Orange is the New Black

Call For Writers: Depictions of Trans Women

Representations of trans women still remain few and far between in film and on television. Representations of trans women performed by actual trans women are even more rare. (‘Orange is the New Black’ and ‘Sense8’ are the most recent, popular exceptions to that rule, and, interestingly, both are series productions created by Netflix.)

Our theme week for November 2015 will be Depictions of Trans Women.

Representations of trans women still remain few and far between in film and on television. Representations of trans women performed by actual trans women are even more rare. (Orange is the New Black and Sense8 are the most recent, popular exceptions to that rule, and, interestingly, both are series productions created by Netflix.) Much like white actors dressing up in blackface or redface to interpret the experience of Black and Native characters, trans representation by non-trans actresses takes away the authenticity of the interpretation, no matter how sympathetic the storyline may be.

This is why we often see trans women as the punchline of a joke (Terror Firmer, Twin Peaks, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective) or the source of horror and revulsion (Sleepaway Camp, The Crying Game, The Silence of the Lambs). In more serious dramas, male actors have garnered critical praise for their depictions of trans women (Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor in The Crying Game and hotly contended Academy Award win for Best Supporting Actor in Dallas Buyers Club). This persistence in and even acclaim for insisting on interpreting the experience of trans women for trans women is a kind of violence and erasure in its own right.

Why aren’t trans women given the opportunity to represent themselves? Which interpretations of trans women have merit? What do these interpretations say about the experiences of trans women and trans identity? What do interpretations of trans women say about our society’s interplay with trans identity? Are representations of trans women getting better?

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

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

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

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, Nov. 20, by midnight.

Orange is the New Black

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Sense8

Breakfast on Pluto

American Transgender

Red Without Blue

Dallas Buyers Club

Transparent

Creature

Star Trek: The Next Generation

Dog Day Afternoon

Wild Zero

The Bold and the Beautiful

Blunt Talk

The Badge

Dressed to Kill

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Bad Education

Ma vie en rose

Sleepaway Camp

Silence of the Lambs

Let the Right One In

Hit & Miss

The Crying Game

Terror Firmer

Veronica Mars

The World According to Garp

Twin Peaks

How to Get Away with Murder

Orlando

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Tales of the City

Ugly Betty

Virtue, Vulgarity, and the Vulva

The equality of men and women on the basis of healthy and consensual sex is sex positivity according to the Women and Gender Advocacy Center. Thus, to desire sex positivity is to be inherently feminist.

This guest post by Erin Relford appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

If TV shows were lovers, I’d argue women haven’t had great sex since Sex and the City. Much like your first time and the strategically latent mile markers you’ve placed on partners since then, you know good sex when you encounter it. From a woman’s point of view, good sex is control without judgment, a convergence of discovery, submission beyond fear, and a jungle gym full of toys where choice puts you in the driver’s seat (debauchery being an optional passenger of course).

Considering Sex and the City TV’s certifiable rubber stamp of good female sex, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda echoed the tales of countless women, giving ode to the free missives of womanhood and female prowess. The lessons in relationships, the selfish romps of good delight, all were reasons to shout “yes, yes, yes” by virtue of sex positivity.

So why then has good female sex gone missing from television? Arguably, cable and broadcast networks have shared in their ill-fated attempts at sexploitation, mostly at the expense of women. The proof is in the pudding or pootnanny in this case. Showtime’s Californication led seven seasons of “accidental cunnilingus” and sapless sucking, while Ray Donovan’s no frills 1-2-3 pump action has left Showtime’s female audience high and dry. HBO’s Ballers is a good time in the sack, if you’re a woman willing to suffice with balls of dry humping and no “Mr. Big” (par for the course Dwayne Johnson).

Lest one forget HBO’s seduction of rape and torture porn, Game of Thrones’ female characters experience it all in guile of good TV. These depictions aren’t to suggest the storytelling behind such shows are short of genius, but remiss of variety. The female sex narrative has been relegated to an industry turned tits for trade commonwealth, a vulva and violence republic.

Sex is an inalienable right, sacred and undeniable, an equal opportunity employer that does not discriminate in its pursuance of life, liberty, and rapture. The privilege is everyone’s to be expressed as a declaration of independence and therefore should be engaged from the perspectives of both men and women. On the contrary, the Declaration of Independence was written “that all men are created equal,” yet our stories involving sex are still being viewed from the perspectives of men.

However, let’s not be haste and expel the idea sex positivity has gone hiding into the forests of Westeros. Evidence exists that sex positivity is flourishing in light of TV’s new golden era and new wave of feminism. It’s come in the embodiment of female sex appeal, the brand of woman that is fabulously fierce, yet deliciously palpable. The fire of Daenerys Targaryen, the tenacity of Brienne of Tarth, or the inexplicable “Stark” of Arya and Sansa are all due a conceded applause thanks to Game of Thrones portrayal of strong, bountiful female characters. Scandal’s Olivia Pope earns top brass for her bastion of prose and breastwork, delivering willful rhubarbs to Washington’s elite though judged often and tenaciously for her challenge to disbelief that women can command power and pleasure in it from the highest tent pole in the land.

Alicia Florrick’s beau Will Gardner may be gone, but her sense of smart and sexy is almost too naughty for CBS’ The Good Wife.

And dare not forget the women of USA Network’s Suits, led by the strut, poise, and pivot of the inimitable Jessica Pearson.

Suffice to say there are many Masters of Sex on television, but does women’s exploration of sex on television have to be justified in pioneering scientists? Can the enjoyment of love and lust be equal parts man, equal parts woman? Not so, according to the 2015 Writers Guild of America TV staffing brief, where women remain underrepresented among staff writers by nearly two to one.

All things being equal, one could satiate in the fact women being 50.8 percent of the US population, would also mean a majority of female driven TV programming, written by women. But the reality is, most female characters are written by men. Some exceptionally well, as in FX’s You’re The Worst where creator Stephen Falk gives equal Judas Priest to the sexes or Darren Star’s Sex and the City. But there are more than 31 flavors to cherry popping ecstasy as proven early on by Ilene Chaiken’s The L Word. Perhaps one of the more prevailing scapes into female intimacy and feminism, The L Word managed to be intriguing and vanguard, paving the way for shows like Orange is the New Black where women could be domineering and emphatic, let alone in control of their very naturism as on Girls.

In an age of digital storytelling, where men still dominate culture and the writer’s room, we can continue to look forward to Pussy Galores.

Meanwhile, feminists and female viewers alike will revel in the Lisbeth Salanders, Olivia Popes, and Mary Janes, persevering far and wide in search of the next big “O,” that is open, outstanding, and out of the ordinary television that engages women from the female point of view. Will there ever be great sex on TV for women?

The answer may befall in there’s simply more to come…

Erin Relford is an author and screenwriter currently working in Los Angeles. Her writings involve female empowerment and engaging girls in science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM). You can follow her on Twitter @AdrienneFord or her website pinkyandkinky.com

The Male Gaze, LOL: How Comedies Are Changing the Way We Look

The body is no longer a Lacanian reflected ideal, it is a biological mess that often exists beyond anyone’s control. The effect of this convention is two-fold–a bait and switch of expectations but also the creation of a sense of biological sameness: man or woman, everybody poops. By placing the body in a biological space instead of a symbolic one, physical comedy is questioning the visual tendencies of subconscious desire.

This guest post by Donna K. appears as part of our theme week on The Female Gaze.

When I was taught the definitions of comedy and tragedy as an angst-y teen, I remember being struck by the way in which they were generalized. In tragedy, everyone dies. In comedy, everyone gets married. I remember thinking, “Yes, marriage IS hilarious!” But in fact, marriage was comic in the sense that everything worked out for everybody–everybody often being defined as the white male with power. Over the last decade, the male gaze has quietly been averted through a new wave of female-driven comedies. Television shows like 30 Rock, Broad City, Orange is the New Black, The Mindy Project, Inside Amy Schumer , and films like Bridesmaids and Appropriate Behavior have paved the way for comedy, specifically the role of women in it, to be re-defined: comedy is a choice. Comedy is not who will marry whom it is the choice to marry or not, to tell one’s individual story, to laugh in the face of the controlling patriarchy until there is nothing left to laugh about.

One of the hallmarks of the new class of female comedies is to subvert the “to-be-looked-at-ness” of the female form, begging an audience to gaze upon woman but then exposing the gawkers to the truths below the surface in a physical- almost biological- comedy; Julie (Julie Klausner) publically wets herself in the very first episode of the new series Difficult People; Amy Schumer’s skit “Milk Milk Lemonade” reminds audiences that the sexy booty fetishized in music videos is, in reality, “where your poop comes out”; the explosive diarrhea of food poisoning ruins the extravagant rite of wedding dress shopping in Bridesmaids. The body is no longer a Lacanian reflected ideal, it is a biological mess that often exists beyond anyone’s control. The effect of this convention is two-fold–a bait and switch of expectations but also the creation of a sense of biological sameness: man or woman, everybody poops. By placing the body in a biological space instead of a symbolic one, physical comedy is questioning the visual tendencies of subconscious desire. No longer do audiences expect to walk into a theater or turn on a TV and be greeted with a vision of feminine perfection; now they might be subjected to blood, sweat, tears, and all other kinds of bodily fluids of not just the female form but the human one. The body is an object but not one strictly made for pleasure (yet pleasure is nice too, of course).

In Broad City the character of Ilana (Ilana Glazer) sets the mood propping up mirrors, putting on make-up, prepping herself to be a vision of desire (Season 2 Ep. 8, ““Kirk Steele””). She turns on her vibrator, and some porn, and is ready for some self love: she is not here to please anyone but herself. When Danny (Chris Messina) opens the drawer of Mindy Lahiri’s (Mindy Kahling) nightstand in The Mindy Project and proclaims “Mindy has the same neck massager as Ma,” (Season 3, Ep. 8 ““Diary of a Mad Indian Woman””) not everyone might understand the implication (pssst, pharmacies sell vibrators in disguise). New female comedy isn’t presenting sex as a males want toward females; it is showing sex as a thing all genders desire, even to the point they make it happen alone. Self-love in female comedy could potentially feed into the male gaze, making him even more afraid of castration or exciting him through pleasurable moans, but what is also occurring is a normalization of female sexual pleasure. Sex and the City led the way and now movies like Appropriate Behavior (full of bi-sexuality, threesomes, and a strap on!) and Trainwreck (even if Apatow is undeniably a slut shamer!) are reminding audiences that women use their vaginas for things other than birthing and male satisfaction. These comedies are creating what Laura Mulvey calls a “new language of desire” (where the controlled and the controller are interchangeable between genders, quietly inserting the fact that this dynamic has, in actuality, always existed).

Much like the voice-over in 90s comedies that presented a personal and omniscient guide to female protagonists (Sex and the City, Mean Girls, Clueless, and Election), flashbacks are now the go-to convention used to expose the inner and past lives of women. Desiree Akhavan’s Appropriate Behavior is a flashback in its entirety, slowly showing the steps that led to the opening break-up between Shirin (Akhavan) and Maxine (Rebecca Henderson), a slow methodical break-down of motivations and personal histories. In 30 Rock, a nerdy child Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) speaks German in a short moment of memory, a happening common in the series with the young Liz sometimes played by Fey’s real life daughter. The characters of OITNB have constant, harrowing flashbacks that connect their present to a long receding past, in Sophia’s (Laverne Cox) pre-transition flashback her character is played by Cox’s real life twin brother. How can one see a character as a hollow, empty image when they are created with an entire life? A life that sometimes even edges into their fictional world? Women are not, as Mulvey says, “Freez[ing] the flow of action.” They are, and have always been, part of the action, whether recognized or not. The stories of women remain untold and the reminder that lives exist beyond their simple image, even in a fiction, is an enormous step forward in terms of making an active female figure rather than a passive one. Herstory isn’t a joke, it is a thing that roots woman in the world, it makes women makers of meaning and not strictly bearers of it.

And then come our good, old friends satire and parody! Comediennes are taking the unattainable expectations and fears of the male gaze, pointing at them and laughing as hard as possible, exposing the ridiculousness in objectification and shaming the power struggle into submission- it is almost like an S&M relationship with the status quo. When Liz Lemon does promos for her show “Dealbreakers” (Season 4 Episode 7, “Dealbreakers Talk Show,” a show that points out the faults in men that make them un-marriable: yas!), she ends up becoming so nervous about her appearance she is reduced to crying from her mouth after off-brand eye surgery. When Amy Schumer consults every possible man in her life, from doctor to mailman to boy scout, on whether she should go on birth control, it is hilarious but it is also not too far from the truth. When Annie (Kristen Wiig) wakes up early to apply make-up and return to bed before her sex friend wakes to give the illusion of flawlessness, it is a joke, and it is also, unfortunately, not a joke. Satire is a powerful way of exposing questionable societal norms, ridiculous attitudes, and insane standards; it is a socially acceptable way to challenge the patriarchy and air our grievances. If we collectively confront the male gaze through satire those in power can no longer turn a blind eye to the true absurdity that exists.

By choosing how we are looked at and creating comical stories beyond the marriage plot, we are making an enormous reclamation of our bodies and ourselves: power lies in choice. Alternative ways of seeing and being seen are created with each new story told, a visibility that is only just starting to be explored as we struggle to be better represented in mainstream media. Contemporary comedies with female leads are now ruled by countless types of desires as we are stick out our tongues at the gazing males frozen in the audience. Raising our laughter is just another form of raising our voices for change.

References

Mulvey (1975). “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Screen, 16.3 Autumn, pp. 6-18

Donna K. is a cultural critic, film festival consultant and creative producer based in Southern Vermont. She is a member of the Women Film Critics Circle and a writer for Hammer to Nail. You can follow her musings about visual storytelling on her blog Gravity Was Everywhere Back Then.

Call For Writers: The Female Gaze

Our theme week for August 2015 will be The Female Gaze.

Feminist critic Laura Mulvey coined the term “male gaze,” which asserts that most of film and television are created for a male viewer. This art for the male viewer is also typically created by a man as well, and the depictions of women within this art are then a masculine interpretation of what women are. This often relegates women to the status of passive, sexual objects.

The concept of the female gaze emerged in response to that of the male gaze, wherein the female viewer, and often the female creator, are the focus for a piece of media. However, finding instances of film or television that are truly representative of the female gaze is tricky. Just because something is about women doesn’t mean it is for women (Kill Bill or Sucker Punch) or even a realistic portrayal of how women see themselves. Often, despite a female creator or even female audience, pieces of work fall victim to the male gaze because it is so entrenched in our culture (The L Word, The Hours, Blue is the Warmest Color, or The Kids Are All Right).

For example, Orange is the New Black is based on source material by a woman, directed by a woman, and depicts predominantly women. The first season does a surprisingly good job of illustrating the inner lives and interactions of women from the female gaze. However, in the second season, gratuitous nudity and sex are shown with disturbing frequency, which exploits the characters and shifts more into a voyeuristic male gaze that objectifies women. Like so many others, OitNB goes from portraying women as sexual beings to turning them into sexual objects.

Are there strong examples of the female gaze emerging? Which films or TV shows are successful representations of the female gaze? What makes them successful where so many others have failed? What examples render women as sexual beings without turning them into sexual objects? How can popular culture avoid reverting to representations of the male gaze?

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, August 21 by midnight.

Orange is the New Black

Trainwreck

The Handmaid’s Tale

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

A League of Their Own

The Kids Are All Right

The L Word

Lyle

Prey for Rock n’Roll

Bitch Better Have My Money

Medium

Foxfire

Gilmore Girls

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

Kill Bill

Inside Amy Schumer

Thelma & Louise

Steel Magnolias

Mad Men

Farah Goes Bang

Bridesmaids

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Let’s Go Full Crocodile, Ladies (1970s Feminist Political Documentary Year of the Woman Available Now) by Rebecca Traister and Sally Edelstein at The Huffington Post

In “Magic Mike XXL,” the Star of the Show is Women’s Pleasure by Elizabeth King at Bitch Media

OITNB Cast: ‘We Started a Trend’ of LGBT Diversity on TV by Gina Vivinetto at Advocate.com

Netflix’s Tig Notaro documentary is a deeply serious film about a deeply funny person by Dylan Matthews at Vox

Roland Emmerich’s gay rights drama joins the race for the Oscars by Henry Barnes at The Guardian

How Paper Towns Falls Short by Carter Sherman at Ms. blog

Embracing the Female Gaze by Melissa Silverstein at Women and Hollywood

Nelson George’s Misty Copeland Documentary – A Ballerina’s Tale’ – Picked Up by Sundance Selects for Fall Release by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

Vice Goes No-Holds-Barred With New Women-Focused Web Channel by Jordan Crucchiola at Wired

Jill Soloway Says “There Is an All Out-Attack” on Female Filmmakers by Ryan Lattanzio at IndieWire

Judd-ging Amy: The Slut-Shaming, Heteronormative Morality of ‘Trainwreck’ by Peter Knegt at /Bent

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Jon Stewart, Jamelle Bouie, And Others Weigh In On The Charleston Massacre by Kinsey Clarke at NPR

How Feminist TV Became The New Normal by Zeba Blay at The Huffington Post

Orange Is the New Black Quietly Reinvents Itself by Losing the Villain Narrative by Margaret Lyons at Vulture

Angela Lansbury’s School of Feminist Witchcraft by Jessica Mason McFadden at Gender Focus

SIFF Review – ‘Tangerine’ Takes on Every Label: Black, Brown, Poor, Trans, Woman & Sex Worker by Jai Tiggett at Shadow and Act

In “3 1/2 Minutes,” We See a Life Cut Short by Nijla Mu’min at Bitch Media

‘Seoul Searching’ Director: ‘This Country is Half Made Up of Minorities, But Cinema Doesn’t Reflect That’ by Dave McNary at Variety

An Open Letter to Jerry Seinfeld by Julia Robins at Ms. blog

Broadening a Transgender Tale That Has Only Just Begun by Erik Piepenburg at The New York Times

Want to understand what it means to be a woman? Look to robots. by Alyssa Rosenberg at The Washington Post

Get Ready for Wes Studi as Badass Native Antihero in ‘Ronnie BoDean’ by Wilhelm Murg at Indian Country Today Media Network

Natalie Portman Insisted on Female Director for Ruth Bader Ginsburg Biopic by Nolan Feeney at TIME

OITNB’s Ruby Rose Schools Us On Gender Fluidity by Jessie Mooney at ELLE

Highlights from Ava DuVernay, Nicole Kidman, Jill Soloway at WIF’s 2015 Crystal + Lucy Awards by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

We Have the Data, Hollywood, Where are the Results? by Kat Kucera at Ms. blog

Before You Watch “Orange is the New Black,” Here Are 5 Facts To Know about Pregnancy in Prison by Victoria Law at Bitch Media

Science Of Sadness And Joy: ‘Inside Out’ Gets Childhood Emotions Right by Neda Ulaby at NPR

There’s No Feminism to Be Found in Jurassic World’s Genetic Code by Jada Yuan at Vulture

How LA Film Festival Achieved Diversity by “Looking for People Who Are Seeing the World Differently” by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

The Human Rights Watch Film Festival Explores Social Justice by Stephen Holden at The New York Times

Interview: Akosua Adoma Owusu’s ‘Kwaku Ananse’ at the Institute of Contemporary Art (Philadelphia) by Rissa Papillion at Shadow and Act

Four Years After Bridesmaids, the Summer of Female Comedy Is Finally Here. What Took So Long? by Inkoo Kang at Vanity Fair

Women of Color in Hollywood Need Equal Work Opportunities Too by Tanya Steele at RH Reality Check

Taraji P. Henson, Viola Davis and Drama Actress A-List Tackle Race, Sexism, Aging in Hollywood by Stacey Wilson Hunt at The Hollywood Reporter

The Definitive Oral History of How Clueless Became an Iconic 90s Classic by Jen Chaney at Vanity Fair

Television’s Conversations with Masculinity by Rachel Catlett at The Mary Sue

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Call For Writers: Masculinity

Our theme week for June 2015 will be Masculinity.

Masculinity is a pervasive concept in our culture, setting the tone for our entertainment, our politics, and our interpersonal lives. This is because masculinity itself traditionally belongs to men who are, to quote blogger Twisty Faster of I Blame the Patriarchy, “the default human.” Femininity is often defined in contrast to masculinity, as if the two modes were binary. The traits typically ascribed to masculinity (physical strength, aggressiveness, rational thinking, and stoicism) are then seen as absent from the feminine and opposite of the traits typically ascribed to femininity (nurturing, emotional, physically weak, and irrational).

Some examples of different permutations of masculinity include the chivalrous, but monosyllabic type like Luke from Gilmore Girls, the sexually potent, brimming with physical prowess action hero types like The Rock or Vin Diesel from all The Fast and the Furious films, or the destructive hypermasculine types depicted in the dystopian fossil fuels focused Mad Max: Fury Road. In many ways, the toxic embodiment of masculinity is the strong-arm of patriarchy.

While masculinity can often be associated with power and male privilege, the expectations associated with masculinity can be limiting and oppressive just as any prescribed gender role can be oppressive. We sometimes see this in narratives involving gay and/or sensitive men (The Karate Kid) who don’t “measure up” to the expectations of masculinity. However, with the greater visibility of genderqueerness and as more people begin to see gender on a spectrum, the embodiment of masculinity is becoming similarly malleable and open to interpretation (Pelo Malo, Orange is the New Black, etc).

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

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

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

The Killing

Pelo Malo

Gilmore Girls

The Karate Kid

Outlander

Mission Impossible

Terminator

Beautiful Boxer

Hannibal

Ghosts of Mars

Queer As Folk

Psycho

Boys Don’t Cry

Big Trouble in Little China

Raiders of the Lost Ark

The Fast and the Furious

Mad Max: Fury Road

Death Wish

Orange is the New Black

Game of Thrones

The Shipping News

Unlikable Women: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts for our Unlikable Women Theme Week here.

Dolores Jane Umbridge: Page, Screen, and Stage by Jackson Adler

Umbridge works as Undersecretary to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. Through her position in the patriarchal wizarding government, Umbridge enables job discrimination, segregation, incarceration and harsh sentencing, and physical violence and genocide against marginalized people. She not only politically supports these efforts, but personally enacts violence against marginalized people and their allies, including children.

Never Fear: Unlikable Black Women on Orange Is the New Black and Luther by Rachel Wortherly

When I searched my mental rolodex for Black female characters in film or television who are unlikable my mind continued to circle. I was lost.

“I’m Not Bad, I’m Just Drawn That Way”: The Exceptionally Beautiful Anti-Heroine by Jessica Carbone

And if you’re anything like me, every reader of this site wants the same thing: to see more portrayals of women on film, televisions, and beyond that reflect their complexities, strengths and weakness alike. We want a greater range of body types, a greater representation of lifestyle choices, a broader world of occupations and skill sets and backstories and destinies.

Evil-Lyn: Fantasy’s Underrated Icon by Robert Aldrich

A character with few rivals and even fewer scruples, Evil-Lyn was arguably one of the better developed villains in the show. And in the annals of females from sci-fi/fantasy, her name should be spoken of in the same breath as Wonder Woman and Princess Leia.

A Fine Frenzy: With an Outspoken Anti-Heroine and a Feminist Lens, Young Adult Is Excellent by Megan Kearns

In this witty, hilarious and bittersweet dramedy, Theron plays Mavis Gary, an author of young adult books living in Minneapolis. Mavis’ life is a hot mess. She’s divorced, drinks her life away and the book series she writes is coming to an end. She was the popular mean girl in high school who escaped to the big city. Mavis returns to her small hometown in Minnesota full of Taco Bells and KFCs intending to reclaim her old glory days and her ex-boyfriend, who’s happily married with a new baby. As she fucks up, she eventually questions what she wants out of life.

Political Humor and Humanity in HBO’s VEEP by Rachel Redfern

She’s a toxic political figure, a creator of monumental gaffes and inappropriate situations who doesn’t even have the excuse of good intentions. Her intentions are always self-serving and she treats her staff atrociously, often assigning them the blame for her mistakes.

Bad Girls and (Not-So)-Guilty Pleasures in The Bling Ring by Amy Woolsey

Coppola’s refusal to condemn, explain or apologize for her characters makes for a rather opaque experience. To state the obvious, these are not likable individuals. They exhibit no visible remorse for their crimes, seemingly oblivious to the concept of personal boundaries, and think about little besides fashion and D-list celebrities.

Why Maxine from Being John Malkovich Is The Best by Sara Century

Maxine is a perfect character. She stands up for herself, takes no guff off of anyone, and goes for what she wants while issuing remarkable and hilarious ultimatums to those around her. I don’t just like Maxine. I don’t just love Maxine. I am Maxine.

American Mary: In Praise of the Amoral Final Girl by Mychael Blinde

Directed by the Soska sisters, American Mary features a complicated female protagonist who starts out as a likable badass but ends up as an amoral psycho. The film celebrates the power of bodily autonomy and depicts the horror of taking it away.

Reclaiming Conch: In Defense of Ursula, Fairy Octomother by Brigit McCone

Ursula’s show-stopper, “Poor, Unfortunate Souls,” presents case studies of mermen and mermaids made miserable by culture. What this song really teaches is that internalizing cultural messages is a fatal weakness, and rejecting cultural conditioning is a source of great power. Small wonder that Ursula had to die the most gruesome onscreen death in all of Disney.

Bad Girls Go to Heaven: Hollywood’s Feminist Rebels by Emanuela Betti

Hollywood has produced some of the most memorable bad girls and wicked women on-screen—from silent era’s infamous vamps to film noir’s femme fatales—but bad women do more than just entertain, particularly if we’re talking about the sweepingly emotional and excessively dramatic world of woman’s melodrama.

Why We Love Janice and Why We Love to Hate Janice by Artemis Linhart

Is Chandler going somewhere, just minding his own business? Chances are that Janice is just around the corner. As Janice once put it, “You seek me out. Something deep in your soul calls out to me like a foghorn. Jaaa-nice. Jaaa-nice.”

Cristina Yang As Feminist by Scarlett Harris

As people, no matter what gender, it is seemingly second nature to want others to like us and to portray our best selves to them. Just look at the ritual of the date or the job interview. That Cristina defied this action (though we have seen her star-struck when meeting surgeons like Tom Evans and Preston Burke) made her not just a feminist character, but a truly human(ist) one.

Triumphing Mad Men’s Peggy Olson by Sarah Smyth

What exactly, then, makes a character “unlikeable”? How can we define this complex term? Broadly, a character is unlikeable when they behave in an amoral or unethical way (which, of course, depends upon our individual morals and ethics), particularly when their motivations are unclear. However, when it comes to female characters, this term seems to diversify and pluralize.

Hate to Love Her: The Lasting Allure of Blair Waldorf by Vanessa Willoughby

In an interview with the New York Times, Gillian Flynn says, “The likability thing, especially in Hollywood, is a constant conversation, and they’re really underrating their audience when they have that conversation. What I read and what I go to the movies for is not to find a best friend, not to find inspirations…It’s to be involved with characters that are maybe incredibly different from me, that may be incredibly bad but that feel authentic.”

Young Adult‘s Mavis Gary Is “Crazy” Unlikable by Diane Shipley

Mavis is truly transgressive. Not only is her plan against most people’s moral code, it shows no solidarity for the sisterhood and no respect for the institutions women are most conditioned to aspire to: marriage and motherhood. Mavis alienates feminists and traditionalists alike. Not that she cares–she only wants to appeal to men. And she has done so, seemingly effortlessly, for a long time.

Ruthless, Pragmatic Feminism in House of Cards by Leigh Kolb

Claire is a horrible human being for many, many reasons–but her abortions aren’t included in those reasons. The show makes that clear.

Top 10 Villainesses Who Deserve Their Own Movies by Amanda Rodriguez

While villainesses often work at cross-purposes with our heroes and heroines, we love to hate these women. They’re always morally complicated with dark pasts and often powerful and assertive women with an indomitable streak of independence.

Stephanie McMahon Helmsley: The Real Power in the Realm by Robert Aldrich

She’s proven herself to be as diabolical as she is brilliant, manipulating wrestlers against one another and circumventing any and all rules to reach the ends of her choosing. She’s pit wrestlers in matches with their jobs on the line, or the jobs of their spouses (in the case of a short-lived feud with Total Divas darling Brie Bella), added heinous stipulations to matches, or just flat-out fired anyone who disagreed with her.

Suzanne Stone: Frankenstein of Fame by Rachael Johnson

The would-be news anchor is not only an extraordinarily unlikable–though entertaining–protagonist; she also embodies certain pathological tendencies in the American cultural psyche.

King Vidor’s Stella Dallas and the Utter Gracelessness of Grace by Rebecca Willoughby

These repeated conflicts make for a number of scenes in the film that, as Basinger has also asserted, are painful to watch. Our emotions are in conflict: Stella’s aims are noble, her execution hopelessly flawed. It’s hard to like her when she’s so inept, impossible not to sympathize because her purpose is so noble.

The Complex, Unlikable Women of House of Cards by Leigh Kolb

These women are complex, if not likable, and that’s a good thing.

Summer: Portrait of a Recognizable Human by Ren Jender

When the family sits down to eat, a platter full of pork chops is placed in the center of the table just as Delphine announces she is a vegetarian. As the others interrogate her (a tedious line of questions familiar to many vegetarians) and one of the men even offers her a plate full of rose petals to feast on, she tries to walk the tightrope many women do–in all sorts of conversations–of not wanting to be seen as a “bother,” but still trying to stick up for her own beliefs.

Anne Boleyn: Queen Bee of The Tudors by Emma Kat Richardson

Anne Boleyn was considered by many contemporaries to be the very living, breathing definition of an unlikable woman. And perhaps “unlikable” is too soft a term here – at points in the 16th century, following her execution on trumped up charges of adultery and treason, Anne was so widely reviled that very few of her own words, actions, or even accurate portraits remain today, thanks to Henry’s redoubtable efforts to wipe her off the record completely.

Patterns in Poor Parenting: The Babadook and Mommy by Dierdre Crimmins

This is not to say that Amelia and Die are not sympathetic characters. Both want to do the best for their sons, but neither can handle the stress and actual responsibility of disciplining them. I do not mean for this to seem like an attack on Die and Amelia’s parenting skills, but rather a way to look at the sudden appearance of women in film who are not good at parenting.

The Real Hated Housewives of TV by Caroline Madden

Naturally, we are all on these anti-heroes’ sides, despite their bad deeds. And Tony Soprano, Don Draper, and Walter White all have an antagonist: their wives. They call their husbands out on their lies, moral failings, and oppose them. Thus, they are seen as the nagging wife that everyone hates.

Never Fear: Unlikable Black Women on ‘Orange Is the New Black’ and ‘Luther’

When I searched my mental rolodex for Black female characters in film or television who are unlikable my mind continued to circle. I was lost.

This guest post by Rachel Wortherley appears as part of our theme week on Unlikable Women.

“Thank you … for thinking that a sexualized, messy, mysterious woman could be a 49-year old, dark skinned, African-American woman who looks like me.” – Viola Davis, Screen Actors Guild Awards (2015).

Viola Davis resounded these words in her acceptance speech at the 21^st Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards when she won for “Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Drama Series” for the ABC hit series, How to Get Away With Murder (2014). Davis’ speech shows how images of Black women in television are only beginning to change. Before the inception of ABC’s Scandal (2012), a Black woman in a lead television role had not existed since 1968’s Julia starring Diahann Carroll. Since Scandal, Fox’s Sleepy Hollow (2013) and How to Get Away With Murder have been allowed to flourish on network television. Viola Davis’ portrayal of Annalise Keating is brass, vulnerable, sexy, and threatening–all of which is the complete opposite of misconceived images of Black women as docile, maternal, and continuously doting. She is usually a figure who serves others while sacrificing her personal wants and needs.

Mo'Nique as Mary Ann Johnson in Precious — Mo’Nique as Mary Ann Johnston in *Precious*

When I searched my mental rolodex for Black female characters in film or television who are unlikable my mind continued to circle. I was lost. With the exception of Mary Lee Johnston (played by actress and comedian Mo’Nique) in the 2009 Lee Daniels’ film Precious, I could not name one character. Writers and executives appear to have an inherent fear of writing women of color as unlikable, even evil. Often a character who looks and feels like Annalise Keating is ascribed as the “angry Black woman.” In fact, Alessandra Stanley, writer for the New York Times, attributed this ignorance in her article, “Wrought in Rhimes’s Image: Viola Davis Plays Shonda Rhimes’s Latest Tough Heroine,” in which she accuses the series’ executive producer Shonda Rhimes and Annalise Keating of being angry Black women. Meredith Grey (Grey’s Anatomy) and her angry rants should takes notes, lest she be an “angry white woman.”

Then I remembered two recent characters from television. Yvonne “Vee” Parker of the Jenji Kohan, Netflix series, Orange is the New Black (2013) and Erin Gray of Neil Cross’ BBC series, Luther. Kohan and Cross create two women, whom also happen to be Black, who are unlikable and even volatile in the perception of general audiences.

Lorraine Toussaint as Yvonne "Vee" Parker in Orange Is the New Black — Lorraine Toussaint as Yvonne “Vee” Parker in *Orange Is the New Black*

Jenji Kohan is masterful in her conception of Vee because the quality that makes her unlikable is her ability to be likeable. In Season 2, Episode 2: “Looks Blue, Tastes Red,” we flashback to see Tasha, a chubby, little, 11-year old Black girl croons the Christina Aguilera ballad “Beautiful” to prospective adoptive parents. She can recite the periodic table and memorize up to 56-digits of pi. Yet, despite this they choose another child. Suddenly a tall, dark figure, big hair, in sunglasses approaches, sits, and lights a cigarette. She looks over and Tasha and recognizes that she is from a group home. The woman asks if Tasha cares to learn “the trade” (the drug trade) and Tasha refuses. She wants to find her “forever family.” In that moment, Vee awakens Tasha to the reality that she may die waiting for her forever family and in the same moment Tasha becomes “Taystee Girl,” a nickname that will follow her into Litchfield Prison.

A couple of scenes later a teenage Taystee, who dons a uniform from the local fast food restaurant, is headed to work. Once again, Vee approaches Taystee to convince her to join the business. Here, Taystee continues to be resistant. She wants to make her own way. However, the third time, Vee does not approach her, rather Taystee goes to her. Taystee, crying and desperate, turns to Vee lamenting that her situation in the group home has worsened. This time around, Vee rejects her until Taystee proves that she can be an integral asset to the business. As in the beginning of the episode, she shows off her math skills as she did for the adoptive parent and this time it works. Vee takes Taystee under her wing.

Danielle Brooks as "Taystee" on Orange Is the New Black — Danielle Brooks as “Taystee” in *Orange Is the New Black*

Kohan uses these flashbacks in order to demonstrate the humanity beneath the face of prison. In Taystee’s flashback audience see that she was a lonely child searching for her “forever family” but she unfortunately found refuge in the wrong person. A pivotal flashback occurs when Taystee arrives from the craft store with googly eyes, owl, and horse stamps. Her idea is to label their heroin with a stamp in order to market it better. Despite the context of the conversation, what audiences learn is that Taystee is a businesswoman with bright ideas who wants to move beyond working for a “connect.”

As Taystee vocalizes this information, Vee is in the kitchen cooking dinner for R.J. (another young employee of Vee) and Taystee. In this moment, Taystee gazes at Vee as though she is a God-send. Here, Vee is the nurturing, maternal figure that Taystee has always wanted. Another scene in which Vee’s maternity is showcased occurs in real time at Litchfield prison. Vee quickly becomes close to Suzanne who is known to fellow inmates as “Crazy Eyes.” Suzanne who is afraid of Piper—due to Piper’s brutal beat down of another inmate in the previous season—becomes withdrawn around her. Vee sees this and tells her: “at the end of the day, you are a garden rose and that bitch is a weed.” That moment allows for Suzanne to “see” herself for the first time and it solidifies her loyalty to Vee.

Uzo Aduba as Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren in Orange Is the New Black — Uzo Aduba as Suzanne “Crazy Eyes” Warren in *Orange Is the New Black*

Vee’s declaration to Suzanne is the same method that allows her to insert herself into the lives of the other inmates: Black Cindy, Janae, and to some extent Poussey. Each of these women has experienced some type of loss in their past. Janae, a promising career in track and field, Black Cindy, her daughter, and Poussey her true identity. Vee is their opportunity to prove their worth at the prison amongst the women; to them she sees their purpose. She also becomes the maternal figure of the Black women in the prison where that role is vacant. The Hispanic inmates have Gloria, while the Caucasian inmates have “Red.” Vee’s ability to charmingly seduce individuals is what makes her most diabolical. Her maternity is sinister, a quality that is comparable to the description of the elms in playwright Eugene O’Neill’s play, Desire Under the Elms. Like the elms, Vee appears to “protect, yet subdue.” Vee predatorily isolates the group, specifically Taystee, from Poussey who quickly sees Vee as a danger. Vee uses her feelings of isolation in order to hurt her. For audiences the separation of Taystee and Poussey is the first offense. The second and third come to fruition in the form of injuring Red and allowing Suzanne to take the blame. As Black Cindy attempts to stand up to her, she and Janae quickly see that Vee’s physical threats are to be taken seriously. She is willing to discard of anyone in order to get what she wants. Just ask Taystee’s friend R.J. whom she sleeps with and murders all in one night.

On the flipside of this is DS/DCI Erin Gray on Neil Cross’ BBC series Luther. Erin is the only woman on the police force which includes Detective Chief Inspector John Luther (Idris Elba). She is meticulous, driven, and she follows rules by the book. Despite her name, there are no “gray” areas in her concept of the law, just black and white. Erin is the only woman in newly formed “Serious and Serial Crime Unit” therefore has to prove herself as a woman and a woman of color. The first time audiences meet her she asks DS Justin Ripley, Luther’s partner, in reference to Luther’s police tactics: “is he really as dirty as they say?” Ripley quickly comes to his defense and continues to do so as the season progresses.

Nikki Amuka-Bird as DCI Erin Gray in Luther — Nikki Amuka-Bird as DCI Erin Gray in *Luther*

Erin continues to question Luther’s methods. A prime example occurs when Luther orders her and Justin to confiscate the mobile phones of the public at a crime scene investigation. Erin questions, “On what grounds?” However, Justin explains that to Luther “confiscate” means something different. Erin does not completely understand Luther’s policing nor agree with them. This comes to a head when she witnesses Luther breaking into DSU Schenk’s computer files—in actuality he is obtaining files to set a teenaged prostitute free from her employer. As a result, she becomes suspicious and reports the case. However, she alerts Justin to her concerns, inadvertently allowing him enough time to wipe the history from Schenk’s computer. As a result, Erin is embarrassed and humiliated in front of her superior. She leaves the Serious and Serial crime unit in disgrace.

This moment is what allows Gray to join the unit that investigates police corruption and she is promoted to Detective Chief Inspector. She joins forces with formerly retired DS George Stark to investigate Luther and bring a case against him. In the process, Gray attempts to convince Ripley that Luther needs to be stopped. Season three is when Gray begins to become unlikable for audiences. According to most audiences Gray is labeled as “annoying,” “grating,” and a “stupid bitch.” Upon my first viewing, I also found Gray unlikable. However, now I understand why audiences dislike her.

Gray’s biggest fault is that she goes against not just the main character, but a multitude of characters who support Luther. One of them being the beloved psychopath Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson). Audiences are quick to love the deliciousness of a possible intimate relationship between Alice and Luther and seemingly overlook the fact that when we meet her she murders her parents and the family dog, and gets away with it. She is clever, delightful, and continuously fights for John Luther. Alice like many of the women on the show has been saved by Luther (he cunningly helps Alice escape the mental institution). Erin is threatening because even as she faces the barrel of a gun in season three, she does not need to be saved by John. Erin’s ability to be independent of the main character is what makes her unlikable. She works to better herself and the law. It is also significant that the majority of women in the shows history who need saving, including the victims, are Caucasian women. While I am not advocating that Black women or women in general, should be diminished to damsels in distress, it is obtuse that a majority of victims are of a specific demographic and gender. In a sense this disparity establishes how audiences are supposed to see Erin Gray in comparison to others. Because she is not a victim, she is other.

Though Vee’s story on Orange is the New Black is closed by Rosa, the escaped inmate who runs Vee over with the prison van, seemingly killing her, Erin’s is very much open. In the aftermath of her attack, audiences last see Erin on a stretcher, shell shocked, and speechless. For audiences her non-death may have been a disappointment, but she has been scared straight into ultimately believing in Luther. Viewers of Orange is the New Black and Luther have equally been satisfied in some capacity by each woman’s demise.

Claire Underwood, Maxine Lund, Mavis Gary, and Hannah Horvath are just a few of the many unlikable female characters in film and television. They are met with distaste, yet this quality places them under a microscope because they are often people we know. Viola Davis’ statement in congruence to Vee Parker and Erin Gray demonstrate that minorities, whether they are Black, Hispanic, or Asian, want to diversify their roles in film and television. While the general landscape of roles for women of color appear to be expanding on television, film continues to fall behind in the diversity of characters. She should be liked and disliked, loathed and loved, and the bitter pill to swallow, yet the one that we need.

Rachel Wortherley is a graduate of Iona College in New Rochelle, New York and holds a Master of Arts degree in English. Her downtime consists of devouring copious amounts of literature, television shows, and films. She hopes to gain a doctorate in English literature and become a professional screenwriter.

Call For Writers: Unlikeable Women

Our theme week for February 2015 will be Unlikeable Women.

Representations of female antiheroines are on the rise. Contemporary audiences love morally ambiguous female characters who are hard, powerful, and determined. The soft-spoken but ruthless Claire Underwood of House of Cards is a prime example of women we love to hate, who push or ignore boundaries to get what they want. The elegant antiheroines who tend to be wealthy, goal-driven, and charismatic (Olivia Pope of Scandal, Patty Hewes of Damages, or Angelina Jolie’s Maleficent), while comparable, are a slightly different breed from the outright unlikeable women who are popping up all over film and television.

Whiny, self-obsessed Piper Chapman of Orange is the New Black and Hannah Horvath of Girls are perfect examples of these downright unlikeable female characters. What sets them apart from the traditional antiheroine archetype? Michelle Jurgen of Mic posits,

“It’s alienating simply because we’re not used to being served up unpalatable women: women who are naked just because, who give themselves terrible haircuts, and who are frank, judgmental and do whatever they want without regard for others. Women who act in a way we’re used to seeing only male characters act, which has unfairly branded them unlikable rather than well-crafted and complex.”

Jurgen further goes on to suggest that it is the humanness of these antiheroines that is difficult for audiences to stomach. Along with Piper and Hannah are characters like Cersei Lannister of Game of Thrones and Annalise Keating of How to Get Away with Murder who are equally vulnerable. They’re petty, manipulative, and needy. They make mistakes, often stupid mistakes, and they’re usually in damage-control mode, putting out the fires they either set or caused to be set.

If these unlikeable women are so “unpalatable,” why are they still being created? Why are we still watching them? Why are these productions winning so many awards and accolades?

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, Feb. 20 by midnight.

House of Cards

Damages

Scandal

How to Get Away with Murder

Game of Thrones

Girls

Orange is the New Black

Dangerous Liaisons

Once Upon a Time

Maleficent

Fatal Attraction

Breaking Bad

Revenge

Sex and the City

Seed & Spark: 20 Is the New 50 (Percent)

We live on a planet, populated, in near-equal parts, by males and females. We move about the world, where (in our country at least), the work-force is again, split right down the middle. We all come from families, where, at least for nine months of our existence, we were held within the experience of a woman. Our first connection to another human, a literal connection which formed and fed us, was with a woman. But, you just don’t see that. Once in the world, our art and culture belie that experience. The populations in TV, in film (maybe all arts and culture), tilts strangely in one direction. It is disorienting. Disorienting because it is a lie. I don’t think art is a place for lies. I think, it’s the place for truth-tellers. For whistleblowers.

This is a guest post by Carol Roscoe.

Last week, I was talking with some actors about the TV series we were currently binge-watching. One mentioned Orange is the New Black. (Full disclosure: I was the only one among us who hadn’t seen OITNB, yet.)

“Yeah, my girlfriend wanted me to watch it with her, but then I got totally into it.”

“You sound surprised by that,” I said.

“Totally,” he agreed. Before I could ask why, another actor at the table said, “My girlfriend is really into Orange but, eh. I was really put off by it.”

“What put you off?” I asked.

I was talking with a savvy actor-writer-director and was expecting something like: not believable, didn’t like the characters, didn’t like the writing. What he actually said took me by surprise. It was this:

“Well, the characters are all really fascinating. Compelling. Like, I want to know what happens to them and about where their stories will go and all. I mean each character is really interesting enough to get their own series.”

“But…”

“But, well, I just couldn’t identify with them. I mean, all the characters are women. You just don’t see that.”

Cast of Orange is the New Black — Cast of *Orange is the New Black*

“No,” I said, “you don’t.”

“Right?” he continued, “I mean, imagine trying to watch a show where nobody reflected your experience.” (Oh, one more disclosure: I was the only woman at the table.)

“Because they are all in prison?” I asked, just in case I misunderstood him.

“No, because….you do know the premise of the show right? It’s all women.”

“I’d heard that.”

“That’s just really hard for me to connect to.”

“So it’s really disconcerting to see a story about so many people who, well, aren’t like you. I mean, gender-wise.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said.

I nodded, trying to figure out exactly what kind of conversation I was interested in having.

“I have total compassion for you,” I said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

He looked doubtful, so I continued. I shared how my life had been plagued by the same experience. Everywhere were stories that focused on people of that other gender; books, TV, plays, movies seemed to hinge on the experience of people who, in fact, were not female. It was weird, I confessed, disorienting and disheartening. As an actor alone, that had a limiting effect on the number or roles available in a season, in theater or film. You could look it up, only 30 percent of speaking roles in film were female characters. In theater, especially classical theater, this disparity was even greater, at times male characters outnumbering females 14 to one.

“Our show’s different,” he said, proudly.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Out of five roles, one is female. We are achieving a 20 percent representation of half the world’s population.”

Graph courtesy of Econ Proph blog and the U.S. Census Bureau

“Look,” I added before he could explain how that was good, “I empathize with you. It can be a real challenge, seeing stories about people who aren’t like you. It can feel disconcerting, even marginalizing. Perhaps, though, and I can only suggest this based on my own experience, perhaps one might encounter the story as a human story, irrespective of gender. One might even investigate the difference or similarity between experiences. One might expand one’s awareness, one’s compassion, and get to experience what life is like for another person. There just might be value in that.”

He was silent for a while. Maybe he was wondering what kind of conversation he wanted to be having. After a moment he said, “Right.”

But, I was thinking about other things, like: why bother? Why be an actor? Why work that hard, for that little, in order to play a mind-boggling narrow range of roles? And for an audience made up of people who weren’t interested in anything they didn’t already know?

I got to thinking about my next project, the story of a whistleblower. In researching people who have come forward with state or corporate secrets I was struck by by how many were driven by a sense of fairness to break their code of silence. Each saw injustice, irresponsible and/or criminal acts occurring; each chose to step forward, risk their career (their lives) to act for the common good. For the whole of humanity. Not just a part of it.

We live on a planet, populated, in near-equal parts, by males and females. We move about the world, where (in our country at least), the work-force is again, split right down the middle. We all come from families, where, at least for nine months of our existence, we were held within the experience of a woman. Our first connection to another human, a literal connection which formed and fed us, was with a woman. But, you just don’t see that. Once in the world, our art and culture belie that experience. The populations in TV, in film (maybe all arts and culture), tilts strangely in one direction. It is disorienting. Disorienting because it is a lie. I don’t think art is a place for lies. I think, it’s the place for truth-tellers. For whistleblowers.

I empathize with that young man’s distress. But, I’m not interested in lying to him. Or to our audiences. How do we move from misrepresentation–no, how do we move from lying about the world to telling the truth? To breaking the silence about the injustice, disregard and dehumanizing aspects of our culture? Of our industry? How do we continue that conversation when the punishment for whistleblowers is so clear?

I’d be lying if I said I have the answer. Well, other than the obvious one. Keep having the conversation. Keep doing the work. Choose meaningful work. Create meaningful work. Work with as little misrepresentation as possible and hope that it will connect to someone. Hope that the work reaches someone across the gulf of whatever divide and offers a tiny glimpse of what life is like on the other side.

Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption — Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins in *The Shawshank Redemption*

Carol Roscoe makes her home in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest where she teaches, acts, directs, and writes. Film work includes West of Redemption, Gamers:Dorkness Rising, Gamers: Hands of Fate, The Dark Horse, and The Whole Truth, and others. Her latest film, If There’s a Hell Below, will be released early next year. She has appeared on stages in Seattle, London, New York, Washington DC, Chicago, Tucson and Pheonix.