‘Ouran High School Host Club’: Haruhi, Heteronormativity, and the Gender Binary

At its heart, ‘Ouran’ is about gender and, for better or worse, how it is perceived and performed. Though often praised and adored for its challenges to heteronormativity and gender roles through its range of characters, especially its protagonist, it ends up reinforcing heteronormativity and the gender binary to a large extent.


Written by Jackson Adler as part of our theme week on Asian Womanhood in Pop Culture.


 

Trigger Warning for sexual harassment and assault.

The anime/manga/(and, yes, there’s even a live action adaptation) Ouran High School Host Club is a satire of shoujo (girls’) manga and anime, which often have strong romantic elements to them, and the stereotypes and clichés usually found within them. An example of this is how the story’s protagonist Haruhi, who was assigned female at birth and for whom I am using gender neutral pronouns in this post, is far from the romantic and bashful “heroine” often found in these stories, and rarely appreciates the romantic gestures of the boys who fawn over them.

At its heart, Ouran is about gender and, for better or worse, how it is perceived and performed. Though often praised and adored for its challenges to heteronormativity and gender roles through its range of characters, especially its protagonist, it ends up reinforcing heteronormativity and the gender binary to a large extent.

The Ouran High School Host Club, with Haruhi center.
The Ouran High School Host Club, with Haruhi center.

 

Real world host clubs have a bit of scandal and infamy attached to them. Traditionally, a host club is a place for rich men (and sometimes women) to talk with pretty young women who are hired to flirt with them, though there are a few host clubs with attractive young men who cater to rich women (and sometimes men). The idea of a high school host club turned many would-be readers off to the manga at first, as evidenced by the write-ins published in the manga, before the readers realized how tame the story is. Leading man Tamaki decided to create a host club of attractive young men (himself included) to cater to female students at his elitist high school because it seemed like a fun idea for a bored rich boy (and also because he has mommy issues).

The host and client interactions in the story are generally limited to hand holding, complimenting, and overall flirtatiousness. Haruhi attends Ouran High School on a merit scholarship, for which they applied due to the favorable academic environment, since they want to become a lawyer, like their late mother before them. By an accidental breaking of an expensive vase, Haruhi joins the host club, taking on the identity of a cisboy, in order to pay off the debt. This fate was largely decided for them, leading to financial abuse, and starting the beginning of a trend of the cismale characters to ignore Haruhi’s own autonomy. Haruhi is largely indifferent to how others perceive their gender, and, in Japanese, usually uses a gender neutral pronoun to refer to themselves. Haruhi does not seem to care much for labels, being largely apathetic to which pronouns are used by others for them, so whether the character, in English, could be interpreted to be genderqueer, agender, bigender, genderfluid, or even a transboy, what’s most important is that Haruhi identifies as Haruhi. However, most of the main characters see Haruhi as a girl, and treat them as such.

A number of the characters put Haruhi in situations in which they did not choose to be, and pressure them to wear feminine clothes when not working. Haruhi often shrugs off this ill treatment of them, and yet even when they call the their male schoolmates out on their sexual harassment of them, the boys ignore Haruhi’s protests. This is incredibly disturbing, since, while sexual harassment is still rampant in America, there are fewer laws against it in Japan, and there are no laws at all against sexual harassment in the workplace. Though the host club is in many ways a student club, it is clearly also a business, and those in the host club are coworkers. Haruhi is the newest host in the club, with most of the hosts being older than themselves, so it is mainly their superiors and bosses who harass them. This behavior includes forcefully holding Haruhi in unwanted and prolonged embraces, something often done by Tamaki while saying how “cute” Haruhi is. Ouran is popular in America, with the American dub and English subtitled version available on Netflix, and the show’s frequent displays of Haruhi being pressured into wearing dresses and the male characters stating how cute and adorable they are plays into the American stereotype of the Asian girl/woman as an object, a “China Doll,” to be looked at, admired, and eroticized. This is all the more emphasized by Tamaki being drawn in the anime to have blonde hair and blue eyes, highlighting the character’s whiteness (and his therefore racialized abuse of Haruhi) before it is even revealed that his mother was a blonde Frenchwoman and only his father Japanese.

Kyouya, Tamaki’s cofounder of the club and the main person running it, takes sexual harassment of Haruhi to a new level in the eighth episode, in English called “The Sun, The Sea, and the Host Club!” This episode is deeply flawed, and much can be and has been written about it. In the anime, while the host club and its female clients enjoy a day at a private beach, two drunken young men sneak onto it and start harassing and assaulting three of the girls. Haruhi confronts the young men, and one of the girl successfully runs away to get help. Haruhi is thrown off a cliff by one of the young men, and is rescued by Tamaki while the rest of the host club confronts the young men and sends all the girls in attendance home. Haruhi did everything right, and though they could have been seriously hurt or killed, the outcome could have been much worse for everyone. The host club and the anime itself does not see Haruhi as in the right, and the story takes a terrible turn.

This storyline is present in the manga, the anime, and the live action, and at some point one would have hoped it would have been altered, but sadly and infuriatingly, that is not the case. The host club reprimands Haruhi for not recognizing their weaknesses “as a girl,” stating that Haruhi should have called for help themselves before even attempting to confront the perpetrators and stop an assault from taking place. They imply that Haruhi could have been raped or killed, and when Haruhi becomes upset that Tamaki is so angry and possessive about it, the club asks Haruhi to apologize for upsetting him by attempting to stop the assault of the girls in the first place. After Haruhi apologizes in private to Kyouya about worrying everyone, Kyouya takes it upon himself to drive home the sexist message of the episode, and even goes further with it. In a scene full of rapeculture and victim-blaming, Kyouya pretends that he is going to rape Haruhi in order to point out how helpless they, “as a girl,” really are.

Kyouya seriously abusing his power over Haruhi.
Kyouya seriously abusing his power over Haruhi.

 

After Haruhi gives in to pressure and needlessly apologizes, though in private and only to Kyouya, Kyoua points out how much money had to be spent to send the girls home early and to give them flower bouquets in an attempt to make up for it. He says that the money will be added to the debt Haruhi owes the club, and when Haruhi wonders how they’ll achieve paying it off, Kyouya responds that they can pay him back “with [their] body,” then throws a surprised and fearful Haruhi onto a bed and climbs on top of them. In this way, he is abusive as a superior in the workplace, financially abusive, and physically and sexually abusive. In the manga and the live action, he even holds down her wrists, while in the anime he only positions himself over her. He then points out, via verbal abuse, how weak they are “as a girl,” how much stronger he is as a man, and, in an excellent example of victim blaming, saying how they should be more careful (because how dare a “woman” trust a friend and coworker with their safety?). Haruhi then states that “[he] won’t do it” because he has nothing to gain by raping them (what?), and he backs off, laughing, and says that they’re “an interesting young woman.” They then thank him (no, really) for the valuable lesson, and says what a nice guy he is.

The original story was written by a female author/mangaka, and the scene is meant to be sexy and a rape fantasy. However, the messages within this storyline are incredibly harmful, not to mention triggering. They are bad enough for an American audience, especially due to America’s fetishization and objectification of Asian women. However, as Japanese feminist Chizuoka Ueno points out, sexual harassment and the gender wage gap are important issues in Japan, with not only no laws against sexual harassment in the workplace, but very few laws against gender discrimination in regards to wages, with women making 70% of what their male counterparts make. Kyouya and Haruhi had just started becoming friends, despite the differences in privilege is position, age, and wealth between them. Kyouya took advantage of his privilege and abused his power by scaring Haruhi, and while having (sort of) good intentions, reinforced rapeculture, rape myths, and victim-blaming, and lead Haruhi to further internalize misogyny. Sadly, this is just one example of a host club member’s misguided attempt to help or protect Haruhi.

The host club, and other characters, are often incredibly possessive of Haruhi, claiming they are being “protective” of them while disregarding Haruhi’s own desires and autonomy. When Hikaru, a character in Haruhi’s own grade level, meets a former classmate of Haruhi’s from her previous school and who had once asked them out on a date, he is first cold and brooding, and then loud and angry, vehemently insisting that “We are [Haruhi’s] friends!” While the message is clear that Hikaru should not be so upset at Haruhi having friends outside of the club, possessiveness of Haruhi is supported by other scenes and storylines. The boys of the club feel it necessary to “protect” Haruhi from lesbian students, particularly ones from the all girls’ school Lobelia, to which the girls wouldn’t mind Haruhi transferring. The three and only lesbian characters we meet are all highly stereotyped. They spew man-hate and make overt sexual advancements on Haruhi.

While at first the girls from Lobelia encourage Haruhi to make their own choices, and condemn the host club for trying to control Haruhi, the girls also become possessive of Haruhi, even kidnapping them at one point. When the host club realizes that Haruhi might be happier at Lobelia than at Ouran, instead of respecting Haruhi’s wishes, the club dresses in drag in an attempt to make Haruhi feel more at home with them. This misguided attempt only brings laughter to Haruhi, who insists that they are remaining at co-ed Ouran, though not because of the club, but because they feel it is a better school academically. When the host club attempts to “rescue” Haruhi after they are kidnapped, they don’t so much as help Haruhi as defend their own egos and revel in the chance to put down the Lobelia students. Through storylines such as the ones involving the Lobelia girls, the story is assertive in its message that heteronormativity is the most desirable and correct way to live.

Haruhi at the host club.
Haruhi at the host club.

 

Through Haruhi and other characters, including Haruhi’s parents, the show does imply that sexuality and gender identity are not choices. However, it does encourage people who are bisexual to enter heterosexual relationships, and encourages those with a more fluid or non-conforming gender identity to choose to wear clothes and adopt habits that fit into the binary and are heteronormative. Haruhi often speaks and dresses as they want, but is most praised, even by their surviving parental figure, when they fit into the binary. The anime ends with Tamaki’s and Kyouya’s fathers debating which of their sons Haruhi will eventually marry, the manga ends with Tamaki and Haruhi engaged to be married, and the live action ends with an “accidental” kiss and implies romantic feelings between Haruhi and Tamaki. Haruhi is never stereotypically female, and is allowed some room to be themselves, but only within certain limitations largely set by the cismen in their lives.

 

High School Hospital: ‘Red Band Society’

‘Red Band Society’ presents the high-school dynamic explored in a sick-lit microcosm. It’s largely fluff and nonsense, but it’s quite entertaining nonsense on the whole – not least because Octavia Spencer is a treasure and is marvelous as the superheroic Nurse Jackson.

Written by Max Thornton.

A TV dramedy about teens who live in a hospital is perhaps the logical next stage in a culture where The Fault In Our Stars was such a phenomenon. In fact, I would guess that someone pitched it as “Breakfast Club meets TFIOS.” Red Band Society presents the high-school dynamic explored in a sick-lit microcosm. It’s largely fluff and nonsense, but it’s quite entertaining nonsense on the whole – not least because Octavia Spencer is a treasure and is marvelous as the superheroic Nurse Jackson, while it’s an absolute joy to see My So-Called Life‘s Wilson Cruz back on TV.

Red-Band-Society-banner

Because of my interest in disability theory, I was interested to see how the high-school dynamic might play out in a hospital context, but to be honest the show isn’t doing as much with it as it could. Not least this is because of the show’s metaphysics, which it lays out there both in the premise – it’s narrated by a comatose boy who can see and hear everything that goes on around the hospital, and interact with the other patients when they are under for surgery (though not when they’re asleep, for some reason) – and in an explicit statement of mind-body dualism made by one character to another: “Your body isn’t you. Your soul is you.”

I’m so involved in body-affirming scholarship, including disability and crip theory, that it kind of shocks me when I hear such forthright statements of dualism in pop culture. Rejecting mind-body dualism wasn’t just an abstract philosophical decision for me; it dramatically changed my life. While I know (oh God, how I know) that telling yourself, “I am not my body, I am just in it” can be a life-saving consolation in times of extreme bodily distress, I don’t think it’s ultimately a tenable way to understand your existence in the world. In many ways, this is what crip theory (and its intertwined conversation partner, queer theory) is about: refusing to accept mind-body dualism and its passive reinforcement of a normative narrative about what constitutes a healthy, whole, socially acceptable body.

My point is that, despite its setting, thus far Red Band Society hasn’t shown much interest in engaging with disability tropes beyond letting its characters take time out from being ~brave and inspirational~ to be snarky, bratty, illegal-substance-pursuing teens. Which, to be fair, is a great step up from classic media portrayals of disabled people as either inhumanly angelic or miserably bitter: at least these characters are the center of their own drama, not vehicles for the edification of able-bodied people.

There are six members of the titular society:

Seen here in no way invoking The Breakfast Club.
Seen here in no way invoking The Breakfast Club.

Charlie, our comatose narrator, offers commentary primarily in the form of zingers. He has a Tragic Backstory of which every single beat has been wholly predictable, although the latest episode ended on a Charlie-related moment that was ridiculous even for this show, so who knows what’s ahead.

Leo is a recovering cancer patient whose leg had to be amputated. At least once per episode, one of the characters will remind us that pre-cancer Leo was a stereotypical jock who wouldn’t have given these people the time of day, and look how he’s grown through adversity! Soccer was Leo’s jam, and because Nurse Jackson is not bound by the laws, rules, and circumstances governing us mere mortals, she happens to know an amputee athlete who agrees to train Leo. However, Leo ultimately decides against the training, because he doesn’t want to be known as an amputee athlete. Honestly, this smacks of the writers not wanting to deal with actual amputee athletics training: wouldn’t he at least try one training session before giving up on his lifelong passion and imagined future?

Dash is Leo’s BFF. It took until the most recent episode, the fifth, before Dash finally got some characterization of his own, beyond how he relates to the other characters. Dash is also Black. JUST SAYING. When he’s not trying to seduce the young nurse, smoking weed with the ward’s resident hippiechondriac, or getting jealous over Leo (which causes all the other characters to tease him about being in love with Leo, because boys can’t have close friendships without it being gay, and everyone knows homosexuality is hilarious), Dash is a graffiti artist extraordinaire. Also his lungs don’t work right or something, but who knows, it never seems to impede his life in any way.

EMMA <3
EMMA <3

Emma is my favorite. She’s bookish and smart, and she tries to do what she thinks is right by people, but she has a streak of fire in her which can sometimes lead to poor decisions. She’s in hospital for anorexia, and stays in a ward with cancer patients and people needing transplants, because… reasons, I guess? Whatever its logic, this juxtaposition does make for interesting possibilities in exploring the stigmatization of mental illnesses and psychological disorders, which can occur even among communities of the sick and the disabled: Leo yells at her that she doesn’t need to be in hospital, she’s only there by her own choice.

Kara is my other favorite, the bitchy cheerleader who is completely self-aware of her role as gratuitously mean hot girl. On the whole, she revels in taking the other characters down a peg or two, though it has been hinted more than once that massive self-esteem issues underlie her unpleasantness. She has an almost symptom-free heart condition, but isn’t on the donor list because of her pill-popping. Also she has awful power lesbians for moms, because, as Charlie says in a line that is certainly a verbatim quote from the writer who suggested it, “What? Dads fall for a nanny all the time. Why not moms?”

Jordi is the new kid. (Kara is technically a new kid as well, but she can’t be the Everyman character because she’s a girl, and not just a girl but a mean girl.) He’s boring and annoying, and I feel like he and his abandonment issues walked straight off The Fosters and into this show. It’s cool that the Everyman is Latino, but I am super done talking about Jordi and his annoying hair and dumb personality.

There are some adult characters other than Octavia Spencer, too: a Dr. Sexy type who is even more annoying than Jordi (but thankfully gets less screentime); a ditzy nurse; assorted parents floating in and out – but none of them are all that interesting.

It’s not clear yet whether Red Band Society will last out the TV season. I hope it does, because, for all its faults, this show can be very charming, and I think there’s potential for something new and exciting beneath the cheese.

Also, somebody thought this ad was a good idea. It was rightly pulled after complaints.
Also, somebody thought this ad was a good idea. It was rightly pulled after complaints.

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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and tweets at @RainicornMax.

“We Stick Together”: Rebellion, Female Solidarity, and Girl Crushes in ‘Foxfire’

In the spirit of ‘Boys on the Side,’ along with a dose of teen angst, ‘Foxfire’ is perhaps the most bad ass chick flick ever. Many Angelina Jolie fans are not aware of this 1996 phenomenon, where Angie makes a name for herself as a rebellious free spirit who changes the lives of four young women in New York. Based on the Joyce Carol Oates novel by the same name, ‘Foxfire’ is the epitome of girl power and female friendship, a pleasant departure from the competition and spitefulness often portrayed between women characters on the big screen (see ‘Bride Wars’ and ‘Just Go with It’). However, it does seem that Hollywood is catching on as of late, and producing films that cater to a more progressive viewership (see ‘Bridesmaids’ and ‘The Other Woman’). When I first saw ‘Foxfire’ around 16 years old, I stole the VHS copy from the video store where I worked at the time.

This post by Jenny Lapekas appears as part of our theme week on Female Friendship.

In the spirit of Boys on the Side, along with a dose of teen angst, Foxfire is perhaps the most bad ass chick flick ever.  Many Angelina Jolie fans are not aware of this 1996 phenomenon, where Angie makes a name for herself as a rebellious free spirit who changes the lives of four young women in New York.  Based on the Joyce Carol Oates novel by the same name, Foxfire is the epitome of girl power and female friendship, a pleasant departure from the competition and spitefulness often portrayed between women characters on the big screen (see Bride Wars and Just Go with It).  However, it does seem that Hollywood is catching on as of late, and producing films that cater to a more progressive viewership (see Bridesmaids and The Other Woman).  When I first saw Foxfire around 16 years old, I stole the VHS copy from the video store where I worked at the time.

You don’t want to mess with these gals.
You don’t want to mess with these gals.

 

Angelina Jolie’s shaggy hair and tomboy style in the film, along with her portrayal of the rebellious Legs Sadovsky, play with gender expectations, challenging our assumptions pertaining to clothing, gait, etc.  Legs’ biker boots and leather jacket highlight the general heteronormative tendency to find discomfort in these roles and depictions.  An androgynous drifter, Legs oozes sex appeal and promotes the questioning of authority.  She teaches the girls to own their happiness, to correct the injustices they encounter, and to assert themselves to the men who think themselves superior to women.  Legs’ appearance in Foxfire is paramount; she’s even mistaken for a boy when she breaks into the local high school.  A security guard yells, “Young man, stop when I’m talking to you.”  We see this confusion repeat itself when Goldie’s mother tells her daughter, “There’s a girl…or whatever…here to see you.”

How can we resist developing a girl crush on Angie in this role?
How can we resist developing a girl crush on Angie in this role?

 

The film’s subplot involves a romance of sorts between artist Maddy and Legs, the mysterious stranger, while Maddy feels a large distance growing between her and her boyfriend (a young Peter Facinelli from the Twilight saga).  The intensity of the “girl-crush” shared between Maddy and Legs is akin to that of Thelma and Louise; while we come to understand that Legs is gay, Maddy’s platonic love is enough for the troubled runaway.  Legs also assures Maddy after sleeping on her floor one rainy night, “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”  Similar to my discussion of the reunion between Miranda and Steve in Sex and the City: the Movie, the two young women coming together on a bridge is heavy with symbolism, especially when Legs climbs to the top and dances while Maddy looks on in horror and professes that she’s afraid of heights:  a nice precursor for the unfolding narrative, which centers on Legs guiding the girls and easing their fears, especially those associated with female adolescence and gaining new insight into their surroundings and how they fit into their environment.

This scene may not be aware of itself as being set up as another Romeo and Juliet visual, but we realize perhaps Legs is a better suitor than Maddy’s boyfriend, whose male privilege hinders his understanding of what Maddy needs.
While this scene may not be aware of itself as being set up as a nice Romeo and Juliet visual,  we realize perhaps Legs is a better suitor than Maddy’s boyfriend, whose male privilege hinders his understanding of what Maddy needs.

 

In a somber and almost zen-like scene involving Maddy and Legs, they profess their love for one another outside the abandoned home the gang has claimed as their own.  Maddy says, “If I told you I loved you, would you take it the wrong way?”  Obviously, while Maddy doesn’t want Legs to think she’s in love with her, she wants to make clear that the two have bonded for life and are now inextricably linked in sisterhood.  Maddy indirectly asks if Legs would take her with when she decides to move on, and Legs hints that Maddy may not be prepared for her nomadic lifestyle.  The platonic romance shared by both young women culminates in tears and heartache when Legs must inevitably leave.

Almost as if to kiss Legs, Maddy tenderly touches her face atop the gang’s house.
Almost as if to kiss Legs, Maddy tenderly touches her face atop the gang’s house.

 

Legs is the glue that binds these young women, and she literally appears from nowhere.  Her entrances are consistently memorable:  she initially meets Maddy as she’s trespassing on school property, she climbs to Maddy’s window asking for refuge from the rain (another Romeo and Juliet moment), and eventually takes off for nowhere, leaving the girls stupefied and yet more lucid than ever.  Legs is something that happens to these girls, a force of nature, a breath of fresh air.  When she tells Maddy that she was thrown out of her old school “for thinking for herself,” we can safely assume it was just that–refusing to conform to the standards of others.  The unlikely friendship that forms amongst this diverse group of girls clarifies the idea that this gang dynamic has found them, not the other way around; the pressed need for the collective feminine is what brings the girls together, rather than some vendetta against men.

Although Legs tattoos each of the girls in honor of their time together, they know they won't need scars to remember Legs.
Although Legs tattoos each of the girls in honor of their time together, they know they won’t need scars to remember Legs.

 

Legs sports a tattoo that reads “Audrey”:  her mother, who was killed in a drunk driving accident, and we clearly see in the film’s final scenes that Legs suffers from some serious daddy issues, when she angrily announces that “fathers mean nothing.”  Delving briefly into Legs’ painful past, we discover that she never knew her father.  The quickly maturing Rita explains to Legs, “This isn’t about you.”  Each of the girls has their own set of issues within the film:  Rita is being sexually molested by her scumbag biology teacher, Mr. Buttinger, Goldie is a drug addict whose father beats her, Violet is dubbed a “slut,” by the school’s stuck-up cheerleaders, and Maddy struggles to balance school, her photography, and her boyfriend, who is dumbfounded by Legs’ influence on his typically well-behaved girlfriend.

After the girls beat up Buttinger, Legs warns him to think before inappropriately touching any more female students.
After the girls beat up Buttinger, Legs warns him to think before inappropriately touching any more female students.

 

In an especially significant scene, the football players from school who continually harass the girls attempt to abduct Maddy by forcing her into a van.  The confrontations between the groups progressively escalate throughout the movie, and climax after Coach Buttinger is apparently fired for sexually harassing several female students.  Legs shows up donning a switchblade and orders the boys to let her friend go.  Of course, the pair steal the van and pick up their girlfriends on a high speed cruise to nowhere, which ends in an exciting police chase and Legs losing control and crashing, a metaphor for the gang’s imminent downfall.  The threat of sexual assault dissolved by a female ally, followed by police pursuit and a car crash has a lovely Thelma & Louise quality, as well.  The motivation here is to avoid being swept up in a misogynistic culture of victim-blaming.  What’s interesting about this scene is that another girl from school, who’s in cahoots with these sleazy guys, actually lures Maddy to the waiting group of boys, knowing what’s to come.  Meanwhile, Maddy tells Cyndi that she’d escort any girl somewhere who doesn’t feel safe, highlighting the betrayal at work here.  Cyndi, the outsider, exploits Maddy’s feminist sensibilities, her unspoken drive for female solidarity and the resistance of male violence to fulfill a violent, misogynist agenda and put Maddy in harm’s way.  Later, in the van, Goldie excitedly yells, “Maddy almost got raped, and we just stole this car!” as if this is a source of exhilaration or a mark of resiliency.  Perhaps we’d correct her by shifting the blame from the “almost-victim” to her attacker:  “Dana and his boys almost raped Maddy.”

Legs says, “Let her out, you stupid fuck.”
Legs says, “Let her out, you stupid fuck.”

 

Obviously, these are young women just blossoming in their feminist ideals, on the path to realization, and just beginning to question the patriarchal agenda they find themselves a part of in this awkward stage of young adulthood.  It’s in this queer in-between state, straddling womanhood and adolescence, that we find Maddy, Legs, Violet, Goldie, and Rita, on the cusp of articulating their justified outrage.  We may also question, how does one almost get raped?  While the girls of Foxfire are young and somewhat inexperienced, with Legs’ help, they quickly obtain this sort of unpleasant, universal knowledge that males can perpetrate sexual violence in order to “put women in their place.”  Dana announces, “You girls are getting a little big for yourselves.”  We can’t have that.  Women who grow, gain confidence, and challenge sexist and oppressive norms can make waves and upset lots of people.  While the girls are initially hesitant in trying to find their way and make sense of their lives, Legs is the powerful catalyst for this transition from the young and feminine to the wise and feminist.  While the high school jocks attempt to reclaim the power they feel has been threatened or stolen by this group of girls, Legs continues to challenge gender expectations by utilizing violence as well.

Legs tearfully says, “You’re my heart, Maddy.”
As she hitches a ride, Legs tearfully says, “You’re my heart, Maddy.”

 

Not only does this film pass the Bechdel Test with flying colors, it almost feels as if it’s a joke when the girls do manage to discuss men–like the topic is not something they take seriously or that boys rest only on the periphery of their lives.  While Maddy suffers silently in terms of her artistic prowess and boyfriend drama, Rita–seemingly the prudest and most sheltered of the gang–talks casually about masturbation and penis size.  However, it’s important to note that when men do make their way into the conversation, it’s at rare, lighthearted moments when the girls are not guarded or suspicious of the tyrannical and predatory men who seem to surround them.  The penis-size discussion between Rita and Violet, we must admit, is also quite self-serving and objectifying.  Rather than obsess over their appearances or the approval of boys, the girls’ most ecstatic moment is when Violet receives an anonymous note from a younger girl at school, another student Buttinger was harassing who is thankful for what the gang did.  The fact that Violet is so pleased that she could help a friendly stranger who was also a target of the same perverted teacher says a lot about the gang’s goals and identity.

Thanks to Legs, Maddy overcomes her fear of heights.
Thanks to Legs, Maddy overcomes her fear of heights.

 

Maddy and Legs recognize something in one another, and although theirs is not a sexual relationship, it is no doubt intimate and meaningful.  With an amazing soundtrack that includes Wild Strawberries, L7 (wanna fling tampons, anyone?), and Luscious Jackson, and boasting a cast that includes Angelina Jolie and Hedy Burress, Foxfire is undeniably feminist in its message and narrative.  With the help of Legs, the girls find agency, and with it, each other.  Although most of the girls have been failed by men in some way, Legs offers hope in female friendship and lets her sisters know that male-perpetrated violence can be combated with a switchblade and a swift kick to the balls.  Legs arrives like a whirlwind in Maddy’s life and leaves her changed forever.  The lovely ladies of Foxfire will make you want to form a girl gang, dangle off bridges, and break into your old high school’s art room just to stick it to the man.

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Jenny holds a Master of Arts degree in English, and she is a part-time instructor at a community college in Pennsylvania.  Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema.  She lives with two naughty chihuahuas.  You can find her on WordPress and Pinterest.

We’re All Stars: A Feminist Retrieval of ‘High School Musical’

I am not here to argue that the ‘High School Musical’ franchise is a feminist triumph. But I continue to believe that popular cultural products beloved of young women and girls receive an inordinate amount of vitriol because of misogyny, and that they merit close and generous examination for the retrieval of positive messages.

Written by Max Thornton.

First things first: I am not here to argue that the High School Musical franchise is a feminist triumph. But I continue to believe that popular cultural products beloved of young women and girls receive an inordinate amount of vitriol because of misogyny, and that they merit close and generous examination for the retrieval of positive messages.

(At least, that’s what I tell myself to justify my love of One Direction.)

The first time I saw High School Musical, I classified it as “basically Grease with worse songs but a better message,” and that holds true. As the RiffTrax snarks: “At last, a high school movie that tackles the issue of cliques.” But let’s be real, there are an awful lot of teen movies out there with pretty terrible messages (like, um, Grease), and HSM isn’t actually one of them.

There's so much pep in this poster, I'm exhausted just looking at it.
There’s so much pep in this poster, I’m exhausted just looking at it.

Sure, it’s cheesier than a four cheese pizza with extra cheese, setting up potential conflicts only to resolve them through ~the power of friendship~ ten minutes later. And sure, it has plot holes you could drive a bus through. My personal favorites are (1) the notion of theater nerds being obsessed with punctuality and (2) the fact that antagonists Ryan and Sharpay are in every way demonstrably better performers than the heroes Troy and Gabriella. (In fact, they are such breakout characters that Sharpay even has her own spinoff movie, Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure, which, the montage of two dogs falling in love to a Justin Bieber song notwithstanding, undoubtedly has the most narrative cohesion of any film in the High School Musical franchise.)

However, let’s take our cue from Johnny Mercer and ac-cent-tchu-ate the positive. Latina Gabriella’s friendship with African-American nerd Taylor ensures that the film easily passes both the Bechdel test and the race equivalent. Then there’s the fact that, as a Tumblr post that eludes my search skills put it, the master narrative is that of a rom com about a popular boy “giving up his swag” to be with a nerdy girl. Of course, this is Disney at its Disneyest, so even the nerdy kids are bright-eyed and pimple-free, but it’s still essentially a gender inversion of a common trope.

Plus, the film kind of takes the hoary message about being true to yourself to a logical endpoint by being so ridiculously optimistic about the consequences. Standout number “Stick to the Status Quo” is all about kids reinforcing a system that disadvantages them because it’s all they know. The homework enthusiast who loves hiphop, the basketballer player who bakes, the stoner (/skateboarder, because this is Disney) who plays the cello – all are shouted down by their fellow students who want them to remain within their boxes. And yet surely nobody is fully defined by a single interest. Even the nameless masses of kids who insist that their bolder peers “stick to the stuff you know” must have other hobbies, pastimes, passions, facets to their personalities; but they are so invested in the clique system that they insist upon it, even when they logically should not. I’m not going to suggest that this is a trenchant critique of repectability politics and systems of normativity, but it is an illustration of how these things work. The system’s greatest trick is its internalization by those who suffer under it.

 [youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYZpZr3Cv7I”]

This being Disney, as the RiffTrax says, “high-schoolers’ secrets are ‘I like rap,’ not ‘Dissecting the fetal pigs gave me a boner.’” Everyone is afraid that doing something different will make their friends dislike them; their friends are jerks (“worse than jerks… mean jerks,” as Taylor The Academic Decathlete so incisively expresses it) for all of ten minutes before feeling bad, apologizing, and joining forces to enable the lead characters to excel at a truly implausible number of extracurriculars. In a corny, contrived way, the film presents a world in which being yourself really is the best option. Admit to your secret love of singing, and not only will your jock buddies accept you, they will actively scheme to enhance your time-management skills. Within the schema of the “be yourself” story, it’s at least consistent to the notion that being yourself always makes life better – even if it does this in a hopelessly rose-tinted manner. If the message of your fictional story is “things will be best if you are always true to yourself,” it makes logical and moral sense for your protagonists to get to have their cake and eat it once they have learned this lesson.

It’s also pretty easy to read this film as a coming-out story in disguise. The jock is concerned that his love of musical theater will alienate his teammates and his jock dad? Yeah. OK, it’s a stereotype, but what in this movie isn’t? Plus the movie goes out of its way to code Troy and Gabriella’s relationship as nonsexual: they bond over the idea of being in kindergarten, they never actually kiss until the sequel, their rival counterparts are a literal brother and sister (the brother of whom is as gay as you could get in a Disney Channel original film)… On one level, of course, this is simply a rather extreme version of boy-band attractiveness rendered as non-threatening, desexualized cuteness – being a 90s kid, I still think of Hanson as the zenith of such things – but the queer reading can certainly coexist. (Note also that gay-coded musical theater enthusiast Ryan and scoffing dudebro jock Chad inexplicably show up wearing each other’s clothes in a scene in High School Musical 2.)

You think I made that up? I did not make that up.
You think I made that up? I did not make that up.

A major philosophical concern of recent decades has been the coexistence of unity and diversity. How do we balance our commonalities as human beings and our differences as individuals? As complex and difficult as this topic often gets, I ultimately can’t express it more succinctly than the lyrics to “We’re All In This Together”:

We’re not the same, we’re different in a good way.”

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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. He wrote this piece for his partner, because it’s their anniversary and they watched High School Musical on their first date. Romance!

Veronica Decides Not To Die – ‘Heathers’: The Proto-‘Mean Girls’

Indeed, the social structure of Westerburg High School is unsettling to say the least. Teens there would rather commit actual suicide than “social suicide.” Their alienation from both reality and ethical values is mirrored not only in J.D., Veronica and the Heathers, but also in the rest of the students. Peer pressure and the dream of popularity result in the “Westerburg suicides,” causing a downright suicide craze. Their supposed actions gave the popular kids depth and humanity and made them more popular than ever. When an unpopular girl attempts to kill herself, the new Heather in charge asserts, “Just another case of a geek trying to imitate the popular people of the school and failing miserably.”

heathers

This guest post by Artemis Linhart appears as part of our theme week on Cult Films and B Movies.


If Heathers (1988) has taught us anything, it’s that “it is one thing to want somebody out of your life, it is another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.”

In one of the first and foremost films about the chronic struggle of queen bees versus wannabes, Veronica Sawyer is up against a ruthless trio of Heathers. Led by Heather Chandler, they are the most popular clique in school and, being their newest member, Veronica has already had enough – she longs to return to her “geekish” old friends. The three Heathers can be read to represent the uniformity of the queen bees as well as high school structures in general. As Veronica’s boyfriend J.D. argues, they function in much the same way everywhere: “Seven schools in seven states and the only thing different is my locker combination.” The popular girls seem to be interchangeable templates that, in addition, are the same in every school and, most importantly, every teen movie. But high school as a technicolor battleground has just taken on a new opponent.

mean_heathers

Fed up with using her smarts “to decide what color gloss to wear,” Veronica is more self confident and not as obsequious as Heather Chandler’s other minions. Having a strong sense for right and wrong, she is reluctant to accept the regime of an individual adolescent in the social fabric of the school. In order to function as the blatant satire that it is, the film works with an array of cliché characters, yet it offers a remarkable complexity of female characters that transcends the “smart girl in need of a makeover vs. the popular airhead” shtick. Moreover, it blends juvenile delinquency with girlhood without making use of the “outrageous” John Waters style badass girl gang trope.

Channeling both James Dean and Jack Nicholson, J.D. remains the driving force behind the murderous madness. However, there is a certain darkness to Veronica’s character that wavers between desperation and spite and contrasts the teenage girl known from the works of John Hughes and the like. Whereas in the 1970s the cinematic image of (pre-)teen girls was defined by a more demonic form of terror in films like Carrie and The Exorcist, a more subtle kind of horror emerged in the decades to come: the everyday kind. Heathers has paved the way for films like Jawbreaker (1999) and Mean Girls (2004), as well as TV series like Gossip Girl (2007-2012), about a bunch of conniving high school girls with cruel intentions and relentless dress codes. We owe this in part to the Waters brothers, who have found a voice to express the fear and loathing popular high school girls can evoke without demonizing the feminine by its very nature. Incidentally, Daniel Waters (the writer of Heathers) and Mark Waters (director of Mean Girls) have recently teamed up for an upcoming film adaptation of the best-selling teenage fantasy novel Vampire Academy.

Frienemies

The effort of negotiating one’s position in high school’s bizarre pecking order is an anguish many teenagers face. The struggle is real. However, in the case of Veronica, it is not an outsider trying to make his or her way into the popular crowd but an insider trying to get out. “Are you a Heather?” J.D. asks Veronica as they first encounter. “No. I’m a Veronica”; she clearly distinguishes herself from the trio and later on explains, “I don’t really like my friends. It’s just like they’re people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.” Popularity came at a price for Veronica. She had to give up her true friends who, by Heathers-standards, are “the scum of the school.” Heather Chandler runs a tight ship. She considers conversing with the “geek squad” to be “social suicide” and forbids Veronica and her other minion Heathers to do so. Veronica feels oppressed and harbors thoughts of deadly revenge: “Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicised ass, but for tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather – a world where I am free.”

It becomes clear that, similarly to that of the Mean Girls, the Heathers’ friendship is merely a superficial camaraderie based on phony flattery and a feeling of superiority when it comes to fashion choices. And, of course, power.

Power Dangers

From the very start, J.D. takes control of Veronica and her decisions. She describes their unhealthy relationship in her diary, saying, “I’ve got no control over myself when I’m with J.D.” and concludes with, “Are we going to prom or to hell?”

Upon comprehending that her “teen angst bullshit has a body count,” she declares her “Bonnie and Clyde days” to be over and attempts to break up with J.D. As he explains to Veronica that this will not bring back the dead, she responds, “I am not trying to bring anyone back except maybe myself.” Clearly, she has had enough of being bullied by the Heathers as well as her boyfriend and wants to get back in touch with her true self. Moreover, Veronica is well aware of how the mean girl torch is merely being continuously passed on to the next queen bee. In a dream she realizes with distress that “tomorrow someone else is just gonna move into her place,” and, in a worried tone, adds, “That person could be me!”

Within the Heathers, it is Heather Chandler who’s boss. Just like hoop earrings are “Regina’s thing” in Mean Girls, wearing the color red is Heather Chandler’s thing. After her death, the next Heather takes her place and genuinely revels in wearing red. The red scrunchie that we see in the very first shot of the film is passed on from one queen bee to the next and when asked why she is “such a mega bitch,” the new head of the Heathers replies, “Because I can be.”

6741_320c

But as J.D. blackmails her, she goes from controller to controllee and it is once again him who is in charge. The film’s title song, “Que Sera,” stands in great contrast to J.D.’s urge to manipulate those around him and, essentially, “play god.” Eventually, he explains his plans to blow up the entire school by disputing the underlying problems within society itself, his argument being: “The only place different social types can genuinely get along is in heaven.” Basking in his outburst of mansplaining, J.D unmasks high school as a type of societal microcosm and blames it for his own issues as well as structural complications and hierarchies.

Indeed, the social structure of Westerburg High School is unsettling to say the least. Teens there would rather commit actual suicide than “social suicide.” Their alienation from both reality and ethical values is mirrored not only in J.D., Veronica and the Heathers, but also in the rest of the students. Peer pressure and the dream of popularity result in the “Westerburg suicides,” causing a downright suicide craze. Their supposed actions gave the popular kids depth and humanity and made them more popular than ever. When an unpopular girl attempts to kill herself, the new Heather in charge asserts, “Just another case of a geek trying to imitate the popular people of the school and failing miserably.”

In the end, we get a happy ending of the macabre kind. J.D. loses to Veronica’s bravery as she stands up to him and saves the school from a deathly massacre. It is a victory of fairness, feminism, and friendship. Veronica is the new queen bee. While it becomes clear that, on the whole, high school will remain a place dominated by “the cool crowd,” at least Veronica’s authority might allow for a more humane form of leadership.


 Artemis Linhart is a freelance writer and film curator with a weakness for escapism.