Feminism and Classism in ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’

‘The Legend of Billie Jean’ addresses questions of gender and class that are as real today as they were in 1985 and sets its story within the struggles against the patriarchy and the ruling wealthy class by people who all too often fall victim to those oppressions. … She wants dignity, and respect – truly, what she is after is equality.

The Legend of Billie JeanThis guest post written by Horrorella appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s. | Spoilers ahead.

[Trigger warning: discussion of sexual assault]


The Legend of Billie Jean is a film that I found my way to only recently; a year ago, in fact. It wasn’t one of the 80’s teen classics that was endlessly rerun on cable every weekend throughout my high school and college years, so I didn’t have the opportunity to get to know the great Billie Jean Davy the way I got to know Samantha and Farmer Ted, Andie, Bender, or any of the other John Hughes characters. On the one hand, I wish that Billie Jean had been a character that I would have found in my teenage years. Her strength, her unwillingness to be beaten down, and the way she stands up for herself would probably have had a positive impact on my confused, teen self. But on the other hand, I’m glad I discovered her exactly when I did – in my 30s as I am surrounded by a new feminism and as women are beginning to be heard in new and exciting ways. I resonate with this character much differently than I would have at the age of fifteen, and even now, she has given me a new role model.

Though thirty years old, The Legend of Billie Jean speaks to me in a very real way, and mirrors issues that are still at the forefront of our conversation. It addresses questions of gender and class that are as real today as they were in 1985 and sets its story within the struggles against the patriarchy and the ruling wealthy class by people who all too often fall victim to those oppressions.

The film tells the story of Billie Jean Davy (Helen Slater), a teenager living in a Texas trailer park with her mother (Mona Lee Fultz) and her brother Binx (Christian Slater). At the opening of the film, the siblings drive Binx’s Honda scooter to a secluded river area to swim and try to escape the oppressive Texas summer heat. On their way, they cross paths with Hubie Pyatt (Barry Tubb) and his gang of teenage miscreants. Refusing to succumb to both his forceful advances on Billie Jean and his desires to push Binx around, the pair flee, but not before Binx splashes Hubie’s face with a milkshake as a means of distraction. Thinking they are safe, Billie Jean and Binx relax. Their respite is all too short, however, when Hubie and his boys track them down and trash the scooter in an act petulant of revenge.

Billie Jean reports the incident to the local police department, but finds the detective (Peter Coyote) to be less than helpful. She then goes to visit Hubie and his father (Richard Bradford) to claim the money necessary for the repair work: $608. Instead of simply paying up (oh, and maybe apologizing), Mr. Pyatt attempts to assault Billie Jean, telling her that she can earn the money through sexual favors. She is able to flee when Binx enters the store and threatens Pyatt with a gun, believed to be empty. The gun goes off (much to Binx’s surprise) and wounds Pyatt, offering an opportunity for escape. Knowing the magnitude of their situation and with little faith in the fact that anyone would take their word over Pyatt’s, the pair hit the road.

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In the days that follow, the story of a young woman who just wanted fairness, equality, and a fair shake spreads. She becomes a hero figure to teenagers across Texas when she cuts her hair (inspired by Joan of Arc), dons a particularly inspired warrior look and makes a video decrying the harshness of a world that would believe Pyatt over her because of his money and his status as a man. All she wants is payment from Pyatt for the money owed for the scooter, decreeing, “Fair is fair!” It would become a rallying call that would be echoed by teens across the state and the theme of Billie Jean’s mission.

Through Billie Jean’s story, we see the harsh reality of a world where being affluent and male is everything that you need to survive. Pyatt never has any intention of just owning up to his son’s behavior and paying for the scooter repairs. He assumes he can take what he wants from Billie Jean (here, in the form of both money and sex) and nobody will protest or stop him because she’s a woman and poor. His status as a male figure protects him from any repercussions to his actions. He has no fear throughout this process that his story will ever even be questioned, and is free to proceed as he wishes. He has full control, and she can either bend to his will, or abandon her quest entirely. Even when Billie Jean fights back, she is forced to flee because her recent attempt at getting help from the police went unanswered. The world has proven that no one will believe the truth of the story — that Pyatt started the altercation and that Binx never had any intention of shooting the man, as he believed the gun to be empty.

As the story progresses, Billie Jean’s flight becomes more than just the desire to escape from a situation that sees her and her friends unfairly on the wrong side of the law. She wants wrongs to be set right. She wants Pyatt to pay the $608 he owes for repairs on the scooter – no more, no less. Fair is fair. She wants what she is rightfully owed and for Pyatt and Hubie to own up to what they have done and make it square. She wants dignity, and respect – truly, what she is after is equality.

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Pyatt refuses to give her that equality. The reason the situation goes as far as it does it because he won’t admit that Billie Jean is entitled to the same treatment hat he would give someone male and of higher income were the situation repeated. Billie Jean is a trailer park girl and is of little value in his eyes. She is simply an object; someone that he can take advantage of, force himself on, and someone who nobody would believe even if she did make the truth known. His maleness and his wealth make him untouchable.

The film utilizes the Male Gaze throughout to allow us to see how Pyatt and his ilk view women. It is always used as a means of making women feel small, trying to force some sense of ownership on them. The first instance occurs during the initial altercation between the Davys and Hubie’s group of friends. Throughout all of it, one of the young men is photographing Billie Jean – her movements, her reactions, and most importantly, her body as she her climbs out of the pond and tries to prevent the group from taking the scooter, scantily clad and dripping wet. While she is on the offensive in that moment to try to prevent any harm from coming to her brother or to his property, he captures the sensual nature of the image and uses that shot as a means of holding power over her. She is in his sights – an object of prey. He can see her and thus, she is vulnerable.

Later, that photo becomes an iconic image of Billie Jean when it is released to the public and sold as posters at Pyatt’s beachfront pop-up store. He has assaulted her, he has refused to own up to his role in the altercation, he has refused to pay her what it owed, and now he is selling her. His final attempt at owning her by any means necessary. He has her image and he is profiting off of it.

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Billie Jean serves as an icon to both feminism and to an ongoing class struggle. As her legend grows, kids and teenagers begin to look up to her and to see her as a hero figure. Even though most of the stories surrounding their exploits have been fabricated (often for the benefit of male businessmen who want the notoriety of having been held up by the notorious Billie Jean Davy), the teen populace of Texas identifies with her as someone bucking the system. Someone who refuses to play by the rules of the status quo when those rules are meant to benefit and serve a select few, rather than the downtrodden many. If the story were set today, Pyatt would be the 1% and Billie Jean would be the rest of us.

These themes of a class struggle are further illustrated by the inclusion of the scooter as a plot device. That scooter is Binx’s most prized possession. He was only able to afford it thanks to some insurance money that their father left behind when he passed away. This is a luxury item to them; something that Binx cherishes not only for its practical uses, but also because it represents a life he can only dream of. It is the one instance that he has been able to grasp of a life beyond the trailer park. And Hubie ripped it apart in a childish rage — not only as revenge for the milkshake incident (hardly a fair trade, mind you), but because doing so put Binx and Billie Jean back in their place. The destruction was a reminder and a warning against trying to rise above their roots and to invade the sacred space of those wealthier.

Within the film, Billie Jean’s story grows to make her something of a combination of a Robin Hood figure and a Bonnie and Clyde story. Her deeds are greatly exaggerated, but she represents something that resonates strongly with the community. She stands up and refuses to let a wealthy male figure walk over her. In a world where feminist issues are still prevalent (though thankfully, also a part of the conversation), Billie Jean remains a hero that we can all look to for inspiration. She demands the very definition of feminism – equality. She wants no more and no less than what is owed to her. Fair is fair.


Horrorella has written about film for Ain’t it Cool News, the Women in Horror Annual and on her blog at horrorella.com. She geeks out incessantly over movies, television, comics and kitties. You can gab with her on Twitter @horrorellablog

The Unsung Female Warriors in ‘Vikings’

The show initially flew under the radar – though it got higher ratings with each season. The first impression for many is that the show is male-dominated. That may be, but the women are well-written and not put on an unattainable pedestal. It’s refreshing to see female characters who are allowed to be as nuanced and complex as their male counterparts.

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This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.


Heroic ethos has infused entertainment through the ages. From the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, to the half-gods of Greek mythology, to Robin Hood in English folklore, to the pulp stories of the nineteenth century, we are enthralled by heroes who are equipped with power to accomplish impossible tasks. In our age, it makes for slightly pulpy yet super addictive entertainment TV–see Rome, Spartacus: Blood and Sand, and Game of Thrones. There’s a tendency in fantasy or historical dramas to sideline or fit the female characters into a “traditional” mold. The underrated Vikings offers nuanced female characters to cleanse your palate.

The Canadian-Irish TV series had its debut on the History Channel in 2013. Vikings is the brainchild of Michael Hirst, who has a repertoire of remolding history in digestible, viewable snacks. He worked as a screenwriter for Elizabeth, Elizabeth: The Golden Age, and was the executive producer for the Showtime dramas The Tudors and The Borgias. While the History Channel has a track record of traditional programming focused on the link between ancient buildings and aliens (see Ancient Aliens or UFO Files). Vikings is their first foray into scripted TV drama and definitely their showpiece.

Ragnar Lothbrok is a semi-legendary character in Scandinavian history –a rather Arthurian spirit. He was either a Danish or Swedish king, and he raided widely in Britain and France. Ragnar had three wives–Lagertha, Thora and Aslaug, a Swedish princess whom he rescued from two giants serpents. He fathered a number of sons, all whom appear to be “genuine” historical figures, and came to his untimely end when he was killed by King Aelle of Northumbria by being thrown into a pit full of snakes, right. In pop culture, his last depiction was in the movie The Vikings (1958) with Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis, and narrated by Orson Welles.

Vikings centers around Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel), a Viking farmer living in the fictional rural Kattegat, Scandinavia in the 790s CE. Ragnar is married to the “famous shieldmaiden” Lagertha (Katheryn Winnick). Together they run a small farm and live happily with their two children Gyda and Bjorn (who later becomes Bjorn Ironside). The village is ruled by the stock-villainous character Earl Haraldson (Gabriel Byrne), a totalitarian ruler, and his Lady Macbeth wife Siggy (Jessalyn Gilsig). Haraldson owns the ships that goes into the Eastern Baltic every year to raid Russia. Ragnar suggests that there’s nothing to gain from their trips to the east and that they should go west. The Earl is skeptical to Ragnar’s claims. His friend Floki (Gustaf Skarsgård), a crafty boatmaker, has secretly built a longship for Ragnar, so he can assemble a crew and go wherever he wants. The Earl is against their mission so Ragnar has to act out in secret. Ragnar gets support from his ambitious brother Rollo (Clive Standen). There’s underlying tension between the brothers because Rollo has desire for Lagertha and is hungry for power. On one of their first Viking raids on the British Isles, Ragnar kidnaps the Christian monk Athelstan (George Blagden), who later serves as the audience’s eyes and ears within the Viking culture.

The first season is focused on the rise of Ragnar as Earl of Kattegat and his adventures on the British Isles. We see his growing relationship with Athelstan and his curiosity for Christianity. His relationship with Lagertha crumbles when she doesn’t produce a new heir. During their annual trip to the Temple in Uppsala, where clans gather to worship the Gods, Ragnar meets Princess Aslaug, who holds his interest and can provide him with sons. In the second season, we fast forward four years and find out that Lagertha has remarried to a powerful yet abusive Earl and there’s friction between her new husband and Bjorn. Aslaug reigns with Ragnar and raises his sons. Siggy struggles with her new position in the clan and is in a (political) relationship with Rollo. The third season shows that Athelstan is integrated in the Viking clan but can’t fully submerse himself into the culture. During one of the raids he’s captured and ends up living with King Ecbert, ruler of Wessex. The Viking clan explores the new world and the show is focused on the power struggles between Ragnar, Lagertha, and King Ecbert.

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Vikings is a confident show. It’s certainly not without its flaws. Especially the first half of season 1 was very cheesy, predictable, and slow. Even in the later episodes there are still several moments where the dialogue feels stilted. The show is filmed in Ireland and while the production value is not on the same level of shows such as Game of Thrones (Vikings has often been named in the press as “Game of Thrones lite”), it’s a great first-time effort by a basic cable network. There’s a lot of time invested in authentic detail. Whilst a good portion of the show is fictional, many storylines and subsequently the characters are based on recorded events and Norse legends. The show doesn’t hide from religion and portrays hallucinatory interactions between God and men, uninhibited sexuality, and of course the clash between innovation and conservatism.

The show initially flew under the radar – though it got higher ratings with each season. The first impression for many is that the show is male-dominated. That may be, but the women are well-written and not put on an unattainable pedestal. It’s refreshing to see female characters who are allowed to be as nuanced and complex as their male counterparts. Quite often – in this particular genre – they’re either the quiet submissive girlfriend or “Xena: Warrior Princess” types. In Vikings, the women can do anything, be who they want to be, and each one of them has their own particular motivation for their actions.

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It can be argued that because of the unique social structure and the pagan religion within the Scandinavian society the women are portrayed differently. There’s no Christian morality and obvious “sense of gender.” Yet, that argument doesn’t hold when you look at other shows such as Game of Thrones. There are no obvious elements of Christianity in Game of Thrones, but the misogyny runs high in the various storylines. Game of Thrones is/was an enjoyable layered show but its sprinkled with “random female nudity.” Vikings has the occasional sex scene but the nudity isn’t arbitrary and supports the storyline.

Ragnar’s (ex) wife Lagertha is a fan favorite and of the more interesting developed characters throughout the three seasons. She’s introduced as a shield maiden, which means that she’s a trained female warrior. Under the purists, there has been some dispute whether there’s clear historical evidence that there were women warriors in Norse society. There’s often an element of male fantasy interjected in shows where the women can be portrayed as tough female characters who ultimately (sexually) succumb to the male hero. That’s not the case in Vikings. Lagertha rejects the proper, subordinate Christian role that’s expected of women. Instead she does it all: mother, farmer, and warrior. It’s a modern (and smart) decision to portray her as a “real” woman and a warrior in her own right.

Lagertha and Ragnar had a healthy relationship in the first season. They were equals in every sense of the word. In the second season, the audience saw Lagertha stab her husband Sigvard in the eye after his failed attempt to sexually harass her in front of the guests. So within three seasons, Lagertha divorced Ragnar, killed her second husband, and flirted with King Ecbert. How’s that for self-confidence and self-worth? There’s an hilarious moment in the second season, that illustrates the changed dynamic between Ragnar and Lagertha. Lagertha became the Earl of Hedeby and hopes to be an alley to Kattegat. Lagertha quips, “Yes, we are equal. I’m sure this is difficult for you.”

It must be said that there’s an excellent progression of all the female characters on the show. One of the primary antagonists (at least in the first season) is the noblewoman Siggy. It’s a nice juxtaposition with Lagertha. Most of the time Siggy was seen sulking around in beautiful outfits. Yet, she’s never portrayed as less compared to the tougher Lagertha. Siggy does what needs to be done in order to survive and she has an insatiable hunger to gain back some of her power.

In season 2 and 3, Siggy develops a bond with Aslaug. Aslaug is in the beginning portrayed as a stiff princess, her relationship with Ragnar differs from the one he had with Lagertha. Ragnar does love Aslaug but merely for her mystic powers and the fact that she provided him with sons. Initially there’s some tension when Lagertha and Aslaug first meet but that is fast and smoothly resolved. Both women recognize each other’s strength and show respect. How the women may differ or disagree, in the end they all support each other. That’s certainly refreshing in the realm of historical dramas.

Vikings is an historical drama with multifaceted characters across the board. It’s an entertaining, compelling show. The only reason your heartbeat will go faster is not because of misogyny or glaring stereotypes, but because of the female warriors who’re the heart of the show.

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Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

 

 

Young Women and Heroism in ‘The Host’

Is Wanda a girl/teenage female protagonist? Technically she is not “young” as she is 1,000 years old and seemingly immortal, but she is new to Earth so that makes her young in some sense. Also, why would the Souls even have genders that mirror that of humans or have genders at all? The Souls look like beams of light and they probably aren’t even a carbon based species and yet somehow Wanda is a female? So. Frustrating. Nonetheless she is controlling a person’s body who identifies as a teenage girl and is thus somewhat restricted to her occupied body’s feelings, emotions, and categorizations.

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This guest post by Sade Nickels appears as part of our theme week on Child and Teenage Girl Protagonists.

Whether or not The Host is “feminist” or not has been covered by Dr. Natalie Wilson in a particularly interesting piece, as Stephanie Meyers identifies as a feminist. I’m not too into the idea of calling the movie an anti-feminist piece, but its portrayal of young women and their relationships to men is deeply problematic. As Dr. Wilson has questioned and criticized this movie well,  I don’t have too much to  add except some thoughts about young women and heroism.  I do feel obligated to say that this movie is duller than toast and the onslaught of negative reviews it received was well-deserved.

So, this movie is about an Alien race called Souls that invade all the bodies of humans and turn the planet into a peaceful place. One Alien named Wanda gets put into the body of a young girl named Melanie. Melanie does not have control over her body but her presence is still there and she manipulates Wanda into running away from the Soul community to find her little brother and her boyfriend. They find them living with a bunch of other humans who are hiding from the Souls and just trying to get by. Wanda and Melanie work to protect this community from the Souls, but mostly their purpose and justification for their acts of heroism are largely done for the men they love or have fallen or are falling in love with. Very typical and trite, but there are some elements at play that tend to deviate from a traditional hero’s journey.

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Is Wanda a girl/teenage female protagonist? Technically she is not “young” as she is 1,000 years old and seemingly immortal, but she is new to Earth so that makes her young in some sense. Also, why would the Souls even have genders that mirror that of humans or have genders at all? The Souls look like beams of light and they probably aren’t even a carbon based species and yet somehow Wanda is a female? So. Frustrating. Nonetheless she is controlling a person’s body who identifies as a teenage girl and is thus somewhat restricted to her occupied body’s feelings, emotions, and categorizations. It is hard to understand why Wanda is a “female” as the audience is given very little information as to what Souls are, where they came from, what their motivations are, or how this parasitic species procreates. Maybe it is covered in the book? Maybe Stephanie Meyer never really thought about it (unlike some authors I know).  Either way it a missed opportunity for talking about gender vs. sex or doing anything somewhat subversive.

The dynamic between the two female protagonists in this movie who have to work together and collaborate to be successful for their shared end goals (which is boy saving) is what is most interesting to me when thinking about their roles as heroes and the typical myth of the hero. Melanie is almost a mercenary type. Determined, very occupied with the preservation of her humanity, resistant, manipulative, brave and adept at lying and stealing. Wanda is naive and lost but operates under a strict moral compass of nonviolence and pacifism. The two react to most situations very differently but they learn skills and behaviors from one another. It is the collaboration of these two very different teenage girl characters that allow them to be successful in protecting and aiding the human community.

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As mentioned before, Wanda is a pacifist; her actions as a “hero” are conducted nonviolently. In fact her nonviolent action inspires her new community to start acting in the same way. This is a sort of nice refresher to all the kick-ass action heros that have been featured on the big screen.  Nonetheless, her character is extremely self-sacrificing and puts herself last in almost every situation. Would have been nice to see a hero who strikes a good balance between operating under a strong moral compass without that being overshadowed by their seemingly low self-worth.


Sade Nickels is a toddler teacher in Seattle who enjoys getting tattoos, reading children’s books and thinking about radicalism.