Tag: Megan Kearns

Women in Science Fiction Week: Is ‘Terminator’s Sarah Connor an Allegory for Single Mothers?

Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) in Terminator 2: Judgment Day

This post previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on May 25, 2012.

Mothers are supposed to be everything to everyone. Sadly, society often stigmatizes, vilifies and demonizes single mothers. Single moms are blamed for “breeding more criminals.” Single parenthood is criminalized and “declared child abuse.” On top of that, “almost 70% of people believe single women raising children on their own is bad for society.” WTF? Seriously?? Wow. Way to be misogynistic people.

So it’s no surprise to see broken and dysfunctional single moms reflected on-screen. And don’t get me wrong. I love watching flawed female characters. But what about single mom Sarah Connor, “the mother of destiny?” Often labeled a feminist hero, topping lists for greatest female characters, is she the “ultimate protective single mother?”
Along with Ellen Ripley, Sarah helped pave the way for strong female characters. In Terminator, Sarah (Linda Hamilton) is a friendly college student and food server, lacking confidence, who “can’t even balance [her] checkbook.” Targeted by cyborg assassins sent from the future to kill her son, the future resistance leader fighting against domineering machines, she is thrust into a hellish nightmare fighting for her life. The Sarah (Linda Hamilton) of Terminator 2: Judgment Daytransforms into a badass goddess. With her sculpted muscles doing pull-ups and firing guns, she’s a ferocious warrior filled with rage (something women are rarely allowed to exhibit) yet haunted and struggling with mental stability. In the cancelled-way-too-early fantastic TV series Sarah Connor Chronicles, we witness Sarah (Lena Headey) as a brave single mother, passionate, smart, angry and flawed, doing everything she can to not only survive but thrive.
As kickass as she is, Sarah possesses no other identity beyond motherhood. She exists solely to protect her John from assassination or humanity will be wiped out. Every decision, every choice she makes, is to protect her son. In Sarah Connor Chronicles, Cameron tells Sarah that “Without John, your life has no purpose.” Sarah tells her ex-fiancé that she’s not trying to change her fate but change John’s. Even before she becomes a mother in Terminator, her identity is tied to her uterus and her capacity for motherhood.

[…]

On the surface, it seems like the Terminator franchise revolves around a dude often searching for a father figure rather than appreciating his mother. And problematic depictions of motherhood do emerge. But who’s really the hero? Is it the smart hacker son destined to be a leader? Is it the cyborg that learns humanity? Or is it the brave and fierce single mother who sacrifices everything to protect humanity and doesn’t wait for destiny to unfold but takes matters into her own hands?

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Women in Science Fiction Week: Is ‘Prometheus’ a Feminist Pro-Choice Metaphor?

Noomi Rapace (Dr. Elizabeth Shaw) in Prometheus

This post written by staff writer Megan Kearns originally appeared at Bitch Flicks on June 12, 2012.

A pseudo-prequel to Alien, Prometheus raises existential themes of religion, god, faith, science, creation, mythology and evolution. While these are all worthy topics, I’m much more interested in Prometheus’ treatment of its female characters and its commentary on reproduction. Is director Ridley Scott’s new film a pro-choice metaphor advocating reproductive justice?
I was ridiculously excited to see Prometheus. As I’ve shared before, Lt. Ellen Ripley was my icon growing up…as she was for many of us. And Scott admittedly loves showcasing strong, intelligent female leads. 
Here the incredibly skilled Noomi Rapace plays the female protagonist Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, an archaeologist guided by her curiosity and buoyed by her religious faith. She and her colleague/partner Charlie Holloway discover caves with paintings signifying our creators or “Engineers” as they call them. When corporate Weyland Industries (a pre-cursor to Alien’s Weyland-Yutani) funds their expedition, they go in search of the beginning of humanity…with horrifying consequences.

[…]

Patriarchy perpetuates rape culture and infringes on reproductive rights. Alien centered on rape and men’s fear of female reproduction. Littered with vaginal-looking aliens and phallic xenomorphs violating victims orally, these themes resurface. But this time around, Scott’s latest endeavor also adds abortion and infertility. As ThinkProgress’ Alyssa Rosenberg asserts, Prometheus bolsters the Alien Saga’s themes of “exploration of bodily invasion and specifically women’s bodily autonomy.”

[…]

But David doesn’t want her to have an abortion, insisting she be put in stasis and trying to restrain her. Like Ash in Alien, it appears David had an agenda to try and keep the creature inside Shaw alive. David tries to thwart Shaw’s agency and bodily autonomy, forcing her to remain pregnant. Hmmm, sounds eerily similar to anti-choice Republicans with their invasive and oppressive legislation restricting abortion. No one has the right to tell someone what to do with their body.

Women in Science Fiction Week: Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens … and Patriarchy

 

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens


This post written by staff writer Megan Kearns originally appeared at Bitch Flicks on October 28, 2011.

When I was 10 years old, the scariest movie I ever saw was Aliens. I remember the first time I saw it like it was yesterday. Late one night, plagued with insomnia (perhaps a product of my tumultuous childhood), I heard the TV on in my mother’s bedroom. Sitting down next to her, I began watching too. My mom was watching Aliens. It was the scene where Ellen Ripley goes down the elevator, guns strapped to her, to rescue Newt. Entranced, I watched as encased in a forklift, she clashed with the Alien Queen.

But it wasn’t the gore or even the alien that mesmerized me. It was Ripley. Seeing a strong badass women on-screen left in an indelible impression on me.

 

With its tense, gritty, noir atmosphere, Alien broke ground spawning numerous imitations in the horror and sci-fi genres. Set in the year 2122, crew of the freighter spaceship Nostromo answer a beacon on the planet LV-426 and encounter a terrifying and insidious creature that attempts to wipe out the crew. Eschewing some of its horror roots in favor of an action-packed bonanza, the sequel Aliens features Lt. Ellen Ripley (the superb Sigourney Weaver), the Nostromo’s sole survivor (along with Jones the cat), warning and advising a group of Marines going to LV-426 to investigate after Earth lost contact with the planet’s colonists.

For me, I can’t separate Alien and Aliens (although I pretend the 3rd and 4th don’t exist…ugh). Both amazing films possess pulse-pounding intensity, a struggle for survival, and most importantly for me, a feminist protagonist. Radiating confidence and strength, Ripley remains my favorite female film character. A resourceful survivor wielding weapons and ingenuity, she embodies empowerment. Bearing no mystical superpowers, she’s a regular woman taking charge in a crisis. Weaver, who imbued her character with intelligence and a steely drive, was inspired to “play Ripley like Henry V and women warriors of classic Chinese literature.”

Sigourney Weaver’s role as Ripley catapulted her to stardom, making her one of the first female action heroes. Preceded by Pam Grier in Coffy and Dianna Rigg as Emma Peel in The Avengers, she helped pave the way for Linda Hamilton’s badassery in T2, Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, Carrie-Anne Moss in The Matrix, Lucy Lawless as Xena, Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy, and Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and Salt. But Ripley, a female film icon, wasn’t even initially conceived as a woman.

Continue reading –>

 

 

Quote of the Day: Actor/Director Sarah Polley on Women’s Bodies in Film

In an interview with NPR’s All Things Considered, director and actor Sarah Polley spoke about her new film Take This Waltz. She also discussed how we need more female directors and the unique perspective they can bestow on female characters. One of our awesome readers, Her Film’s Kyna Morgan, alerted us to the interview. What struck Kyna was Polley’s fantastic quote on the sexist portrayal of women’s bodies on-screen: 
“I feel like with young women, their bodies are constantly objectified and used in a sexual context. With older women, [their bodies are] constantly the butt of a joke. For me, the seminal scene that illustrates that is, in About Schmidt, when Kathy Bates gets into the hot tub and Jack Nicholson is horrified and the audience is supposed to scream. 
 “I remember being so deeply offended by that scene. One of the first times you’re dealing with an older woman being naked in a movie — it doesn’t happen very often — and it’s the butt of a joke, or it’s supposed to horrifying. [In a shower-room scene in Take This Waltz] I wanted to show women’s bodies of all ages, kind of without comment, and the only conversation around it is about time passing and what it means, and about sexuality and relationships. That it not be something contrived to produce an effect, necessarily.” 
Yes, yes, YES!! I’m delighted to see an actor and director speak openly about ageism and the objectification of women’s bodies.

Hollywood often portrays only thin, young, white women’s bodies. Women of color, older women and large women — if portrayed at all — are often depicted as hypersexual or asexual, often for humor or derision. Besides Meryl Streep, Helen Mirren and re-runs of The Golden Girls (which I cannot get enough of!), we rarely see female actors over the age of 50 portraying characters embracing their sexuality.

In film and TV, we often see schlubby, overweight, or older men with beautiful, young (or younger), thin women. Couples Retreat, Hitch, King of Queens (pretty much anything with Kevin James), Still Standing, As Good as It Gets, Manhattan, The Wackness, The Honeymooners…I could go on and on. The message is that it doesn’t matter if men age. Ultimately, their looks don’t matter. But as beauty is deemed our only commodity, women must perpetually look young and sexy. Our physiques are only important in enticing and captivating the male gaze.

Reduced to our appearances, women are told time and again that beauty, youth and thinness determine our worth.

We’ve seen toxic bodysnarking recently with Ashley Judd speaking out against the media and the patriarchal policing of women’s bodies, Jennifer Lawrence’s body deemed too fat to play Hunger Games‘ Katniss Everdeen, Lena Dunham’s weight ridiculed and criticized (and lauded!), and Scarlett Johansson annoyed by sexist diet questions. The media polices women’s behavior and scrutinizes their appearance.
Photoshopped faces and bodies saturate the media, bombarding us with unattainable beauty standards. We rarely see imperfections on-screen. No wrinkles, spots, saggy breasts, plump bellies or cellulite in sight. No flaws. Only perfection. It’s no wonder so many girls and women struggle with eating disorders and negative body image issues. The media constantly tells us we’re not good enough. We must be slimmer, curvier, smoother, younger — always different than what we are.
Bodies come in all shapes, races, ethnicities, ages and sizes. And that’s okay. No, it’s better than okay. It’s great. It’s time Hollywood stopped purporting conformity and started embracing diversity.

‘Beasts of the Southern Wild’: Gender, Race and a Powerful Female Protagonist in the Most Buzzed About Film

I have a confession to make. I’m a big softie when it comes to movies. I shed tears at the drop of a hat. But I usually don’t cry during a film trailer. But Beasts of the Southern Wild — both the trailer and the film itself — made me weep.

A strange, haunting, breathtaking dystopian fantasy — it contends with polar ice caps melting, prehistoric creatures, lands flooding, and the bonds of family. With its lush scenes, poignant and complex characters, and achingly beautiful music, it stirred emotions and memories long forgotten. It’s a triumph of the human spirit. And the best part? At the bittersweet film’s center is a little girl.

The film’s female protagonist is Hushpuppy, a 6-year-old African American girl who lives with her father on an island called the Bathtub. And she is a breath of fresh air. Played with depth, nuance and sensitivity, newcomer Quvenzhané Wallis — who’s already generating lots of Oscar buzz — dazzles on-screen. Her luminous personality captivating you at every moment. She’s been called “a miniature force of nature.” And I couldn’t think of a more perfect description. It’s hard to believe Wallis was only 5 years old when she filmed the movie.

Hushpuppy is a pint-sized powerhouse. An indomitable survivor. She’s brave, tough and strong-willed. There’s a fierce intensity, and an old wisdom behind her eyes. Honest, vulnerable and sweet – she is the film’s moral compass, its anchor.

Too often with films with daughters, they merely exist so we can see how the parents react to them. But here, we witness the story unfold from Hushpuppy’s perspective. Director and co-screenwriter Benh Zeitlin said he made a conscious decision to only yield information Hushpuppy has access to. We the audience see only what she sees. She narrates the film throughout so we always know her thoughts and feelings. But honestly, even if you erased all the narration, you would still know because of Wallis’ expressive face and body language. Through her narration, we peek a glimpse into her psyche. Hushpuppy utters poetic and sage musings:

“When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces… Everybody loses the thing that made them. The brave men stay and watch it happen. They don’t run.” 

“I see that I am a little piece of a big, big universe, and that makes it right.” 

Hushpuppy frequently lets out this little scream that reminds me of a warrior cry akin to Xena. It’s as if she’s declaring, “I’m here world. Deal with it.” She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. Yet there’s a buoyancy to her spirit. Putting animals up to her ear so she can “listen to their innermost desires,” savoring each bite of food she eats…these bring her joyous rapture. Hushpuppy is the film’s moral compass and anchor. We see the whole world through her eyes.

While at times it looks the same, the world in Beasts of the Southern Wild is not ours. The Bathtub was inspired by the real Louisiana island Isle de Jean Charles, which is frequently flooded and is “cut off from the levee system.” Beneath the surface of this strange fantasy, it feels like an allegory of Hurricane Katrina. Although director and screenwriter Zeitlin insists the film is not about Katrina. An apocalyptic fantasy grounded in realism, Zeitlin discussed the film’s message:

“It’s a folk tale about the emotional experience of what it’s like to have to survive the end of your world, and to lose the things that made you.”

Despite his protestations, the parallels between Beasts of the Southern Wild and Hurricane Katrina are uncanny. The film contends with how to survive losing your home amongst horrific destruction and how we shouldn’t turn our back on people. Again feeling like a parallel to the way the government turned its back on Katrina survivors, particularly the survivors of color. The film also contains a strong message of environmentalism. If we continue down the same path of environmental degradation, we may destroy the planet. The philosophy that we are all connected reverberates throughout the film. Especially when Hushpuppy says:

“The whole universe depends on everything fitting together just right. If one piece busts, even the smallest piece…the entire universe will get busted.”

Beasts of the Southern Wild features a disturbing yet loving relationship between Hushpuppy and her ailing father Wink (Dwight Henry), an alcoholic, who vacillates between joyful hope and pained anger. In the beginning, he’s cold and cruel, alcohol warping his lucidity and judgment. He knows he has to take care of her and teach her how to survive in the world. But he seems to resent it as he can barely take care of himself. We eventually see his benevolent streak as he looks for survivors. By the end of the film, I broke down in silent sobs as we witness the strength of their bond.

Too often in film and TV, black fathers are absent, either dead or incarcerated. So it was great that here was a black father. And Henry imbued depth, anger, pain and hope into his character. But why did he have to be so broken? Why can’t we see a positive representation of a black father?

Like many fantasies and fairy tales, we witness an absent mother. But Hushpuppy’s mother’s presence is very much alive. Hushpuppy carries around a sports jersey, a symbol of her mother. She has imaginary conversations with her mother. When she sees a blinking beacon off on the horizon, she believes it’s her mother beckoning her. We also see a maternal figure in Miss Bathsheeba (Gina Montana) who nurtures and cares for all the children of the Bathtub. As her world begins to crumble, Hushpuppy eventually goes in search of her mother. In her journey, Hushpuppy traverses the land with three young girls at her side.

The film boasts strong, resilient, outspoken women and girls. And the stereotypically feminine trait of caretaking is lauded and celebrated. Miss Bathsheeba tells the children that they’ve got to take care for those “littler and sweeter than them…that’s the most important lesson I can teach you.” Wink believes it’s his duty and responsibility to teach his daughter how to survive and take care of herself. Screenwriter Lucy Alibar said he ultimately teaches Hushpuppy:

“How to take care of people. How to take care of someone weaker than you. The strength of kindness. The strength of standing with some place, with your family.”

Sadly, through gendered language, the feminine is often denigrated and demeaned at worst and diminished at best.

Wink often says “man” to Hushpuppy, like “Hey, man.” When they arm wrestle he asks her, “Who’s the man?” To which she proudly replies, “I’m the man.” When Hushpuppy’s house is destroyed – yes, her and her father each have their own house with their own belongings – he draws a line separating Hushpuppy from his sphere, the masculine one. He tells her that no girly toys are allowed on his side, but that he can’t hit her on her own side, something in her favor (Um, what?? Yeah, I’m not cool with violence). Wink often tells Hushpuppy, “No crying,” not allowing her emotions that depict weakness in his eyes. Even when we’re introduced to Miss Bathsheeba (Gina Watson), she’s telling the children not to be “pussies,” something uttered by Hushpuppy herself later in the film.

Food plays an integral role in the film, as sustenance, as a part of culture and as celebration. You see Hushpuppy, her father and their community eating seafood. While it was difficult for me to watch as a vegan, the feminist in me was thrilled that we see a girl eat. In reality, women and girls obviously eat. Due to the media’s policing of female bodies, women and girls have an antagonistic relationship to food. We don’t typically see female characters eating on-screen.

We also see a subtle commentary on gender performance and gender norms. When the residents of the Bathtub are transported to the mainland by the government, Hushpuppy is forced to wear a frilly, girlie-girl dress and tame her wild hair. Stripped of her identity and forced into conformity, she looks miserable. She doesn’t want to be constrained in gender stereotypes. Unconsciously, she wants to perform gender on her terms, not society’s.

I often lament the lack of female-centric films, particularly with women and girls of color. When we do see women, they usually appear as sidekicks or love interests to men. But not here. A black girl is front and center. And even though the film focuses on Hushpuppy’s relationship with her father, her relationship with her mother is equally as important.

We often see boys and men in films that showcase a hero’s journey or transformation. But here – in this film showcasing a triumph of the spirit – we see a journey with a strong-willed, opinionated girl of color. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Mystical, ethereal, surreal, touching – Beasts of the Southern Wild is all of these and yet so much more. Even as you watch the film, you might not understand or fully comprehend the meaning of the unusual plot. But let its poetic beauty, emotions and raw honesty wash over you. Let it sink in. For it will be a long time before another film like it – or another female hero as complex as Hushpuppy – comes our way.

Dear, Daniel Tosh: You Know What’s Even Less Funny than Rape Jokes? Rape Threats

English: Daniel Tosh at Boston University

By now I’m sure you’ve heard about Daniel Tosh and his misoynistic douchebaggery as he verbally attacked a female audience member.

But just in case you haven’t or if you need a refresher, the woman called Tosh out amidst his performance at The Laugh Factory. Here’s what the woman told her friend who posted it on her blog which has now gone viral:
“So Tosh then starts making some very generalizing, declarative statements about rape jokes always being funny, how can a rape joke not be funny, rape is hilarious, etc. I don’t know why he was so repetitive about it but I felt provoked because I, for one, DON’T find them funny and never have. So I didnt appreciate Daniel Tosh (or anyone!) telling me I should find them funny. So I yelled out, “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!”
“I did it because, even though being “disruptive” is against my nature, I felt that sitting there and saying nothing, or leaving quietly, would have been against my values as a person and as a woman. I don’t sit there while someone tells me how I should feel about something as profound and damaging as rape.
“After I called out to him, Tosh paused for a moment. Then, he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…”
Wow. What. The. Fuck. Rape jokes are never funny. Ever. Making a rape joke is bad enough. But attacking an audience member who calls bullshit on said rape joke?? Calling for her to be gang raped?? Horrifying and disgusting.
Tosh gave a half-ass apology on Twitter:

all the out of context misquotes aside, i’d like to sincerely apologize j.mp/PJ8bNs
— daniel tosh (@danieltosh) July 10, 2012

the point i was making before i was heckled is there are awful things in the world but you can still make jokes about them. #deadbabies
— daniel tosh (@danieltosh) July 10, 2012

But honestly, I don’t give a shit that Tosh apologized. He shouldn’t have said it to the woman in the first place.

Of course, Tosh is the same person who incorporates physical assault against women into his comedy, encouraging viewers to videotape sneaking up behind women and touching them non-consensually. Tosh obviously has no problem encouraging people to act out his comedy. Or of course calling for a woman to be gang raped in public.

This whole situation has raised the issue of rape jokes and if they can be funny and if so, how to make them funny. As I’ve said before, rape jokes aren’t edgy. They’re lazy, misogynistic, insensitive and violent. While humor can be a great way to confront tough issues, rape jokes trivialize survivor’s painful plight.
Fem2pt0’s Soraya Chemaly discusses the problem with rape jokes:
“That’s why the problem isn’t the jokes or who’s telling them. It’s that so many, many people think that stories about degrading and violating women, the more violently the better, is laugh-out-loud entertaining.”
Melissa McEwan, Shakesville Editor and Founder, asserts rape jokes aren’t ever funny (agreed) and rightfully labels Tosh “an enforcer of rape culture”:
“Rape jokes are not funny. They potentially trigger survivors, and they uphold the rape culture. They tacitly convey approval of rape to rapists, who do not appreciate “rape irony.” There is no neutral in rape culture, and jokes that diminish or normalize rape empower rapists. Rape jokes are pro-rape.
“If you incite rape, you are an enforcer of rape culture. If you argue that inciting rape is harmless, you are an enforcer of rape culture.”
While I have a massive problem with rape jokes, I have a much bigger problem with the way Tosh handled the situation. What might have started as a joke Tosh was telling as part of his act quickly spiraled into endangerment and verbal assault.

As I’ve written before, I’m a staunch supporter of freedom of speech. I vehemently disagree with people wanting to censor music, gory films or violent videogames. Many writers have pointed out that no topics should be taboo for comedians. And that humor is used to tackle painful topics and “to call bullshit” on idiocy and injustice. But that’s not what Tosh was doing. Tosh crossed the line from merely expressing his thoughts as part of his comedy routine to inciting violence.

Vanessa Valenti, Feministing Editor and Co-Founder, points out why what Tosh did wasn’t humor and how he should be held accountable:

“Tosh threatened an audience member with rape. This should not be a conversation about where to draw the line (as much of the media is asking around this). There is a very, very clear line here…This conversation should be about holding public figures accountable for the impact they have on larger culture.”

While I disagree that rape jokes can be funny, I absolutely 100% agree with The Nation’s Jessica Valenti (and Feministing Co-Founder) that there’s a huge difference between “pointing out the absurdity” of rape and sexism — like George Carlin, Sarah Silverman and Wanda Sykes — and actually threatening someone with assault, which Tosh did:

“But here’s the thing: threatening women with rape, making light of rape, and suggesting that women who speak up be raped is not edgy or controversial. It’s the norm. This is what women deal with every day. Maintaining the status quo around violence against women isn’t exactly revolutionary…
“If you are this attached to jokes about raping women – if they mean this much to you – it’s time to look inward and think about why that is.
“Because at the end of the day, the misogynist fervor behind the defense of Tosh doesn’t isn’t an impassioned debate over free speech or the nature of humor. It’s men who feel entitled to say whatever they want – no matter how violent – to women, and who are angry to have that long standing privilege challenged.”
If you read through the tweets defending Tosh (and I definitely don’t recommend you do unless you want to gouge your eyes out from sheer anger and disgust), you’ll see a lot of inane comments about how people can’t take a joke or need to lighten up. Or of course there are the gems about how women need to shut the fuck up, that the woman attending the show deserves to get raped, or that Tosh should’ve shaken his dick in the woman’s face. I shit you not, there’s some doozies from some real Mensa candidates here.

Defenders of Tosh are using smoke and mirrors to defend his abhorrent words saying she was a heckler. That she asked for it. Hmmmm….where have I heard that before? Oh that’s right…in victim blaming when we talk about rape. Yes, she interrupted him. But she didn’t attack him. Does that mean she deserves for him to humiliate and violate her? No.

Jezebel’s Lindy West debunks the most common arguments supporting Tosh, including those who say Tosh’s humor is okay because he offends everyone:

“…Being an “equal opportunity offender”—as in, “It’s okay, because Daniel Tosh makes fun of ALL people: women, men, AIDS victims, dead babies, gay guys, blah blah blah”—falls apart when you remember (as so many of us are forced to all the time) that all people are not in equal positions of power…
“It’s really easy to believe that “nothing is sacred” when the sanctity of your body and your freedom are never legitimately threatened.”
Yes, freedom of speech allows you to say whatever you want. BUT! There are consequences. Just like you can’t yell “fire” in a crowded theatre. That’s not an infringement on freedom of speech, it’s public endangerment. So is what Tosh did.

Tosh verbally assaulted this woman. Due to white privilege and male privilege in our patriarchal rape culture, Tosh possesses societal power. He exerted his power and dominance to belittle, intimidate and humiliate this woman. To shut her up and put her in her place.

Comedian and Hello Giggles and Huffington Post writer Megan O’Keefe, in her must-read post, points out that most people who laugh at rape jokes don’t truly appreciate the wordplay, satire or critique. They find humor in “hurting and sexually dominating a woman against her will.” She also shares how the problem transcends Tosh and rape culture is to blame:

“Rape is disturbing and horrible. It’s one of the horrors that we should keep at bay with humor, not encourage. Right now, the woman who posted the complaint about Tosh is receiving legitimate death and rape threats from his fans. So, his “joke” didn’t diffuse pain or horror — it sparked it.


“…The problem isn’t Daniel Tosh. The problem is that our society is still a rape culture where a large percentage of people think that rape’s OK and that a girl in a short skirt is asking for it and that it’s funny to assault someone. Not for the sake of satire, but for one person’s amusement over another person’s real life victimization.”

We live amongst a rape culture that normalizes violence and misogyny against women and objectifies women’s bodies. Society teaches people how to avoid rape rather than to not rape, putting the blame on the victim/survivor. The media berates women and brushes off rape survivors’ claims, putting the blame not on the rapist or abuser but with the survivor who comes forward.

All of this coalesces to foster and fuel sexism in the media and misogynistic “humor.” Time and time again, our society condones rape and violence. So when a white male makes a misogynistic comment or threat, there’s more happening than just what’s on the surface. It trivializes rape and misogyny. And it reinforces — both covertly and overtly — that violence against women is okay.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m sick and tired of rape jokes. But whether you think rape jokes are funny or not, it stopped being a “joke” the moment Tosh harassed and threatened a woman with violence.

And there’s nothing fucking funny about that.

Will ‘Brave’s Warrior Princess Merida Usher In a New Kind of Role Model for Girls?

Brave‘s Merida (Kelly MacDonald) via Disney Pixar

 Originally published at Fem2pt0.

I loved Brave. 
I literally did a happy dance the moment I heard Pixar would feature a female-centric film. Out of their 13 movies, Brave marks their first female protagonist. Pretty shameful. But hey, they finally got their act together and created a kick-ass heroine. But will Merida spark a new kind of role model?

Merida (Kelly MacDonald) is a feisty Scottish highland princess. Her mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson – is there nothing she can’t do??), wants her to be poised, articulate, and reserved – a proper princess. Merida wants none of that. A fierce archer, echoing Hunger Games’ Katniss Everdeen, she would rather ride horseback and explore. Her mother wants her to obey the rules and follow tradition. Merida wants the freedom to create her own destiny.

When we see a female lead, they’re usually the only girl or woman, surrounded by dudes as friends or love interests. We rarely see women working together in films, particularly children’s films. Yes, Queen Elinor wants Merida to get betrothed in an arranged marriage. But Merida defiantly rebels against this tradition. There’s no love interest. No romance. No winning the affection of a man. Instead, Merida competes for her own hand in marriage.

Passing the Bechdel Test, Brave captures the loving yet sometimes contentious relationship between mothers and daughters. Director Brenda Chapman was inspired to create the story by her own relationship with her daughter. Often in children’s films, the mother is absent or dead. As if the daughter just sprang from her father the way Athena emerged from Zeus. Now I’m all for single parents. I was raised by a single mom. But it’s disturbing we don’t see mothers. Queen Elinor was never villainized. Both Merida and her mother just want to be heard.

Merida (Kelly MacDonald) and her mother Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson)

Something else unusual — something that shouldn’t be strange – you see Merida eat apples. Now, women and girls obviously eat. But you don’t normally witness female characters eating. Due to the media’s policing of female bodies, women and girls have an antagonistic relationship to food. Granted, Merida is still thin. But at least she’s athletic…and eating.

Chapman said she “wanted to give girls something to look at and not feel inadequate.” We’re told as girls and women we’re not pretty enough. We must lose weight or gain weight. We constantly have to control our bodies and ultimately ourselves.

Hair showcases the women’s identities. Merida’s unruly but gorgeous crimson hair symbolizes her rebellious spirit. When her mother dresses her to meet her suitors, she shoves Merida’s hair under a cap. While Merida struggles to loosen at least one curl. Merida doesn’t want to be groomed, perfect or pretty. She wants to be free like her curls. Merida also rips the seams of her confining dress in order to shoot her bow, symbolically breaking free from constrictions and defying tradition. Originally, Queen Elinor’s hair was groomed in thick braids. By the end of the film, her hair flows free and she’s riding a horse with Merida, symbolizing the loss of her rigidity.

Is Brave reducing women and girls to their physical appearances? No, I don’t think so. Instead, by utilizing visual cues (although sometimes the symbolism is a little too on the nose), I think Brave showcases the constraints of gender norms and patriarchy. And more importantly, how we need to break free. Being true to yourself, voicing your opinion and going after your dreams – these are the messages little girls (and boys) need to hear more often. 

Is Brave perfect? No. It devolves into a lot of slapstick humor, not really my thing. But the legions of kids attending the 10pm Saturday night showing (really? Isn’t it past their bedtime?) emitted fits of giggles. I also wasn’t thrilled with the gender stereotypes. I appreciated King Fergus (Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor’s marriage dodged chauvinism and was fairly egalitarian. But men fight and behave buffoonish while women are supposed to be reserved and docile. Both were leaders – the King in battle, the Queen respected in negotiations – but in their gendered spheres. But perhaps that’s the point. It conveys the tradition of patriarchy and how we need to shatter these gender tropes.

But my biggest problem? Brave is still a fairy tale and Merida is still a princess. Are we ever going to get away from princesses? Ever??

Why must we still package female characters for girls in this princess box? Princess culture has saturated – no, make that dominated – our society. Little girls are obsessed with princesses, tiaras, girlie-girl hues of pink and ball gowns.

 In her fantastic book Cinderella Ate My Daughter, Peggy Orenstein dissects princess culture and its insidious message of hyperfemininity, sexualization of girls, rescue fantasies and obsession with finding Prince Charming. While princesses don’t necessarily lead to passive girls, they cause girls to feel – not that they can have it all – but that they must be everything to everyone. It’s this pressure of perfection which weakens their self-esteem.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with little girls wanting to look pretty and wear fun clothes. And of course everyone wants to feel special. But it’s problematic princesses are the only role models little girls see in media. Princess culture ultimately objectifies girls, telling them their self-worth lies in their beauty and ability to snag a man.

It’s a huge problem Pixar’s first female protagonist must still be a princess. Don’t get me wrong. Merida is a badass warrior princess who’s defiant, caring, brave and smart. And that’s awesome. But we need to eventually diverge from this princess paradigm and showcase more diversity in female characters. 

In her groundbreaking book Enlightened Sexism, Susan J. Douglas deconstructs warrior women in media. They appeal to many of us because they offer a strong female narrative with powerful, intelligent, assertive women. They challenge patriarchy. But Douglas argues that while they transgress gender roles, they simultaneously conform. Yes, they kick ass. But they must look thin, feminine and sexy while doing it.

 With the rise of the warrior princess, a fusion of two female archetypes, I hope Brave bridges the old princess movies with a new narrative for girls. Thankfully, Merida herself challenges the princess label and notion of perfection. She’s outspoken, independent and opinionated. We see Merida make mistakes and figure out solutions herself. While she gets help, no one rescues her. Merida doesn’t want to be told how to look, who to marry, or how to behave. She wants to make her own choices. But I worry Hollywood will simply reinforce and perpetuate the princess paradigm, leading to female protagonists who appear empowered but aren’t really.

Brave is absolutely wonderful. Touching and sweet, it brought me to tears, my personal barometer for a great film. And it’s a huge step in the right direction.

A film that reads as a condemnation of patriarchy, I hope Merida leads to different kind of heroine; a truly empowered one. We need to see intelligent and emotionally strong female characters. Who possess career goals and go after their dreams. Who aren’t objectified and whose lives don’t revolve around finding a man. 

Now if only girls (and boys) could see more female characters on-screen who shed the princess persona.

LGBTQI Week: "I’m Not Running, I’m Choosing": ‘Pariah’ and Gender Performance

Warning: spoilers ahead!!
“Who do you become if you can’t be yourself?” Pariah, my absolute favorite film of 2011, tackles that question. 
Written and directed by Dee Rees and produced by Nekisa Cooper, the powerful Pariah tells the story of Alike (Adepero Oduye in an astounding performance), a 17-year-old black lesbian in Brooklyn. Studious, artistic and sensitive, Alike is a writer who knows who she is but hides her sexuality from her family. We so rarely see positive portrayals of black women and queer women on-screen. Here, we have the privilege to see both. With subtlety and grace, it’s an exquisite and achingly beautiful female-centric coming-of-age film about a young woman discovering her sexuality and asserting her identity. 
Carrie Nelson already wrote an articulate and intelligent review of the award-winning film. You should seriously go read it! But I want to touch on a few points that particularly struck me while watching, particularly about gender performance and identity. 
Most films don’t address teenage sexuality. Sure they may objectify women or poke fun at raging hormones. But they don’t often explore how teens’ discover their sexuality, especially women’s sexuality, people of color’s sexuality, or queer sexuality.
Throughout the film, we receive visual cues to Alike’s gender performance. When we first see Alike in a club, she’s wearing a loose men’s jersey, baggy jeans and a baseball cap. She’s emulating her butch best friend Laura (Pernell Walker). On the bus home, Alike removes her hat and shirt, revealing a form-fitting top. She puts on earrings. All for her overprotective, lonely and overbearing mother Audrey (Kim Wayans). When she’s around her mom, Alike wears stereotypically feminine clothing. Flouncy skirts, dresses, snug blouses – all clothing that “shows off her figure” like her mother wants. Her mother buys her these clothes, knowing full well that Alike abhors wearing them. Yet refusing to accept her daughter, she tries to orchestrate her daughter’s identity.
Alike’s mother can’t handle the fact that her daughter is a lesbian. Audrey shows a colleague at lunch a fuchsia sweater she bought for Alike. She tells Arthur (Charles Parnell), Alike’s father, that she’s “tired of this tomboy thing she’s doing.” Yet Alike tries to express herself, telling her parents that the sweater “isn’t me.” Alike’s identity contradicts her vision of her daughter that she imposed on Alike. Alike’s father is more protective of her as she’s a “daddy’s girl.” Yet he refuses to admit or see the signs that Alike might be a lesbian. Between the two is Alike’s sister Sharonda (Sahra Mellesse) who knows about her sexuality and loves her regardless. 
Whenever Alike leaves home, she transforms herself into the identity she chooses. At school, we see her rush to the girls’ bathroom to change. She adopts a more masculine appearance to coincide with her gender non-conformity. Laura buys Alike a strap-on to have sex with a woman. But Alike’s uncomfortable wearing it (it’s white, it pinches her) and ends up throwing it away. 
For Alike, both sets of clothing – the hyper-masculine and hyper-feminine – are a costume. She rebels from the princess wardrobe her mother wants for her by going to the other extreme, exploring if it’s who she is. But neither appearance encapsulates Alike. Both the butch and the femme identities are disconnected from her personality. 
“Alike’s a woman who knows she loves women, and is sure in that, but her struggle is how to be. Her struggle is a more nuanced struggle of gender identity within the queer community. She’s not the same person that (her friend) Laura is, neither is she this pink princess that her mother wants her to be. She falls somewhere in between. Finding the courage to carve out that space is her journey.” 
Audrey suspects her daughter is a lesbian or at the very least is attracted to women. But she tries to derail Alike’s sexuality. Audrey forces Alike and the charismatic Bina (Aasha Davis), the daughter of a work colleague and one of Alike’s classmates, to spend time together in a vain attempt to separate Alike from hanging out with Laura, who’s own mother has disowned her for being a lesbian. Alike tells her mother that nothing is going to change, Audrey replies, “God doesn’t make mistakes,” as if homosexuality is a mistake. But Audrey’s plan backfires as Alike and Bina bond over music and share a growing attraction to one another. 
Drawn to one another, Alike and Bina have sex. Despite their shared intimacy, Bina rejects Alike. Breaking Alike’s heart and devastating her, Bina tells her she’s not “gay-gay” and asks her to keep their encounter secret. We see that Bina possesses sexual fluidity yet is afraid to commit to a woman, perhaps due to society’s heteronormative standards. Or maybe she doesn’t want to commit to anyone, male or female. Or maybe she’s an insensitive asshole. 
Whatever Bina’s motivations, Alike’s heartbreak ushers in her refusal to bury her identity any longer. Amidst a huge fight between her parents, Audrey angrily tells Arthur, “Your daughter is turning into a damn man right before your eyes.” Alike tells her parents she’s a lesbian, which enrages her mother. Audrey hits her repeatedly, her father trying to restrain her, after Alike finally confirms what her mother already knew. 
Alike turns to Laura (who tries again to reach out to her mother after she earns her GED) for solace and support. Both women are able to commiserate as friends and as lesbians rejected by their mothers’ gendered expectations. 
By the end of the film, we see Alike’s clothing change again. Adopting some of Bina’s style fused with her own – perhaps to convey that she’s learned from her heartache or it may be her acknowledgement of her sexual transformation – she wears scarves and earrings with jeans. No longer shadowing Laura and no longer conforming to her mother’s gendered expectations, Alike rejects the gender binary of butch and femme, a symbolic balance of her identity, a unison of femininity and masculinity. 
Alike divulges her feelings through spoken word. Her poem at the end of Pariah is hauntingly stunning (making me weep uncontrollably), echoing her painful yet ultimately freeing journey towards self-acceptance: 
“Heartbreak opens onto the sunrise for even breaking is opening and I am broken, I am open. Broken into the new life without pushing in, open to the possibilities within, pushing out. See the love shine in through my cracks? See the light shine out through me? I am broken, I am open, I am broken open. See the love light shining through me, shining through my cracks, through the gaps. My spirit takes journey, my spirit takes flight, could not have risen otherwise and I am not running, I am choosing. Running is not a choice from the breaking. Breaking is freeing, broken is freedom. I am not broken, I am free.” 
Pariah shattered my heart with its aching beauty, uplifting my soul. We are allowed a window to witness her journey and self-discovery. Through her wardrobe and poetry, Alike eventually expresses herself as a lesbian in the way that she wishes. Alike insists she’s not running, she’s choosing. While she means this literally, there’s  meaning beneath the surface. No longer running from who she is, Alike chooses to embrace her identity. Watching Alike discover and assert herself is beauty, poetry in motion.

LGBTQI Week: ‘Albert Nobbs’ Review: Exploring Constrictions of Gender & Class

Mia Wasikowska and Glenn Close in ‘Albert Nobbs’

This review by Staff Writer Megan Kearns previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on February 2, 2012.
“You don’t have to be anything but what you are.” Hubert Page (Janet McTeer) tells the titular Albert Nobbs played by Glenn Close. But in a time where women possessed no status, no rights – when your only options were as a wife, servant or prostitute – how could you be yourself if you yearned for another life?

Haunting and sad, Albert Nobbs tells the tale of a woman who disguises herself as a man in order to survive in 19th Century Ireland. A “labor of love” and a “dream fulfilled,” Oscar nominee Glenn Close, who co-wrote the screenplay, tried to get Albert Nobbs made into a film for 30 years. Adapted from the play, which Close starred in on Broadway in 1982, is itself adapted from George Moore’s short story. Moore’s books were controversial “because of his willingness to tackle such issues as prostitution, extramarital sex and lesbianism.” Rodrigo Garcia’s poignant film Nine Lives, which Close also appeared in, showcasing 9 vignettes of women’s lives, is one of my favorite films. So my expectations were high for Albert Nobbs.

Was this a “jaw-dropping performance” by Glenn Close? She was absolutely outstanding. I didn’t realize at first just how good of a job she did until I realized I completely forgot that it was Glenn Close! I’m used to seeing her play strong, confident or assertive women. Here, Close plays a character shy, awkward, guarded and desperately lonely. She melts into the role. She’s as straight-laced and tightly wound as the prim and proper world around her. 

It might be easy to initially dismiss Close’s performance as merely donning make-up and male garb, forever sporting a stoically immutable countenance. But Close completely lets go in Albert’s few aching outbursts of emotion. With a child-like naïveté, Close played Albert as an “homage to Charlie Chaplin.” About the role, she said:
“Albert was particularly tricky because there’s always the question of how much should show on her face because a lot of it is somebody who’s totally shut down, who doesn’t even look people in the eye. Servants weren’t supposed to look people in the eye, but she’s an invisible person in an invisible job. And then her whole evolution is slowly being able to look up – the first time she really looks someone in the face is after she’s told Hubert her story and then she kind of looks out to her dream.”

Janet McTeer and Glenn Close
Albert’s world begins to change after she meets outgoing house painter, Hubert Page (McTeer). In her well-deserved Oscar-nominated role, Janet McTeer exquisitely steals every scene. Hands down, she’s the absolute best part of the film. I couldn’t wait until her magnetic presence appeared on-screen again. McTeer, who plays the qualities of the character, not the gender, exudes a soulful swagger and charismatic kindness. She radiates confidence, warmth and a bold assertiveness. McTeer, also playing a woman in disguise, possesses a strong sense of self, the complete polar opposite to Albert who has no idea who she is as a person. About her character, McTeer said:
“I tried to be, on the one hand, very male, by which I mean large and expansive and confident and sitting on the back of the heels, as it were, and on the other hand I wanted [my character] Hubert to have as many as what we consider to be the loveliest of the female qualities — empathy, compassion, kindness. I wanted Hubert to be a really good mixture of both.”

It’s the embodiment of these qualities that makes Hubert unique. But we also see this mélange in Albert. Helen (Mia Wasikowska) tells Albert, “You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.” What makes Albert so strange? Is it that she treats women with thoughtfulness, kindness and equity stereotypically lacking from the other men Helen met?

After Albert meets Hubert, she realizes she could have a life of companionship. SPOILER -> Hubert is married to a woman she adores and a beautiful scene between the two portray a tender, loving and devoted couple. <- END SPOILER Hubert gives Albert hope for a different future: a life free from the shackles and confines of loneliness. In a bittersweet scene, Hubert and Albert walk along the beach together. Albert in a dress, the first she’s worn in 30 years, runs along the beach. Reminded of her old identity, in a rare expression of emotion, she’s unconstricted, buoyed by freedom and sheer joy.

Many movies contain cross-dressing plotlines for comedic effect. But not a lot exist that focus on gender-bending from a dramatic angle. Boys Don’t Cry and Transamerica explore the lives of a trans man and woman while Yentl and The Ballad of Little Jo both echo Albert Nobbs as they feature women who choose to live as men in order to survive or pursue their dreams. An act of violence as a young girl catalyzes Albert to live as a man to protect herself and survive.

Critics have focused on the gender components. But class, an equally important theme, threads throughout the entire film. Albert Nobbs depicts how women contended with and endured poverty. We witness the stark dichotomy between the lavishly wealthy clients and the servile wait staff in the hotel. Servants in the Victorian Era were to be invisible, never looking the upper class in the eye. With her downcast eyes, Albert remains dutiful. Yet she begins to aspire for more. Albert has been saving her money all her life and hopes to open a shop of her own.

The film portrays relationships and courtship as an economic contract. When Albert courts the coquettish Helen (Wasikowska), Helen expects and asks for all sorts of gifts and trinkets. SPOILER -> We also see class play out after Helen gets pregnant. Women needed men in order to survive financially. Women who give birth to children out of wedlock were punished fiscally, fired from their jobs. Husbands provided fiscal security. <- END SPOILER Gender and class coalesce. You realize Helen’s gender and station in life condemn her situation. Albert and Hubert would never be able to attain their dreams (and Hubert her independence) had they retained their identity as women.

I perpetually worry audiences watch period films with dangerously confining gender roles and then sit back thinking, “Phew, we’ve come so far!” Yeah, no, we so haven’t. Albert Nobbs raises so many thought-provoking questions. Why is the male gender the more “desirable” gender in society? What does it say about a society where half its population has a mere two options for their lives? How can women take charge of their own lives amidst confining gender norms? But therein lies my problem with the film. It provides no conclusions, the answers remain elusive. 

It’s a slow and unassuming movie that at times moves at a methodical pace. But the more I pondered, the more I realized the film possessed many intricate layers. Throughout we see women’s perspectives and hear women’s voices. Albert Nobbs contains not one but two powerful female actors with other women in memorable supporting roles; a film rarity. Neither Albert or Hubert are defined by their gender or sexuality. They both transcend gender.

The tragic story of Albert Nobbs lingered in my memory long after I left the theatre. Its exploration of female friendship, lesbian love, class and poverty, gender roles and a woman’s self-discovery, truly make it a rare gem. 

———-
Megan Kearns is a Bitch Flicks Staff Writer. She’s a feminist vegan blogger and freelance writer living in Boston. Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site she founded in 2010 which focuses on gender equality and living cruelty-free. She writes about gender and media as a Regular Blogger at Fem2pt0, a site uniting social issues with women’s voices. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Feministing’s Community Blog, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, A Safe World for Women and Women and Hollywood. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology from UMass Amherst and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy from UMass Boston. You can follow all of  Megan’s opinionated musings on Twitter at @OpinionessWorld. 

LGBTQI Week: “All the Pieces Matter:” Queer Characters of Color on ‘The Wire’

(L-R): Detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn) and Omar Little (Michael K. Williams) on The Wire
The Wire is the greatest TV series of all time. Period.
Now, I know I’m not really making some bold claim as many, many, many, manycriticshave professed their unabashed love for the crime drama. No other show has painstakingly depicted the complexities of racism, the inner city and the lives of the underclass. It’s a grandiose statement “about the American city, and about how we live together” and how institutional inequities fail social justice.
When people talk about The Wire, usually with awe and reverie, they discuss the sharp dialogue or the nuanced characters or the statement on race and the criminal justice system. And all of that is amazing. But I think what gets lost is that people forget The Wire’s depiction of queer characters and ultimately its statement on LGBTQ rights.  
The Wire portrayed complex, fully developed queer characters, something you don’t typically see in pop culture. With my absolute two favorite characters, Detective Kima Greggs and Omar Little – a black lesbian woman and a black gay man – The Wire confronted assumptions and stereotypes of heteronormativity.
Played by Sonja Sohn, an African-American and Asian-American black woman, kick-ass Detective Kima Greggs was a hard-working, smart, compassionate and loyal. Possessing integrity and earning the respect of her colleagues, she’s a fiercely shrewd and efficient police detective working in narcotics and later homicide. And she’s openly lesbian. From her very first scenes, we witness Kima better at her job than many of the men around her. She’s an indispensable member of the Major Crimes Unit. Outside of work, we see Kima with her partner Cheryl, a journalist. Later in the series, we see how work stress (especially after Kima is shot), conflicting goals, infidelity, parenthood and alcohol strain their relationship. After they break up, we see Kima and Cheryl come together to raise their son, as well as Kima’s fantastic “hustler” version of Goodnight, Moon.

The Wire‘s Detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn)
With his signature trench coat, shotgun and trademark whistle, Omar (portrayed by the effortlessly charismatic Michael K. Williams) was a badass stick-up man who everyone in the hood respected, even those who wanted him dead. And he was a proud gay black man. Intelligent, brave, sensitive and funny, he abided by a strict moral code. He loved Honey Nut Cheerios and Greek mythology, loathed profanity and dropped nuggets of wisdom on the similarities between lawyers and thieves and says things like, “Ares, same dude different name” and “You come at the king, you best not miss.” The media is littered with tropes about gay men. Yet here was Omar – a tough, fearless, modern-day Robin Hood robbing drug dealers – who just happened to be gay and broke every stereotype. 
The Wire showed both Kima and Omar’s romantic relationships. We witness them laugh, kiss, have sex, and fight. In short, complete relationships. It was great to see to see a gay and a lesbian relationship amidst all the heterosexual relationships. When queer relationships are depicted on TV, they’re often sanitized and peppered with chaste kisses, when the straight relationships are not. Queer characters may be clothed or the relationships are put on the back burner, not in integral part of the characters’ lives. With The Wire, we see queer characters having sex. We see Omar naked. Passion, raw sexuality, and tenderness abound in the queer relationships. We shouldn’t be plagued by heteronormativity and just see straight relationships as the default and queer relationships as peripheral. Queer relationships were entrenched in the series.
It’s also interesting to see how other Wire characters treat homosexuality. When asked by Carver, “If you don’t mind can I ask you when was it that you first figured you liked women better than men?” To which she replies, “I mind.” Detective McNulty praises Kima, telling her the only other competent female detective he ever worked with was a lesbian (ahhh a back-handed, sexist compliment…thanks, Jimmy!) Omar is often referred to with gay slurs like the F-word and C-sucker. When drug kingpin Avon Barksdale finds out from his crew that Omar is gay, he quadruples the bounty on him.Many of the characters seem to view lesbians as masculine, the desired gender, and gay men as effeminate, denigrating the feminine. The portrayal of Kima and Omar question, challenge and subvert these stereotypes.

The Wire‘s Omar Little (Michael K. Williams)

Now, it’s great we’re starting to see more and more queer characters on-screen (Modern Family, True Blood, Grey’s Anatomy, Will & Grace, Glee, The L Word, Queer as Folk, Buffy, Roseanne). Although I desperately wish we were seeing more bisexual (although thank you for Callie Torres, Grey’s Anatomy!) and transgender characters. But usually when we see queer characters, we see white, upper class/upper middle class characters. As if no queer people of color or queer people who are impoverished or even working class exist.

Class and race are so often erased in our media (one of the many reasons Roseanne was so groundbreaking and amazing). Not every queer person lives in Park Slope or West Hollywood attending art gallery openings and having nannies. The Wire depicts financially struggling and impoverished queer women and men of color.
Stereotypes plague queer characters on sitcoms. And yes, sitcoms differ from dramas. Kima and Omar (while Omar does seem too badass to be an actual person) both seem very real. They exhibited foibles and weaknesses along with their strengths. But their relationships didn’t define them. Rather, they were an integral component of their lives. Kima and Omar weren’t beholden to these stereotypes that alert us to “Oh, this is a gay character!” Fully developed and fleshed out, they didn’t fall prey to common tropes.
But Kima and Omar weren’t the only queer characters. Major Rawls, a gay-slur-spewing jerk, is a closeted gay man as we see him briefly at a gay bar. Snoop (Felicia Pearson), the frighteningly ruthless, gender non-conforming soldier in Marlo’s crew (sidebar, my fave scene with her is when she goes to Home Depot), is a lesbian as we learn after Detective Bunk tells her he’s thinking about some pussy and she replies, “Me too.” Both Rawls and Snoop, along with Greggs and Omar, challenge gender and heteronormative assumptions.

The Wire‘s Snoop (Felicia “Snoop” Pearson)
Despite my adulation, The Wire is far from perfect. (Say what??) The Wire boasts strong, complex female characters (Kima Greggs, Ronnie, Beadie, Brianna Barksdale, Snoop) Yet it sadly suffers from a woman problem. As progressive as it is, sexism taints it. Just because a film or TV series contains a “portfolio of ‘strong women’” doesn’t automatically deem it feminist.The Wire often focus on the male characters. While we see myriad perspectives from the male characters, the women aren’t typically offered the same screen-time or scope, often existing peripherally. David Simon himself admitted that his female characters could be called “men with tits.” Ugh. While based on a couple lesbian officers he knew, Simon wrote Kima Greggs “like a man.” We often witness how institutional racism and classism oppress the male characters and how gendered notions of masculinity harm men. Yet we rarely see how sexism impacts the women from their perspective. But the flaws in its depiction of women doesn’t unravel the tremendous good The Wire has done.

“The characters on The Wiredemonstrate a departure from heteronormative assumptions in television complicated by race. The prospect of seeing homosexual minority couples has remained largely untouched by major media outlets and it is therefore worth applauding. While the series may lack a strong female presence to challenge traditional heterosexual gender roles, the work that it has done involving homosexual partnerships serves as one of the sole examples of normalized homosexuality.”
When asked why he created an out lesbian and a gay stick-up man, creator David Simon responded, “Because gay people exist.” Is there any more perfect reason than that? He went on to say that he knew lesbian detectives and openly gay stick-up men in Baltimore. Whatever failings Simon suffered from not knowing how to write about women, he knew to include gay characters. It shouldn’t be so surprising or groundbreaking. And yet it is for the media too often erases queer (and queer people of color’s) perspectives. And that’s just one of the many reasons why The Wire should be celebrated.The Wire‘s routine depiction of gay and lesbian characters conveyed queer individuals and queer relationships as normal, loving and valid. The Wire refused to make heterosexuality the default sexual orientation.

Weaving diverse voices and social justice issues together in a compelling, thought-provoking, passionate way — that’s what The Wire did best. Too often the media silences and erases queer people of color. The Wire brought those perspectives to the forefront. Quoting Detective Lester Freamon, evolving into the show’s unofficial mantra, “And all the pieces matter.” And so do all the various genders, sexualities, races and identities of the characters involved. Just like real life…or at least how real life should be.
P.S. Michael K. Williams (Omar), who’s incredibly gracious and charming – yes, I’m going to brag for a moment…I was lucky enough to meet him (!!!), as well as Andre Royo (Bubs) and Jamie Hector (Marlo) who were also super nice – filmed a PSA for marriage equality in Maryland. If you’re an Omar fan, you should totes watch it. Oh, indeed.

 

LGBTQI Week: The Kids Are All Right

Movie poster for The Kids Are All Right
This review by Staff Writer Megan Kearns previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on February 21, 2011.

I was so excited to see The Kids Are All Right.  I mean a film with not one, but two amazing female leads as well as a family headed by lesbian parents??  The feminist in me says sign me up!  While it exuded potential, I wasn’t so excited after watching the film.

The Kids Are All Right, directed and co-written by Lisa Cholodenko (Laurel Canyon, High Art) centers on Annette Bening (Nic) and Julianne Moore (Jules), a loving married lesbian couple in California who are parents to daughter Joni and son Laser.  Joni is a brilliant student about to embark on college; Laser is a confused teen experimenting with drugs and yearning for a male role model.  Laser begs Joni, as she’s 18, to contact their “father,” as both their mothers underwent artificial insemination, Mark Ruffalo (Paul) who happens to be the sperm donor for both kids.  When Joni and Laser meet Paul, they’re reticent to tell their mothers.  Yet they eventually do all meet.  While Jules and Joni are pleased to connect with him, Laser feels ambivalence towards him and Nic worries Paul’s arrival will drive a wedge between her and her family.  Complications ensue as Paul becomes ever more entwined in each of their lives.
This slow-paced, meandering film possesses some positive traits.  The performances, particularly by Bening and Ruffalo, are where the film shines.  Bening radiates as the rigid and controlling career woman who feels her world spinning out of control.   There’s a beautiful scene, one of my faves in the film, in which the background sounds of a dinner party fade to a muffled din as she sits, alone in her pain.  Bening perfectly conveys Nic’s frustrations and emotions.  Moore, whom I adore for her chameleon ability to seamlessly meld into a character (except her horrendous Boston accent on 30 Rock), while far from her best performance, does a great job as the flighty free spirit who’s never truly found her calling in life.  Josh Hutcherson who plays Laser is annoying; although teens often are so perhaps he does succeed!  Mia Wasikowska as Joni gives a solid performance as the teen yearning for freedom.  Ruffalo is fantastic as Paul, the well-intentioned yet fuck-up hipster.  He’s a pathetic character yet oozes charm in every scene, as he strives to find a meaningful connection.  But it’s Nic and Jules’ tender yet struggling relationship, that elicits the most fascination.  With its mix of bickering and affection, it feels so real.  Just as any couple has problems, so do they.  Jules feels she’s not desired anymore and Nic feels her family slipping through her grasp.
The dialogue is sharp and witty yet problematic.  For what I had hoped would be a feminist film, the script was littered with assloads of slut-shaming, whore-calling and homophobic F-word dropping.  And while these terms do get tossed around in our society, no repercussions or backlash existed in the film; as if no social commentary was being made.  Granted, not every film has to make some grandiose statement.  Yet I expected better here, particularly as it was directed and co-written by a woman.  Luckily, it does pass the Bechdel Test as Nic and Jules often talk to each other about their marriage or about their children.
Despite the great performances and (mostly) great dialogue, the film was mired with too many problems…particularly its plot.  If you’ve seen The Kids Are All Right or read about it, you probably know what I’m talking about: the affair.  One of the women enters into an affair…with Paul.  Yep, a lesbian has an affair with a man.  But not just any man…her sperm donor!
As someone who doesn’t consider themselves straight (but not a lesbian either), I truly believe in the fluidity of gender and sexuality.  I don’t believe in gender binaries, so I don’t feel that a self-professed lesbian sleeping with a man means she’s either/or: either a lesbian or straight.  Nor do I think it necessarily makes her bisexual.  But why oh christ why did a man have to be involved??  As it is, according to the Women’s Media Center, men comprise more than 70% of the speaking roles in films.  And while we’re starting to see gay men and couples in films and on TV shows, it’s even rarer to see lesbians (as well as bisexual and transgender).
So it pissed me off that a lesbian couple, shown with so much tenderness and depth, had to have their lives invaded by a man.  Even the porn film Nic and Jules watch during a sex scene is of two gay men.  It’s almost as if Cholodenko is saying all women crave a penis!  Perhaps I wouldn’t be so hard on the film if there were more movies made about lesbians.  But as this is one of the few films to show a lesbian marriage, I worry that people will judge lesbian relationships based on how they’re depicted here.
Inspiration for the film came loosely from Cholodenko’s life, who came out as a lesbian when she was 16 years old. As an adult, many of her lesbian friends were having babies via sperm donors. When Cholodenko and her wife decided to have a baby, they too sought a sperm donor. Interestingly, co-writer Stuart Blumberg happened to donate sperm in college. These two circumstances coalesced, forming the foundation for the film. Cholodenko also infused the script with anecdotes from her own life, such as the “numb tongue” story of how Jules and Nic meet in the film. 
“‘That Nic and Jules are a lesbian couple is important to the movie thematically because they are raising a family in an unconventional setting and are more anxious than some parents about how having two moms will affect the mental health of their children.  But it could have been the same thing with a divorced couple,’ she says. ‘I always thought we were making a movie about a family, and the threat to the wholeness of the family. It was not about politics. If there was anything calculated, it was how do we make this movie universal — how do we make this a story about a family?'”
Critics have lauded the film for its transcendence from an LGBTQ family into a universal tale about modern families.  And that’s one of the components I applaud; that Cholodenko’s message is not about a lesbian family, but of a family, period.  Yet I can’t escape the feeling of unease, that critics glossing over the unique experiences and challenges that LGBTQ parents face feels like a slap in the face at worst and negligent at best. 
While critics and many movie-goers loved The Kids Are All Right, the film infuriated many lesbians due to the affair. And I can’t blame them, it pissed me off too. Sheila Lambert at the Examiner writes, 
“‘Lesbians love it when a married woman has an affair with another woman on film, which is perceived as moving toward authenticity, but we’re not happy seeing a woman in a same-sex marriage have an affair with a man, which to them represents a regression. And raises concerns about whether it adds fuel to the notion that sexual orientation can be changed from gay to straight. Sitting in the audience, I found myself feeling concerned about that as well…'”
Professor Joan Garry at Huffington Post was one of the lesbians angered by the film’s plot. She astutely argues, 

“‘It boils down to this: I’m upset because I believe the takeaway from this film will be that lesbians and the families they create need men to be complete.'”

Our patriarchal society continually tells women that they need a man; that their lives aren’t whole or fulfilled without one.  But they don’t.  Despite the film’s misguided plot, the crux of the film resides in the strength of Nic and Jules’ relationship and their love for their kids.  My fave scene and quote in the film is when Nic and Jules attempt to explain to their kids why families fight.  Jules says,
“‘Your mom and I are in hell right now and the bottom line is marriage is hard.  It’s really fucking hard.  Just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing.  It’s a fucking marathon, okay? So, sometimes, you know, you’re together for so long, that you just… You stop seeing the other person. You just see weird projections of your own junk. Instead of talking to each other, you go off the rails and act grubby and make stupid choices, which is what I did.  And I feel sick about it because I love you guys, and your mom, and that’s the truth. And sometimes you hurt the ones you love the most, and I don’t know why. You know if I read more Russian novels, then…Anyway…I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did.  I hope you’ll forgive me eventually…'”
Raw and real; it felt as if Annette Bening and Julianne Moore were a real couple fighting to hold onto their family.  Usually, you see a film with two lesbians in an affair for men’s titillation, rarely to convey a loving, monogamous relationship.  Nic and Jules share a flawed yet devoted marriage, evocative of relationships in real-life.  There was simply no need to bring a man into the picture.  I wish the film had retained its focus on the couple and their family.  It’s such a rarity that we see films featuring lesbian couples let alone two female leads that I had high hopes for, expecting it to be empowering.  Sadly, the undercurrent of misogynistic language and male-centrism taints Cholodenko’s potentially beautiful story.
 
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Megan Kearns is a Bitch Flicks Staff Writer. She’s a feminist vegan blogger and freelance writer living in Boston. Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site she founded in 2010 which focuses on gender equality and living cruelty-free. She writes about gender and media as a Regular Blogger at Fem2pt0, a site uniting social issues with women’s voices. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Feministing’s Community Blog, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, A Safe World for Women and Women and Hollywood. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology from UMass Amherst and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy from UMass Boston. You can follow all of  Megan’s opinionated musings on Twitter at @OpinionessWorld.

Women-Centric Films Opening Today, 6/22

Well, only 2 female-centric films this week. Pretty sad. BUT! The two films — Pixar’s first female protagonist a feisty archer and an award-winning documentary about rape in the military — both look fantastic.

Brave

Merida is a skilled archer and impetuous daughter of King Fergus (Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson). Determined to carve her own path in life, Merida defies an age-old custom sacred to the uproarious lords of the land: massive Lord MacGuffin (Kevin McKidd), surly Lord Macintosh (Craig Ferguson) and cantankerous Lord Dingwall (Robbie Coltrane). Merida’s actions inadvertently unleash chaos and fury in the kingdom, and when she turns to an eccentric old Witch (Julie Walters) for help, she is granted an ill-fated wish. The ensuing peril forces Merida to discover the meaning of true bravery in order to undo a beastly curse before it’s too late. — (C) Disney

 The Invisible War

The Invisible War is a groundbreaking investigative documentary about one of our country’s most shameful and best kept secrets: the epidemic of rape within our US military. Today, a female soldier in Iraq and Afghanistan is more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire with the number of assaults in the last decade alone in the hundreds of thousands. Focusing on the powerfully emotional stories of several young women, the film reveals the systemic cover up of the crimes against them and follows their struggles to rebuild their lives and fight for justice. The Invisible War features hard-hitting interviews with high-ranking military officials and members of Congress that reveal the perfect storm conditions that exist for rape in the military, its history of cover-up, and what can be done to bring about much needed change. — (C) Official Site

All film descriptions taken from Rotten Tomatoes.