Feminism in ‘Orphan Black’

‘Orphan Black’ tackles two very different hot-button topics in a way that’s considered entertaining, insightful, and groundbreaking: the possible repercussions of cloning and the dynamics of the female personality. Show creators Graeme Manson and John Fawcett are earning praise for breaking decades of television stereotypes that resulted in most female characters either taking a backseat role or displaying a single, overriding personality trait (i.e., the ditzy blonde, the butch female, the submissive housewife). As the feminism in ‘Orphan Black’ earns praise, however, there’s been some criticism of the show’s underdeveloped male characters–a glaring contradiction that may be intentional.

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This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.


Orphan Black tackles two very different hot-button topics in a way that’s considered entertaining, insightful and groundbreaking: the possible repercussions of cloning and the dynamics of the female personality. Show creators Graeme Manson and John Fawcett are earning praise for breaking decades of television stereotypes that resulted in most female characters either taking a backseat role or displaying a single, overriding personality trait (i.e., the ditzy blonde, the butch female, the submissive housewife). As the feminism in Orphan Black earns praise, however, there’s been some criticism of the show’s underdeveloped male characters–a glaring contradiction that may be intentional.

While Canadian actress Tatiana Maslany plays all five clones, she displays very different, fully developed characters. In fact, it’s the diversity among those characters that adds another dynamic to the brand of feminism portrayed in the series. This has also earned praise from members of the LGBTQA community since two of the clones are openly gay and one is transgender. It’s this same diversity that the showrunners use to make a strong case for nurture over nature by clearly showing that, even with identical DNA, the clones have different personalities, sexualities, and gender identifications obviously fueled by the environments they encountered while developing into the individuals they are now.

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In order to fully appreciate the feminism in Orphan Black, it’s necessary to take a look at how female characters have traditionally been portrayed on television, with only a handful of notable exceptions. The Walking Dead presents stereotypical women ranging from the tough-as-nails female out to prove she can kick butt just as hard as any man to the pretty blonde side character apparently only around to entice men. The women on Sons of Anarchy first come off as strong and independent. However, they often lose backbone and bend to the will of the men in their lives. Even a show as groundbreaking (at least when it comes to its male characters) as Modern Family relegates the character of Claire Dunphy to the role of a nagging wife and mother striving for normalcy whose concerns are often dismissed or not taken seriously for the sake of soliciting a few laughs.

The chief criticism of Orphan Black is that the male characters are given one dominating personality trait each while the female clones have complex personalities and not-so-obvious motives for why they’re doing what they’re doing. On the other hand, it doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out the motivations driving the male characters on the show. Manson and Fawcett have made no apologies for the obvious lack of male character development, instead implying that it’s a plot device meant to echo the point the show’s trying to make by intentionally playing up the female characters and downplaying the male roles. This inequality is apparently evident when it’s revealed that the male clones unveiled at the end of the second season were created for military use, suggesting a sole purpose for their existence. It remains unclear why the female clones were created and seemingly left to their devices.

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For every Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones) and Alicia Florrick (The Good Wife) there’s a one-note female character playing the token blonde girl or the unattractive smart girl who’s inevitably either a loner or a dateless third wheel. Even the show’s perceived flaws – underdeveloped male characters and strong female characters who sometimes resort to violence to assert their independence – are effective in the sense that these aspects drive conversations not often inspired by shows with lesser-developed female characters in either lead roles or supporting roles without much substance. Orphan Black joins shows like Orange Is the New Black in placing a long overdue emphasis on multidimensional female characters who have a story worth telling. Although the third season came to a close on June 20th, you can still follow these strong multidimensional female characters and rewatch episodes on BBC America on platforms such as Xfinity, DirecTV, or Netflix. Until the fourth season premieres next year, take a look back and appreciate the show for what it is about: women.

 


Maria Ramos is a writer interested in comic books, cycling, and horror films. Her hobbies include cooking, doodling, and finding local shops around the city. She currently lives in Chicago with her two pet turtles, Franklin and Roy. You can follow her on Twitter @MariaRamos1889.

 

The Feminism of ‘Sailor Moon’

This has been a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’m an absolutely die-hard fan of ‘Sailor Moon,’ and part of that is because it served as my childhood introduction to feminism. That might be a little bit hard to believe, considering the superheroines of the show are known for outfits not much more revealing than Wonder Woman’s. Silly outfits aside (you get used to them), this show was absolutely groundbreaking. Its protagonists are 10 realistically flawed, individual and talented teenage girls (and women) who, oh, you know. Save the world.

Sailor Moon characters

 

 

This repost by Myrna Waldron appears as part of our theme week on Children’s Television. 

This has been a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. I’m an absolutely die-hard fan of Sailor Moon, and part of that is because it served as my childhood introduction to feminism. That might be a little bit hard to believe, considering the superheroines of the show are known for outfits not much more revealing than Wonder Woman’s. Silly outfits aside (you get used to them), this show was absolutely groundbreaking. Its protagonists are 10 realistically flawed, individual and talented teenage girls (and women) who, oh, you know. Save the world.

First, let me take you back in time to the summer of 1995. I’m a 9-year-old Canadian girl with a lot of time on her hands. I’m bored out of my mind, because there’s very little on television that appeals to me. Sure, there were shows made for girls back then. But they were Care Bears and My Little Pony (and I sure as heck don’t mean the Lauren Faust version) and obviously meant for very young girls. Jem and She-Ra are long since off the air, and the Powerpuff Girls won’t premiere for another three years. Generally, my choices were gender-neutral shows like Alvin & The Chipmunks, or male-audience shows like the 90s revival of Spider-Man. I wanted a little action. And, bless the alignment of the stars, I see this commercial for this new show called Sailor Moon. The stars aligned so perfectly that I happened to tune in on August 28, 1995, the day that Sailor Moon premiered on YTV. I was hooked after one episode, and I can honestly say that this show changed my life.
So why is Sailor Moon feminist, besides having a mostly female cast? I have decided to take a page from my previous feminist Disney Princess essay and go through the characters individually, and explain why I, as a feminist, value them. Although I initially got into Sailor Moon via the English version, I will be basing my analysis off of the Japanese version of the series. I have long since felt that the English version does a disservice to its fans by making the characters immature, censoring homosexuality, and stereotyping what it is to be a teenager. I will also plead artistic license on the spelling and order of the names. So, without further adieu, the Sailor Soldiers.
Sailor Moon/Usagi Tsukino:
Our heroine. Our very flawed heroine. And how refreshing that is! Instead of a very boring Superman who could do no wrong, here was a fairly young teenager thrown into an overwhelming situation, and reacting negatively to it. She’s clumsy, she’s a glutton, she’s a crybaby. And that’s okay! Teenagers are allowed to have flaws, and superheroes should too. Usagi has demonstrated time and time again that her love for her friends and family is more important to her than anything else in the world. She will give anything, including her life, to make sure that they live on in peace and happiness. As we see in flashbacks during the R movie, she’s the type of person who is willing to be friends with everyone, including the loners and the outcasts. She’s got a tremendously strong moral compass, and is a consummate optimist. Her relationship with Mamoru is firmly established as one of unconditional trust, support, and equality. Overall, Usagi’s character establishes that a good leader does not have to be someone unrealistically perfect. A good leader just needs to care for everyone equally.

Sailor Mercury/Ami Mizuno:

Ami is by far the most popular character in the show (on both sides of the Pacific). It has been theorized that this is because she exhibits the character traits most valued in Japanese society. She’s incredibly studious, brilliant, analytical, and humble (some might even say submissive). What I appreciated most about Ami is how she approaches situations with logic rather than with emotion. Her style of fighting is mostly defensive, so she acts in a support role on the team. She is by no means not valued by the others, as they often turn to her to give the answers that intuition alone cannot determine. In her civilian life, we see that she is very shy, and is sometimes uptight. She also exhibits a tendency to be insecure, and has taken it very hard that her devotion to her studies has ostracized her from her peers. Ami’s character establishes that even the most mature teenager doubts themselves sometimes, and that it’s okay to do so. It’s very feminist to say that we’re allowed to see doubts in ourselves, and that it’s okay to play a supporting role rather than to be a leader.
Sailor Mars/Rei Hino:
Rei’s character is probably the most unfairly treated by the fans, and especially by the dub. Yes, she and Usagi argue all the time. Friends sometimes do that. One aspect of Rei’s character that gets lost in translation is just how close she is to Usagi. The inners usually refer to each other with the “-chan” suffix, which usually denotes a female friend. Rei, however, just calls Usagi “Usagi.” To leave off a suffix indicates incredible closeness, like the relationship between best friends. Now, as for Rei herself, she has some traits that feminists definitely value. She’s very ambitious – she has some interest in men, but would rather focus on achieving her career dreams first. She’s also quite generous – she offers up space in Hikawa Shrine for her friends to study in, and joins them, even though she doesn’t need to take a high school entrance exam. She does this entirely out of solidarity. She also regularly uses her gift of premonition to help her friends, not herself. Rei is someone who knows exactly what she wants out of life – her confidence contrasts nicely with Ami’s character. Here is a character who encourages women to dream, and dream big.

Sailor Jupiter/Makoto Kino:
Makoto is one of the more interesting characters when cast into a feminist light. What Makoto is good at, and the things she loves doing most, are traditionally domestic hobbies like cooking, baking, and cleaning. Being domestic is not the least bit anti-feminist, as women should be able to be whatever makes them happiest. One subtle aspect of her character is her body insecurity, which is a common issue for women that gets comparatively little media attention. As a very tall, athletic and curvy girl, Makoto often feels self-conscious about her body – especially since she is stereotyped by others as a tomboy. She breaks the stereotype of what certain “types” of women are “supposed” to be interested in. She is much more boy-crazy than the others, but I see this more as a manifestation of loneliness. She is an orphan, and while incredibly independent, she has no one besides her friends to confide in. Makoto is one of my favourite characters because she does not allow herself to be confined to anyone’s idea of what a young woman should be. Her protective instincts and fierce independence are incredibly admirable.
Sailor Venus/Minako Aino:
Minako combines a few of the traits of the others (leadership and bad habits from Usagi, ambition from Rei, athleticism from Makoto) but still manages to stand completely on her own. As the personification of the Goddess of Love, Minako’s made it her life’s mission to bring love and joy to others. Her career ambitions are even more defined than Rei’s, as she is shown actively pursuing becoming an idol singer. She was also chronologically the first Soldier to awaken, and this was an inspiration of strength, independence and courage for Usagi. Her backstory, which revealed that she chose to fake her own death rather than come between her two best friends’ romance, despite being in love with one of them, shows tremendous self-sacrifice. Although I would hope no one would have to make the choice Minako did, it’s an important message that sometimes our dreams don’t work out, but that people go through tremendous maturity and growth when they learn to let them go and seek out new dreams. Venus’s self-confidence and determination towards her dream career is another good message – learn what you’re good at, love what you’re good at, and don’t let anyone try to bring you down.
Sailor Chibi-Moon/Chibiusa Tsukino:
Long story short, she’s Usagi’s future daughter, and she’s like her in every way. Starting with the S season onwards though, she starts to come into her own as a distinct character. Usagi has a natural ability to befriend people, but Chibiusa is lonely and, having grown up in isolation as the crown princess, doesn’t really know how to approach people. She also starts out spoiled, but it is excused in that she is physically about 5 years old at her introduction. Where Usagi is ditzy and flighty, Chibiusa is often surprisingly wise beyond her years and is an excellent student – traits, I believe, she inherited from her father. One feminist aspect of her character is her devotion and admiration for her mother. By this, I mean Neo Queen Serenity, not Usagi. Chibiusa values NQS’s grace, maturity and strength. Her greatest dream is to become a mature young woman like her mother eventually became. Chibiusa herself eventually ages to about preteen/early teen age and is much more emotionally mature than how she was at the beginning of the series. This shows the series’ willingness to allow its characters to grow and change, like a real woman would.
Sailor Pluto/Setsuna Meioh:
The Outer Senshi as a whole are noted for being a little bit older (with one…interesting exception) and a little bit wiser than the Inner Senshi. No one personifies the gifts of age and wisdom better than Setsuna. She is the Guardian of Time, and is thus more-or-less immortal because of her duties. However, her duties, as important as they are, are also a curse. She must remain aloof and separate from the others, except in times of crisis. We see glimpses of the loneliness (loneliness is kind of a theme in this series) this causes, but she is incredibly stoic and refuses to let this on to others. She is not truly aloof, as we see in her relationship with Chibiusa. She is incredibly kind and supportive to her, and many have recognized this as a kind of bittersweet maternal instinct. When she adopts a civilian life, she is established as a brilliant scientist, with skills in both biology and physics. This is an important feminist message, as it reaffirms that women have equally valuable skills to offer in the maths and sciences.

Sailor Uranus/Haruka Tenoh:

I’m going to digress a little before I get into analyzing Haruka’s character. Uranus and Neptune were my first introduction to homosexual relationships. Although they were never shown kissing, it was obvious to me that they were in a romantic relationship. And, because I benefited from a largely agnostic upbringing, my only thought as a kid was, “Well, that’s unusual, but so what?” I credit these two characters for showing me that a lesbian relationship is just as loving and just as valid as any other one. It is a feminist belief that people should be allowed to embrace and affirm their sexual identities. Now, as for Haruka herself, she’s one of my absolute favourite fictional characters. She’s even more tomboyish than Makoto (she often physically presents herself as male, though since she identifies as female she is not transgendered) and is an incredibly talented athlete and race car driver. She also possesses a genius intellect. Despite her tough exterior, she shows a “softness” streak in her personality. In the S season, she is much more uncomfortable with the harsh choices she and Neptune must make in order to prevent the world’s destruction. In the episode when Usagi’s heart crystal is stolen, Haruka is shown slamming down in frustration and grief at the thought of having to sacrifice Usagi’s life should her heart crystal be one that forms a world-saving talisman. Haruka is wracked with guilt and sees her hands as being dirty, and must be reminded by Michiru that although the sacrifice of three innocent people is horrible, the destruction of the world is much worse. She is thus an example of someone who defies the stereotype of the tough, masculine woman by demonstrating empathy and vulnerability. In addition to this, many of the younger fans have had difficulty understanding Haruka’s appearance and sexuality (such as thinking that she’s a hermaphrodite or carries the soul of her nonexistent twin brother or something), so she’s an important example of how gender expression and sexuality can and will differ from the “norm.”
Sailor Neptune/Michiru Kaioh:
The polar opposite of Usagi. And that’s great, because one of this show’s greatest strengths is to show how diverse young women can be. Michiru is a gifted artist, both as a violinist and as a painter. She is about 15-16 when she is introduced, but has already made a career as a world-class performer and artist. Haruka often plays piano as her duet partner. She is also quite athletic, but prefers swimming (since it is her element) to running. She complements Haruka’s outward masculinity by presenting herself with a traditionally feminine appearance. Similarly, while Haruka is the “softer” of the two when it comes to performing their duties, Michiru defies the ultra-feminine stereotype by having a much colder and more determined outlook. She and Haruka are absolutely inseparable; two sides of the same coin. She serves as another important feminist example that “traditional” gender performance and sexuality have nothing to do with each other. She defies yet another stereotype of women, especially lesbian women.

Sailor Saturn/Hotaru Tomoe:
My personal favourite. Another character who experiences incredible loneliness, her character arc explores her new friendship with the equally lonely Chibiusa while she struggles with poor health and a mostly absent (and as we learn later, possessed) father. Her friendship with Chibiusa is absolutely adorable. It is an almost ideal best friend situation – no rivalry, no clashing of personalities. They just genuinely enjoy spending time with each other. Chibiusa, now having learned how to be a good friend, worries about Hotaru and does everything in her power to help her. In the S season, Hotaru has the incredible burden of carrying three separate identities – the good (herself), the evil (Mistress 9) and the neutral (Sailor Saturn). Uranus, Neptune and Pluto’s mission is to prevent the awakening of Sailor Saturn, who has the power of life and death and is prophesied to destroy the world. At the end of the season, Hotaru overcomes Mistress 9’s possession by drawing power from her love for others, namely her father and Chibiusa. This love also allows her to turn the prophecy on its head; she uses her destructive powers to destroy evil from its inside, knowing that she will not survive the effort. But, since she also has the power of life, she is instantly reincarnated as a baby, and rescued by a despondent Sailor Moon. She is similar to Usagi in this sense since she is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for others. Her storyline is resumed two seasons later in the Stars season, and has some very interesting feminist subtexts. Sailor Pluto, recognizing that Saturn’s power will soon be needed once more, adopts Hotaru from her amnesiac father. Due to the pressing need for Saturn’s power, Hotaru grows physically and intellectually at a staggering rate. Setsuna, Michiru and Haruka raise her together, and Hotaru sees each one equally as her parent, calling them Setsuna-mama, Michiru-mama, and Haruka-papa. Similarly to how positively Haruka and Michiru’s relationship is depicted, alternative families are thus depicted positively in this series as well.
I hope you have enjoyed my feminist analysis of the main Sailor Moon cast. This will not be my only examination of the series, as there is so much more I want to say and not enough room in one Tumblr post to say it. The main point I want to get across is just how incredible and important this series is for women of any age. It depicts female characters of incredible strength, ability, kindness and diversity. It shows us just how badly we need more shows like Sailor Moon in the world, and how very little attention is given to superheroines. (Still waiting on that Wonder Woman movie, Warner Bros.) 20 years later, Sailor Moon is still groundbreaking, still influential, still feminist. And in the name of the Moon…that’s pretty awesome.

Original source for the character images borrowed from Manga Style!.

 


Myrna Waldron is a 25-year-old pop culture fanatic with a special passion for animation. She can be reached on Twitter at @SoapboxingGeek, where she muses openly about whatever strikes her fancy.

 

“I Kind of Like It When She Calls Me a Bitch. It Makes Me Feel Like Janis Joplin”: Third-Wave Feminism in ‘New Girl’

There is no denying that 2013 has been a tough year for women. As a North Carolinian, I have watched as all but one Planned Parenthood in my state got slated for shut-down due to “health requirements” passed by our Republican lawmakers. At the national level, politicians have made too many rape-apologist comments to keep track of. As a feminist and former Women’s Studies major, it’s important for me to develop thick skin, and with it, an arsenal of uplifting weaponry that will keep me sane and optimistic about our future as women. Which is what has brought me to love the Fox television show New Girl. Yes, New Girl is, ultimately, a sitcom, and it is questionable whether sitcoms can hold up to serious feminist criticism or if we should just laugh along and not take them too seriously. But what’s the fun in that? When “lighthearted” media is so often blatantly sexist (the song “Blurred Lines” and its accompanying video have given feminists enough ire to last the entire year) we should acknowledge those forms of media that, even in subtle ways, subvert the sexist norm.

The cast of New Girl
The cast of New Girl

 

This is a guest post by Susan Mackey.

There is no denying that 2013 has been a tough year for women.  As a North Carolinian, I have watched as all but one Planned Parenthood in my state got slated for shut-down due to “health requirements” passed by our Republican lawmakers.  At the national level, politicians have made too many rape-apologist comments to keep track of.  As a feminist and former Women’s Studies major, it’s important for me to develop thick skin, and with it, an arsenal of uplifting weaponry that will keep me sane and optimistic about our future as women.  Which is what has brought me to love the Fox television show New GirlYes, New Girl is, ultimately, a sitcom, and it is questionable whether sitcoms can hold up to serious feminist criticism or if we should just laugh along and not take them too seriously.  But what’s the fun in that? When “lighthearted” media is so often blatantly sexist (the song “Blurred Lines” and its accompanying video have given feminists enough ire to last the entire year) we should acknowledge those forms of media that, even in subtle ways, subvert the sexist norm.

The premise of New Girl is as follows: Jess (played by Zooey Deschanel) is a recently-single thirty-something-year-old woman who moves into an apartment with three men: Nick, Schmidt, and Winston.  The underlying feminist elements in New Girl are often subtle, which is what lends them so much power.  Just when we’re expecting another average romantic-comedy sitcom, the rug gets pulled out from under us.  This happened to me while watching Season 1 of New Girl for the first time.  Jess picks up her best friend Cece from the bar and brings her back to the apartment to crash.  Jess warns the boys that when Cece’s drunk, “She’s really grabby, really physical, really loose with her body.”  Immediately the scenario seems too predictable: a bunch of men will take advantage of a beautiful, drunk girl.  In fact, the opposite occurs.  Cece practically forces the boys to dance drunkenly with her, while they try clumsily to impress her.  It’s an interestingly equal power dynamic; Cece is drunk and thus not in control, and yet, the boys succumb to her every whim.  They couldn’t take advantage of her if they tried.  The episode takes an interesting turn when Schmidt offers to let Cece sleep in his bed.  He “sheepdogs” her into his room, closes the door, and says he’ll sleep on the couch.  This scene took me completely by surprise and illustrated how deeply ingrained sexist imagery is in our imagination: I was abruptly surprised by the fact that Schmidt was not going to take Cece to bed when she was drunk.  It was a shocking and somewhat sad realization that I expected the wrong thing to happen; it had almost never occurred to me that a man would not take advantage of this beautiful, drunk woman.

Jess and Julia
Jess and Julia

Jess vs. Julia: Second Wave vs. Third Wave

Jess is a prime example of third-wave feminism because she is a new image of what independence and power look like.  In Season 1, her roommate Nick begins dating a lawyer named Julia.  From the first time Julia and Jess met, Julia was standoffish and cold, quite different from Jess who is friendly and bubbly to a fault.  When Jess needs Julia’s help getting out of a traffic ticket, Julia tells Jess condescendingly that her whole “thing” (meaning Jess’s ultra-femininity and friendliness) might work in front of a judge.

The tension between Julia and Jess reminds me of the very real tension between those who identify with second wave feminism and those who identify with third wave.  Julia has had to combat sexism within her line of work and has done so by taking on traits that would typically be deemed “masculine.”  Jess, on the other hand, is unapologetically feminine.  When the two women break down and finally have it out in the bathroom of Nick’s bar, Julia tells Jess, “If I acted like you at work, no one would take me seriously.”  This is a sad but true fact for women who work in male-dominated fields, like law.  However, Jess counters, “Well if I acted like you at work, my students would turn in really weird, dark dioramas.”  Second-wave feminism of the 1960s and 1970s often took the physical form of women who were trying to stake their claim in society by emulating men in manner and appearance (think of the “hairy legged man-hater” stereotype of feminists).  Third-wave feminists know that female and feminist power can and should be claimed by everyone, including those second-wave feminists, but also by men, people of color, trans-people, and, finally, feminine women.  Jess sums up this point perfectly when she tells Julia that even though she works with kids all day and wears polka-dots, “that doesn’t mean I’m not tough, and smart, and strong.”

Nick and his girlfriend
Nick and his girlfriend (who happens to be a stripper)

 

I got another jolt while watching New Girl when roommate Nick begins dating a stripper, and receives no judgment from Jess or any other female character.  Jess supports Nick’s girlfriend’s decision to strip and even pushes Nick to date her because she’s such a headstrong woman.  It is so rare in television and in real life to find women who accept other women’s career and life choices, especially if that choice is to work in a sex industry.  But that is one tenant of third-wave feminism that has caught on particularly well with young feminists.

The feminist movement, like any social movement, has had its fair share of shameful, or at least embarrassing, moments.  Recall the 1968 anti-Miss America pageant demonstration, in which feminists paraded a sheep in front of the event to represent contestants.  Organizers of the demonstration later regretted the tone of the protest because it pitted woman-against-woman instead of uniting them against an oppressive institution.  Now, in the era of New Girl, feminists have realized the power of female friendships and mutual support.

Jess and Cece
Jess and Cece

Female Friendships

New Girl’s ability to portray female friendships accurately is noteworthy.  The premise of the show–that a recently single woman moves into an apartment full of men and hilarity ensues–seems clichéd at first.  And it is, at times.  There are countless scenes of the seemingly hilarious debacles when two genders live together (in one episode, Schmidt finds one of the tampons that Jess has hidden around the house).  But, after all, it is a cable sitcom, and so we must cut it some slack.  After all, the show does make up for the predictable three-guys-and-a-girl scenario with scenes of genuine friendship among women.   For starters, Jess has a diverse group of friends (for television standards); her best friend is an Indian woman (Cece) and her other friend who appears regularly is a lesbian (Sadie).  Within these women there is no gossiping or snarky behavior.  When Jess suspects that Nick’s aforementioned girlfriend Julia may not like her, she confides in Cece and Sadie for their support.  Nick tries telling the women that they’re imagining things, but Jess points out to Nick something about female relationships that is all too true: when girls fight, a lot of it goes unsaid.  There is real conflict between the women in New Girl, but none of it is the catty back-stabbing behavior that we are used to seeing on television.

Winston, Jess, and Schmidt
Winston, Jess, and Schmidt

Writing Diversity

Unsurprisingly, New Girl’s main character, played by Zooey Deschanel, is an attractive white woman (despite the show’s best efforts to portray her as awkward, she is still undeniably cute).  For this reason, New Girl is not particularly revolutionary in its racial makeup.  With the advent of Orange is the New Black, feminist viewers have gotten a taste of race done right in television (although, not without problems; OITNB has been called a “modern slave narrative” because of its use of a white protagonist as a vehicle to portray black and Hispanic characters).  However, New Girl’s ability to successfully joke about race deserves notice.  OITNB has garnered a lot of praise–and rightly so–for addressing race in a serious and respectful manner.  But New Girl is a sitcom, after all, and has to be funny to be successful.

Modern Family, another sitcom, positions itself as a, well, modern representation of American families.  Unfortunately, many of their jokes rely on tired clichés about race and gender (including the nagging wife, the fiery Latina woman, the effeminate gay man, the crotchety old Conservative white man).  One episode in particular that made me roll my eyes consisted of the family’s newborn baby conveniently throwing up any time gay marriage was mentioned.  It seems to me that Modern Family is trying to get away with these lazy, stereotypical jokes by positioning them as ironic; after all, how can it be offensive if it’s purposefully trying to be modern?

Winston and Cece
Winston and Cece

 

New Girl, while driven by a traditional female protagonist, has a surprisingly diverse cast.  Schmidt is Jewish, Winston is Black, and her girlfriends include an Indian woman, Cece, and a lesbian named Sadie.  The show is surprisingly, almost shockingly, successful in its abilities to joke about race and sexuality in ways that are truly original and funny, and not at all hurtful (disclaimer: because I am viewing the show from a straight, cisgender, white point of view, it is always possible that my privilege allows me to miss offensive humor).  One episode in particular delves into the issue (or rather, the perceived issue) of Winston being the only Black housemate.  Upon seeing Winston interacting with a group of strangers who are Black, Schmidt begins to fear that Winston is not being “his blackest self.”  The episode continues with Winston taking advantage of Schmidt’s naïve idea of what it means to be Black.  Instead of Black stereotypes being the joke (i.e., Black people smoke crack), Schmidt’s assumptions, laced in liberal open-mindedness, are the joke. (We’re laughing at Schmidt for having the assumption that Winston smokes crack.)  Along the way, clever jokes of racial differences are made: Schmidt tells Winston that both of their “people” have done great things for America; African Americans have produced some of the best jazz music, while Jews have produced some of the best managers of jazz musicians.  Another episode concludes with three white roommates taking turns at making Woody Allen jokes, while Winston simply ads, “Yeah, I have nothing to contribute here.”  New Girl doesn’t pretend racial differences don’t exist; it acknowledges them, laughs at them, and moves on.

At the end of the day, it’s difficult to assess how great an impact a sitcom can have on society.  Can twenty-five minutes of cable television enact real change in a society so permeated by racism, sexism, and every other damaging –ism?  I’d like to think so.  The people whose minds need to be changed are not always the ones marching on the streets, reading feminist blogs, and participating in grassroots activism.  They are the ones sitting on their couches, watching television.  So if a show like New Girl can subtly inject feminist values into the mainstream canon, that is something to celebrate.  And now, more than ever, feminists need something to celebrate.

 


Susan Mackey is a recent graduate from Appalachian State University. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she teaches preschool and writes about art and feminist issues in her spare time. 

 

Margaret Cho: On Topping Trans* Queer Political Correctness

Let me begin by saying I’m queer-identified. I have trans* family, but it’s impossible for me to speak for trans* people of experience. I can share concepts, however. Too, my general line of thought in terms of sexuality, gender identity or personhood is that no matter how often your definition changes, you “are” what you tell me that you are.

 

“I refer to myself as gay, but I’m married to a man.”

                                                                                      – Margaret Cho

Margaret Cho. Photo: MargaretCho.com.
Margaret Cho. Photo: MargaretCho.com.

I’m the One That I Want: Can Queer and Trans* Folks Really Reclaim the Word “Tranny?”

Let me begin by saying I’m queer-identified. I have trans* family, but it’s impossible for me to speak for trans* people of experience. I can share concepts, however. Too, my general line of thought in terms of sexuality, gender identity or personhood is that no matter how often your definition changes, you “are” what you tell me that you are.

Along with Stephen Fry, I feel that language and politically correct linguistic constructs can at times become as bullying, domineering and “victimizing” as those who claim to be victimized by language. What with people being as individualized and fluid as language is, sometimes experience does indeed trump the words we use to describe and protect it.

All Margaret Cho Everything

Margaret Cho (“Drop Dead Diva,” “I’m The One That I Want”) is as scrappy as she is electric.

She’s “scrappy” because she’s taken so much guff, sharing her multiple talents on and off-screen (she acts, sings, directs, writes, designs clothes, and is a walking-tattooed work of art and standout standup comic, for starters). Cho’s speech can transition from elegant purrs to lioness’ growls without hesitation. She’s electric because she sings the body electric: she’s sensual, naughty, flirtatious, often bawdy and ultimately playful.

If you’ve seen her comedy flick “I’m The One That I Want,” the efforting in her journey to long-term success is palpable. You get the sense she’s had to claw her way all the way up to the glass ceiling, brace herself with her back up, and kick the glass away with a pair of steel-toed Doc Martens just to disappear the whole damn thing. As she unfolds her own narrative in this cathartic and she-larious comedy film, we discover that now she’s not even in the friggin’ building. So, damn a glass ceiling anyhow.

Cho doesn’t “play the queer card” or the race card. Rather, she is always and forever queering play. She is queering entertainment. When cameras roll as you share minute details of your open relationship on morning chat shows, segue seamlessly into outing fellow celebs, put the world on notice that you will happily eff anything that moves as you like/when you like (just like men do), and always leave ‘em laughing…if anything, you could say Cho plays “the laugh card.”

Yes. We’re laughing. But to what end?

Well, they don’t call it “gender wars” just because.

Margaret Cho’s comedic M.O. doesn’t feel like a manipulation. Rather, it’s a weapon.

As she’s currently promoting her latest comedy project The MOTHER Tour, thoughts and themes come to mind about Margaret Cho’s presence in the world.

Yes, We Recruit: She’s All About Her Funny Business

Cho is forever quotable (damn skippy, and Bitch Flicks knows it) and impossible to ignore.

Case in point: In Conan O’ Brien’s documentary Conan O’ Brien Can’t Stop, the uber-successful talk show host and fellow comedian makes it a point both to “ignore” and dismiss Margaret Cho. On film.

An ever-irrepressible social sharer and networker, Cho was waiting to have a little comedic kiki with O’Brien as he slunked away, cheating to camera as he let us know he had to ditch her because he didn’t “want to get Cho’d.”

This sarcastic film bit could have been classified as gag reel material if O’Brien hadn’t spent the rest of the film kiki’ing it up with cameos by Jim Carrey, John Hamm and Jon Stewart, along with his cast and crew. (He preferred to be Carrey’d Hamm’ed and Stewarted.)

No doubt, comedy is a cutthroat business: Cho and O’Brien still work together and socialize, but O’Brien’s production choice and life decision in his own docu-pic is a telling one. So-called avoidance and disgust is attraction’s twin. C’mon Conan, fess up! Fully-embodied and empowered women carry with them a transformative energy that cannot be controlled. People can often find that to be at-once infuriating and hot.

There’s Some Tranny Chasers Up In Here

“ A few words about ‘trannychasing.’ I am not a trannychaser. Ok, actually I am a trannychaser. No I am not. I am a trannycatcher! Just kidding!”

                                   – Margaret Cho

As a self-confessed “tranny chaser,” Margaret Cho’s taken a good amount of flak for expressing her trans* chasing feelings and affirmative desires without too much apology. It’s a tough concept to think about, as she’s done so much brilliant work and she’s really been out there on the road, touring with Ani  DiFranco and Lilith Fair, indie all the way for decades on end, fearlessly advocating for trans* and queer rights, feminist and race equality, and respect of her own in the entertainment industry.

Making Visibility Sexy

Margaret Cho and Ian Harvie
Ian Harvie and Margaret Cho – Promotional Photo by Kevin Neales

 

There’s no doubt Cho is sex positive (she’s on the Good Vibrations board, and her activist and fund-raising work is notable).

She is queer-identified and trans* inclusive: she directed the highly acclaimed “Young James Dean” video by Girlyman, featuring trans* peers and allies covering lyrics about coming up in the world as genderqueer.

Her comedy routines, filmic work, creative projects and writing boast a high trans* visibility ratio, including her clearing the floor for trans* folks, often guys, to speak and co-create with her. These men need to be mainstreamed, as success for trans* persons of experience is exceptionally important and more common than we’re led to believe. Trans* folks face harrowing odds when attempting to begin any new business or creative venture, even if that enterprise was something they’d become successful at and mastered pre-transition.

Margaret Cho big-ups trans* men regularly, and we don’t see this enough elsewhere in the world in terms of proactive, high profile allies doing so. Cho supports fellow trans* comics and entrepreneurs and leverages her celebrity to help folks earn a steady income who might not do so otherwise, or as quickly. She will tweet, promote, and help to encourage business ventures for others—often tirelessly so. Her podcasts likely do much more for her regular indie artist guests than other shows whose DJ isn’t a comedy diva who reigns supreme.

Community leaders and others have voiced concern about Cho’s humor and “tranny chaser” (or catcher) jokes and statements. Cho has formally explained her views, stating these are just jokes based on reverence and respect, and that people are taking things out of context—too seriously.

Writer/filmmaker Tobi Hill-Meyer states Cho is objectifying trans* men like cis gender men often do with  trans* women, fetishizing them and changing people into “things.”

Trans IS a legitimate gender” is one trans* man’s defense against such an idea, posited by Cho’s comedic peer and BFF, Ian Harvie. Harvie wrote, “ If you believe Transgender IS a legitimate gender, how can you argue that it’s wrong to eroticize Trans people? If you do not see Trans as a legitimate gender, then what’s wrong with you?! I’m Trans, I’m Butch, and identify as a Trans man, regardless of my given biological sex. I absolutely believe it’s okay to be attracted to, exoticize, fetishsize, and eroticize any and all Trans people. After all, a fetish is something that we desire or that turns us on.”

Too, RuPaul penned the song “Tranny Chaser” as a declaration of sexuality, desirability, and a playful take on the concept. “Do you wanna be me?” That’s how the song’s bridge begins.  Fully aware of the seduction in the words, RuPaul goes on, “That don’t make you gay. Or do you wanna [beep] me? That don’t make you gay….”

It’s hard to laser-focus down to one “right take” on topics like trans* and queer sexuality when so many folks in-community with so many different experiences feel empowered by erotic aspects of being queer or trans* as well as desired. Other bloggers and commenters have called Cho’s tranny chaser phraseology disgusting. Meanwhile, she is blowing heteronormative minds open simply by sharing these concepts, matter-of-factly and without shame. No one has accused RuPaul of anything similar.

Seemingly pointless rhetorical questions arise: is it better to be vilified or romanticized? Dehumanized, or eroticized? If we’re all “in on the desire,” is it wrong? Is there a happy medium that requires no context or linguistic boundaries and protections when you’re speaking to heterosexual or heteronormative folks?

Cho grew up in San Francisco, which could better explain matters somewhat. In the City (at least in most LGBT circles), you are what you say you are. Period. Middle America doesn’t quite resonate with such a mindset (yet?).

Issues of class and power can’t be ignored. Though they all had challenging beginnings in their careers, now relatively better-paid or well-paid performers Cho’s, Harvie’s and RuPaul’s experiences differ by definition from that of a queer or trans* man or woman who doesn’t have the same means or sense of empowerment to feel okay leading with sexuality or identity. Harassment is much more difficult, to say the least, when you don’t have financial or social resources to work your way out of it or away from it.

When these issues and conundrums arise, I consider them to be a gift: because they grant us the opportunity to be honest with ourselves about them, regardless of political correctness.

We have to name and claim the final word(s) about our experience. We have to find our own ways to survive and to thrive in the world.

~

“Bitch,” Please

In a previous Bitch Flicks Quote of the Day update, Margaret Cho waxes fantastic about the word “bitch.” Have a look: you don’t want to miss it.

The first draft of this post appeared at Gay Agenda online.

 

Women in Politics Week: ‘Persepolis’

 
This piece on Persepolis, by Amber Leab, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on July 1, 2009.

I rented Persepolis before the recent Iranian election, and have been thinking ever since about the film.

Persepolis is adapted from the autobiographical graphic novels written by Marjane Satrapi (which I haven’t read), and represents the first graphic-novel-as-film. Other graphic novels have been made into films, but none (to my knowledge) have remained as true to form as this. Visually, the film is lovely, stark, and at times deeply disturbing.

In Persepolis, we meet Marjane, a young girl living in Iran at the time of the Islamic revolution of 1979. The society changed drastically under Islamic law, as evidenced by Marjane’s teacher’s evolving lessons. After the revolution, in 1982, she tells the young girls, who are now required by law to cover their heads, “The veil stands for freedom. A decent woman shelters herself from men’s eyes. A woman who shows herself will burn in hell.” In typical fashion, the students escape her ideological droning through imported pop culture: the music of ABBA, The Bee Gees, Michael Jackson, and Iron Maiden.

While the film is a personal story, it does offer a concise history of modern Iran, including the U.S. involvement in the rise of Islamic law and in the Iran-Iraq war. This time in Iranian history is especially important right now, with the disputed re-election of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the ensuing protests. One scene in particular depicts a group of people protesting when a young man is shot, bleeds to death, and is hoisted over his fellow protesters’ shoulders–eerily reminiscent of what happened with Neda Agha Soltan, whose public murder has rallied the Iranian protesters and people all over the world.

The history of Iran, while it determines the course of Marjane’s life, really is a backdrop—especially in the second half of the movie. In other words, the film is more about the experience of one woman than a documentary-style account of Iranian history. Once Marjane escapes the society she grew up in, her problems become much more ordinary for a Western audience, more commonplace. She vacillates between different crowds of people. She falls in love and has her heart broken. She feels angst and confusion over who she is and what she wants. She goes home to Iran for a time and, like so many others, ultimately finds she cannot return home.

As evident in the film, Satrapi grew up in a wealthy, educated, progressive Iranian family. They sent her to Vienna as a teenager so she didn’t have to spend her adolescence in such a repressive society, and because they feared what might happen to such an outspoken young woman there. While acknowledging her privilege, not many women in circumstances other than these would be able to accomplish what she has. Satrapi isn’t afraid to show missteps she makes in growing up, either. Young Marjane learns that her femininity, even when repressed by law, offers great power—and shows how she misuses that power. Missing her mother’s lesson at the grocery store about female solidarity, she blames other women for her troubles (“Ma’am, my mother is dead. My stepmother’s so cruel. If I’m late, she’ll kill me. She’ll burn me with an iron. She’ll make my dad put me in an orphanage.”), and falsely accuses a man of looking at her in public to avoid the law coming down on her.

Persepolis is, in every definition of the term, a feminist film. There are strong, interesting female characters who sometimes make mistakes. The women, like in real life, are engaged in politics and struggle with expectations set for them and that they set for themselves. They have relationships with various people, but their lives are not defined by one romantic relationship, even though sometimes it can feel that way.

As much as I like this movie, I can’t help but write this review through the lens of an interview Satrapi gave in 2004, in which she claimed to not be a feminist and displayed ignorance of the basic concept of feminism. I simply don’t believe gender inequality can be dissolved through basic humanism — especially in oppressive patriarchal societies like Iran. I wonder if feminism represents too radical a position to non-Westerners, and if her statements were more strategy than sincerity. Making feminism an enemy or perpetuating the post-feminist rhetoric isn’t going to help anyone. That said, this is a very good movie and I highly recommend it.

A couple of good articles about women’s role in the recent Iranian protests:

The Nation: Icons of the New Iran by Barbara Crossette

Feminist Peace Network: Memo to ABC: Lipstick Revolution FAIL

——

Amber Leab is a Co-Founder and Editor of Bitch Flicks and a writer living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a Master’s degree in English & Comparative Literature from the University of Cincinnati and a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature & Creative Writing from Miami University. Outside of Bitch Flicks, her work has appeared in The Georgetown Review, on the blogs Shakesville, The Opinioness of the World, and I Will Not Diet, and at True Theatre.

Quote of the Day: Samhita Mukhopadhyay, from ‘Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life’

Samhita Mukhopadhyay’s Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life

I hate dating. I’m really bad at dating. I meet up with a dude, and I’m usually like “eh” after five minutes, ready to move on. I don’t suffer from a throwing-in-the-towel mentality of sorts, where I’m willing to settle for any dude, just for the sake of filling one of my many supposed obligations as a woman–Finally Finding Love. I’m more of an impossibly-high-standards dater, one who stares at the dude in front of her, like, “You’re obviously not a progressive feminist with a clear understanding of the ramifications the media has on the self-esteem of women and young girls, and you haven’t listed one single female musician or a woman-driven film in your endless list of ‘favorite things’ … so why don’t you get out of my face.” Right?! Bad. At. Dating. 
So I bought Mukhopadhyay’s book to see if it could help me stop being horrible at dating; it definitely helped me think about dating in a different way.
She focuses on the sexist dating advice industry throughout the book, and she writes in the introduction that the book is about “conundrums and confusion; it’s about the contradicting messages we get from popular culture, feminism, our social circles, politics, and the romance industry. It’s about charting trends in how women and men are talked about in the media; it’s about pointing out hypocrisy, and it’s about dealing with a world that is still reliant on antiquated ideas of gender.” 
I found the book most helpful for me, however, in its discussion of finding The One. We live in a culture that obsesses over the idea of The One. The film industry especially pushes it (usually upon women) in the Romantic Comedy aka “chick flick” genre. I personally didn’t realize how much I (feminist! media critic! blogger! constant reader of the feminist blogosphere!) had actually internalized these messages until I read Mukhopadhyay’s book. Turns out, when you go into every date subconsciously ready to decide within five minutes if this person is The One, then you’re probably going to end up with a fuckload of first dates … without too many second or third or fourth dates with the same person. 
She also points out that the portrayals of single women in film and television often make single ladies look like total losers, which is also difficult to not internalize (even for someone who spends most of her free time critiquing media representations of women). Conundrums and confusion, indeed! Overall, the book shines a light on the dilemma of Dating While Feminist, and I encourage all daters to read it, even if you don’t necessarily consider yourself a Feminist, and even if you’re not as awful at dating as I am. 
One of the most important aspects of the book deals with exactly what we deal with at Bitch Flicks–how pop culture, especially film and television, works to perpetuate stereotypes and help maintain the status quo … while also making me a shitty dater (if I haven’t yet made that clear).
I’ll leave you with the following excerpt. Because it’s important to always keep an eye out for this bullshit. After all, knowing it exists is the only way to fight against it! #realtalk

Television is a reflection of our cultural norms at a given time, so it makes sense that during the ’60s and ’70s–a time of cultural revolution where the very definitions of family, sexuality, relationships, and femininity were being pushed–women were written as living comfortable, fun lives as single women who engaged in sex when they wanted it and often opted out of long-term relationships. Laverne & Shirley, at the height of its viewership, was the most watched sitcom in the United States, surpassing Happy Days, which is shocking considering its often serious and feminist themes. Laverne & Shirley took on unplanned pregnancy, sex before marriage, and workplace equality.
[…]
If we look to the sitcoms of today, we see weaker depictions of women dominating the tubes. We see women who are smaller in stature, more neurotic, confused, wishy-washy, and often dysfunctional. There are few sitcoms about single women even on the airwaves today, actually. But think of the leading ladies in sitcoms, from Everybody Loves Raymond to The King of Queens; both Debra and Carrie represent good, faithful (and hot) wives. And while the plotline shows they are often the ones in charge, their story lines are secondary to their goofy, irresponsible, “bro-ish” husbands. While these characters’ behavior could be chalked up to the shows being satirical or humorous, there is a noticeable difference between how women and their romantic relationships have been represented over the decades. 
Similarly, if we are to look at the representation of single black women even from the ’90s to the new millennium, a quick comparison of 227 and Living Single to Girlfriends shows you how differently actresses are cast today. Earlier shows cast black women of varying sizes, skin tones, and hairstyles, whereas more recent shows seem to only cast thinner black women with straighter hair and more Caucasian features. Let’s just acknowledge that you don’t turn on the TV and see a great actress like Esther Rolle these days (unless you’re watching The Biggest Loser). 
[…]
Popular television has changed, but what has entered the public domain are new caricatures of femininity that play to our most regressive stereotypes of how single women should think, talk, and act. And while reality TV is supposed to be “real,” the images of single women have only gotten less real. According to reality TV, all single women want to get married and their lives are meaningless without this milestone, despite any personal or professional successes they might have seen. This has closed up any real possibilities for characterizations of single women as anything but failing at the dream of romance. 

You can purchase the book here.

Additional Links

Why I Love Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life by Andrea (AJ) Plaid via Racialicious

Dating While Feminist: An Interview with Samhita Mukhopadhyay by Allison McCarthy via Ms. Magazine

The Rumpus Interview With Samhita Mukhopadhyay by Neelanjana Banerjee via The Rumpus

She’s Just Not That Into Dating by Tracy Clark-Flory via Salon

It’s Not Feminism That’s Ruining Romance: A Fresh Spin on Dating by Noelle de la Paz via Colorlines

Samhita Mukhopadhyay’s Web site

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Week: Equality Now: Joss Whedon’s Acceptance Speech

This post previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on December 12, 2010.
In 2007, the Warner Brothers production president, Jeff Robinov, announced that Warner Brothers would no longer make films with female leads.

A year before that announcement, Joss Whedon, the creator of such women-centric television shows as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, and Dollhouse, accepted an award from Equality Now at the event, “On the Road to Equality: Honoring Men on the Front Lines.”

Watch as he answers the question, “Why do you always write such strong women characters?”

LGBTQI Week: Short Film: Tech Support

This piece by Editor and Co-Founder Amber Leab previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on April 28, 2011.
Tech Support is a short film written and produced by Jenny Hagel. The film has won several awards–including Best Lesbian Short at the Hamburg International Queer Film Festival (Germany), the Audience Award at the Pittsburgh International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, and Best Short Film at the Fresno Reel Pride LGBT Film Festival–and has been an official selection at 16 film festivals.

Watch Tech Support:

Be sure to also check out Hagel’s very funny Feminist Rapper series: A Lady Made That, Real Ladies Fight Back, and This Is What A Feminist Looks Like.  

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

Christina Hendricks Talks Joan, Feminism, and Bitches in The Hollywood Reporter by Kelsey Wallace for Bitch Magazine

Is There a Male Equivalent to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl? by Elisabeth Rappe for Film

Emma Cowing: The Brave New World of Movie Feminism for Scotsman

‘Peace, Love, & Misunderstanding’: Finally, a Film Gets New Feminism by Chloe Angyal for The Atlantic

Woman: The Other Alien in Alien by Tom Shone for Slate

Ten Reasons NOT to See Snow White and the Huntsman by Natalie Wilson for Ms. Magazine

Crying Sexism as the Answer to an Under-Performing Film by Melissa Silverstein for Women and Hollywood

Quote of the Day: “Why? Why? Why? Don’t They Want the Money?” by Melissa Silverstein for Women and Hollywood

Study Confirms That TV Makes All Kids, Except Little White Boys, Feel Bad by Heather Klem for About-Face

Megan‘s Picks:

How Girls Challenges the Masculine Expectations of “Good TV” by Todd VanDerWerff for The AV Club

Audra McDonald Becomes First Black Actress to Win Five Tony Awards by Jorge Rivas for ColorLines 

Good Riddance, Offensive GoDaddy Commericals by Connor Simpson for The Atlantic Wire

Violence Against Women Disguised as Fashion by Jenna Sauers for Jezebel

Dear the Internet, This Is Why You Can’t Have Anything Nice: Antia Sarkeesian’s Project to Expose Stereotypes in Video Games Attracts a Maelstrom of Hate by Helen Lewis for The New Statesman

Quote of the Day: Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards

Manifesta by Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards

I’ve been reading the 10th anniversary edition of Jennifer Baumgardner’s and Amy Richards’ Manifesta: Young Women, Feminism, and the Future, which was first published in 2000 and revised in 2010. One chapter in particular struck me, and in honor of Mother’s Day this past Sunday–and our upcoming theme on Motherhood, starting Monday (yay!)–I’d like to excerpt from the chapter, “Thou Shalt Not Become Thy Mother.”
The authors discuss the generational divide between mothers and daughters and the tension that often exists because mothers (within the past generation) raised children “with some hint of feminism in the air.” Their young daughters today, though, struggle to avoid becoming like their mothers. Here are two excerpts from the chapter that delve into that theme in greater detail:
Many daughters are scared of falling prey to the indignities we witnessed our mothers suffer. This fear is a challenge to younger feminists. Young women should understand where that fear comes from, rather than simply avoiding it. Unwrapping motherhood from the swaddles of patriarchy means that we will no longer have to work so hard to be different from our mothers.

As it is, we are more likely to notice what our mothers are doing wrong than what they are doing right. We notice if Dad treats Mom like shit, if homemaking appears to be a fake job, or if Mom worked outside the home and was never there to ask us about our day. We may think that when Dad does “Mom’s chores”–picking us up or doing the dishes or cooking–he’s a hero. We notice if we look to Dad for decision making, and to Mom for love and comfort and mending. If the marriage falls apart, we notice if Mom doesn’t know how to write checks, or dates jerks, or if her lifestyle becomes markedly poorer. We notice the passive-aggressive ways that she may work around powerlessness: the boyfriends she takes on to escape her unhappy marriage, the guilt trips, or the migraine headaches that befall her just before the guests arrived every holiday. Throughout or lives, we make mental notes, and swear on our mothers’ lives not to let that happen to us or do what they did. This includes the most trivial sins: we’ll never embarrass our kids, we’ll never have our hair done every Friday at the same time, we’ll never have a comfy-but-ugly outfit that we change into every day after work.

Our expectations of our dads are so much lower than our expectations of moms that dads don’t get such a bad rap from their daughters. We also let them off the hook because their lives appear more liberated–more like how daughters are told their lives should be. (pages 208-209)

 ———-

One True Thing, a Hollywood tearjerker based on a novel by Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Anna Quindlen, successfully analyzed this generational repulsion. In this 1998 film, Renee Zellweger portrayed an ambitious New York City journalist, Ellen Gulden, who returns to her suburban home to care for her terminally ill mother. “The one thing I never wanted to do was live my mother’s life,” Ellen says. “And there I was doing it.” Meryl Streep, as Kate, zaftig and radiant in the housewife role, throws elaborate theme parties and makes a tabletop mosaic from her broken dishes. Creative and delightful as she is, Kate’s domestic achievements are nada compared to the father’s life as a sought-after English professor and would-be novelist (portrayed by William Hurt). After walking many miles (and scrubbing many toilets) in her mother’s shoes, Ellen learns that her mother’s accomplishments–her ability to bring the community together and make her family comfortable–far surpass her father’s inflated dreams of his own literary importance.

“You spend all of your life thinking about what you don’t have, and you have so much,” Kate warns her puffy-eyed ungrateful daughter just before she dies. In that moment, any daughter might be shocked (as we were) into recognizing that we view our mothers in light of what we think they lack–youthful looks, brilliant careers, respectful husbands–not what they have. Finally, Ellen learns that her mother has actually chosen and fulfilled with joy the very life that Ellen had learned to disdain. The film isn’t a call to join a kaffeeklatsch community group or bake up a storm as a one-way ticket to feminine authenticity. It’s a warning to mothers and daughters to take a clear-eyed look at each other, rather than stealing glances and making notes about what not to do. One True Thing teases out a feminist challenge: to understand the choices our mothers made, knowing they were made in a context we will never experience. For mothers, the challenge is to realize that their daughters came of age in an entirely different era, one that makes their lives fundamentally different. (pages 213-214)

The book is fabulous. Buy it.

Biopic and Documentary Week: Persepolis

This piece on Persepolis, by Amber Leab, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on July 1, 2009.



Marjane can’t hide behind ABBA
In Persepolis, we meet Marjane (Satrapi), a young girl living in Iran at the time of the Islamic revolution of 1979. The society changed drastically under Islamic law, as evidenced by Marjane’s teacher’s evolving lessons. After the revolution, in 1982, she tells the young girls, who are now required by law to cover their heads, “The veil stands for freedom. A decent woman shelters herself from men’s eyes. A woman who shows herself will burn in hell.” In typical fashion, the students escape her ideological droning through imported pop culture: the music of ABBA, The Bee Gees, Michael Jackson, and Iron Maiden. 
While the film is a personal story, it does offer a concise history of modern Iran, including the U.S. involvement in the rise of Islamic law and in the Iran-Iraq war. This time in Iranian history is especially important right now, with the disputed re-election of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the ensuing protests. One scene in particular depicts a group of people protesting when a young man is shot, bleeds to death, and is hoisted over his fellow protesters’ shoulders–eerily reminiscent of what happened with Neda Agha Soltan, whose public murder has rallied the Iranian protesters and people all over the world. 

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie’s Picks:

Keira Knightley, Charlize Theron, Others Play Women on the Edge from the LA Times

Iron Lady Falls to the Anna Quindlen Doctrine from Bloomberg

Reel Grrls Rural Transportation Fund from IndieGogo

Why Restyle Great Women of History as Cockamamie Feminist Role Models? from The Guardian

Amber’s Picks:

Letterman Comedian Booker Dropped After Comments About Women in Comedy from The Wrap

Why the Oscars should cast out The Help and Welcome in Pariah from The Guardian

Body-Shaming a Common Theme at the Golden Globes from About-Face

Feminist icons from classic musicals from The F Word

Genie Awards nominations announced from Her Film

Leave your links in the comments!