Female Friendships – Bitch Flicks

Why This Bitch Loves the B—

I avoided ‘Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23’ for quite a while; at a cursory Netflix glance it looked like anti-feminist tripe featuring catty women pitted against each other in a false dichotomy of “nice” and “bitch.” Then I watched it.

I could not have been more wrong.

This cross-post by Mychael Blinde previously appeared at her blog Vagina Dentwata and appears as part of our theme week on Female Friendship.

I avoided Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23 for quite a while; at a cursory Netflix glance it looked like anti-feminist tripe featuring catty women pitted against each other in a false dichotomy of “nice” and “bitch.” Then I watched it.

I could not have been more wrong.

There are two points I want to make in this piece:

Don’t Trust the B— showcases a twisted yet surprisingly heartwarming female friendship that is fundamentally predicated on respect, and this mutual respect leads to personal growth for both women.
I endorse the use of the bowdlerized “B—” in the show’s title as well as the word “bitch” in the show, and I even think that the use of the word “bitch” in the context of this show has the potential to have a positive impact on women’s lives.

"Oh brave new world!" — “Oh brave new world!”

Viewers are introduced to the series via June, an intelligent and optimistic Midwestern gal who moves to New York for an exciting new position at a big financial firm, only to discover that the firm has imploded and as a result she is left with no job and no apartment. Despite the dire nature of her circumstances, June is determined: she will not give up and go back to Indiana — she will take control of her life and somehow find a way to stick it out in New York. (Tenacious ladies FTW!)

After meeting with a montage of potential (utterly awful) roommates, June meets Chloe, who presents herself as the picture perfect BFF lady roommate. As soon as June signs on and pays first and last months’ rent, Chloe starts walking around naked and barging into the bathroom and being a total asshole all the time.

But June does not capitulate to Chloe’s con artistry; instead, she escalates the altercation: she sells all of Chloe’s furniture. When June stands up to Chloe, their friendship begins to take root.

In an interview with Collider, show creator Nahnatchka Khan explains:

If June was weak, Chloe wouldn’t respect her, and for Chloe, respect is everything. If she doesn’t respect you, forget it. June is strong in a different way than Chloe. She’s strong in a more surprising way. Chloe does things that shock people, but then, June also steps up in a way that feels surprising and unexpected.

Show creator/executive producer/writer Nahnatchka Khan (left), executive producer/writer David Hemingson (a little bit less left), and the core cast of Don’t Trust the B– — Show creator/executive producer/writer Nahnatchka Khan (left), executive producer/writer David Hemingson (a little bit less left), and the core cast of *Don’t Trust the B–*

Because of their fundamental respect for each other, over the course of the show’s two seasons these two very different women are each able to learn from the other. June teaches Chloe that girls can play pranks on each other, and Chloe teaches June that “sexy” shouldn’t be narrowly defined by the people featured on the covers of magazines. Chloe teaches June that she can be a “casual sexer,” and June teaches Chloe that it’s OK for her to care about other people.

Chloe and June enjoy brunch and friendship

Dreama Walker’s June is a joy to watch: her strength and determination in the face of adversity, her glass-half-full approach to life, her verve.

She’s an ambitious woman navigating the boys’ club world of finance, and she’s not afraid to walk away from a tremendous career opportunity when she discovers a gross misogynistic ethos pervades the company that hired her. It should be noted that June is no prude: she clearly has sexual desires, and while she’s sometimes hesitant to act on them, she’s never ashamed of them. Only someone with spectacular strength, spirit, and optimism could stand a chance of weathering Hurricane Chloe, and June is ever up for the challenge.

And let’s talk about Krysten Ritter’s Chloe –

I challenge you to name another female character on TV who is such a total sociopathic manipulative narcissistic asshole and yet so incredibly likable. Sure, the anti-hero is all over television, but it’s male characters: Gregory House, Walter White, Don Draper, all the guys in this book so aptly titled: Difficult Men. Chloe is unique, as Buzzfeed points out in the list “9 Reasons to Save Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23”:

2. There’s no other character like Chloe on TV.

She’s a treasure. The joy of Chloe is that there’s always a method to her madness. Even when she’s nasty and vindictive, she has a greater plan. Sometimes the end doesn’t justify the means, but she’s doing her best by being the worst.

Deep, deep, deeeep down, Chloe is extremely loyal to those closest to her. Her approach to everyone and everything is typically maniacal and manipulative, which renders her moments of (albeit often twisted) altruism all the more meaningful.

For example, in the pilot episode, Chloe has sex with June’s cheating scumbag boyfriend on June’s birthday cake for no other reason than to prove to June that she needs to DTMFA. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” June says, and she means it.

Khan provides an insight into Chloe’s psyche and why we embrace her often horrific antics:

She does have her own moral code. She’s not just a sociopath. You understand why she does what she does, once she explains it to you. It’s weird, fucked-up logic, obviously, but you’re like, “Oh, okay, all right, I see what she’s going for.”

My favorite example of this occurs in “Sexy People…”, the episode in which Chloe takes over People Magazine to prove a point to June about the mutability and marketability of “sexy” in popular culture:

Chloe: I had them mock this up down at the office. I became the managing editor of People Magazine today.

June: Yeah, right.

Chloe: It’s true. I’ve taken over a bunch of companies before…You just gotta walk in like you own the place, fire the first person to ask you a question, fire the second person to ask you a question, and then gaze out the window and draw a peen on the board. It’s the traditional intimidation-confusion-submission technique.

We root for Chloe in her quest to take over People’s Sexiest Man Alive issue, no matter how atrocious her methods. In fact, even the recipient of Chloe’s worst treatment (Brenda, smackwich) ultimately states that Chloe was the best boss she’s ever had. We, the audience, are asked to love Chloe in all of her bitch glory.

Don’t trust the B— — *Don’t Trust the B—*

This brings me to my essay’s second subject: the word “bitch.”

Just prior to the launch of the series, articles sprang up questioning and condemning ABC’s use of “Bitch” and “B—”:

Michal Lemberger, in “What ‘B—’ leaves out” (Salon), acknowledges that while “bitch” is often used to denigrate women, it can also be used by women to elevate other women:

Any woman who is labeled a bitch is someone who won’t give what’s asked of her. She has broken the social contract that demands women be pliable and accommodating. Which is precisely the opposite of its meaning when used as a compliment. A woman who admiringly calls another woman a bitch is declaring her admiration for someone who won’t conform to those expectations.

Nevertheless, she takes issue with the use of the “B—” in ABC’s show title:

Despite the gains women have made, gender relations in America remain troubled: Widespread wage gaps still exist, as does a paucity of women at the highest levels of power. We’re still arguing about why women get blamed for their own rapes. The list goes on and on. The words we use to refer to women show us how far that process is from being complete.

Megan Kearns, in “Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23: The Upcoming TV Show and the B Word” (Bitch Flicks), vehemently takes issue with the title’s use of the B—:

It’s not within a cultural vacuum that this show chose its title. The creators and ABC all know it demeans women. But they obviously don’t give a shit. What’s new?

I respect every woman’s right to object to words that have historically been used to subjugate women. But I also endorse every woman’s right to reclaim this oppressive language, to seize control of a hateful, harmful word and reshape it to facilitate empowerment.

I believe that the use of “bitch,” in the context of Don’t Trust the B—, has the power to create a positive impact on women’s lives. This show, created by a woman, paints a bitch as a fearless woman who knows who she is, what she wants, and how to get it. We root for the bitch!

Andi Zeisler, co-founder and creative/editorial director of Bitch Magazine, writes in “The B-Word? You Betcha.” (Washington Post):

My own definition of the term being what it is, I can confidently say that I want my next president to be a bitch, and that goes for men and women. Outspoken? Check. Commanding? Indeed. Unworried about pleasing everybody? Sure. Won’t bow to pressure to be “nice”? You bet.

Outspoken, commanding, unworried about pleasing everybody, won’t bow to pressure to be “nice” – this sounds like Chloe…and it also sounds like June. In fact, sharing these qualities is what allows this unlikely duo to forge their friendship. Sure, Chloe takes “bitch” to the comic extreme, but hey, that’s the genre.

Don’t Trust the B— in Apartment 23 is by no means an absolute paragon of feminist values. There’s lots of problematic sociocultural stuff to unpack here, like impossible standards of beauty and white central characters orbited by peripheral characters of color. What shouldn’t be considered problematic by feminist communities is the show’s use of the word “bitch.”

America can’t yet handle using all five letters of the word “Bitch” in a network show title, but there is no question as to what B— means. The bowdlerized version allows Khan to use the controversial word, and the way she uses it pushes our culture’s conception of “bitch” toward Zeisler’s definition – a good thing for women and a great thing for June and Chloe!

Mychael Blinde is interested in representations of gender and popular culture and blogs at Vagina Dentwata.

Seed & Spark: Female Friendship On Screen–Art Imitating Life

But what if I spent my time, instead, helping another female filmmaker make her movie involving female friendship? Wouldn’t that be just as meaningful? And could it perhaps be making an even bigger statement—promoting the “cause,” so to speak?

Producer Liz Franke, Writer/Director Augustine Frizzell and Casting Director Tisha Blood having fun during the casting session of Never Goin’ Back. — Producer Liz Franke, Writer/Director Augustine Frizzell and Casting Director Tisha Blood having fun during the casting session of *Never Goin’ Back*.

This guest post by Liz Cardenas Franke appears as part of our theme week on Female Friendship.

The desire to have more female-driven films is such a hot topic in the entertainment industry right now. And it should be. There is definitely a need for more fully developed, complex female characters in cinema and for stories that are told from a female point of view.

But let’s take it a step further. What I believe is truly lacking are stories that specifically center on female friendships. It seems to me most female-oriented movies often just look at sexual relationships from a female perspective. (OK, sometimes they also show what it’s like to be a mother or juggle family and a career.)

But if you asked someone off the street to name a movie about two female friends, a real movie, not some over-the-top, unrealistic comedy, you would most likely hear Thelma & Louise. Maybe Beaches. And that’s probably it. Sure, there are others. But you have to really think about it for a minute. The same is not true for the male counterpart of this question. Most people would have no problem rattling off a list of pictures that concentrate on male friendship. That’s because there are a ton! There’s even a subgenre for them: the male “buddy” movie.

Liz Franke directing Augustine Frizzell, who had a lead role in the Hungry Bear film, Finding Glory, which is in post-production. — Liz Franke directing Augustine Frizzell, who had a lead role in the Hungry Bear film, *Finding Glory*, which is in post-production.

So, as a female filmmaker myself, what could I do to make a difference? Of course, I could go ahead and make one. I do, after all, write and produce films, alongside my husband, and many of them have strong female lead characters. For example, in our family feature, Summer’s Shadow, the protagonist is a bright and independent 12-year-old girl who rescues a sweet, stray dog and will stop at nothing to save him. And it’s her determination that ultimately impacts those around her, both children and adults. And I just directed (for the first time!) a short film, titled Treading Water, which I also wrote, and it is about a woman in her 30s who tries to come to grips with her new reality of caring for her elderly father in her childhood home.

But what if I spent my time, instead, helping another female filmmaker make her movie involving female friendship? Wouldn’t that be just as meaningful? And could it perhaps be making an even bigger statement—promoting the “cause,” so to speak?

Well, that is what I’ve done. I am currently a producer on the feature film of a fellow female filmmaker (say that three times fast!) who also happens to be a dear friend of mine. Her name is Augustine Frizzell, and she is the writer/director of Never Goin’ Back. Her movie centers on the friendship between two 16-year-old girls who come from lower socio-economic backgrounds (also grossly underrepresented in cinema) and their misadventures as they try to win back their jobs at the local Pancake House in order to make rent. They have absentee parents and are high school dropouts living on their own, except for an older brother and his friends. So, ultimately, they only have each other. And they go through the ups and downs of life together.

Producers and friends Augustine Frizzell, Liz Franke and Kelly Snowden watching the monitor on Franke’s short film, Treading Water. — Producers and friends Augustine Frizzell, Liz Franke and Kelly Snowden watching the monitor on Franke’s short film, *Treading Water*.

This is a personal story for Augustine. It is based on her own experiences. So by working as a producer on her feature, I am helping her tell her own story. And I believe if we really want to see more narratives about true female friendships on screen, then we must actually experience them in real life, as well.

Augustine and I have worked on each other’s projects in the past— I was an executive producer on her short film, she was a producer and acted in mine. However, due to the magnitude of this project (a full-length feature with an ultra low budget and a three-week shoot), it has taken our relationship to the next level. And through it all, it’s been such a positive experience.

Being filmmakers in a male-dominated industry (who also happen to be married to male directors), we can relate to each other. We can also be vulnerable and let down our guards in front of each other. And that is what has been so special and has, quite honestly, blown me away. We do not let ego get in the way. There is no jealousy. No backstabbing. No ulterior motives. We truly support and encourage each other and want each other to be successful, and you hardly ever see that in movies or on TV.

I have to be honest. I have never really had that before in this business. Of course, my husband is always extremely supportive and encouraging, as is hers. But it has been so rewarding to make a real girlfriend in this business, and someone who is pursuing the same thing as I am. It makes me feel like anything is possible. By helping each other, I think we will make a difference. One movie at a time.

Liz Franke and Augustine Frizzell, who both happen to be actresses as well as writers and directors, filming a scene.

And it doesn’t end there. We have so many women working on this project, many of whom are donating some or all of their time or services. Kelly Snowden, my fellow female producer on this project, (there is one male producer—we don’t discriminate after all) has worked tirelessly from the beginning to help our director obtain her vision. And from the Casting Director to our Costumer Designer to our Production Coordinator —they are all women. All of them work regularly in the industry and have still found time to help on this project. This support system of women we’re creating is truly amazing. I was always taught to lead by example, as opposed to simply talking about wanting change. That’s what we’re doing. And it feels really good.

Liz Cardenas Franke is an actress, writer and producer. She and her husband have made seven feature films through their production company, Hungry Bear, including the successful “Adventures of Bailey” series. A member of Women in Film and SAG-AFTRA, Liz was a former reporter for The Dallas Morning News and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, as well as the Vice President of International Sales for Engine 15 Media Group. She is a graduate of Texas Christian University with a B.S. in Broadcast Journalism.

Call for Writers: Female Friendships

Female friendships are the bedrock of feminism. The ideal of a community of women who support, understand, and love each other is a source of succor for sisters in need and a dream towards which the feminist movement strives. There are endless power and agency in female friendships. There is purpose in those bonds, a purpose outside the pursuit of men, even if Hollywood doesn’t see it.

Our theme week for September 2014 will be Female Friendships.

The notorious Bechdel Test judges films based on three simple criteria: 1.) More than one woman must appear in the film 2.) They must talk to each other 3.) Their conversation must be about something other than men. The Bechdel Test has become a yardstick for measuring the most basic feminist standards for filmmaking because very few movies actually manage to pass the test’s very simple criteria. This means that female friendships, nevermind female-centric or matriarchal communities, are all but erased from cinema.

Classic films like the entire Star Wars franchise present women as anomalous, isolated Others who are likely love interests. If women happen to appear together in films, they usually don’t even rate love interest status; instead they’re decorative, sexualized objects without meaningful lines or personalities. On the rare occasion that we see women interacting on screen together, they are all too often in competition for male attention, which sets up female relationships as necessarily adversarial. This erasure of women from entertainment media along with their sexual exploitation and the stereotype of “catfighting” girl vs. girl are extremely damaging representations. If these examples are all young women see reflected around them, how will they know there are other ways of being?

There are endless power and agency in female friendships. There is purpose in those bonds, a purpose outside the pursuit of men, even if Hollywood doesn’t see it. Tell us about your favorite female friendships on screen or skewer a depiction that fails to show us meaningful female relationships.

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

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

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

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, September 19 by midnight.

The Runaways

The Women

Sucker Punch

Girl, Interrupted

Heathers

Xena Warrior Princess

Thelma & Louise

Now and Then

Pretty Little Liars

Foxfire

Voilet & Daisy

The First Wives Club

Beaches

The Little Princess

Steel Magnolias

Waiting to Exhale

Boys on the Side

Frozen

What ‘Baby Daddy’ Can Learn from ‘Parks and Recreation’

Baby Daddy and Parks and Recreation — *Parks and Recreation* and *Baby Daddy*

This is a guest post by Nia McRae.

Baby Daddy is a cute and funny show with a progressive edge. However, it’s not without its flaws. It deconstructs stereotypes in some areas but reinforces stereotypes in other areas. Its issues could be fixed by taking cues from one of my favorite modern comedy shows, Parks and Recreation.
First, the good: BD accomplishes its main goal which is to be funny. The funniest moments usually include Ben’s spitfire mother, Bonnie and goofball friend, Tucker, played by the talented Melissa Peterman and Tahj Mowry respectively. It shines in other ways too:

1. Male stereotypes are deconstructed.

Ben, Tucker, and Danny in Baby Daddy — Ben, Tucker, and Danny in *Baby Daddy*

Ben’s two roommates are Danny–his brother–and Tucker. All three of them are shown handling Emma with tender love and care. Their softness towards her is never framed as emasculating. In the beginning stages, the three bachelors fumble when it comes to taking care of Emma but it has less to do with them being guys and more to do with them being young and inexperienced when it comes to babies.

Danny is a handsome hockey player who predictably is a ladies’ man. In any other show or movie, he would be a dumb and/or mean sports player character or he would be an emotionally-stunted playboy archetype. He can be dumb at times but so can his brother who isn’t a sports player. So, Danny’s occasional dimwittedness is framed more as a family trait than a jock trait. He refreshingly contradicts the jock stereotype by being sensitive, romantic, and sweet. Despite his promiscuity, he is secretly in love with his childhood friend, Riley.

2. Old-fashioned mother stereotypes are dismantled.

Bonnie is far from the 1950s-stereotype perfect mother and that’s what makes her so entertaining. She’s a sassy, loving mother and just like her sons, she enjoys playing the field. Usually women, especially mothers, are expected to be the moral center. Sometimes, she is the voice of reason. But most of the time, she exhibits the same immaturity, narcissism, and selfishness as her sons but never does it go to the point of her being irredeemable. She isn’t demonized for being imperfect and free-spirited. Just like Elaine from Seinfeld, her quirks and flaws make her funny, charming and likeable.

3. Racial minority characters and gay characters aren’t stereotypical.

Tucker is one of the leads and he is African American. His personality has nothing to do with his race. Various racial minorities show up as minor characters throughout the series, never appearing as offensive stereotypes. Positive depictions of gay people are in the episode “The Christening” and a few other episodes too.

Now, let’s move on to the bad:

1. There are too many underwritten female characters.

In a show about a young man raising a daughter, you would think the female characters would be better than this. When it comes to the male characters on BD–like Tucker’s uptight dad, for instance–there are layers to them; they’re never as bad as they seem. However, if they’re not boring pretty faces like Tucker’s girlfriend, Vanessa, then most of the female side characters are just as evil as they seem. They’re also usually the source of conflict–whether it’s Riley’s childhood female rival or Danny’s female general manager. The worst offender was Emma’s mom, Angela, who was already framed as a terrible slut for forgoing being a mother. Her terribleness was further emphasized by having her be an evil seductress who tries to tear Riley and Ben apart.

Solution:

Add more three-dimensional female characters that have quirks and interests the way the male characters do. Every major and minor female character on P and R is unique and interesting because they aren’t solely defined by being a girlfriend. In P and R, April Ludgate could have easily been written as a one-dimensional vixen like Angela. But April’s meanness is not shaped by her sexuality. And every now and then, she shows her softer side. She’s grown over time, showing that she has great admiration and respect for Leslie even if outwardly she pretends to be annoyed by her.

Even though Tammy, Ron’s ex wife, can be argued to be similar to Angela of BD, she was written in a more tongue-in-cheek way for the audience to laugh at-especially considering the fact that the actors that play Ron and “evil” Tammy are married in real life. So, the character was more a parody on the seductress archetype.

Leslie & Tammy on Parks and Recreation — Leslie and Tammy on *Parks and Recreation*

2. There’s too much female rivalry and not enough female friendship.

Tucker, Ben, and Danny are roommates who have a friendship that’s a joy to watch; they joke with each other, they support each other, they tease each other, and they love each other even when they disagree. Their positive male friendship is at the center of the show while positive female friendships are sadly nonexistent. Female characters usually barely interact with each other. When they do, there’s either indifference or an adversarial feeling between them. Even Bonnie succumbs to it; she shows hostility towards the only other prominent female character, Riley. She gets along better with Tucker more than women her own age. There’s one episode where Riley explains she doesn’t have female friends because all girls are catty. I’m sick of male friendships being framed as superior to female friendships.

Cat Fight on Baby Daddy — Cat fight on *Baby Daddy*

Solution:

P and R portrays female friendships so much better by not flattening female characters or their relationship to each other. I’m not asking BD to romanticize female relations either. Leslie Knope gets along better with some women (like Ann) than she does with other women (like Joan Callamezzo) just like she gets along with some men (like Ron) better than other men (like Congressman Jamm). That’s life. The show did have women disliking each other–for example, April disliking Ann. But they also showed women getting along in the form of Ann and Leslie. Who someone gets along with depends more on how their personalities mesh together rather than gender. P and R doesn’t set up a false dichotomy that all women are catty and all men are nice. Women get to be individuals just like the men do. Please follow suit, BD.

Ann & Leslie on Parks and Recreation — Ann and Leslie on *Parks and Recreation*

3. There aren’t enough entertaining platonic male-female relationships

Just like I don’t like gender stereotypes being used to dismiss same-sex friendships between women, I don’t want gender stereotypes being used to dismiss friendships between men and women. If women can’t be friends with women because of cattiness and they can’t be friends with men because of sexual/romantic tension then who can women befriend? The love triangle between Ben, Riley, and Danny and then Ben, Riley, and Angela adds to the archaic belief that men and women can’t be friends. Making Riley the love interest/childhood friend is an easy trope to use to create drama between the male leads. Tucker is the only one of the three male leads that doesn’t have feelings for her.

Solution:

Being friends with people of the opposite gender is important because ideally it can bridge empathy gaps. Leslie and Ron have a mutual respect for each other even when they don’t see eye to eye. Despite Ron being a super macho guy that you would assume to be sexist, he’s actually very supportive of Leslie. Whenever they have disagreements, it’s more to do with her enthusiasm for government than with her gender. They advise each other on different matters and they help each other out when one is in trouble. Their friendship isn’t framed as a consolation prize to the “superior” thing of being a couple. Instead, their friendship is presented as an edifying, significant thing that helps make them better people. And it’s not just about deep connections, friendships between male and females can be fun and lighthearted. Just look at Donna and Tom.

Donna & Tom — Donna and Tom on *Parks and Recreation*

Add more compelling scenes with Tucker and Riley. Add to the community raising Emma by putting in female characters for the male characters to befriend. I’m not banning BD from showing romantic relationships. I’m just saying don’t add fuel to the “friend-zone” fire by showing male-female friendships as this desert/limbo/wasteland. Show the good sides of being platonic the way P and R does.

4. Stop scraping the comedic bottom of the barrel by making fat a continual punch line.

Riley, like Monica from Friends, goes from being fat and insecure to being skinny, still insecure, but more conventionally attractive and therefore, more aesthetically pleasing to the boy she likes. There are many jokes that refer to Riley once being fat. Danny loved Riley even when she was larger which I guess is supposed to show he has a heart of gold. But chubby women shouldn’t be framed as a walking punch line nor should they be viewed as unattractive beasts that only the purest hearted of men could love/pity.

Solution:

Take Donna of P and R for instance. She’s confident, witty, and beautiful and she has no trouble attracting men. She carries herself well and dresses in flattering clothing. She’s shown doing the rejecting rather than being rejected.

Donna on Parks and Recreation — Donna on *Parks and Recreation*

She doesn’t serve as a thing to be pitied. Unlike Riley, her weight isn’t a running gag. Riley’s transformation from ugly duckling to swan didn’t have to be the same old cliché of physical transformation. Why not have made her shyness the true problem instead of her perceived physical unattractiveness? Having her attractiveness stem from becoming more confident and vivacious would have been a nice change from the weight loss arc. It’s too late to alter her character back story now, so I suggest stopping the fat jokes altogether. Also, maybe introduce a Donna-like female character whose weight isn’t her sole defining trait.

I can see BD is trying to be an enlightened comedy and it has a lot of potential. By climbing out of its cliché pitfalls, it can become a truly modern show just like P and R has done. Not only can it improve in the ways I suggested and still remain funny, it can be even funnier. After all, the best humor comes from truth, not from stereotypes (unless you’re parodying those stereotypes, of course).

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

Seed & Spark: Beyond the Bechdel Test: Strong Female Friendships on Screen

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. ‘Kings of Summer’). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. ‘Oceans 11′). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. ’27 Dresses,’ ‘Something Borrowed’). Girls are catty (e.g. ‘Bride Wars’). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. ‘I Hate Valentines Day’).

This is a guest post by Molly McGaughey.

When I was 10 years old, there was one thing I knew I needed more than anything else—even more than a drum set (and I was pretty sure I had to have one of those). There was one thing that trumped most other prized possessions.

I always knew that I needed to have a bosom friend. Why? Anne of Green Gables told me so. A few hours each week were spent playing the movie over and over and watching the overly imaginative redhead get into mischief with her kindred spirit, Dianna.

I related so much to Anne: the way she let her imagination get the best of her, the way she went on adventures with Dianna and the way that, though they didn’t quite turn out as planned, those adventures were poetic just the same. Because anything can be marvelous when you have imagination and a bosom friend, of course.

For my 11^th birthday, I finally got that drum set that I wanted. Sure it was patched up with duct tape and from a yard sale, but it was mine and it was wonderful.

I was thrilled. That is, until I told a neighbor about it. He promptly informed me: “Drums aren’t for girls.”

Though new to me at the time, the process of deciding what is and isn’t for girls or boys started centuries ago. Strangely, it often applies to more than objects, extending even beyond hobbies and careers to relationships. Certain kinds of relationships have been deemed “normal” for each gender.

And, as a film-lover, I can’t help but wonder if the stories told on screen affect why we have certain expectations of same gender friendships.

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. Kings of Summer). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. Oceans 11). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. 27 Dresses, Something Borrowed). Girls are catty (e.g. Bride Wars). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. I Hate Valentine’s Day).

As I grew older and watched less of Anne and Dianna and more of modern day “chick flicks,” I felt my expectations about female friendships shift. But let’s get one thing clear: I think it is unlikely that female friendships are drama-filled because that’s how our gender is programmed to behave. It is time to consider that this is a reflection of what we’ve seen portrayed on screen.

We’ve all hopefully heard about the Bechdel test at this point. We know that strong female protagonists are few and far between in the world of motion pictures. But a vital facet that often gets overlooked is that even when women are portrayed, strong female friendships are not.

Time and time again, when two guy friends are in a movie, it’s an adventurous buddy comedy romp, but the minute that girls are paired together it’s because they are competing for a guy. Or, when that is not the case, one exists just to listen to the other’s problems (and, thus, speed up the storytelling). A third option is that the friends backstab, gossip, and their friendship breaks up. These female friendships are not often a semblance of a healthy relationship.

Have you ever noticed how much girls fight on screen? Whether it be friends or sisters or an evil stepmother, it seems to be a much more common trope for female characters. Can you imagine the latest buddy comedy featuring two guys that try to sabotage each other to get the girl while an evil stepfather looms in the background? Why is that not a thing?

Think about it next time you pop in a “mindless chick flick” starring a group of girlfriends who tend to be dramatic or the next time you stop by the theatre to see the latest action adventure featuring two guys that pull off insane heists together, without an argument. Think about it the next time you see an evil stepmother paired with a father that is totally chill. Are we allowing what’s on screen to dictate what kind of interpersonal friendships each gender should or probably will have?

Movies show us what’s normal. They show us how to be, giving us something to aspire to. When we see dream chasers, friendships, and true love on screen, we want it. So it’s important to have a better representation of what friendship, sisterhood, and girlhood really means.

As an independent filmmaker, I want to tell stories that better represent female friendships and the adventures to be had through kindred spirits on screen.

The latest short film I’m directing, Live a Little, while totally unique from Anne of Green Gables, just happens to be about a spunky, imaginative, talkative redhead and her best buddy. They must conquer an overly ambitious bucket list by the end of the day. Chick flicks don’t have to be about romance or cattiness. It can also be a genre about kindred spirits doing what kindred spirits do best—having adventures.

Molly McGaughey is a director, writer, performer based out of Manhattan. She is crowdfunding for her latest film “Live a Little” on Seed & Spark. She can be found on the internet at mollyvivian.com and also founded The Not So Starving Artist, an online resource for Performers, Filmmakers and Writers. Her comedic directing work has been featured on comedytvisdead, funnynotslutty, playbill, backstage and more. Molly is also a character actress with an affinity for improv and standup. You can find her on Twitter at @Molls_MCG.

Gillian Anderson, Feminism, and BBC’s ‘The Fall’

The most important thing The Fall is doing, though, is calling out misogyny. Yes, Gibson gets to hand it to Spector, the serial killer, labeling him a “weak, impotent” misogynist, but we already knew that. What I find more intriguing is the way the show implicates the police force and the audience itself for the casual misogyny, assumptions, and stereotypes that perpetuate victim-blaming.

Spoiler Alert

The Fall is a BBC2 crime series starring Gillian Anderson of X-Files fame as Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson in charge of a serial killer case in Belfast. In a lot of ways, The Fall reminds me of the show The Killing because both feature female leads who are strong, capable, and dogged. The way in which The Fall differs, though, is that it impressively wears its feminist agenda on its sleeve.

Before I get into all the amazing things that The Fall is doing right, I want to get out of the way the biggie that I think it’s doing wrong. While this series is taking huge strides to turn a particularly sexist genre on its head, The Fall, like many crime shows, exploits the bodies of the women who are victimized. The camera lovingly caresses and lingers upon these women’s terror, their struggles, their bound limbs, their exposed flesh, and finally their corpses. The excuse can be given that it’s all in the name of “getting into the killer’s head”, but the camera’s gaze goes too far into the realm of prurience, ultimately becoming gratuitous and indulging in fantasies of rendering women helpless and objectified. This is a dangerous trope that threatens to dehumanize its female characters (and women in general), which is the OPPOSITE of what The Fall is trying to do.

Granted the objectification and sexualization of victimized women is disturbing (to say the least), but conversely The Fall provides its lead heroine a strong, unapologetic sexuality. Stella Gibson picks out a sexual partner at a glimpse (fellow officer James Olson who seems to be working the Irish equivalent of Vice), openly propositions him for a one night stand, has sex with him, and then refuses to engage with him afterwards because he can’t keep it casual. Gibson takes on the traditionally ascribed male role as sexual pursuer as well as the one who dictates the terms on which the encounter occurs.

Superintendent Stella Gibson is a woman who knows what she wants.

Due to an unexpected turn of events, Gibson is repeatedly questioned by her police force colleagues about her relationship with Olson, each interrogator is male, and each is accusatory and incredulous at Gibson’s behavior, judgmental of her unapologetic sexuality, her unwitting role in Olson’s infidelity to his wife, and her lack of remorse for her actions as well as her lack of attachment to a man with whom she spent a single night. In a way, these men even go so far as to heap some measure of blame on Gibson for Olson’s death. With a self-satisfied smile, one of her questioners asks, “When did you first meet Sergeant Olson?” Gibson replies,

That’s what really bothers you, isn’t it? The one night stand. Man fucks woman. Subject: man. Verb: fucks. Object: woman. That’s ok. Woman fucks man. Woman: subject. Man: object. That’s not so comfortable for you, is it?

DSI Gibson seems to always have to hold her ground when it comes to her male colleagues. — DSI Gibson has to hold her ground when it comes to her male colleagues.

My jaw dropped when Gibson delivered this speech. She simply and elegantly exposes all the sexism inherent in everyone’s attitude toward her private sexual relationships. She unearths the wider cultural misogynistic discomfort with female sexual agency. I wanted to clap or call someone and say, “It’s happening! Feminism is hitting mainstream TV with a brutal right hook!” Yes. Yes. YES.

Inherent in Gibson’s self-assurance about her sexuality is an even greater independence and self-possession. Gibson is the shining star of a cast full of strong, capable women who take charge when necessary and are very professionally accomplished. In fact, the serial killer solely targets women he finds threatening and emasculating due to their career success (we may or may not learn more about this in the as-yet unproduced Season Two). Not only are many of the female cast members strong, but they’re well-developed AND friends with one another. First, we’ve got the up-and-coming Constable Dani Ferrington played by Niamh McGrady.

Ferrington deeply regrets not taking the break-in at the house of future victim Sarah Kay — Ferrington regrets not taking seriously the break-in at Sarah Kay’s home.

Ferrington very casually comes out as gay to Gibson, her commanding officer. Gibson takes the information just as casually, which is refreshing. Ferrington also strives to protect Gibson by cleaning up her hotel room of its evidence of “male company”. Gibson doesn’t hide her encounter with Olson, but Ferrington’s effort to shield her friend and superior’s private life is admirable. Not only that, but Ferrington comes clean about having responded to a break-in call from one of the serial killer victims and admits that she may have been knocking on the victim’s door while the murder was occurring. Though this admission means Ferrington may face potential charges of incompetence and blame, she behaves with integrity, putting the case above her personal stake in the matter. Ferrington is ambitious, honest, and loyal, and Gibson recognizes and appreciates those qualities and promotes her onto the serial killer case.

Another example of powerful women not only liking each other but working together (and not competing) is the relationship between Gibson and the case’s pathologist, Dr. Tanya Reed Smith, depicted by the talented Archie Panjabi (Panjabi also adds a bit of much needed diversity to the cast).

Chief Medical Examiner Reed Smith & DSI Stella Gibson — Pathologist Tanya Reed Smith & DSI Stella Gibson

Reed Smith is a highly respected police medical professional…who arrives at a crime scene on her motorcycle (badass).

Together, Reed Smith and Gibson examine crime scenes, review the details of the case, and talk about their personal lives. We find out Reed Smith has two daughters and is deeply troubled when she has to perform exams on live victims. With Reed Smith, Gibson lets down her guard and is far more open and honest than she can be with her male co-workers about her transient lifestyle and the duality she finds necessary to separate her professional and private lives. The women bond, sharing coffee and alcohol in friendship and as an important release from the stress of the case.

Strong female characters: Reed Smith & Stella Gibson.

In an unexpected turn of events, Reed Smith shares with Stella a bit of information gleaned from a college friend about an old abusive boyfriend who may match the killer’s M.O. Gibson interviews the victim, and we see this as a potential break in the case. This plot development is crucial because it illustrates the power in the unity of women. Though the old abuses went unreported, this network of women remembers the crimes. Gibson is then able to use her new-found knowledge against the serial killer (Paul Spector played by Jamie Dornan).

The most important thing The Fall is doing, though, is calling out misogyny. Yes, Gibson gets to hand it to Spector, the serial killer, labeling him a “weak, impotent” misogynist, but we already knew that. Even other misogynists can probably recognize that murdering women for sexual pleasure is over-the-top. What I find more intriguing is the way the show implicates the police force and the audience itself for the casual misogyny, assumptions, and stereotypes that perpetuate victim-blaming.

Gibson must insist that the victims not be identified as “innocent” because it implies some women, especially ones coded as sexual, might then be more deserving of brutal murder. Gibson refuses to indulge the media in the virgin/whore dichotomy, and she also declares that no judgements against the victims or their life choices are allowed. With the early blunder in which Ferrington and her partner didn’t take the break-in at victim Sarah Kay’s house seriously, we begin to see that this kind of stereotyping and victim-blaming can be deadly. It takes the emphasis off the perpetrator, and it increases the likelihood of repeat occurrences of crimes against women while also making those crimes less likely to be solved. The Fall is then exposing institutional sexism and misogyny in a radical and important way.

I’m excited to see what Season Two of The Fall will have in store. I trust it will continue to depict its female characters with integrity while ferreting out corruption within the police force and illuminating the nuances of institutional misogyny. It’s wonderful to have a well-produced, well-written, and excellently performed TV show that really strives to advance a feminist agenda. Though this approach seems revolutionary, it’s bizarre that we have so many crime shows that focus on the victimization of women that somehow do NOT employ a feminist lens. I hope The Fall is the first of many crime shows that don’t use the abuse and murder of women as a punchline or an empty premise, but as a means to expose a great inequity in our world that must be corrected or else women will continue to be beaten, abused, raped, and murdered at an alarming rate.

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