Strong Female Characters – Page 3

The Neverending Search for Good Sci-Fi: ‘Defiance’ Edition

‘Defiance’ is good solid alien-full science fiction television, it’s reliably entertaining each week, and it definitely has better feminist cred than many other shows.

Written by Max Thornton.

Syfy, the erstwhile Sci-Fi Channel, is not renowned for the high quality of its original programming – Sharknado 2, anyone? Still less did I expect to be especially interested in a show with a tie-in MMORPG. (I talk a big talk about interactivity and fan culture, but I’m fundamentally too lazy to participate much myself.) But the involvement of Rockne O’Bannon, creator of my beloved Farscape, was sufficient motivator for me to at least give Defiance a chance, and I’m glad I did. In our post- and sub-Battlestar Galactica televisual landscape, pure science fiction shows tend to the dreary and the grim, leaving things like “fun” and “watchability” to fantasy, whether it’s the high fantasy of Game of Thrones or the campy fantasy-horror of Sleepy Hollow and Supernatural.

One day I will write about this wonderful, wonderful show.

God knows I try. I gave The Tomorrow People a fair chance, I gave Helix a fair chance (incredibly, it’s been renewed), I’m giving Extant a fair chance. I want good SF on my TV, preferably something with spaceships and aliens, to fill the void left by assorted Star Treks and Firefly and Farscape, but in all honesty Orphan Black is the only really quality sci-fi show on television at the moment.

Enter Defiance. Now, Defiance is not BSG, but it is good solid alien-full science fiction television, it’s reliably entertaining each week, and it definitely has better feminist cred than many of the other shows I have already mentioned.

A few decades after the arrival of extra-terrestrial life, Earth hosts an uneasy peace between humans and the various alien species. The former St. Louis is now the titular polis, where a number of different species, languages, and cultures coexist under the mayoral leadership of Julie Benz, whose improbably-named sister Kenya runs a brothel. Perhaps the central characters of the show, insofar as a show whose setting is its true protagonist can be said to have central characters, are the young alien Irisa and her adoptive human father.

Stephanie Leonidas as Irisa. You can tell she's an alien because she has a funny forehead. — Stephanie Leonidas as Irisa. You can tell she’s an alien because she has a funny forehead.

Irisa is one of my favorite things about the show. She appears to be some sort of Chosen One, and it’s amazing how much better the hoary old Chosen One trope becomes when its beneficiary is not a white man. She’s part of a chosen, interspecies family, and while she and her father love each other dearly, they sometimes struggle to understand one another. Irisa’s efforts to understand herself and her place in the world are somewhat analogous to the issues faced by transracial adoptees, who may have rather complicated relationships with their ethnicity.

Indeed, Defiance offers a number of sci-fi analogues to real-world issues (and, God help me, this is something I adore in my speculative fiction). One subplot follows an interspecies couple as the human wife faces difficulties in comprehending her husband’s alien culture, with its powerful honor/shame culture and its communal bathing habits. Another subplot explores workers’ rights and collective action as both human and alien laborers work in dangerous conditions in the mines. All of the aliens are immigrants, trying to negotiate the place of their culture and customs within those of the humans among whom they live, and there are resonances of (post)colonialism and the fight for independence in the masterplot of Defiance’s struggle for self-governance.

There’s an instructive comparison to be made with new show Dominion, which airs immediately after Defiance and of which I could only stomach two episodes. Its Chosen One is a deeply boring white dude, and its one significant female character is defined entirely by her father (the city’s leader), her love for the Chosen One, and the arranged marriage her father wants to push her into. There’s a waifish cancerous-looking child that the Chosen One has taken under his wing because he’s just such a good guy, and the Chosen One has a lot of manpain about putting his boring girlfriend and his blonde lisping surrogate daughter at risk by being the Chosen One. It’s all offensively tedious.

Perhaps neither Dominion nor Defiance is doing anything we haven’t seen before, but Defiance is at least doing it with good politics, interesting characters, and a fair amount of style.

Take, for example, a powerful exchange in the most recent episode between the current and former mayors. The new and heretofore unlikable mayor, quite shaken by a minor assault, talks about his teen experience of being violently raped. The ex-mayor opens up about her own rape and subsequent abortion, and the following exchange ensues:

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I didn’t want you to think you were alone, because you’re not.”

“That’s the kindest thing… thank you.”

Rape As Backstory is a trope that surely needs a few centuries of retirement, but I have rarely seen a male and a female survivor bond in a scene of such sensitivity. Let’s hope the show continues to handle it well.

Mayor Darla? I'd vote for her — Mayor Darla? I’d vote for her

Defiance is no replacement for Farscape, but it’s about as close as we’re currently getting.

_____________________________

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Another Dead Sex Worker on ‘Game of Thrones’

Even after the finale of its fourth season, the HBO series ‘Game of Thrones’ continues its reputation for unpredictability and for subverting our genre expectations. However, a glaring pattern of predictability is emerging: all sex workers with significant roles will die horribly. Think about it.

Shae is introduced on Game of Thrones — Shae is introduced on *Game of Thrones*

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.
Spoiler Alert

Even after the finale of its fourth season, the HBO series Game of Thrones continues its reputation for unpredictability and for subverting our genre expectations. However, a glaring pattern of predictability is emerging: all sex workers with significant roles will die horribly. Think about it.

Doreah (played by Roxanne McKee), Daenerys Targaryen’s handmaiden and a prostitute: DEAD.

Doreah and Daenerys Sex Game of Thrones — Doreah is instructed to teach Dany the art of sex

Ros (played by Esmé Bianco), a Northerner who moves South to King’s Landing, working as a prostitute and trusted assistant to Littlefinger: DEAD.

Ros Game of Thrones — Ros: tough, upwardly mobile, intelligent, and independent

Finally, we have Shae (played by Sibel Kekilli): a prostitute and the lover of Tyrion Lannister who poses as a handmaiden to Sansa Stark: DEAD.

Shae soothes Tyrion's fears before the Battle of Blackwater Bay — Shae soothes Tyrion’s fears before the Battle of Blackwater Bay

What do all these women have in common? Their profession as sex workers, and they are all disloyal.

After being raped by Viserys and ordered to sexually train/service Daenerys, Doreah betrays her Khaleesi in Qarth, helping Xaro Xhoan Daxos (the man Dany instructed Doreah to sleep with) to steal Dany’s dragons. (A deleted scene even shows Doreah coldly murdering fellow handmaiden Irri.)

Doreah and Daxos Caught Game of Thrones — Doreah is caught in bed with Daxos

Ros rightfully fears her employer and seeks to help Sansa Stark by revealing to Varys Littlefinger’s plans to spirit the girl away.

Ros Dead Game of Thrones II — Littlefinger punishes Ros by letting Joffrey put a series of crossbow bolts in her

In one of the most significant acts of betrayal the series has ever depicted, Shae testifies against Tyrion in court, condemning him for the crime of regicide. We also find that she was sleeping with his father, Tywin Lannister, which the show asserts is an even greater form of betrayal than her false testimony.

Shae gives her damning, full of lies testimony

Shae’s acts of betrayal are over-the-top and out of character (remember, we’re talking about the show here, not the books). Season 4 has her being sullen and adopting a completely unrealistic attitude about the danger she and Tyrion face. She is irrationally jealous of his forced marriage to Sansa while still maintaining her affection for the young Stark girl. Overall, though, we must remember that Shae truly does love Tyrion. She has refused gold, safety, and a fine home with servants all for love of Tyrion.

We are to believe that because Tyrion white fanged Shae, she would condemn him to die by telling lies during his trial, condemn Sansa whom she loved and protected by telling lies about her, fuck Tywin, get so cozy with him that she’d call him “my Lion” and try to kill Tyrion the next time she saw him? I ain’t buying it.

Shae and Sansa watch ships arrive in King's Landing — Shae and Sansa watch ships arrive in King’s Landing

Is Shae really a woman so scorned that she’d destroy everyone she ever cared about to get revenge? Is she really so daft that she couldn’t see that Tyrion was trying to protect her all along? Is she really so malleable that Tywin could so easily manipulate her into such complete betrayal?

Though actress Sibel Kekilli claims she understands her character’s motivations in the latter part of Season 4, Shae’s actions really only accomplish two things:

Her utter betrayal is character-defining for Tyrion. That he is “forced” to kill her changes him, so her unrealistic actions and extreme betrayal merely serve to further Tyrion’s character arc, while contradicting her own characterization over the last four years.

Tyrion finds a gussied up Shae in his father's bed — Tyrion finds a gussied up Shae in his father’s bed

More importantly, Shae’s betrayal when considered alongside the double-crosses of her fellow prostitutes and their collective fates reveal a disturbing attitude toward sex workers that Game of Thrones is advancing. It claims that sex workers are disposable and that they cannot be trusted.

In the behind-the-scenes video, Game of Thrones Inside the Episode: Season 4 Episode 10, show co-creator D.B. Weiss says of Tyrion’s discovery of Shae in Tywin’s bed,

“That’s in a way, the most horrible thing he could see because she wasn’t a whore…they had become committed to each other. She’s no longer a whore. When he calls her a whore, it’s not that he believes this is what she is; it’s what he desperately needs to tell her to save her life in his mind, and, ironically, he’s ended up turning her into that very thing that she was running from.”

Weiss’ repeated use of the offensive term “whore” here encapsulates so much more than Shae’s profession as a sex worker. Weiss’ and the show’s obsession and discomfort with these women’s occupation is very masculine and very patriarchal, asserting that if you must pay a woman for sex, her morals and motivations are never to be trusted about anything ever. This stems from an ego-driven masculine notion that if a woman retains enough agency to demand payment for sex, it is impossible to know if she really enjoyed said sex, and if she might be faking that, she could be faking any and all other emotions or professed loyalties.

Game of Thrones punishes another sex worker by having her die on her back in a bed — *Game of Thrones* punishes another sex worker by having her die on her back in a bed

I’m pretty tired of seeing sex workers raped and murdered on TV. I’m sick of seeing sex workers depicted within a stereotypical trope as liars and betrayers who get what’s coming to them. It’s no secret that Game of Thrones doesn’t have a great track record when it comes to the exploitation of its female characters, liberally employing death, rapes, gratuitous nudity and crappy decision-making that runs counter to characterization in order to move the plot along, make a nonessential point or punish an “unlikeable” woman. This so disappoints me because, in other ways, Game of Thrones delights with its intricate plot, attention to detail, breathtaking visuals, character depth and endless surprises. Season 5 is being filmed right now. It’s time for the bar to be raised with this amazing series’ treatment of women and, in particular, its treatment of sex workers. I challenge the creators to stop exploiting their female and sex worker characters. I challenge them to start working as hard to give these marginalized women as much real depth and humanity as they do for their male counterparts.

***Please no book spoilers in the comments!***

Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.

Top 10 Villainesses Who Deserve Their Own Movies

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.

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.

As a follow-up to my post on the Top 10 Superheroines Who Deserve Their Own Movies, I thought it important to not neglect the bad girls of the superhero universe. I mean, we don’t want to piss those ladies off and invoke their wrath, do we? 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. With the recent growing success of Disney’s retelling of their classic Sleeping Beauty, the film Maleficent shows us that we all (especially young women) are hungry for tales from the other side of the coin. We want to understand these complex women, and we want them to have the agency to cast off the mantle of “villainess” and to tell their own stories from their own perspectives.

1. Mystique

Throughout the X-Men film franchise, the blue-skinned, golden-eyed shapeshifting mutant, Mystique, has gained incredible popularity. Despite the fact that she tends to be naked in many of her film appearances, Mystique is a feared and respected opponent. She is dogged in the pursuit of her goals, intelligent and knows how to expertly use her body, whether taking on the personae of important political figures, displaying her excellent markmanship with firearms or kicking ass with her own unique brand of martial arts. As the mother of Nightcrawler and the adoptive mother of Rogue, Mystique has deep connections across enemy lines. X-Men: First Class even explores the stigma surrounding her true appearance and the isolation and shame that shapes her as she matures into adulthood. The groundwork has already been laid to further develop this fascinating woman.

2. Harley Quinn

Often overshadowing her sometime “boss” and boyfriend The Joker, Harley Quinn captured the attention of viewers in the Batman: Animated Series, so much so that she was integrated into the DC Batman comic canon and even had her own title for a while. She’s also notable for her fast friendship with other infamous super villainesses, Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Often capricious and unstable, Harley always looks out for herself and always makes her own decisions, regardless of how illogical they may seem. Most interestingly, she possesses a stark vulnerability that we rarely see in villains. A dark and playful character with strong ties to other women would be a welcome addition to the big screen.

3. Ursa

Ursa appears in the film Superman II wherein she is a fellow Krypontian who’s escaped from the perpetual prison of the Phantom Zone with two other comrades. As a Kryptonian, she has all the same powers and weaknesses of Superman (superhuman strength, flight, x-ray vision, freezing breath, invulnerability and an aversion to kryptonite). Ursa revels in these powers and delights in using extreme force. Ursa’s history and storyline are a bit convoluted, some versions depicting her as a misunderstood revolutionary fighting to save Krypton from its inevitable destruction, while others link her origins to the man-hating, murderous comic character Faora. Combining the two plotlines would give a movie about her a rich backstory and a fascinating descent into darkness in the tradition of Chronicle.

4. Sniper Wolf

"I watched the stupidity of mankind through the scope of my rifle." - Sniper Wolf — “I watched the stupidity of mankind through the scope of my rifle.” – Sniper Wolf

Sniper Wolf from Metal Gear Solid is one of the most infamous and beloved villainesses in gaming history. A deadly and dedicated sniper assassin, Sniper Wolf is ruthless, methodical and patient when she stalks her prey, namely Solid Snake, the video game’s hero. Not only that, but she has a deep connection to a pack of huskies/wolves that she rescues, which aid her on the snowy battlefield when she faces off with Snake in what was ranked one of gaming’s best boss fights. In fact, Sniper Wolf has made the cut onto a lot of “best of” lists, and her death has been called “one of gaming’s most poignant scenes.” Her exquisite craft with a rifle is only one of the reasons that she’s so admired. Her childhood history as an Iraqi Kurdish survivor of a chemical attack that killed her family and thousands of others only to be brainwashed by the Iraqi and then U.S. governments is nothing short of tragic. Many players regretted having to kill her in order to advance in the game. She is a lost woman with the potential for greatness who was manipulated and corrupted by self-serving military forces. Sniper Wolf is a complex woman of color whose screenplay could detail an important piece of history with the persecution of Kurds in Iraq, show super cool weapons and stealth skills while critiquing the military industrial complex and give a woman a voice and power within both the male-dominated arenas of spy movies and the military.

5. Scarlet Witch

Perhaps the most powerful mutant in X-Men lore — One of the most powerful mutants in X-Men lore, Scarlet Witch

Scarlet Witch, the twin sister of Quicksilver and daughter of Magneto, is one of the most powerful mutants in the X-Men and Avengers universe. With power over probability and an ability to cast spells, Scarlet Witch is alternately a valuable member of Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants as well as the Avengers. She can also manipulate chaos magic and, at times, control the very fabric of reality, such that she can “rewrite her entire universe.” Um, badass. She’s also one of the most interesting characters in the X-Men and Avengers canon because she’s so deeply conflicted about what she believes and who she should trust. Eventually coming around to fight on the side of good, Scarlet Witch has a true heroine’s journey, in which she has a dark destiny that she overcomes, makes choices for which she must later seek redemption, finds her true path as a leader among other warriors, and she even becomes a mother and wife in the process. Despite her extensive comic book history (first appearing in 1964) and the fact that she’s such a strong mutant with such a compelling tale of the journey from dark to light, Scarlet Witch has only been a supporting character in video games, TV shows, and in movies (most recently set to appear in the upcoming Avengers: Age of Ultron). That’s just plain dumb.

6. Ursula

Ursula, the sea witch from Disney’s The Little Mermaid, is so amazing. Part woman, part octopus, she has incredible magical powers that she uses for her own amusement and gains. With her sultry, husky voice and sensuous curves, she was a Disney villainess unlike any Disney had shown us before. What I find most compelling about Ursula is that her magic can change the shape and form of anyone, and she chooses to maintain her full-figured form. Though she is a villainess, this fat positive message of a magnetic, formidable woman who loves her body (and seriously rocks the musical number “Poor Unfortunate Souls” like nobody’s business) is unique to Disney and unique to general representations of women in Hollywood.

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

Now that Disney has made Maleficent, they better find a place for this octo-woman sea witch, and they better keep her gloriously fat, or they’ll be sorry.

7. Evil-Lyn

Evil-Lyn was the only regularly appearing villainess on the 80’s cartoon series He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. Unlike its blissfully female-centric spin-off, She-Ra: Princess of Power, He-Man was pretty much a sausage-fest. Much in the way that Teela and the Sorceress were the only women representing the forces of good, Evil-Lyn was the lone lady working for the evil Skeletor. As his second-in-command, she proved herself to be devious and intelligent with a gift for dark sorcery that often rivaled that of the seemingly much more powerful Skeletor and Sorceress. There appears to be no official documentation of this, but as a child, I read Evil-Lyn as Asian (probably because of her facial features and the over-the-top yellow skin tone Filmation gave her). I love the idea of Evil-Lyn being a lone woman of color among a gang of ne’er-do-wells who holds her own while always plotting to overthrow her leader and take power for herself. (Plus, she has the best evil laugh ever.) I have no illusions that she’ll ever get her own movie (despite Meg Foster’s mega-sexy supporting performance as the cunning Evil-Lyn in the Masters of the Universe film). However, I always wanted her to have more screen time, and I always wanted to know more about her, unlike her male evil minion counterparts.

8. Knockout and Scandal

Knockout & Scandal are bad girls in love — Knockout and Scandal are bad girls in love

Scandal Savage and Knockout are villainess lovers who appear together in both comic series Birds of Prey and Secret Six. As members of the super-villain group Secret Six, the two fight side-by-side only looking out for each other and, sometimes, their teammates. Very tough and nearly invulnerable due to the blood from her immortal father, Vandal Savage, Scandal is an intelligent woman of color who’s deadly with her Wolverine-like “lamentation blades”. Her lover Knockout is a statuesque ex-Female Fury with superhuman strength and a knack for not dying and, if that fails, being resurrected. I love that Scandal and Knockout are queer villainesses who are loyal to each other and even further push the heteronormative boundaries by embarking on a polygamous marriage with a third woman. I generally despise romance movies, but I would absolutely go see an action romance with Scandal and Knockout as the leads!

9. Lady Death

Lady Death overcomes her status as eye candy

Lady Death has evolved over the years. Beginning her journey as a one-dimensional evil goddess intent on destroying the world, her history then shifted so that she was an accidental and reluctant servant of Hell who eventually overthrows Lucifer and herself becomes the mistress of Hell. Her latest incarnation shows her as a reluctant servant of The Labyrinth (instead of the darker notion of Hell) with powerfully innate magic that grows as she adventures, rescuing people and saving the world, until she’s a bonafide heroine. An iconic figure with her pale (mostly bare) skin and white hair, Lady Death has had her own animated movie, but I’m imagining instead a goth, Conan-esque live action film starring Lady Death that focuses on her quest through the dark depths of greed, corruption and revenge until she finds peace and redemption.

10. Asajj Ventress

The Dark Side has the Sith Asajj Ventress. #win — The Dark Side has Asajj Ventress. #win

Last, but not least, we have Asajj Ventress from the Star Wars universe, and the thought of her getting her own feature film honestly excites me more than any of the others. I first saw Ventress in Genndy Tartakovsky’s 2003 TV series Star Wars: Clone Wars, and she was was mag-fucking-nificent. A Dark Jedi striving for Sith status, Ventress is a graceful death-dealer wielding double lightsabers. Supplemental materials like comic books, novels and the newer TV series provide more history for this bald, formidable villainess. It turns out that she’s of the same race as Darth Maul with natural inclinations towards the Force. Enslaved at a young age, she escaped with the help of a Jedi Knight and began her training with him. She was a powerful force for good in the world until he was murdered, and in her bitterness, she turned to the Dark Side. Her powers are significant in that she can cloak herself in the Force like a mist and animate an army of the dead (wowzas!). Confession: I even have a Ventress action figure. The world doesn’t need another shitty Star Wars movie with a poorly executed Anakin Skywalker; the world needs a movie about Asajj Ventress in all her elegantly brutal glory.

Please bring Asajj Ventress to life on the big screen!

Peeling back the layers of these reviled women of pop culture is an important step in relaxing the binary that our culture forces women into. Showing a more nuanced and empathetic version of these women would prove that all women don’t have to be good or evil, dark or light, right or wrong, virgin or whore. Why do we love villainesses? Because heroines can be so bloody boring with their clear moral compasses, their righteousness and the fact that they always win. When compared to their heroine counterparts, villainesses have more freedom to defy. In fact, villainesses are more likely to defy expectations and gender roles, to be queer and to be women of color. In some ways, villainesses are more like us than heroines because they’re fallible, they’ve suffered injustices and they’re often selfish. In other ways, villainesses are something of an inspiration to women because they’re strong, confident, intelligent, dismissive of the judgements of others and, most importantly, they know how to get what they want and need.

The Very Few Women of ‘Star Wars’: Queen Amidala and Princess Leia

With cast members Daisy Ridley, Carrie Fisher (reprising her role as the iconic Princess Leia), Lupita Nyong’o and Gwendoline Christie, these women quadruple the number of female leads that typically appear in a ‘Star Wars’ trilogy. That’s right. Until now, space has apparently been no place for women, especially strong women with more than one or two lines.

Mother and daughter: Padme and Leia — Mother and daughter: Padmé and Leia

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.

As buzz builds around the upcoming and presumably final Star Wars trilogy following the announcement of the Episode VII’s cast, I’m relieved to see that, with the recent addition of Game of Thrones‘ Gwendoline Christie and 12 Years a Slave‘s Lupita Nyong’o, the Star Wars franchise is trying to overcome its reputation as a sausage-fest. With Daisy Ridley on board (I’m guessing to play Han and Leia’s daughter) and veteran Carrie Fisher, who’ll be reprising her role as the iconic Princess Leia, these women quadruple the number of female leads that typically appear in a Star Wars trilogy. That’s right. Until now, space has apparently been no place for women, especially strong women with more than one or two lines. Now we just have to hope that Christie and Nyong’o won’t be used as Othered alien cameos and that these women’s considerable talents will be used, instead, to enrich the flagging franchise.

Consider the way the questionable way George Lucas has dealt with the very few women of Star Wars from the beginning. For the original Episodes IV-VI, we have Fisher as the tough rebel leader, but still royalty, Leia Organa…the only female character of note in the entire trilogy.

Leia in camouflage uniform on the forest moon of Endor

In the prequel Episodes I-III, we have Natalie Portman playing Padmé Amidala, Luke and Leia’s mother as well as a strong, independent, politically savvy queen…the only female character of note in the follow-up trilogy.

'Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace' featured an ass-kicking Amidala — *The Phantom Menace* featured an ass-kicking Padmé

Basically, despite the fact that entire Star Wars trilogies feature only a single female lead, each trilogy starts off with promise because that lone lady happens to be an empowered women who leads others with compassion, but isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty by firing a few blasters.

Mother and daughter both start off as forces to be reckoned with

Though Leia is the apex of yet another insipid (and incestuous) cinematic love triangle, her role as a critical leader in the rebellion is far more defining of her identity. In A New Hope, Leia is captured by Imperial forces and tortured. Not only does she not reveal the location of the rebel alliance, she is also integral in the success of her own rescue at the hands of Han and Luke. She also displays remarkable bravery, intelligence, and an innate talent for The Force (shown in both Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi through unexplained knowledge, strength, and a supernatural connection to her twin, Luke).

A deceptively helpless imprisoned Leia moments before her escape

Interestingly enough, one of Leia’s most seriously badass scenes is also, conversely, her most iconically objectifying one as well. When Leia poses as a “ruthless” bounty hunter to infiltrate Jabba’s Palace to rescue Han in Return of the Jedi, her cool points went through the roof. I love the idea of the woman organizing a team to go in and rescue her male love interest. However, women being in love within the Star Wars universe never goes well, and Leia is captured and forced to don scanty clothing and lounge beside Jabba. The film is vague about whether or not she has been raped or forced to engage in sexual acts with Jabba, but from here on out, Leia’s image as “Slave Leia” has gone down in pop culture as well as sexual fetish history and continues to be a popular cosplay for nerd gals and others.

I hate that Leia is best remembered for her "Slave Leia" outfit — I hate that Leia is best remembered for her “Slave Leia” outfit

Though Leia is demeaned, harassed, threatened, and disgusted by her captor, in the end, she’s able to take charge. With nothing but the chain around her neck, enslaving her, she kills Jabba, one of the most iconic villains of all time before aiding the rest of her friends in their escape. Her self-liberation, that she’s integral to her team and their escape, and that she fucking killed Jabba the fucking Hut goes a long way to distract us from the fact that for two films, we didn’t even see Leia’s wrists or ankles and suddenly, now that she’s in love, she’s a prime target for grossly sexualized objectification.

Though scantily clad, Leia is heavily armed

Later in Return of the Jedi, things get even dicier for Leia when she’s befriended and essentially held hostage by the furry Ewoks (I wonder if Lucas has some sexual fetishes he was indulging in this film). They give her a rustic dress, braid her hair and make her wear it down for the first time in the trilogy. They protect her and ignore her. Essentially, the Ewoks relegate Leia to a traditional female role, removing her agency. Leia is rescued by her friends yet again. The fact of the matter is that Leia, our only female character, is captured and rescued more than any other character in the trilogy. In the end, the film gives her back a measure of agency, and she is allowed to fight in the final battle.

Leia’s mother, Padmé, is a more extreme example of Lucas’ at best confused, at worst fucked-up attitude toward women in that her highs are higher, but her lows are so very, very much lower. On the positive side, Padmé is a popular and well-respected ruler-turned-Senator who is courageous in her dedication to her people. She generally wields her power for good, in defense of her planet and is never power hungry, nor is she a mere figurehead (despite the ridiculous ornamental nature of her wardrobe). She is alternately a diplomat and a warrior when the need arises.

Amidala doesn't shirk from necessary conflict — Padmé doesn’t shirk from necessary conflict

Though considerable, that’s where Padmé’s awesomeness ends. Throughout all three films, she is treated like a doll with her parade of outfits and her elaborate face painting. There’s even a Star Wars wiki page dedicated to her extensive wardrobe. Much of her Naboo state attire is even offensive with its appropriation of Asian cultural aesthetic.

So...many...costume...changes — Does Lucas *also* have an Asian fetish?

Despite the focus the films place on her body via her endless stream of costumes, Padmé mostly remains a badass (except for her vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum that opens the door for Palpatine to take control of the Senate, ushering in the tyranny of the Empire for decades to come…except for that). All agency slips from her, though, when Padmé falls in love with the atrociously acted Anakin Skywalker.

Padmé becomes little more than a love interest and a pretty face

Her story ceases to be one about political advocacy, diplomacy, and her struggles to keep her people’s liberties and safety intact. Instead, Padmé becomes little more than a love interest and a pretty face. Ignoring the fact that the love story is painfully trite and stilted with zero chemistry and wooden acting, this romance becomes all that Padmé is about. She marries Anakin in secret and becomes pregnant, and her personality totally changes. She becomes a simpering, deplorable character who dies of a broken heart. I mean, who cares that Anakin has been a childish wanker from the beginning and that she’s got a newborn set of twins? Life, I guess, is just too unbearable for a once strong and independent woman once she realizes she made a bad choice in love.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfX01lURXFk”]

Interestingly enough, Lucas did a better job in the 70s and 80s with his depiction of Leia than he did 20 years later when he brought Padmé to life.

Of the renderings of Skywalker women, Leia wins the prize for badassery

It’s a sad state of affairs when representations of women become progressively less feminist as time goes on. Despite the fact that certain parties are involved: Lucas with his growing record of bad judgment and J.J. Abrams with his habit of taking all the substance out of sci-fi franchises, I can’t help but be hopeful that the new Star Wars trilogy will get it right where its predecessors failed. Though the series has let me down before (Episodes I-III were, frankly, Bantha fodder), having several actresses on the cast for this new trilogy, women known for their strong female characters is a bright spot in a franchise that’s rapidly turning towards the Dark Side.

Of George Lucas, I, like Luke, can only say, “There is good in him. I’ve felt it.” And I, like Luke, will continue to have faith until it is perhaps too late.

Dude Bros and ‘X-Men: Days of Future Past’

With a running time of two hours and 11 minutes, audience members are subjected to some thematic repetition, gratuitous gags, and an unnecessarily meandering plot. That said, there’s no shortage of amazing costumes and make-up to bolster a ton of sweet action sequences depicting mutants kicking serious booty. ‘X-Men: Days of Future Past,’ though, is disappointing in its general dearth of female characters and its under-utilization of the ones it does have.

Huh. No ladies are shown on the movie poster for 'X-Men: Days of Future Past' — Huh. No ladies are shown on the movie poster for *X-Men: Days of Future Past*

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.

It’s no secret that I’m a tremendous fan of superheroes nor that I am on a mission to expose the ridiculous lack of superheroines on the big screen. The X-Men movie franchise has been relatively so-so with regard to its general quality: some hits, some misses, some overwhelmingly mediocre films. It’s also been pretty hit-or-miss with its representations of female characters. The latest installment, X-Men: Days of Future Past, is no exception. With a running time of two hours and 11 minutes, audience members are subjected to some thematic repetition, gratuitous gags, and an unnecessarily meandering plot. That said, there’s no shortage of amazing costumes and make-up to bolster a ton of sweet action sequences depicting mutants kicking serious booty. X-Men: Days of Future Past, though, is disappointing in its general dearth of female characters and its under-utilization of the ones it does have.

Blink, a member of the future's mutant resistance. — Blink, a member of the future’s mutant resistance.

Despite the film featuring four female characters, X-Men Days of Future Past fails to pass the Bechdel Test. We have Blink (Bingbing Fan), a mutant in the future reality who has the power to teleport and create portals through which others can teleport. I’m not sure if she speaks at all…maybe a single line. Then we have the classic Storm (Halle Berry), who controls the elements via weather. The talents of Berry, an Academy Award-winning actress, aren’t showcased at all what with her having maybe two lines throughout and, much like Blink, zero character development. The “phasing” and walking-through-walls Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page) is back with a slightly more substantial role than Storm, but her character is also static with very few lines. Finally, we have Jennifer Lawrence as Mystique/Raven, the shapeshifting martial arts expert who has the most screen time and the most depth of the bunch.

A sentinel gets the drop on a stoic Storm

Despite the fact that these women aren’t given nearly as much airtime as the dudes in the film, it’s no secret that they’re all seriously badass. In fact, the entire plotline revolves around the sheer power of two of these women’s mutant abilities. Kitty Pryde has managed to hone her phasing ability to allow others to pass through consciousness and time much the way she would pass through a wall. It is her ability that allows Wolverine to travel back in time to prevent a dystopian future fraught with mutant genocide and mutant-sympathizer wholesale slaughter. Kitty’s strength holds Wolverine’s mind in two places at once despite physical and emotional trauma that he may suffer while traipsing through time. In the original comic book storyline, Kitty, herself, travels back into her past consciousness in order to avert disaster, which firmly places her in the position of agent and heroine in an epic tale. In the film, however, her power, though vast, is incidental to the real drama of the story: setting a lost and bitter young Charles Xavier back on the path of hope and mutant/human unity.

Kitty Pryde phases Bishop's consciousness into the past — Kitty Pryde phases Bishop’s consciousness into the past

The entire film itself details the chain reaction the decisions and actions of Mystique set off. Her murder of anti-mutant weapons innovator, Dr. Bolivar Trask (performed by Game of Thrones favorite Peter Dinklage), followed by the synthesis of her shapeshifting capabilities into mutant-hunting sentinels, sets the stage for mutant genocide and a post-apocalyptic Matrix-like future. Mystique’s agency is so influential that she defines the future in a single act. Not only that, but her mutant ability is so powerful that it is coveted by the government and used to create an unstoppable weapon.

I'd watch the hell out of a solo Mystique movie — I’d watch the hell out of a solo Mystique movie

Despite the importance of Mystique not only to the plot of the film but also to the fate of mutants as a species and the world as a whole, her agency is full of negative consequences. The choices she would make on her own lead to destruction and despair. This echoes a generalized fear of the power of female agency and the belief that, if left to their own devices, women can’t or won’t make the right choices. That is why we have the two warring patriarchal, paternalistic forces seeking to shape her: Magneto and Professor X. Professor X evokes her familial bond with him and urges her towards unity and peace while Magneto uses their past sexual relationship, the allure of unfettered power, and the rage inspired by the persecution of fellow mutants to appeal to her. Professor X calls her “Raven,” a name that makes her his, while Magneto dubs her “Mystique,” asserting ownership over her identity.

Raven is Professor X's creature, while Mystique is Magneto's. — Raven is Professor X’s creature, while Mystique is Magneto’s.

An either/or dichotomy is formed in which she must choose to be either Raven or Mystique. Charles’ or Eric’s. There is no third option that allows her to be her own person, to make a choice outside of the ones presented to her by these two men. She is nothing but a symbol of the fight between our two great, male adversaries and their disparate philosophies. Yet again, a woman’s body (in that her DNA is pivotal to the extinction or survival of all mutantkind) is the grounds on which a man’s war is fought. Boo.

Mystique kicks serious as but, in the end, is a pawn — Mystique kicks serious ass but, in the end, is a pawn in a male ideology battle

The representations of race also inspired a “What the hell??” in me with Bishop (Omar Sy) being divested of his time traveling role (in the cartoon TV show version, if not the original comic storyline, Bishop travels back in time, not Wolverine) as well as the lotta people of color being killed off. The use of Peter Dinklage, a little person, to play Trask, a man obsessed with the threat mutants pose, to carry out prejudice and the genocide of those who are simply different from him rang a bit hollow as Dinklage/Trask, himself, is part of a marginalized group who likely knows firsthand what oppression looks like.

Trask, an oppressed little person, seeks to kill all mutants because they're different and scary — Trask, an marginalized little person, seeks to kill all mutants because they’re different and scary

It’s a step in the right direction that there are powerful, pivotal women in X-Men: Days of Future Past, but it’s not enough. Why isn’t this a story about Mystique’s internal landscape, her struggles, and how she learns that she’s not only powerful enough to change the world but powerful enough to change her mind? Why is her story a proxy to tell the tale of the men who seek to shape her? I hoped for better from X-Men: Days of Future Past, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Hollywood keeps churning out sub-par superhero movies with shitty plotlines, an over-reliance on explosions and action sequences, and a general all-about-the-dudes vibe. The X-Men franchise places a lot of emphasis on evolution; it’s time to do more than pay lip service to that notion. It’s time to evolve to the point that we’re telling the heroic arc of women and superheroines with the knowledge that that story is every bit as important as those of their male counterparts.

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!

What Women-Led Movies Can Do for Hollywood by Stephanie Hallett at Ms. blog

Why Didn’t CBS Choose a Person of Color or a Woman to Replace David Letterman? by Tanya Steele at Shadow and Act

“Strong Female Character” Comic at Gyno-Star

New documentary: Mexican women incarcerated for “homicide” after aborting gain their freedom by Katie at Feministing

The Lego Movie Makers Pledge to Do Better on Female Characters in Sequel by Susana Polo at The Mary Sue

Tina, Amy, and the Female F-ckup: A Filmography by Molly Lambert at Grantland

Julianne Nicholson on August: Osage County, Masters of Sex, and Aging in Hollywood by Laura Berger at Women and Hollywood

In Mainstream Media, Polyamory is Getting Attention by Erica Thomas at Bitch Media

Daenerys Targaryen is Back to “Save the Coloureds” Tour De #GameofThrones 2014 by Shane Thomas at Media Diversified

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

Seed & Spark: Don’t Let Me Off the Hook

I try to be a decent person and a thoughtful film artist. I frequently write films with complex female protagonists, attempt to defy expectations and stereotypes, and cultivate a team of collaborators that both is diverse and thinks diversely. A huge reason I choose to work with Seed & Spark for crowdfunding my first feature, ‘If There’s a Hell Below,’ is because of the awesome team of women running the show there.

This is a guest post by Nathan Williams.

I’m a white, straight, cisgender male. There is no more over-represented perspective than mine. So what are my words doing here?

I’m writing today to ask you not to let me off the hook.

I try to be a decent person and a thoughtful film artist. I frequently write films with complex female protagonists, attempt to defy expectations and stereotypes, and cultivate a team of collaborators that both is diverse and thinks diversely. A huge reason I choose to work with Seed & Spark for crowdfunding my first feature, If There’s a Hell Below, is because of the awesome team of women running the show there.

I am immensely proud to be working in the Pacific Northwest, a filmmaking community where our biggest success stories right now are women (Lynn Shelton, Megan Griffiths, Dayna Hanson, Tracy Rector, Mel Eslyn, Lacey Leavitt–not to mention the dozens of super-talented women who are on their way). I consider myself a feminist, and strongly support women’s legal, social, and economic rights. And I passionately believe all of us–especially us straight white males–benefit when our community of film artists is comprised of a richer, stronger, broader spectrum of voices.

Tracy Rector - Northwest documentary filmmaker — Tracy Rector – Northwest documentary filmmaker

But I’m asking you not to take my word for it. Too often people in positions of privilege are given a pass because they seem to have the best intentions. And I don’t just seem to, I really do have the best intentions!

But the fact remains that I have worked exclusively with white male cinematographers since leaving film school and will do so again for my first feature. The cast of my new movie is 60 percent male and (so far) entirely white. My producers are both men, as is my co-writer (my brother).

Director Nathan Williams with DP Chris Messina

Now, I can offer all sorts of justifications–my relationship with my present cinematographer, for instance, is a long and fruitful one. But that’s the thing about internal biases–you can find plenty of perfectly rational explanations for your biased actions.

I don’t forsake responsibility for doing the right thing–it’s my obligation, of course, not yours–but I’m asking you to help hold my feet to the fire. Please, ask me: did you seriously consider other DPs for the job? (No.) Did you audition actors of color? (Yes.) Why didn’t you cast them? (Good question.) Did you consider the impact to your story if you changed male characters into women, and vice versa? (Yes.) Does your movie pass the Bechdel Test? (By the skin of its teeth). How about the way you treat the threat of violence towards women in the film–are you sure you aren’t indulging in objectification? (I hope not.)

I am acknowledging these flaws and my struggle to improve not to earn your validation (until my actions merit it, I don’t deserve it), but because I want to be your partner in making this medium better for all of us. I am not asking you to make me better, I am reaching out to tell you I want to be a part of making what we all do better.

Because I look forward to the day when I don’t see the the ranks of “Great Directors” filled with old versions of my face, when Netflix carries as many films from Nigeria as from France, when entire departments on film sets aren’t completely homogeneous, when great lead roles for people outside of my demographic don’t draw amazement, when the voice of my own films isn’t one of power and privilege but instead is just another diverse voice in a vibrant crowd. Because I think then our great democratic art form will start fulfilling its promise.

Nathan Williams is a filmmaker based in Portland, Oregon. He’s currently raising funds to make his first feature film, If There’s a Hell Below.

How to Write a Good Female TV/Film Character

As a writer, comedian, and feminist who works in television development, I am continuously frustrated by not only the lack of female characters in entertainment but also the types of female characters in entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not all bad, some are fantastic (like the ones in the above photo), but others don’t have nearly as much depth, power, or memorability as the men do, and I ask you, dear readers, why? Why? WHY?!?! I don’t have the answer but I do have a list of tips for how we can write, not good, but superb female characters. Now, I am no expert, but I am a passionate person filled with rage, and those are always the best people to bestow advice upon others. Fingers crossed I change the world with this.

The cast of Orange Is the New Black — The cast of *Orange Is the New Black*

This guest post by Jess Beaulieu previously appeared at She Does the City and is cross-posted with permission.

#1: Give her a name for god’s sake. Unless she’s literally just a background extra in one scene for five milliseconds, show her some damn respect and name her. Please note that names like “Wife #2,” “Favourite Prostitute,” and “Generic Vagina” do not count.

#2: Have her make words with her mouth. Sure, you have a female in your film, but is her role just to stand beside the penises in silence, smiling and nodding along with whatever they say, but never uttering a word herself? If so, you fail the Bechdel test. Congrats. You kind of suck. If you want to not suck, write her some brilliant dialogue.

#3: Do not make her appearance her main attribute. She’s not a doll made of plastic. She has working internal organs, one of them being a brain. Focus on that organ instead. The way we look does influence our life stories, and can impact those stories in a positive way, but our appearance does not define who we are and neither should hers.

#4: Lavish her with tons and tons and tons of gross flaws. Writers often think that a female character can’t have any negative qualities out of fear that she won’t be likable. So they write the sweetest, smartest, most perfect leading lady in town who’s never made a single mistake in her entire life and to that I say SNOOOZZEEEEEE FESTTTTT. These are fine traits, but with no flaws, she’s boring as hell. What makes her likable ARE her flaws. If she’s kind and smart, yet also a paranoid, pugnacious pyromaniac who poops her pants on the regular, well that just sounds delightful.

#5: Take it easy with the flaws, though, buddy. We also don’t want to promote the idea that women are all vile hell beasts (although I do love a good hell beast, myself). Give her redeeming qualities as well, even if she’s an antagonist. She might be evil, but maybe she’s also loyal to her minions and pays them a respectable salary with health benefits and four weeks vacation? Give her a mix of good AND bad. Make her complex, you know, like humans are. Sidenote: Women are humans, if you weren’t sure.

#6: Important one: SHE’S NOT JUST AN ACCESSORY FOR MEN. She should drive her own stories. She should be active. She should impact the plot, and distracting the enemy by walking through a scene completely naked and then never returning does not count. This is especially important if she’s THE PROTAGONIST. It breaks my feminist heart when I see female leads trailing behind a bunch of dudes like a lost little puppy dog. TRUST THAT SHE CAN LEAD because she can. Ask yourself, “Why does she, specifically, NEED to be in this story?” If your answer is “She needs to be in this story because my producer told me to put at least one chick in it so I did but I’m not happy about it,” please retire immediately and go away forever.

#7: Don’t make her the buzzkill. There is a trend happening nowadays that has female characters disciplining men for their poor choices. They say “No, bad boy! That’s wrong! Stop doing that! Stop advancing the plot!” and then they get castigated on the internet by fanboys demanding these women be killed off because they halt the action and prevent the men from “being entertaining.” Quit making females the “mean mom” who shut everything down. Of course she has a right to judge the decisions of her fellow characters and comment on their actions, but if that’s her ONLY purpose the audience is going to turn against her.

#8: Give her likes, dislikes, a job, hobbies, skills, fetishes, phobias, cheese preferences, etc. So you got a female character with a bunch of awesome traits, yet she’s still extremely dull and you don’t know why. It’s probably because she has zero interests. Add in some and suddenly she’ll be jumpin’ off the page. Maybe she likes online poker, dislikes the idea of umbrellas, has a phobia of NOT smelling pot, and just became a professional dolphin whisperer? I always ask writers, “If she were in a room, alone, what would she be doing?” and if the answer is “Thinking about balls, like not bouncy balls, testicle balls” then no. Just… no.

#9: Don’t make her hate other women. A common trope. She likes hanging out with the bros but despises club clitoris. “I don’t get along with other girls. It’s because they’re jealous of me,” is her catchphrase and she stinks. Unless there’s a reason for why she loathes two x chromosomes (like she’s a misogynist and your show is about her being a misogynist) consider having her dislike people, not sexes.

#10: If it’s a comedy, make her… um…. FUNNY. I find while watching sitcoms that the men get the best lines. The men act out the ridiculous gags. The men fall into the embarrassing situations. And the women? Well, they get to WATCH. They can’t tell jokes because they’re just NORMAL, MUNDANE WOMEN in a world filled with HYSTERICAL, ODDBALL GUYS. However, this breaks a key rule in comedy. The rule being: Everyone needs to be funny. So lets spread the comedy love around, shall we patriarchy?

#11: Write more than one woman for god’s sake. The best tip for writing a good female character is to write a lot of them and to have them talk to each other (and talk to the men, I’m not advocating segregation). A single woman in a cast of twenty guys does not progress make. That is the norm and the norm is the problem.

#12: Having a cast of women who are diverse in race, age, sexuality, body shape, gender identity, and class will result in a better show. There is obviously a glaring problem with a lack of diversity in entertainment in general, however females seem to be particularly discriminated against when it comes to this issue. Marginalized women should be more represented in the media. Their stories need to be heard as well and writers have the power to tell these stories.

#13: Still confused about how to write good female characters? Let me simplify it for you. Take your male characters and turn them into women. You’ll be surprised by how little has to change.

Jess Beaulieu is a stand-up comedian, writer, feminist, professional complainer, and you. She is you. Jess co-hosts and co-produces an all-female variety comedy night called CHICKA BOOM (chickaboomshow.com) and co-hosts a weekly podcast called THE CRIMSON WAVE, which is all about periods (find us on iTunes!). Jess has performed at the Boston Women in Comedy Festival, the Chicago Women’s Funny Festival, where she was featured in the Chicago Sun-Times, and was selected to perform in the 2012 Fresh Meat Showcase at Second City. She also works in television as a bitter assistant, hoping to one day become a bitter writer. In her mother’s wise words, “Jess does entertainment type things! Isn’t that… interesting?”

Women, Professional Ambition, and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’

It is the overwhelming drive for excellence that makes the women on the show so real. It sometimes feels that this kind of ambition is not allowed to exist on TV. Sure, women can have high-powered careers and be very successful. But this is different. This is a show that not just portrays ambitious women, but is actively about professionally ambitious women and how they relate to each other and society.

"Grey's Anatomy" Poster — *Grey’s Anatomy* poster

This guest post by Erin K. O’Neill appears as part of our theme week on Women and Work/Labor Issues.

Let’s talk about women and professional ambition.

But first, let’s talk about our first impression of Meredith Grey.

Grey’s Anatomy opens with a montage of surgery with a voice over talking about how it’s all called “The Game.” And then, it smashes into Meredith Grey, wrapped in a blanket, sneaking away from a man she very clearly had sex with the night before. And what does she tell him?

“Look, I’m gonna go upstairs and take a shower, OK? And when I get back down here, you won’t be here.”

She’s late for her first day of work and has the small problem of having to kick a man out of her house.

And herein lies the fascinating and symbiotic relationship between the soapy plotlines and genuine examination of female professional ambition in Grey’s Anatomy. There’s lots of sex, lots of absolutely crazy medical cases and an unlikely amount of death, and a bunch of personal relationships that get so improbable that they could break the laws of physics. And yet the show somehow manages to stay grounded in one thing: Meredith, Cristina, Izzie, Bailey, Ellis, Callie, Addison, Lexie, Teddy, April, Erica, Arizona, Jo and just about every other female character on the show are all hell-bent on being great surgeons.

And not just great surgeons. The greatest surgeons.

Cristina and the "heart box" — Cristina and the “heart box”

“It’s like candy! But with blood! Which is so much better.”

There is a constant emphasis on winning. Winning the chance to do the best surgery, to get to treat the most interesting or dangerous injury. Everything from diagnosing rare diseases to eating a pile of hotdogs is an intense competition. Being the best, of anything and everything, is built into the fabric of the show’s narrative.

Cristina Yang is the obvious exemplar of this. She eats the giant pile of hot dogs the fastest. She hip checks Izzie on the way to a surgery so she gets there first. She graduated first in her class from Stanford’s medical school. She’s aggressive, abrasive, hostile, and she packs tequila in her bug-out bag. She is obsessive. She is driven.

And no one calls her less of a woman for that.

There are few shows that would let a female character, much less a married woman, have an abortion because her life plan is not to be a mother, but to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the world. Cristina knows she has no desire to have children, and while this eventually breaks up her marriage, she is conscious of doing the right thing by her own desires as well as her partner’s.

“You will be the surgeon of your generation,” Dr. Thomas (the former Mr. Feeney!) tells Cristina. “I knew it as soon as I met you. People will try to diminish you as they did me, but they will fail.”

“You are my person.”

Meredith Grey and Cristina Yang are best friends: the “Twisted Sisters.” They prioritize their friendship and each other over all other relationships — which is certainly saying something, considering that much of the non-career-related shenanigans that drive the emotional component to the show. Meredith was the first person Cristina told when she was pregnant, both times, and Meredith told Cristina about her post-it wedding to McDreamy before anyone else. Cristina needed Meredith to literally come back to life after drowning so she could tell her about her engagement. They ditch their romantic partners to motivate and support each other.

Their relationship is the most important relationship in the show because both women define themselves as surgeons first. The romantic entanglements, as distracting as they may seem, are secondary to their respective identities. For all the “pick me, choose me, love me” going on, the prominence and importance of Meredith and Cristina’s indicates that their professional ambitions are valid, and worthy life choices that deserve validation and realization.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

There’s a great episode in season two, “Thanks for the Memories,” wherein Dr. Miranda Bailey — the no-nonsense, hard-core, and most-skilled resident on staff — runs circles around a visiting attending surgeon who believes the hot-shot resident with a stellar rep and called The Nazi is a man. Skillfully playing this assumption against him, Bailey scores herself all the fun, juicy trauma surgeries for herself while relegating the sexist attending to sutures in the ER.

This episode deliberately acknowledges and then knocks down the stereotypes that can keep women from succeeding and excelling in the workplace.

“Pretty good is not enough. I want to be great.”

Meredith’s mother, Dr. Ellis Grey, was one of the greatest general surgeons of all time until she gets Alzheimer’s. Dr. Addison Montgomery Shepherd is a world-class neonatal surgeon, who in her first appearance describes herself as one of few surgeons who can separate fetal blood vessels. Dr. Callie Torres gets tapped to give a TED talk. Dr. Miranda Bailey almost single-handedly rallies support and opens a free clinic at the hospital.

Here’s the really cool thing about Grey’s Anatomy: these are women who succeed. They’re smart, and driven, and willing to suture bananas until they get the sutures right. And they grow and succeed. They pass their exams. They study and learn complicated procedures. They fail, a lot. It’s 10 seasons later, and the women who entered as interns are now attendings and fellows who do cutting-edge research and achieving the excellence that they have striven for.

They mentor and teach each other — the show made a point in the early seasons of having Bailey, Callie and Addison, among others, in positions of power and mentorship. And, as seasons go on, the students become teachers themselves and start the cycle over again. Later in the series, when Meredith and Derek adopt Zola, Callie tells Meredith not to feel guilty for going to work and being away from her child, since it’s good for Zola to see her mother work and be successful. And Bailey, who was Meredith’s supervising resident when Meredith, Cristina and the gang were interns, gives Meredith a list of her babysitters. This is how women support each other in the workplace.

Meredith & Cristina coo over Zola — Meredith and Cristina coo over Zola

“We screw boys like whores on tequila.”

Grey’s Anatomy has its detractors. And sure, it’s soapy and not all that realistic about how a hospital actually works. But it takes ambition seriously, making the professional ambition of its female characters the driving narrative force and is massively successful and at one point even the center of the zeitgeist. Even though the show is more well-known for its love triangles and melodramatic disasters and tragedies, it is deserving of consideration for its advancement of the idea that women can choose to be devoted and defined by their professional success.

Erin K. O’Neill is an award-winning writer, photographer, visual editor, and web editor currently located in Schenectady, New York. A devotee of literature, photography, existentialism, and all things Australian, Erin also watches too much television on DVD and Netflix. Follow her on Twitter, @ekoneill.

Ruthless, Pragmatic Feminism in ‘House of Cards’

The women of ‘House of Cards’ are not “Strong Female Characters.” They are well-written characters with a great deal of power, which they wield alongside the men. They are integral parts of the narrative. When female complexity and power is written into the narrative, everything else–including passing the Bechdel Test–effortlessly falls into place.

Written by Leigh Kolb.

Season 2 spoilers ahead!

Novelist Elmore Leonard said, “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.” I think about that often when looking for or critiquing the dearth of feminist film and television. We often wring our hands over the Bechdel Test and the lack of “Strong Female Characters.”

Ideal feminist media would be like Leonard’s ideal writing–films and shows that don’t feel like they’re trying to be feminist. They just are. Complex women and women’s stories that aren’t just pieces of the whole, but are woven in seamlessly throughout the narrative–that’s what I want.

House of Cards delivers.

Last year, after season 1 debuted on Netflix to critical and popular acclaim, Amanda Rodriguez and I both wrote about House of Cards and the wonderfully complex female characters (see: “The Complex, Unlikable Women of House of Cards” and “Claire Underwood: The Queen Bee in House of Cards“). The simultaneously awful and wonderful female characters whose stories were essential to the action in every single episode. Nothing ever felt forced, and the fact that these women were both sympathetic and loathsome was an absolute delight for those of us feminist viewers who are tired of “strong female characters” who pay lip service to some kind of surface-level inequality.

House of Cards’s feminism is remarkable, because it feels wholly unremarkable.

Season 2 debuted on Feb. 14, and although Netflix doesn’t reveal exact numbers, Variety reports that the viewership in the first few hours “soared,” with many subscribers watching multiple episodes at once.

And since the only Olympic-style sport we are interested in in our home is the long-form binge watch, we were finished with season 2 by Saturday night. Within the first two episodes, I was fairly certain this was the most feminist TV drama I’ve seen–because what we want (complexity, equality, and representation) is woven in seamlessly. House of Cards is not primarily about a man. It’s not primarily about a woman. It’s about people.

In the promo materials for season 1, we saw Frank Underwood sitting alone in Lincoln’s monument. Ostensibly, he’s the show’s protagonist. And in season 1, I suppose it did often feel that way.

However, the season 2 poster features Frank again sitting in Lincoln’s seat, but Claire is sitting on top of it also. From the first shot of season 2–Frank and Claire running together–we know that Frank isn’t really our sole protagonist at all anymore.

The first two episodes tie up many loose ends from season 1, and introduce new ones for season 2. In the first episode, Claire picks up her appointment with the fertility doctor not, as we learn, to become pregnant herself, but to find out more about the drug that Gillian is on so she can threaten to withhold her insurance from her, thus getting what she wants from Gillian. “I’m willing to let your child wither and die within you,” Claire says to Gillian. Frank pushes Zoe Barnes into the path of an ongoing train, and she is killed. Frank, who has taken his place as vice president, courts Jackie Sharp to be the House Majority Whip. Why? Her military record of having to order strikes and kill people (including women and children) shows Frank that she is a bastion of ruthless pragmatism, which is how he and Claire move forward; and with this, season 2 begins.

In the following episodes, Claire faces her rapist (who assaulted her in college, and now Frank must give him an award for his military service), and honestly tells Frank how she wants to “smash things” and how much she wants to talk about it. These scenes were excellent because she didn’t let Frank be the vengeful husband. She stopped him, and then kept her power by talking about the assault. It wasn’t presented as if her sexuality was Frank’s to protect; the experience was hers. She wants to let her husband in, but she doesn’t want him to avenge her honor. That’s her job.

When she goes on national television and admits to having an abortion, she says that it was to end the pregnancy that resulted from the sexual assault. She named her attacker, and a young woman called in to the show, saying that he had assaulted her as well. This kicks off a season-long story line about a military sexual assault bill that pits women against women and shows the politics of justice as being just that: politics.

Screen-Shot-2014-02-14-at-6.15.18-AM — Claire bares all–in her own way–on national television.

But here’s the rub: Claire had three abortions, not one, and none were from the rape. She is matter-of-fact with her doctor and press secretary that she had three abortions, and we learn that one was during the campaign with Frank, and two were when she was a teenager. One could see these story lines as using infertility, rape, and abortion as plot points.

And you know what? It’s fantastic. I love that these typically silent or exploited topics get so much air time in House of Cards, and that Claire is more human for having gone through so much, yet she uses it all for political and personal gain. (A recent study showed that when female characters consider or have an abortion in film or TV, they are disproportionally killed or at least punished.)

When done properly, I applaud these female-specific plot points. These events are plot points in women’s lives, and they should be used well on screen. House of Cards does just that.

Historically, men have wars and external, political struggles to define and provide fodder for their journeys (both fictional and non). We see this represented with Frank’s visit to the Confederate re-enactors and his war miniatures. Women’s struggles and choices–infertility, sexual assault, and abortion–are widespread and underrepresented. To have Claire live through and use these experiences is refreshing and brilliant (and appropriately villainous).

The season goes on to show the fallout that Claire receives from admitting to having an abortion (even though she publicly says she had one after a rape), including an attempted bomb attack by a man whose wife had had an abortion, and the angry, vitriolic protesters outside her home. (She tells Megan, the young sexual assault victim at one point, “They’re loud, but I think we need to be louder.”) What a great message.

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

Jackie–Frank’s replacement and sometimes-ally sometimes-adversary–is a force. She, in her relationship with Remy, is the one who initially isn’t interested at all in a relationship. She gets tattooed to help deal with the pain of the deaths she was responsible for in the military. She’s powerful and political, and we see her as both the enemy and ally throughout the season.

Screen-Shot-2014-02-14-at-5.24.03-AM — Jackie, adding on to her poppy tattoo (symbolic in its remembrance of bloodshed in war, and therapeutic in its pain).

In addition to the complex shaping of women’s stories and the characters themselves, the way the show handles masculinity and sexuality seems revolutionary.

In season 1, it’s evident when Frank goes back to his alma mater that he had had a sexual relationship with a close male friend. There wasn’t much hoopla about this, it just was what it was. In season 2, Claire, Frank, and their bodyguard, Edward Meechum, have a threesome. The next day, Frank says to Meechum as he gets in the car, “It’s a beautiful day.” And that’s all there is to it. Meanwhile, Rachel has developed a relationship with Lisa, and it’s portrayed as a loving partnership (although the camera does linger on their sex scene while it artfully pans away from the aforementioned threesome).

There’s no moral focus or panic about people’s sexuality. It just–is what it is. No fanfare. And the fact that we get to see women having orgasms (in season 2, an especially steamy scene between Jackie and Remy) is a pleasant detour from the norm as well.

In what continues to be one of my favorite articles regarding feminist media, “I hate Strong Female Characters,” Sophia McDougall says,

“Nowadays the princesses all know kung fu, and yet they’re still the same princesses. They’re still love interests, still the one girl in a team of five boys, and they’re all kind of the same. They march on screen, punch someone to show how they don’t take no shit, throw around a couple of one-liners or forcibly kiss someone because getting consent is for wimps, and then with ladylike discretion they back out of the narrative’s way.”

The women of House of Cards are not “Strong Female Characters.” They are well-written characters with a great deal of power, which they wield alongside the men. They are integral parts of the narrative. When female complexity and power is written into the narrative, everything else–including passing the Bechdel Test–effortlessly falls into place.

This is ruthless pragmatism: feminist style, and it is excellent. In a sea of male anti-heroes on TV, it’s time that women share the stage. House of Cards shows its hand, and it’s a royal flush, with the queen right next to the king.

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

Muted Female Power in ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ and ‘American Hustle’

The men get the most attention for their greed and corruption. However, if we look a bit closer, the films’ women are the ones who can be traced to plant bigger, fatter seeds of avarice. This wouldn’t bother me, as I’m always in favor of more complex female characters (even if they’re unsympathetic), but what strikes me is that we barely notice these scenes. The women become victims and damsels, when oftentimes the ideas were their own.

Is this some kind of 21st century version of the femme fatale? A woman who is coercive–not only sexually, but also financially–but who isn’t taken seriously as a power player? Is it just embedded in us to not notice women’s power or ignore their parts in the narrative?

Written by Leigh Kolb.

Two of this year’s Oscars contenders–The Wolf of Wall Street and American Hustle–are based on true stories. These stories center around greed and corruption. The characters cheat and lie their way into and out of the American Dream.

The men get the most attention for their greed and corruption. However, if we look a bit closer, the films’ women are the ones who can be traced to plant bigger, fatter seeds of avarice. This wouldn’t bother me, as I’m always in favor of more complex female characters (even if they’re unsympathetic), but what strikes me is that we barely notice these scenes. The women become victims and damsels, when oftentimes the ideas were their own.

In both The Wolf of Wall Street and American Hustle, women plant the ideas that become the stories themselves. We shouldn’t point at them and scream, “Jezebel!” or blame them entirely for the greed and corruption. Instead, I think it’s important that we recognize them as part of the story, and not as characters who need saving.

The Wolf of Wall Street‘s quiet, victimized femme fatales are harder to identify. In fact, when we watch The Wolf of Wall Street, the power and corruption of bloated, desperate masculinity screams at us from every frame–women are objectified, and men hold the power.

However, some key moments in Jordan’s (Leonardo DiCaprio) professional life are influenced by women. When he loses his first job on Wall Street after Black Monday, his wife Teresa (Cristin Milioti) shows him an ad for a job at the Investors Center, where he goes to sell penny stocks quite successfully. When he starts taking people’s money in earnest, Teresa says, “Wouldn’t you feel better selling to rich people who could afford to lose money?” The rest is history.

Then come the strippers and the marching band, and the scathing “Wolf of Wall Street” article in Forbes. There’s “no such thing as bad publicity,” Teresa says.

Pretty soon, Jordan is hooked on quaaludes. He points out that the history of quaaludes–how they were first prescribed to housewives, and then became recreational drugs (this Paris Review article notes that they were prescribed to “nervous housewives” and went on to be discovered by “curious teenagers” who raided their mothers’ medicine cabinets). Here we have a shift: all of a sudden, what was once a woman’s game was now co-opted, blown out of proportion, and reckless.

Soon, Jordan is with Naomi (Margot Robbie). He goes into her apartment and is beeped by Teresa (“Go home to your wife,” he says to himself). Naomi steps out naked, and they have sex instead.

She didn’t come, though. It’s pointed out that she doesn’t come, which is important–she’s seductive, but not satisfied. She’s sexy, but not sexual. (Or maybe Scorsese was trying to avoid an NC-17 rating, since doing blow out of a prostitute’s ass crack is R material, but female orgasms are just too scandalous.)

The_Wolf_Of_Wall_Street_review_article_story_main — Naomi’s “power”

Teresa and Naomi both are suddenly victims, discarded and consumed by Jordan’s lifestyle. We feel sorry for them, and they seem to be powerless (except for Naomi’s use of withholding sex). Their motivations and their power are erased by misogyny (figuratively in the story, or literally through violence and rape). I suppose this is actually in keeping with history–a history that favors men, and typically erases women’s involvement.

However, in American Hustle, Sydney (Amy Adams) shares center stage. She is a formidable scammer. She fabricates a persona, adopts an accent, and partners with Irving (Christian Bale) as a scam artist. Her power is fairly clear, and her nomination for the Best Actress Academy Award reflects her spotlighted role.

When Sydney and Irving meet, they are both already con artists in their own right. Sydney points out to Irving “how easy it could be to take money from desperate people.” With her involvement, his business takes off. Irving was a small player before Sydney; she takes their business to the next level.

american-hustle-amy-adams-1 — Sydney has control

Before long, though, Sydney is a damsel in distress–needing to be rescued by either Richie (Bradley Cooper) or Irving, and pitted against Irving’s wife, Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence). Her jealousy and cattiness take over, and she and Rosalyn seem at times to be liabilities because of their unbridled passion. All of a sudden, Sydney’s role as a powerful female force is whittled away. I want to be able to look at a female character and fully realize her power and potential, and recognize her role as an agent of change–even if that change is corrupt. It’s unfortunate to watch her weaken because of romantic relationships, and for her adversary to be the wife who almost tears everything down with her jealousy.

There’s a relatively happy ending for Irving and Sydney–they have legal jobs, and share custody of Irving’s adopted son, while Rosalyn has also found a new partnership. I don’t deny that Sydney is a strong character in her own right; however, a viewer could easily see her role as softened, muted somehow because of her jealousy.

It’s simply too easy for viewers to file women away in the “victim” category, or to not take them seriously as power players. Don’t get me wrong–I don’t think the answer to this problem is to always force female characters into leading roles, especially if the story on screen revolves around a male character. But there must be a way to avoid victimizing women and dismissing their motivations and actions, overshadowing them by female tropes. The male supporting characters are able to be seen as complex–American Hustle‘s Richie, Carmine (Jeremy Renner), and Stoddard (Louis C.K.), and The Wolf of Wall Street‘s Donnie (Jonah Hill), Patrick (Kyle Chandler), and Max (Rob Reiner) are likable and despicable, sympathetic and sinister. It’s possible.

I also wouldn’t want viewers to blame the women fully for the men’s actions, seeing them as simply vamps or temptresses who lead men astray. There’s some kind of middle ground that needs to be explored–and that ground is seeing women as complex human beings.

The women in The Wolf of Wall Street and American Hustle have power in pivotal moments, but it seems too easy for the audience to disregard due to cultural expectations and ideas about women and story lines that have them fade–just enough–into stereotypes. When women have formidable power behind the scenes, it would be nice to see that fully realized on the screen. We need a culture shift to move away from the dangerous dichotomies that wedge women into Madonna or whore, damsel or temptress. It’s up to writers and audiences to make that a reality.

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

The Strong, Detached Female Leads in ‘Bones’ and ‘The Tunnel’

'Bones' & 'The Tunnel' Posters — *Bones* and *The Tunnel* Posters

True confession: I love the emerging trope of strong, detached female leads in procedural crime shows. Temperance “Bones” Brennan, internationally acclaimed forensic anthropologist, from the TV show Bones was a seminal figure in this movement, and Elise Wasserman, workaholic, brilliant police officer from The Tunnel is a more recent iteration. (The Tunnel is the French/British remake of the Danish/Swedish series The Bridge. The Bridge has also been remade for American audiences as a US/Mexico TV crime drama.)

Though Bones is a kind of cheesy show (and getting cheesier and boring-er all the time), I have long loved Emily Deschanel‘s characterization of the logical, methodical scientist who solves crimes alongside her more emotional, intuitive male FBI partner, Seeley Booth. When we first meet Brennan, she is not only the leading forensic anthropologist in her field, but she is a physically capable women who’s an expert in martial arts and good with a gun. She also has a pragmatic attitude towards relationships and sex, often comparing both to animal and tribal cultures throughout the world and throughout history to explain human tendencies. Love, Brennan explains, is a chemical process in the brain and not the romanticized notion in which her partner, Booth, believes.

Bones: She's a badass in a labcoat — Bones: She’s a badass in a labcoat

I also immediately liked the stone-faced Elise from The Tunnel with her calm rationale, her unwillingness to lie, and her dedication to solving homicides. Though difficult to work with, everyone respects Elise’s abilities as a detective (much like Brennan). Also like Brennan, Elise views sex as a practical necessity. She prefers to be alone, isn’t seeking companionship, and doesn’t become emotionally attached to her sex partners. She even tells her partner, Karl Roebuck (a more empathetic character for Stephen Dillane than his Stannis Baratheon of Game of Thrones fame), that her current lover wants her to change and that she doesn’t want to change.

Though I love this strong, intensely logical female lead character trope, it also raises some questions for me. I like the idea of reversing traditional gender roles by making the female lead the analytical one and the male lead the emotional one, but I wonder if, in a way, this is an attempt at the masculinization of the shows’ female characters? These characters literally have their emotions and their ability to express their emotions almost completely removed. Why did the writers think it was necessary to remove the emotions of its female characters in order to make them logical? This isn’t Star Trek; Brennan and Elise aren’t Vulcans. This subtly promotes the idea that logic and emotions are mutually exclusive, even part of a binary opposition. In particular, this dichotomy suggests that a women who is in touch with her emotions cannot possibly be rational, too. As women are so often associated with emotion, is muting Brennan and Elise’s emotions an attempt to make them more masculinely rational?

Elise hard at work, eschewing sleep and a social life for her job

Interestingly enough, over the many seasons of Bones, the writers are actually changing Brennan, making her more readily emotional, quicker to cry or acknowledge her love, her fear, her sadness. At the same time, they have systematically made her more “feminine” by having her suddenly wanting many of the trappings of the traditional female role that she once dismissed (having a baby, cohabitating, and getting married, in particular). Brennen also seems to have forgotten her martial arts skills, is in need of frequent rescues, and no longer uses her gun. Not only that, but they gave her an unexplained supernatural experience that defies her atheism and points to the existence of a higher power. All these things undermine her identity and have slowly rewritten her into less of that subversive, independent female powerhouse role.

Another thing that gives me pause is that both Brennan and Elise are…abrasive. To strangers, they can come off as rude, insensitive, and self-important. Both women are, though, strikingly beautiful. Emily Deschanel brings her stark blue eyes and sexy, husky voice to the characterization of Brennan.

Brennan is a detached scientist when it comes to bones, but does the fact that she's a looker make her more likable? — Brennan is the perennial detached scientist, but she’s a looker.

Even though they try to make Clémence Poésy look disheveled as Elise and maybe they’re attempting to make her seem plain because she’s not obviously made-up, but she’s model gorgeous.

Messy hair and combat boots add to Elise's allure in 'The Tunnel' — Messy hair and combat boots add to Elise’s allure in *The Tunnel*

This makes me question whether or not audiences would like these women and find their quirks so endearing if they weren’t so beautiful? Or, maybe, audiences might like them, but would studios trust audiences to like these unusual women if they weren’t knockout stunning…since pretty much all women on TV are required to meet a specific standard of beauty no matter what their personality may be?

Now, it’s my theory that both Brennan and Elise are most likely somewhere on the autism spectrum. Both women have trouble understanding the humor of others, reading the social or emotional cues of others, and observing social niceties.

A Joan of Arc joke is completely lost on Elise.

I love that their communities are accepting and inclusive, that these women lead productive, successful lives, and their capability is rarely questioned. But why aren’t we talking about it? Why aren’t these shows acknowledging the truth about who these women are, the challenges they face, and the multifaceted nature of their triumphs? By not talking about it, these shows not only deny the identity and experiences of these women but also those of autism spectrum viewers and their community members. Announcing that your lead character is part of an underrepresented, marginalized group is a hugely important step in de-stigmatizing and giving a voice to that group.

Let Brennan be the superheroine she was meant to be!

Despite my speculations on the institutional sexism and shortcomings of the creators of Brennan from Bones and Elise from The Tunnel, I dig these women. They’re both smart, ambitious, unique, highly moral, and compassionate women who are fantastic role models for their female audience members (in spite of the apparent taming of Brennan through marriage and child rearing). I wish the shows were doing a few things differently…more better-ly, but all in all, Brennan and Elise are great characters who I love to watch, which says to me that both shows are doing something very, very right.

——-

Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.