Tag: Quotes

Quote(s) of the Day: Geena Davis and Abigail Disney

At the Social Good Summit a couple of weeks ago, a panel was held called, “Women and Girls Lead: Where Storytelling, Gaming, and Public Media Converge,” and the entire thing rocked my world. It’s moderated by Aaron Sherinian, Vice President of Communications and Public Relations of the United Nations Foundation, and the members of the panel include Geena Davis, founder of the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media; Paula Kerger, President and CEO of PBS; Abigail Disney, Executive Producer of the film Women, War & Peace; and Asi Burak, Co-President of Games for Change.
I want to include two quotes from the panel, the first from Geena Davis—regarding gender representations in media, particularly programming for children—and the second from Abigail Disney, in which she discusses women and rape, and how men need to become more involved in its prevention. (I’ll post the video as well, but it’s always difficult to know if and when it’ll be taken down. That said, if you’re able to watch it, please watch it. And pass it on!)
Geena Davis, on changing society’s perceptions of women and girls
I think the problem is very broad, that in media in general, all that we’ve seen from when we were little kids, and all that’s shown now, are very, very imbalanced fictional worlds where there are far more male characters than female characters, and the female characters don’t really get to do a lot. So kids take this in, they internalize it, and they end up not being able to picture women doing interesting and unusual things because they’ve never seen it before. You can only accept it and take it in as a reality if you’ve seen it. So what we need to do is, first of all, add a lot more female characters because we really do take up half the planet, and we’re not like a rare subgroup like we’re shown in movies and television. And also, to show a breadth of occupations and aspirations and interests in these characters, so that boys and girls get used to seeing girls doing interesting and challenging things.   

Abigail Disney, on men becoming more involved in rape prevention
[responding to how members of the audience can get involved with the Women and Girls Lead project—an upcoming documentary series from PBS that deals with issues affecting girls and women]
Well, I guess I’ll divide the audience into women and men, and I’ll say to the women: Come! Help me. Be my sisters, and help me do this because this is really important. And for the men: Don’t be afraid. We love you; we like you; we want you. We asked Matt Damon to narrate the Bosnia episode, and the Bosnia episode is a lot about sexual violence. I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but here’s why we did it: I’ve spent my adult life working on these issues, and I’ve heard a lot of women, and the sound of what it is when they’re indignant about a woman being raped. And I don’t hear that from men. I would like to hear a man’s voice in indignation around the rape of women. If you think about social movements through history, you know, nothing has ever really shifted until people have involved themselves in movements that they had nothing to gain by succeeding—white people in the North going to the South to help in the civil rights movements; yuppies in California protesting for the end of apartheid. We need you guys. You are really important. Because the fact is that women are still being raped in the United States and sexually harassed in the United States in the same numbers they were being raped in the 1960s and 70s. Until you guys come with us, the world just won’t shift.

Quote of the Day: Barbara J. Berg

Visit Barbara J. Berg’s Web site for more information.
Yesterday, I wrote a piece analyzing two misogyny-filled reviews of I Don’t Know How She Does It. The process got me thinking quite a bit about the ways in which reputable movie critics choose to evaluate films, particularly woman-centered films. Most critics loved Bridesmaids, but that isn’t remotely shocking if you read Bridesmaids as another Apatow-branded gross-out fest that just happened to star women. Personally, I believe that reading shortchanges the film, but I also believe the undercurrent of all too familiar man-child humor helped Bridesmaids not only stake its claim at the top of the box office, but also transcend the dreaded “chick flick” label. Other movies showcasing women rarely get that kind of respect from critics, perhaps because they lack that Apatowian guy-cred, or perhaps because they’re generally just not taken seriously. 
Sexism in America: Alive, Well, and Ruining Our Future by Barbara J. Berg, Ph.D., was published in 2009, pre-Bridesmaids sensation. In chapter 19, “Missing at the Multiplex,” Berg discusses, well, what we discuss at Bitch Flicks: the objectification, silencing, and absence of women and girls in film and television. Her astute observations about the reaction by male critics (and men in general) to the release of Sex and the City: The Movie deserves a spotlight here–because it encapsulates a larger trend I see among male film critics to rake these woman-centered films over the fucking coals. Make no mistake, SATC was a shitty movie. Amber and I reviewed it, and we both agreed it was terribly shitty. But men have a strong tendency to approach many films about women–and I’m talking about movies that don’t qualify for that coveted injection of Apatow-sponsored Guy Approval (like the one Bridesmaids got)–with a disdain so palpable one can’t help but go, “What the fuck, man?”

Which brings me to our Quote of the Day.  

The one notable exception to the hailing males of Hollywood is the movie Sex and the City (SATC), a smash hit racking up fifty-seven million dollars on its opening weekend. Just about every reviewer mentioned the gal pals responsible for this spectacular success, just as they made much of male absence (except for gay men, who are presumably big fans).

Of course, there’s the old adage in Tinsel Town that women will see a “male” movie, but not vice versa. Still, the way men dissed SATC (most without having seen it) hints at something deeper going on. Perfectly wonderful men shuddered in horror at the very mention of the movie. They seemed absolutely phobic, as though watching a movie about four devoted friends who together wielded power and authority was an affront to their manhood.

“In an Internet Movie Database poll, 7,197 men voted to give SATC an average score of 3.8–that puts it among the worst movies of the year,” reported Ramin Setoodeh in Newsweek (June 16, 2008). Male reviewers were particularly nasty. Anthony Lane wrote in The New Yorker that the movie “was more like a TV show on steroids. . . . All the film lacks is a subtitle, ‘The Lying, the Bitch and the Wardrobe.’ David Poland at Hot Button said, “The only genuinely emotional moment I experienced in this film came to pass in a moment where the characters actually shut up for a moment.”

SATC is the first movie in a long time to reverse the formula and put women, not men, at center stage. Is it a big surprise that many males immediately called for them to be silenced? Maybe they’re just pissed that SATC scored more at the box office than their favorite “dick flick,” Indiana Jones.

Thoughts?

 

Quote of the Day: Judith Mayne

Directed by Dorothy Arzner by Judith Mayne
 
We have yet to talk about Dorothy Arzner at Bitch Flicks. But her work demands attention in any discussions of feminist film theory. While I haven’t seen all the films she directed, I can say with confidence that most, if not all of them, pass the Bechdel Test. (Which has become somewhat of a feat these days, with the misogynistic drivel churned out and sponsored by The Never Ending Hollywood Backlash From Hell.)
To give myself a reprieve from summer blockbuster depression, I’ve been rereading Judith Mayne’s book, Directed by Dorothy Arzner, and I’m especially captivated by her take on Dance, Girl, Dance. Of course, that famous speech in the film always gives me chills. But first, a little background: 
In the early to mid-1970s, when Arzner’s work was brought to the attention of feminists, her films were deemed particularly important for their criticism of Hollywood films “from within.” Pam Cook and Claire Johnston described how the universe of the male was “made strange” in Arzner’s films, how women’s “rewriting” of male discourse subverted the established conventions of Hollywood. At the time Cook and Johnston’s essays were published, film theory was very much preoccupied with the notion of “making strange,” with the possibilities of a Hollywood film that critiqued itself and its own assumptions. Cook and Johnston brought a strong theoretical approach to Arzner’s work, while other critics of the era were simply delighted to find a woman director among all of the men in Hollywood film history.

Mayne points out that Dance, Girl, Dance is probably Arzner’s most well-known film and is a staple in feminist film theory. She summarizes the plot as follows:
The plot of Dance, Girl, Dance concerns the differing paths to success for Bubbles (Lucille Ball) and Judy (Maureen O’Hara), both members of a dance troupe led by Madame Basilova (Maria Ouspenskaya). The dance troupe performs vaudeville-style numbers in bars and nightclubs, much to the chagrin of Basilova (who bemoans her status as a “flesh peddler”). Bubbles has “oomph,” a kind of dancer’s version of “it,” and eventually she leaves the troupe and enthusiastically pursues a career as “Tiger Lily White.” Judy, in contrast, is a serious student of ballet, and the protegee of Basilova. However, it is Bubbles who gets the jobs, and she arranges for Judy to be hired as her “stooge,” i.e., as a classical dancer who performs in the middle of Bubble’s act, and thus primes the audience to demand more of Bubbles.

Toward the end of the film, Judy stands on stage and refuses her role as stooge. She defiantly crosses her arms and moves closer to the audience, and she gives the spectators a piece of her mind: 

Go ahead and stare. I’m not ashamed. Go on. Laugh! Get your money’s worth. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I know you want me to tear my clothes off so’s you can look your fifty cents worth. Fifty cents for the privilege of staring at a girl the way your wives won’t let you. What do you suppose we think of you up here–with your silly smirks your mothers would be ashamed of? And we know it’s the thing of the moment for the dress suits to come and laugh at us too. We’d laugh right back at the lot of you, only we’re paid to let you sit there and roll your eyes and make your screamingly clever remarks. What’s it for? So’s you can go home when the show’s over and strut before your wives and sweethearts and play at being the stronger sex for a minute? I’m sure they see through you just like we do. 

I love that moment. I love it because she critiques the men who look at women as sexual objects, and the women who do so as well. I love it because Dorothy Arzner directed this film in 1940. It’s now 2011. And I can’t even imagine a speech like this existing in a current Hollywood film. (If you can think of any that make such astute observations about sexual politics, please, clue me in.)
Mayne further complicates this famous scene in her analysis of it, so I’ll leave you with that, and the always impossible-to-answer questions surrounding self-objectification as either a form of empowerment for women, or as nothing more than internalized patriarchal exploitation. Or neither. Or both. Hmmmm:

I see Judy’s confrontation less as a challenge to the very notion of woman as object of spectacle than as the creation of another kind of performance. Oftentimes the scene is discussed as if the audience were exclusively male, which it is not, even though Judy addresses men in her speech. When the camera pans the reactions of the audience to Judy’s speech, the responses of women are quite clearly visible. Women squirm uncomfortably in their seats just as surely as men do, and when release occurs in the form of applause, it is a woman–Steven Adams’s trusty secretary–who initiates it. Arzner’s view of performance and her view of the relationship between subject and object were never absolute; women may be objectified through performance, but they are also empowered; men may consume women through the look, but women also watch and take pleasure in the spectacle of other women’s performance.

Thoughts?

Quote of the Day: Janet McCabe

Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema by Janet McCabe (2004). Part of the Wallflower Short Cuts Series.

Leading comedic roles for women in film and television are often relegated to “romantic” comedy and these women still, in 2011, struggle to break into the classification of comedy–without modifiers–and remain relegated to the dreaded “chick flick” (a term that the title of this website plays off of).

From the section “Romantic comedy and gender” in the book Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema.

Television comedy is another area of recent feminist inquiry, which investigates in particular star performance, joke-making techniques and the television audience. Alexander Doty (1990), investigating the interplay between the star image of Lucille Ball and the character she plays in I Love Lucy (Desilu Productions Inc/CBS, 1951-57) argues that Lucy Ricardo is constructed as the zany, loveable, ditzy and talentless housewife and mother based on the denial, repression and (re)construction of Ball’s star image. Patricia Mellencamp (1997) is another scholar fascinated by Lucille Ball’s slapstick routines. Recuperating Ball’s performance as an act of defiance from the confinement of the domestic space allows her to locate the radical underpinnings of the show for female viewers. Each week Lucy unsuccessfully attempting to escape domesticity and break into show business. They physical comic routines performed by Ball offered a means of challenging patriarchy as she upstages her husband/other men; and this is what audiences tuned in to see. Drawing on Freud’s theory of humorous pleasures (that is, humour used to avoid emotional pain) enables Mellencamp to argue that laughter directed at Lucy’s performance of being talentless – ‘her wretched, off-key singing, her mugging facial exaggerations and out-of-step dancing [is] paradoxically both the source of the audience’s pleasure and the narrative necessity for housewifery’ (1997: 73). She contends that Lucy’s situation made visible the real dilemmas faced by many women: ‘Given the repressive conditions of the 1950s, humour might have been women’s weapon and tactic of survival, ensuring sanity, the triumph of the ego, and pleasures’ (ibid).
One of the most sustained discussions on gender, representation and cross-cultural theories is Kathleen Rowe’s study of the unruly woman (1995). Using theoretical models from Mikhail Bakhtin concerned with the grotesque, Rowe identifies the grotesque body as ultimately the female body – often an outrageous, voluptuous, loud, joke-cracking dissenter or ‘woman on top’. The unruly female is not about gender confusion but inverting dominant social, cultural and political conventions; unruliness occurs when those who are socially or politically inferior (normally, women) use humour and excess to undermine patriarchal norms and authority. Focusing on Roseanne Arnold allows her to suggest how Roseanne’s star image and her television situation (Carsey-Werner Company/ABC, 1988-1997) disrupt and expose the gap between feminist liberation (informed by second-wave feminism) and the realities of working-class family life (those of whom feminist liberation left behind), between ideals of true womanhood and unruliness to challenge notions of a patriarchal construction of femininity. Making a spectacle of herself – her overweight body, her physical excesses, her performance as loud and brash – reveals ambivalence as the unruly woman speaks out. Difficulties faced by Roseanne in the press with the vitriol directed at her ‘make known the problems of representing what in our culture still remains largely unrepresentable: a fat woman who is also sexual; a sloppy housewife who’s a good mother; a “loose” woman who is also tidy, who hates matrimony but loves her husband, who hates the ideology of true womanhood, yet considers herself a domestic goddess’ (1995:91).
As I hope is clear, feminist critics disclose how television culture is informed by context and given meaning through the ways in which particular programmes are consumed, how narratives are experienced and what they mean to the female viewer – what television series says about women and how media texts function in their daily lives. Through interviews, Deborah Jermyn (2003) analyses how women talk about the series in an effort to understand what Sex and the City (HBO, 1998-2004) means to female fans. Pivotal here is the point at which Jermyn’s own fandom intersects with the experience of those she interviewed – it is a moment that allows her to reveal both the pleasures and difficulties involved in understanding how fan culture operates and how to speak about it.
I Love Lucy and Roseanne are two shows that were able to reach a large mainstream audience, while Sex and the City remained, most definitely, for female audiences (as has the atrocious film franchise). Yet Sex and the City is very different from these two other shows, in that it is (for the most part) about women who aren’t in these traditional domestic roles.

What leading women of comedy since the 90s reach across gender divides and avoid the ghettoization of the “chick flick?” Who are the new “unruly” women? Does Tyler Perry’s Madea count? (I’m only half joking here.) I’d love to hear readers’ thoughts on these matters.

Quote of the Day: bell hooks

In 1997, the Media Education Foundation produced an interview with bell hooks, a renowned author, feminist, and social activist, called, “BELL HOOKS: Cultural Criticism & Transformation.” hooks discusses a variety of pop culture topics, including rap and hip-hop, Madonna’s influence, Hollywood, and the often negative representations of race, class, and gender within them. You can watch the full interview in parts on YouTube, and you can read the entire transcript of the interview, but I want to quote from just two sections; the first deals with the feminist backlash in mass media:
One of the issues that no one wants to talk about is that finally, the most successful political movement in the United States over the last twenty years was really the feminist movement, and that there is a tremendous backlash to feminism that is being enacted on the stage of mass media. So that films like Leaving Las Vegas really are about ushering in a new, old version of the desirable woman that really is profoundly misogynous based and sexist. It’s no accident; we know that when women went into the factories in the World Wars because men were not here–that when those wars ended–mass media was used to get women out of the factory and back into the home. Well in a sense, mass media is being used in that very same way right now, to get women out of feminism and back into some patriarchal mode of thinking, and movies to me are the lead propaganda machine in this right now.

hooks said this in 1997. Almost fifteen years ago. So have movies gotten better or worse since then in contributing to the feminist backlash? When I try to come up with some truly great feminist-leaning films released (in Hollywood) in those fifteen years, it’s admittedly a struggle–and that doesn’t mean I’m saying they don’t exist. Yet when I think about sexism in Hollywood films, it takes about three seconds to recall a handful of misogyny-laden movies released only within the past several months. In fact, it’s virtually impossible not to find sexist films hitting the mainstream every opening weekend.
hooks continues her discussion of movies, referencing the filmmaker Spike Lee and critiquing representations of blackness in Hollywood:
A major magazine like Time or Newsweek just recently carried a story on Spike Lee as a failure. I mean, it just was amazing! How could you talk about Spike Lee as a failure? It was something like, Malcolm X was made for thirty-seven million, but it only made forty-some million. And I thought, well, how is that a failure? You not only paid for your movie, but you had some excess profit–though not a great deal, not what Hollywood would want. But that can become talked about in mass media as a failure, even though Woody Allen, who has made many films that do not make a lot of money, does not then get talked about as a failed filmmaker. And so that is in the interest of a certain structure of white supremacy and patriarchy, to put Spike Lee down at this point in his career, and to make it seem that somehow he could not deliver the goods, because part of that is about sanctioning white people to become the new makers of so-called black film.

As in, for example, a film like Waiting to Exhale, which is sold and marketed in ways that suggest this is a black film. I mean, people kept telling me, this is a film about black women, this is going to be for black people. In fact, this was a typical Hollywood shitty, uninteresting film–the script written by white people, all marketed as being a film by and about blackness, successfully. Nothing Spike Lee has done can match the financial return of this piece of shit. This is how blackness can be done successfully, and the problem lies not with the terms of what makes blackness successful in Hollywood or on the screen, but with Spike Lee as an individual. And that I think is tragic because so many black people are buying into that mode of thinking. That Spike Lee somehow represents a failure, when in fact, Spike Lee will continue to be the most successful black filmmaker in the United States, and he’s not by any means a failure.

Here’s a way in which, as Hollywood decides to occupy the territory of blackness, it becomes very useful to say, “We let black people have that territory, and they just didn’t know what to do with it. They made these strange films like Girl 6–it didn’t even have a plot. I mean, Crooklyn didn’t even have a plot.” Which of course is completely bogus, because the plot of Crooklyn was very obvious and very simple; it was about a family where the mother is dying in the family. But I can’t tell you how many white reviewers wrote that it didn’t have a plot. When what they should have said is that it didn’t have a plot that interested us. That White America is not interested in black mothers that are dying. So I think that is going to have deep ramifications for the future of representing blackness in Hollywood–because it is really almost a public announcement of the white takeover of that particular territory, the issue of representing blackness in Hollywood. 

It’s interesting to look at how films represent blackness in Hollywood currently, and if it’s changed for the better or for the worse within the past fifteen years. Tyler Perry has certainly become one of the most prolific and successful–if not the most successful–black filmmakers in Hollywood, but there’s also much controversy surrounding his representations of race in film. Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, garnered Oscar nominations and a Best Supporting Actress win for Mo’Nique, and Dreamgirls catapulted Jennifer Hudson’s career after she won her Best Supporting Actress Oscar. And within these past fifteen years, the Best Actress Oscar was awarded, for the first time ever, to a black woman, Halle Berry.

I don’t have the answers. I think it’s important in general to look at the kinds of roles Hollywood rewards women for playing; but it’s perhaps even more important to keep insisting that Hollywood filmmakers create better roles for women. Overall, I’d argue that we’re much more inundated with pop culture imagery everywhere now than we were fifteen years ago, with advancements in technology (and the increased and constant advertising that comes with it). So if the representations of race and gender in the media, and movies in particular, haven’t changed much–or have in fact gotten worse–and the pop culture and mass media machine is churning out this shit faster than it ever has in history, where does that leave us? 

Quote of the Day: Susan Faludi

Below is an excerpt from Susan Faludi’s famous Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women. It comes from her chapter, “Fatal and Fetal Visions: The Backlash in the Movies.”

Hollywood joined the backlash a few years later than the media; movie production has a longer lead time. Consequently, the film industry had a chance to absorb the “trends” the ’80s media flashed at independent women–and reflect them back at American moviegoers at twice their size. “I’m thirty-six years old!” Alex Forrest, the homicidal single career woman of Fatal Attraction moans. “It may be my last chance to have a child!” As Darlene Chan, a 20th Century Fox vice president, puts it: “Fatal Attraction is the psychotic manifestation of the Newsweek marriage study.”
The escalating economic stakes in Hollywood in the ’80s would make studio executives even more inclined to tailor their message to fit the trends. Rising financial insecurity, fueled by a string of corporate takeovers and the double threat of the cable-television and home-VCR invasions, fostered Hollywood’s conformism and timidity. Just like the media’s managers, moviemakers were relying more heavily on market research consultants, focus groups, and pop psychologists to determine content, guide production, and dictate the final cut. In such an environment, portrayals of strong or complex women that went against the media-trend grain were few and far between.
The backlash shaped much of Hollywood’s portrayal of women in the ’80s. In typical themes, women were set against women; women’s anger at their social circumstances was depoliticized and displayed as personal depression instead; and women’s lives were framed as morality tales in which the “good mother” wins and the independent woman gets punished. And Hollywood restated and reinforced the backlash thesis: American women were unhappy because they were too free; their liberation had denied them marriage and motherhood.
The movie industry was also in a position to drive these lessons home more forcefully than the media. Filmmakers weren’t limited by the requirements of journalism. They could mold their fictional women as they pleased; they could make them obey. While editorial writers could only exhort “shrill” and “strident” independent women to keep quiet, the movie industry could actually muzzle its celluloid bad girls. And it was a public silencing ritual in which the audience might take part; in the anonymity of the dark theater, male moviegoers could slip into a dream state where it was permissible to express deep-seated resentments and fears about women.
The pop culture backlash against women might’ve begun in the ’80s, but it’s certainly seen a resurgence as of late. Only this time, people kinda don’t think it’s a big deal, or, they don’t read it as sexist. Susan J. Douglas calls it “enlightened sexism,” and she argues that:
Enlightened sexism is a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism–indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved–so now it’s okay, even amusing, to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women. After all these images (think Pussycat Dolls, The Bachelor, Are You Hot?, the hour-and-a-half catfight in Bride Wars) can’t possibly undermine women’s equality at this late date, right? More to the point, enlightened sexism sells the line that it is precisely through women’s calculated deployment of their faces, bodies, attire, and sexuality that they gain and enjoy true power–power that is fun, that men will not resent, and indeed will embrace.

Take the recent release of Sucker Punch and last year’s The Social Network. Both films have gotten flack for their sexist and offensive portrayals of women. And in these films, male moviegoers don’t necessarily need to, as Faludi argues, “express deep-seated resentments and fears about women,” because the women display sexuality in such a way that it’s fun! And powerful! Representing a kind of  power that, as Douglas argues, “men will not resent, and indeed will embrace.” So where does that leave us now? Hollywood certainly continues to make the kinds of films Faludi discusses; in fact, it’s hard to think of a recent woman-centered film where women aren’t at some point set against other women. But in addition to the “good mother,” now we’ve got the “MILF.” In addition to the “independent career woman,” now we’ve got characters like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde (independent and brilliant and gorgeous and HasItAll). 
Worse, if Hollywood joins the backlash “a few years later than the media” (which Faludi points out about ’80s cinema), what in the fuck kinds of movies do we have to look forward to in, say, 2015? I’m betting on, Abortion Is, Like, So Five Years Ago, written and directed by Hollywood. And, When Rape Was Illegal: a Documentary, sarcastically narrated by the signers of the Free Polanski Petition. Thoughts?

Quote of the Day: Rebecca Traister

Big Girls Don’t Cry: The Election that Changed Everything for American Women by Rebecca Traister
Rebecca Traister’s Big Girls Don’t Cry looks at the 2008 election through a feminist lens and, (no surprise), focuses most on primary candidate Hillary Clinton, and later Sarah Palin. The book is, however, much more than just an analysis of the sexism these two women endured. Big Girls Don’t Cry looks at the ways in which the media itself was forced to adapt, particularly to Clinton’s historic run at the presidency. This book is an excellent, smartly written look back at gender politics in 2008. For me, it reopened wounds and ignited anger I felt during the election cycle, when I heard, time and again, painful misogynist commentary coming from our so-called liberal media. However, the book provides a kind of catharsis: if we can look back through Traister’s clear eye, maybe we–individuals and the collective–will change.

The book is especially incisive when discussing how the media–the news media and entertainment realm–itself had to change in reaction to the election, and provided several “Ah ha!” moments for me. 
Here’s an excerpt from her chapter “Pop Culture Warriors.”
If Katie Couric was the nail in Sarah Palin’s vice-presidential coffin, the hammer was Tina Fey. Fey’s deadly impression of Palin was played out over half a dozen sketches for which Fey returned to Saturday Night Live, where she had been the first female head writer and where, in February, she made news with her comedic defense of Hillary Clinton, “Bitch is the new black.” 
[…]
Fey’s take on Palin was serendipitous, prompted by the strong resemblance between the two women. But that likeness was part of what made it groundbreaking: a vice-presidential candidate looked like a famous comedian. A female comedian. And on it went. Hillary Clinton had been played by Poehler for several years. The interview that brought Palin low had been administered by Couric, a woman also played by Poehler. The vice-presidential debate had been moderated by Gwen Ifill, prompting a guest appearance by the inimitable Queen Latifah. Inasmuch as each of the impersonations relied on the amplification of feminine traits–Poehler/Couric’s heavily mascara’d and incessant blinking, Poehler/Hillary’s hyenic laugh, Fey/Palin’s sexy librarianism–in ways that might indeed be sexist or reductive, those characteristics were ripe for amplification only because the objects of political and media parody had high-pitched laughs and wore mascara and pencil skirts. The heightened femininity of Palin’s political persona also came in for examination; during the Couric-Palin sketch, Couric pointed out to a stumped Palin, “It seems to me that when cornered you become increasingly adorable.” That little one-liner, accompanied by Fey’s inspired shooting of fake finger guns, distilled a gender dynamic–wherein women infantilize themselves as a defensive strategy–it might otherwise take thousands of words to unspool.

[…]

But in comedy, as in real life, the arrival of Palin on the scene threw Clinton into a new focus. Next to Palin, Clinton’s good qualities–her brains, competence, work ethic, her belief in secular government and reproductive freedoms, her ability to complete sentences–became far more evident than they had been before there was another potential “first woman” to compare her to. Nothing conveyed these haze-clearing realignments of perspective as quickly and as firmly as Fey and Poehler did in five and a half minutes. The parodic depiction of the two women side by side exposed the complex dynamics of Palin’s parasitism, their unwilling symbiosis, and their stark differences.

You can read reviews of the book at Gender Focus and Feministing.

Quote of the Day: Jennifer L. Pozner

Reality Bites Back: the Troubling Truth about Guilty Pleasure TV by Jennifer L. Pozner (Seal Press)

While there are huge swaths of this book I’d like to quote, I’ve chosen a passage from the chapter “Unraveling Reality TV’s Twisted Fairytales: Cinderellas and Cautionary Tales,” which focuses on reality dating programs (such as The Bachelor). It’s often simple to dismiss such programming, but like all media, these programs do significant work in cultural norming, and we don’t always understand how powerful the messages are.

On fairytale imagery:

For women, these representations conjure our earliest memories–of the stories our parents read to us before bed, of the cartoons that danced in our imaginations, telling us what we could (and should) look forward to when we grew up. No matter how independent we might be as adults, how cynical we consider ourselves, or how hard we’ve worked to silence external cultural conditioning, decades of sheer repetition make it extremely difficult to fully purge societal standards from our psyches. Simply put, it’s damn near impossible to live completely outside the culture, no matter how well we try to shield ourselves from its impact.

[…]

Regardless of where we fall on this continuum–from conscious refusal to let childish notions inform our love lives to enthusiastic embrace of fantasies we’ve nursed since we were little girls–producers play on these deep-seated ideas about gender, love, and romance for ratings. This, in part, is what Mike Darnell was talking about when he told Entertainment Weekly that the secret to airing a successful reality TV show is to create a premise that is “steeped in some social belief.” And, as we’ll soon see, similar stereotypes about race, class, beauty, and sexual orientation are endemic, even necessary, to reality TV–in all its forms.

I believe that media literacy is the education issue of our time. While many people are cynically aware that they’re being sold products in television–through both traditional advertising and product placement–they’re less savvy about the ideas and cultural norms being sold to them. As Pozner points out, it’s the “sheer repetition” of the regressive ideas and images in reality TV that has a lasting effect on our views of women, in particular.
I highly recommend reading–and purchasing–Pozner’s Reality Bites Back. It’s a fantastic book, very teachable (if you’re a teacher-type), and published by Seal Press, which prints books by women and for women.

Quote of the Day: Sirena J. Riley

From her essay “The Black Beauty Myth,” which appears in the anthology Colonize This! (published in 2002):

As a women’s studies major in college, body image was something we discussed almost ad nauseam. It was really cathartic because we embraced the personal as political and felt safe telling our stories to our sister feminists. Whenever body image was researched and discussed as a project, however, black women were barely a footnote. Again, many white feminists had failed to step out of their reality and see beyond their own experiences to understand the different ways in which women of color experience sexism and the unattainable beauty ideals that society sets for women.

Discussions of body image that bother to include black women recognize that there are different cultural aesthetics for black and white women. Black women scholars and activists have attacked the dominance of whiteness in the media and illuminated black women’s tumultuous history with hair and skin color. The ascension of black folks into the middle class has positioned them in a unique and often difficult position, trying to hold onto cultural ties while also trying to be a part of what the white bourgeois has created as the American Dream. This not only permeates into capitalist material goals, but body image as well, creating a distinctive increase in black women’s body dissatisfaction.

White women may dominate pop culture images of women, but black women aren’t completely absent. While self-deprecating racism is still a factor in the way black women view themselves, white women give themselves too much credit when they assume that black women still want to look like them. Unfortunately, black women have their own beauty ideals to perpetually fall short of. The representation of black women in Hollywood is sparse, but among the most famous loom such beauties as Halle Berry, Jada Pinkett Smith, Nia Long, Iman and Angela Bassett. In the music scene there are the young women of Destiny’s Child, Lauryn Hill and Janet Jackson. Then, of course there is model Naomi Campbell and everyone’s favorite cover girl, Tyra Banks. Granted, these women don’t necessarily represent the waif look or heroin chic that plagues the pages of predominately white fashion and entertainment magazines, but come on. They are still a hard act to follow. 

Quote of the Day: Susan J. Douglas

Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message that Feminism’s Work is Done by Susan J. Douglas

Note: all boldface is my emphasis, not the author’s.

Today, feminist gains, attitudes, and achievements are woven into our cultural fabric. So the female characters created by Shonda Rhimes for Grey’s Anatomy, to choose just one example, reflect a genuine desire to show women as skilled professionals in jobs previously reserved for men. Joss Whedon created Buffy the Vampire Slayer because he embraced feminsim and was tired of seeing all the girls in horror films as victims, instead of possible heroes. But women whose kung fu skills are more awesome than Jackie Chan’s? Or who tell a male coworker (or boss) to his face that he’s less evolved than a junior in high school? This is a level of command-and-control barely enjoyed by four-star generals, let alone the nation’s actual female population.

But the media’s fantasies of power are also the product of another force that has gained considerable momentum since the early and mid-1990s: enlightened sexism. Enlightened sexism is a response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism–indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved–so now it’s okay, even amusing, to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women. After all these images (think Pussycat Dolls, The Bachelor, Are You Hot?, the hour-and-a-half catfight in Bride Wars) can’t possibly undermine women’s equality at this late date, right? More to the point, enlightened sexism sells the line that it is precisely through women’s calculated deployment of their faces, bodies, attire, and sexuality that they gain and enjoy true power–power that is fun, that men will not resent, and indeed will embrace. True power here has nothing to do with economic independence or professional achievement (that’s a given): it has to do with getting men to lust after you and other women to envy you. Enlightened sexism is especially targeted to girls and young women and emphasizes that now that they “have it all,” they should focus the bulk of their time and energy on their appearance, pleasing men, being hot, competing with other women, and shopping.

Enlightened sexism is a manufacturing process that is produced, week in and week out, by the media. Its components–anxiety about female achievement; a renewed and amplified objectification of young women’s bodies and faces; the dual exploitation and punishment of female sexuality; the dividing of women against each other by age, race, and class; rampant branding and consumerism–began to swirl around in the early 1990s, consolidating as the dark star it has become in the early twenty-first century. Some, myself included, have referred to this state of affairs and this kind of media mix as “postfeminist.” But I am rejecting this term. It has gotten gummed up by too many conflicting definitions. And besides, this term suggests that somehow feminism is at the root of this when it isn’t–it’s good, old-fashioned, grade-A sexism that reinforces good, old-fashioned, grade-A patriarchy. It’s just much better disguised, in seductive Manolo Blahniks and an Ipex bra.

Susan J. Douglas is the author of Where the Girls Are, The Mommy Myth, and other works of cultural history and criticism. Her work has appeared in The Nation, The Progressive, Ms., The Village Voice, and In These Times. (taken from the jacket cover of Enlightened Sexism)

Quote of the Day: Nina Power

Below is an excerpt from Nina Power’s One Dimensional Woman, in which she raises some interesting points and questions about the so-called Bechdel Test (or Ripley’s Rule, as we generally refer to it).

What does contemporary visual culture say about women? Here a thought experiment comes in handy: The so-called ‘Bechdel Test’, first described in Alison Bechdel’s comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For, consists of the following rules, to be applied to films, but could easily be extended to literature:
  1. Does it have at least two women in it,
  2. Who [at some point] talk to each other,
  3. About something besides a man.

Writer Charles Stross adds that

“if you extend #3 only slightly, to read “About something besides men or marriage or babies, you can strike out about 50% of the small proportion of mass-entertainment movies that do otherwise seem to pass the test.”

Once you know about the test, it’s impossible not to apply it, however casually. Stross is right–huge quantities of cultural output (possibly even more than he suggests) fail. Several questions emerge from the test:

  1. What is so frightening about women talking to each other without the mediation of their supposed interest in men/marriage/babies?

  2. Does cinema/literature have a duty to representation such that it is duty bound to include such scenes, as opposed to pursuing its own set of agendas? Why should literature/cinema be ‘realistic’ when it could be whatever it wants to be?

  3. Does reality itself pass the test? How much of the time? Can we ‘blame’ films/TV for that?

Nina Power is a Senior Lecturer in Philosophy at Roehampton University. She has published widely on topics including Iran, humanism, vintage pornography and Marxism. (taken from the jacket cover of One Dimensional Woman.)

Quote of the Day: Rachel Maddow

Below is an excerpt from an interview that Feministing recently conducted with Rachel Maddow. Definitely read the amazing interview in its entirety.

Chloe Angyal: Why did you decide to make a documentary about the assassination of Dr. Tiller, and why did you feel so strongly about doing a larger-scale production about the anti-abortion movement?

Rachel Maddow: When we covered the Tiller murder when it happened, two things became clear. As soon as you heard last May that a doctor had been killed in Kansas, if you knew anything about the fight over reproductive rights and the radical anti-abortion movement, it was instantly clear that it was George Tiller who was killed, even before you heard the name. I had heard that a doctor was killed in Kansas that Sunday, and knew it was Tiller before I saw in the news that it was Tiller. There are not that many things in America, where you know who’s going to get killed, because there’s a campaign against them that includes people who think that violence up to murder is justified against people with whom they disagree or who they’ve vilified. It’s an unusual thing in America – there aren’t a lot of things like that, so that in itself was shocking enough.

But there was also some smaller scale stuff about our covering it in day-to-day news way. We do daily production, we have to do a show five nights a week, and turn around things in a short time frame, and the Tiller murder and the Roeder conviction were things that we covered intensively, but on this day-to-day production schedule. And one of the things that we didn’t report on, or didn’t really follow up on because it wasn’t appropriate to report on in that day-to-day schedule was the fact that there was a ton of celebration online when Tiller was killed. And you don’t blame people for their blog comments, and you don’t make a news story out of anonymous commenters on the internet machine. If you did, you’d constantly be foretelling the end of the world. It’s not really appropriate to cover that as news, that anecdotal reaction. But reading that reaction online, on Twitter and in blog comments, not just in the dark anti-abortion extremist corners of the internet, but actually in relatively mainstream places, I found very unsettling. It stuck with me and it made me want to do something longer form, more investigative and more in-depth about the murder.

The fight over reproductive rights and the tactics of the radical anti-abortion movement are subjects that are a bummer. It’s something that we think of as almost unendurable, I think, to dwell on, to think about, because it seems like it never gets better, and like the other side never pays a price. And one of the things that I don’t think people have really grasps, which is in this documentary, is the story of George Tiller, who was resolute, cheerful, clever, holistically cognizant of what was going on as he was being attacked in this way.

At Tiller’s funeral, they made giant flower arrangement that said “Trust Women,” because that was his motto. You have to understand the other side, the radicals and their tactics, in order to understand what’s going on in the fight over reproductive rights. But in order to understand the way that people survive this, and the way that people can even hope to win these battles in the long run, understanding the way George Tiller did it is underappreciated. We’ve got these interviews of him that have never before run on television, and you see him, coming back to his clinic the day after he was shot and the day after his clinic was bombed, saying, “What we’re doing is legal. What these people are doing, these terroristic tactics and this anarchy, is illegal,” and putting up the sign outside his clinic: “Women need abortions and I’m going to do them.” And the devotion that his staff had to him, because of that resolution and that resilience that he had, that is a story worth telling about how to live in the face of threat, and how to live in the face of people who are coming at you in ways that are sometimes are very painful to think about. This is a painful story, but this is also an instructive story and a cathartic story for people who support reproductive rights.