felt anything, so they can’t possibly determine if the sex was good or not.

So to sum up, women with disabilities are constantly compelled to address the elephant in the room that is their presumably absent sexuality. You are allowed two modes: sad, stoic, and sexless; or cruel, bitchy, and promiscuous. Both are media stereotypes that women have faced before, but it becomes especially problematic when disability is thrown into the mix. No matter how sexually active a given character is, trying to achieve and maintain healthy sexuality is seen as a futile pursuit because disabled people and especially disabled women can never hope to have the “real thing.” Unfortunately, Glee happily perpetuates the myth that the sexuality of ladies with disabilities is either tragic or hilarious for cheap pity or laughs where appropriate.

Ali Stroker and Dani Shay

In an awesome case of life giving the middle finger to art, the (actually disabled!) actress who plays Betty, Ali Stroker, is currently involved in a relationship with fellow former Glee Project contestant Dani Shay. Their relationship is beyond adorable and Dani even wrote a song for her, the music video for which lets us get up close and personal with some pretty sensual moments between the two. It is possible for women with disabilities to be involved in loving, serious relationships, and ironically, the personal life of the very actress Glee attempted to pigeonhole exemplifies just how wrong the media is about disabled sexuality. Like all women, we are perfectly capable of wielding our own sexual agency, and the media needs to start reflecting that.


Erin Tatum is a recent graduate of UC Berkeley, where she majored in film and minored in LGBT studies. She is incredibly interested in social justice, media representation, intersectional feminism, and queer theory. British television and Netflix consume way too much of her time. She is particularly fascinated by the portrayal of sexuality and ability in television. 

Am I the Only Feminist Who Didn’t Really Like ‘The Heat?’ Or Why I Want My Humor Intersectional

Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy in ‘The Heat’

Written by Megan Kearns.

I was extremely excited to see The Heat. Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy, both of whom I love, headlining a comedy? As a huge fan of Bridesmaids, seeing self-proclaimed feminist Paul Feig direct another lady-centric comedy got me giddy with excitement. AND with Bullock and McCarthy??? Yes, please! I don’t care what anyone says, Sandra Bullock is a fantastic actor, even in shitty films. And McCarthy is hilarious. 

I purposely saw it the weekend it opened to support women in film. Seeing films opening weekend sends a message to Hollywood which films matter to audiences. In this case, that female-centric films do sell, that they do matter. 
Both FBI Special Agent Sarah Ashburn (Sandra Bullock) and Detective Shannon Mullins (Melissa McCarthy) excel at their jobs. Ashburn is in the FBI and while the men don’t respect her, she thinks they’re intimidated by her (which she’s probably right), she gets shit done. Mullins, a Boston cop, is feared by everyone at her precinct, including the chief of police. But she too gets shit done. Both women are top-notch at their jobs. And they clash when they first meet. Not because of catty bullshit pitting the women against one another, a common trope in way too many movies and TV shows. But because they both want to succeed at their jobs and they don’t want anyone getting in their ways.
But I have to be honest. I didn’t really like The Heat that much. After talking to quite a few feminists, I feel like the only feminist who didn’t love it.
I adore Bullock and McCarthy, and I loved seeing them on-screen together. They possessed an effortless chemistry. It was great seeing a film focusing on female friendship between two career-driven, successful women. And there were some funny parts. Don’t think that I didn’t laugh. I did. But for me, the movie suffered from weak dialogue and a weak plot. Can we finally please for-the-love-of-all-that-is-fucking-holy stop having debates as to whether or not women are funny?? Please??? To me this was a case of funny ladies in a not-so-funny movie.
What really tainted the movie for me was its preponderance of ableist, racist and transphobic humor. I was horrified when I saw these jokes continually occur one after another. Fuck that noise.
When we’re introduced to Mullins, she’s staking out drug dealing suspect Terrell Rojas. There’s something extremely bothersome in the first 15 minutes of the movie about a white cop driving after a black man running on foot set to upbeat music as if this is supposed to be funny. Then there are watermelon jokes (naturally). When Ashburn and Mullins run into Rojas later on, they end up holding him upside down by his feet over the railing of a fire escape. And then drop him. While the audience around me roared with laughter, I didn’t find it funny. At all. As Sarah Jackson said on Twitter, “celebrating police brutality and unfunny race jokes,” just isn’t funny.

No, no, no, just no
But the racism doesn’t stop there. While it’s great that there were people of color in the film, having a white woman, refer to a Latino character as Puss in Boots, alluding to the Antonio Banderas voiced character in Shrek (ugh, fuck no), undermines diversity with racism. Oh, but wait. I forgot it’s all okay because at one point in the film, Mullins says, “9 out of 10 guys I fuck are black.” Oh, the Lisa Lampanelli argument. You can do all sorts of racist shit and say horrific racist things but you CANNOT be a racist if you have sex with black men or have black friends. Riiiight.
Then there’s the extremely offensive transphobia. When Ashburn meets Mullins’ family, they ask her if she’s really a woman. When she tells them yes, they retort, “From the get-go? No operation?” and “How do you get such a close shave?” Oh ha ha ha, trans people are SO FUNNY. No, just no. Now I know people will say but Ashburn isn’t trans so it’s not a slight. Yes, it is most definitely a transphobic joke. Here the “joke” is that a woman looks masculine or androgynous. Her androgyny, her lack of conformity to stereotypical beauty norms automatically means she’s transgressing traditional gender roles, so that must make her transgender. Trans women and trans men are continually mocked, belittled and dehumanized in media and our society.

And there’s Mullins’ five-minute (supposedly humorous) tirade on the size of her boss’ balls. How his balls are little “girl balls.” That’s right, let’s insult a guy by insulting the size of his testicles. Only “real” men have balls. Wait no, only “real” men have big balls. Newsflash, masculinity isn’t tied to scrotum size. And trans men may not have balls at all. They’re still men.

Oh and we have to make fun of accents too. Hey, why not? Ashburn has a difficult time understanding Mullins’ brother saying the word “nark” because of his Boston accent. Oh accents are soooo funny!! Maybe I’m particularly annoyed by this because I live in Boston. And apparently all Bostonians have ties to crime, if I’ve learned anything from watching movies.

Then of course there’s DEA Agent Craig, aka The Albino. Did anyone else cringe at this?? God I hope so. Albinism is a disability. So now we’re making fun of people with disabilities for “looking like evil henchmen” and calling them “Snowcone??” Make it stop.

With all the offensive “jokes,” I was expecting fat-shaming jokes too. I loved that Melissa McCarthy’s weight was never an issue in the film. No jokes were made about her weight. Oh wait, I take that back. DEA Agent Craig tells her she looks “like the Campbell soup kid all grown up.” Really? We see Mullins as a sexually confident, assertive woman and we can’t get away without some fat-shaming snark? There is however an epic take-down of the horrors and toxicity of beauty culture in the form of Spanx. Yes, I’ve worn them, yes they are a demonic torture device. This was especially awesome considering the hideously disgusting fat-shaming vitriol Rex Reed spewed at McCarthy.

Screw you, Spanx!

But I have to say that while part of me is delighted to see different depictions of gender presentation, particularly non-stereotypical depictions of beauty (not every woman wants to wear dresses and lots of make-up), does Melissa McCarthy always have to be in slovenly clothes or ridiculous costumes in every movie I see her in?? She’s a beautiful woman. But it’s as if the films she’s in don’t believe that a plus-size woman can be. Why can’t we see a plus-size woman looking different? Or for that matter, why can’t we see more women of all sizes on-screen??

I did love Bullock and McCarthy’s camaraderie and watching their friendship unfold. And it’s fantastic to see two women over the age of 40 headlining a blockbuster movie. Especially when Hollywood abhors aging women and suffers from massive amounts of ageism. And you could tell they had a fucking blast making this movie. It was also awesome to not have a romance in the film, an aspect that delighted Feig as well. While there were flirtations, no romance upstaged the film. The ladies’ sisterhood took center stage. 

Part of me was highly annoyed the film didn’t transcend the trappings of a buddy-cop comedy. Although Monika Bartyzel at Girls On Film asserts that critics have missed the point as The Heat breaks new ground by not being groundbreaking. And I get what she’s saying. But there’s something to be said for just showing women in film rather than having to analyze patriarchal oppressions.

While there’s very little commentary on gender and sexism, and an ass load of misogyny spewed by DEA Agent Craig — Sidebar, is that why it’s okay to make fun of his disability, because he’s a douchebag?? No, no, no — Ashburn and Mullins kind of “blow off misogynistic bullshit.” But thankfully there’s a very brief and subtle commentary on sexism in the workplace amidst a conversation between Ashburn and Mullins at a bar about how hard it is to be a woman in this line of work.

But did it have to follow in the shadow of buddy-cop movies by also containing transphobic, ableist and racist jokes? Couldn’t it have done without that??

Sadly I wasn’t a huge fan of ‎The Heat. I wish I had been. But I just couldn’t get past the extremely problematic humor. Sigh. I wish it hadn’t been so racist, ableist or transphobic. I wanted to like this, especially because it was written by Katie Dippold, a writer and producer of my fave feminist TV show Parks and Rec. But feminism isn’t just about gender equality and putting more women in film. Although that’s a huge start. It’s about combating all forms of institutional discrimination and oppression. And not perpetuating prejudice.

If only ‘The Heat’ could have been as awesome as these ladies.

Despite its flaws, I wholeheartedly believe we need more female-centric films. Way more. And you know what? I’d rather have a female-centric movie I’m not a big fan of rather than none at all.

I’ve read that author (and very funny tweeter) Jennifer Weiner doesn’t like to criticize or speak negatively about books by other female writers because she knows how difficult it is for women to get published. And then when they do, male authors get reviewed more often, and typically by male critics, since gender disparity exists in the critic world too.

And I totally get why she does this. Sisterhood and solidarity can be extremely powerful. There’s a dearth of female film directors, female-fronted films, female screenwriters, female film critics. So I always feel guilty when I don’t lavish a female-centric/penned/directed film. But here’s the thing. I really shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not my critique is going to derail other female filmmakers. Not that I’m saying my words carry as much weight as say NY Times’ Manohla Dargis or anything. But I don’t want to add to the din of voices hyper-scrutinizing women-led films. 

Like my Bitch Flicks colleague Leigh Kolb, I too “want theaters to be packed with genre films with women at the helm — in character, with the writing credits, as directors.” I want to get to a point when we have an abundance of women in films — women of all races, ethnicities, sexualities, classes, abilities, etc. — in front of and behind the camera. Wouldn’t that be awesome?? Of course it would. Diversity and equality are good for all.

Then I can critique a film to my heart’s content without worrying that some asshat in Hollywood thinks they shouldn’t greenlight more women-centric films. Hollywood never thinks to stop making movies with male protagonists. One shitty dude-centric movie? Bring on more dude films. A shitty women-centric movie?? All lady movies must suck.

Gender shouldn’t be blamed for a film’s failure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want my humor to be hilarious as well as feminist and intersectional. Trust me, I do. So here’s a tip filmmakers. You want to make a truly feminist film? Don’t muck it up with prejudicial bullshit. Feminism isn’t about women standing on the backs of other oppressed people in order to get ahead. I want to root for ladies on-screen without cringing the entire time I’m watching. Is that really too much to ask?

Horror Week 2012: That "Crazy Bitch": Women and Mental Illness Tropes in Horror

Vivien (Connie Britton) in American Horror Story

Ladies, how many times have you been called a “crazy bitch?” Once? Twice? 5 thousand times?? Or is that just me? This oh-so-not-lovely term of endearment gets tossed around waaaaayy too often. It’s bad enough when we get labeled the sexist term “bitch” — and it’s very different for us women to reclaim the word and its power, calling ourselves “bitch,” as we do here at Bitch Flicks. But it’s typically coupled with “crazy,” a problematic and offensive ableist term. Put them together and you have the Crazy Bitch, an all-too common trope in the media, appearing as victims and villains in horror.

Horror movies have undoubtedly been influenced by feminism.  Some argue a “stealth empowerment message” exists in horror films for women with lots of ass-kicking female survivors and the rise of the Final Girl. Sadly, not all tropes have fallen by the wayside, including the Crazy Bitch. Ableist and sexist stereotypes of women and mental illness abound in horror movies and TV (American Horror Story, Orphan, Gothika,Nightmare on Elm Street 3, The Ring, Misery, etc.).
Now, my mother and some of my friends live with mental illness. For each of them, it’s a part of their lives but it doesn’t define them. So I’m acutely aware of the stigmas, misconceptions and prejudices surrounding mental illness. Mental illness — from bipolar disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) and depression to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), schizophrenia and anorexia — is a legitimate medical condition requiring medication and/or therapy.
But I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say mental illness isn’t “real” or they question why people with mental illness can’t get their shit together. Really, asshole? You wouldn’t dare say that to someone with diabetes or heart disease or cancer. So don’t say that ignorant shit. Ever.
Rather than dispelling myths, pop culture often reinforces mental illness stereotypes. As Bitch Magazine’s s.e. smith asserts: 

“For those of us with mental illness(es), pop culture can be a constant reminder of the fact that we are considered both scary and public property, objects of curiosity, fascination, and revulsion.”

Samara (Daveigh Chase) in The Ring

And the Crazy Bitch trope helps perpetuate mental illness stereotypes. It has many sister tropes infesting horror too. Like the Hysterical Woman, where female characters are depicted as overly emotional and irrational, The Madwoman in the Attic, a trope where a character with mental illness is locked away, isolated from society, and the Nervous Housewife, where men doubt women’s paranormal experiences and patronize them. Jen Doll at The Atlantic Wire gives us “10 tropes about women that women should stop laughing about,” including “the crazy.” As Doll astutely observes, calling someone “crazy” is a way to put people (often women) down and for the accuser to feel better about themselves, all while being insulting to those who who struggle with mental illness.

The second season of the hit show American Horror Story is titled Asylum and set in a psychiatric institution. And of course the usual tropes emerge, like over-the-top shocking caricatures and the crazy nympho sexpots. But one of the most disturbing elements, besides the rampant gore, is when Sister Jude (Jessica Lange) utters, “mental illness is the fashionable word for sin,” reinforcing the pervasive stereotype that mental illness isn’t actually real.

Cait at Feminist Film analyzes the mental illness tropes in American Horror Story: Asylum: 

“To appropriate this traumatic history and use it as a measure of “freakiness”, to scare and shock viewers, as it explores this strange asylum with a serial killer who skins women, a doctor who performs Mengele-like experiments on patients who have no family or friends, nuns who dream about doing the deed and take their sexual frustration out in a weird form of repressed anger, and apparently, aliens, is exploitative and negates much of the positive aspects that the psychological field has accomplished…

“Horror does not equal shock value, and that is precisely what American Horror Story: Asylum is attempting to do. Where the first season left off on misogynistic representations of women and glorifying bad boy murderers, the second season picks up on the exploitation and stereotyping of mental illness. In a world where mental illness is already still heavily stigmatized, this is an ignorant and unnecessary bastardization of mental health practices.”

Lana (Sarah Paulson) in American Horror Story: Asylum

But it’s not just the second season suffering from problematic depictions of mental illness. In season 1, Constance (Jessica Lange) calls her daughter Addie who has Down’s Syndrome a “mongoloid” and a “monster.” When Vivien (Connie Britton) says she was raped and she saw a ghost, her husband Ben (Dylan McDermott) doesn’t believe her and has her committed to a psychiatric ward. You know, because women can’t be believed or trusted. Because bitches be CRAZY!!

Creator and showrunner Ryan Murphy calls his TV series “feminist horror.” And some even claim Sister Jude is a secret feminist. Sure, there are plenty of interesting female characters. But that doesn’t automatically make it feminist.
Now, I don’t expect American Horror Storyto be sensitive or politically correct. Especially as gender and race problems clog up Murphy and Falchuk’s show Glee with its incessant problematic depictions of body image, race, gender and erasure of bisexuality. And the hospital staff in AHS: Asylum seems far more evil and sadistic than any of the patients. But considering the enormity of the stigma surrounding mental illness, the last thing we need is yet another movie or TV show perpetuating harmful stereotypes.
Many killers in horror films are unhinged or unstable, with many explicitly suffering from mental illness. In Orphan, Kate and John adopt Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) after a devastating miscarriage. Turns out, Ester is really a murderous 33-year-old woman with hypopituitarism, posing as a 9-year-old girl, who had been institutionalized in a mental hospital. In Carrie, Carrie’s mother Margaret White (Piper Laurie) has a mental illness and repeatedly abuses and eventually attempts to kill her telekinetic daughter. While never explicitly stated, Misery implies that torturous nurse Annie Wilkes suffers from bipolar disorder, as well as being a “virtual catalog of mental illness.”

Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) in Orphan
Ashley Smith asserts too many horror movies — like Orphan — “send a false message of mental illness.” They correlate mental illness and extreme violence, an offensive and dangerous stereotype. We shouldn’t fear mental illness or people who live with it. Yet that’s the message continually reinforced.
But apparently it’s not just the living we must fear. In Hollywood, ghosts suffer from mental illness too. House on Haunted Hill (1999), Session 9, and Asylum all transpire in haunted psychiatric hospitals or asylums where the former living who struggled with mental illness become terrifying ghosts haunting the living. In The Ring, Samara is the girl responsible for the video tape that kills people. She tormented her adoptive mother as well as driving horses to commit suicide. Before she died, she was institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital. Then she becomes a murderous ghost. Naturally.

“Why would a mental illness like schizophrenia still plague someone after death?  Would we expect a diabetic ghost to require insulin? A paraplegic ghost to require a wheelchair? Somehow, we’ve decided, the mentally ill are terrifying and threatening even when they’re dead. That seems unfair, given the stigma that they have to endure in life as well.” 

Many horror films take place in psychiatric hospitals with women being committed because of their actions or recounting paranormal events. After protagonist Kristen battles Freddy Krueger in A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, her mother erroneously thinks she was attempting suicide and hospitalizes her. Similar circumstances cause Kirsty in Hellbound: Hellraiser II to be hospitalized. In Gothika, Miranda (Halle Berry) is a psychiatrist who becomes institutionalized after she’s accused of murdering her husband. Her former colleagues think she’s delusional and suicidal after she tells them she sees ghosts. Miranda’s former patient Chloe (Penelope Cruz) — who Miranda didn’t believe was being raped, thinking she was fabricating the trauma — tells her, “You are not a doctor in here. And even if you tell the truth … no one will listen. You know why? Because you’re crazy.”

L-R: Chloe (Penelope Cruz) and Miranda (Halle Berry) in Gothika
In American Horror Story and many of these films, the women aren’t believed. As a result, they’re deemed dangerous and erroneously labeled mentally ill. Removed from society, they are punished for their actions.
Yes, we do see men struggling with mental illness in horror films. Halloween, Shutter Island, In the Mouth of Madness, and The Shining are all examples of men struggling with mental illness or in psychiatric hospitals. But despite the Final Girl in many horror films, we still see a wider variety of men represented. And men don’t have to worry about being labeled “crazy” the way women do.
Jezebel’s Jenna Sauers discusses the impact of calling women “crazy”:

“Reflexively calling women “crazy” is a habit young men need to learn to break. As a term, “crazy” is entirely of a piece with the long and nasty tradition of pathologizing female emotion (and particularly sexuality). Hysteria comes from hystera, the Greek word for uterus, after all: “crazy” has been a gendered trait in Western culture for thousands of years. The male gaze was for virtually all of human history synonymous with the medical gaze, and men assigned themselves the authority to determine which bodies are sick and which are hale.”

In his popular post, “A Message to Women From a Man: You Are Not ‘Crazy,’” Yashar Ali argues that men often call women crazy to emotionally manipulate them. He discusses “gaslighting” (taken from the classic film Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman), in which men diminish women’s concerns by dismissing them, making them neurotically question their perception and themselves. I’ve accused many men in my life of doing this — trying to mansplain to me and make me doubt myself. Ali explains why gaslighting affects so many women, regardless of their self-confidence:
“Because women bare the brunt of our neurosis. It is much easier for us to place our emotional burdens on the shoulders of our wives, our female friends, our girlfriends, our female employees, our female colleagues, than for us to impose them on the shoulders of men. It’s a whole lot easier to emotionally manipulate someone who has been conditioned by our society to accept it. We continue to burden women because they don’t refuse our burdens as easily. It’s the ultimate cowardice. 

“Whether gaslighting is conscious or not, it produces the same result: It renders some women emotionally mute.” 

Society polices women’s appearances, language and behavior. We can’t let the ladies get out of control. Who knows what could happen??? Calling a woman “crazy,” doubting not only her veracity but her very sanity, is offensive. It’s also an attempt to control women, demean them and strip them of their power. Women with mental illness are often silenced, invisible from the media aside from victims or villains in horror. When we do see them on-screen, they instill fear as they are depicted as violent, volatile and uncontrollable.

Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates) in Misery
Gender Focus’ Jarrah Hodge writes about mental illness tropes in all films: 

“Because women have been historically branded as “hysterics,” and women are oppressed in the media in general, women with disabilities report feeling particularly harmed by media misrepresentations of their realities…From the Joker in The Dark Knight to Angelina Jolie’s character in Girl, Interrupted, people with invisible disabilities (disabilities that aren’t physically apparent, including mental illness), are often portrayed as dangers to society who need to be contained and/or ‘fixed’.”

Horror movies aren’t necessarily about portraying mental illness (or anything for that matter) accurately. They strive to push boundaries, spurring us out of our comfort zone. They strip everything away to its visceral core. But it’s highly problematic the Crazy Bitch trope keeps appearing on-screen.
It might not be such a big deal if the media showcased positive representations of mental illness to counter or balance those we see in horror movies and TV series. But we rarely do. Women in general are continually portrayed as illogical, overly emotional, unreliable and unbalanced. The media often dehumanizes women with mental illness, depicting them as dangerous, brutal and sadistic. The perpetual message is that we need to be rescued from women with mental illness as they are a threat to not only themselves but to society.
The “crazy bitch” label — in both pop culture and reality — silences and dismisses women while simultaneously shaming and stigmatizing women living with mental illness. So Hollywood, let’s stop with all the prejudicial bullshit and just show us what we all really want to watch…a zombie apocalypse.