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Black Masculinity in ‘Lee Daniels’ The Butler’

Lee Daniels’ The Butler
Written by Erin Tatum.
My experience going to see Lee Daniels’ The Butler made an impression on me even before the film started playing. I don’t think I have ever been to a movie where every single preview featured a protagonist of color. It reminded me just how whitewashed Hollywood is. Why are films about people of color only marketed through the platform of other films whose primary audience is anticipated to be people of color? Maybe I’m naive – I had forgotten how big of a factor racial demographics are for advertising. All of the previews were spectacular and left me wanting to see more. It’s a shame that these gems don’t get more publicity.
Lee Daniels’ The Butler is a tall order to say the least: it runs a staggering 132 minutes and spans eight presidential administrations with an all-star cast including Forest Whitaker, Oprah Winfrey, Mariah Carey (blink and you’ll miss her), David Oyelowo, Terrence Howard, and Cuba Gooding Jr., just to name a few. It’s to the point where one article calls the film a “cameo roulette.” The amount of history covered is absolutely breathtaking in scope. The script can feel uneven at times because of this, especially in the beginning. You might spend 20 minutes in one year and then cover the next five years in 10 minutes. I applaud the tenacity of the casting director, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cast changes to reflect characters aging. Of course it is a little ridiculous that 52-year-old Forest Whitaker plays Cecil from approximately age 25 into his 90s, but the magic of makeup does wonders. The attention to detail in this film is meticulous, from the clothing to the decor to the hairstyles. The differences and subtleties of each presidential personality are also captured thoroughly even if briefly. There is even a particularly funny scene where Dwight Eisenhower gruffly asks Cecil for… toilet paper assistance… as his beagles sit loyally by the toilet.
Cecil and Gloria.
At its core, the film chronicles the cross-generational struggle to define black identity and masculinity in a racist American society. Little Cecil learns that subservience is the best policy after his father is shot dead for uttering a simple monotone “hey” at the ruthless cotton farm owner, Thomas (Alex Pettyfer), who had likely just raped his mother. Thomas’ elderly mother (Vanessa Redgrave) takes pity on Cecil and allows him to become a domestic servant, where he quickly adapts to being neither seen nor heard. These skills come in handy when he leaves the South and begins serving wealthy white clientele at various DC hotels, leading to his recruitment as a White House butler. Before starting the job, he is reminded that “there are no politics in the White House.” He thus resolves to continue to be painstakingly neutral on any potential political conflict, even if he is explicitly asked for his opinion. His commitment to his career soon borders on obsessive as he works long days and nights, leaving his marriage to wife Gloria (Winfrey) in a perpetual state of decay. Although he watches her battle alcoholism and strongly suspects her affair with the neighbor, Cecil’s commitment to family values and tradition never wavers.
Gloria is unhappy and has an affair.
Cecil’s attitude of racial uplift through hard work starkly contrasts to the restlessness of his older son Lewis (Oyelowo). He is shown to be scornful of and perhaps embarrassed by his father’s position from the time he is a teenager, a disconnect that is all the more exacerbated when he begins to participate in nonviolent civil rights protests while in college. The scenes of the diner sit-in and the Freedom Rides are some of the most emotionally resonant of the film. You can actually feel the burning hatred of their attackers and a few well-timed close-ups ensure that you’re up close and personal to some of their most inhumane and humiliating tactics. One girl has ketchup smeared on her face. Lewis has hot coffee thrown in his eyes. On that note, I’ve never been more disgusted by saliva. You watch one of the attackers lean in and spit a loogie on the cheek of one of the girls protesting and it is vile. Lewis continues to participate in the civil rights efforts despite multiple arrests, much to his parents’ chagrin. Cecil remarks that he “doesn’t understand how Lewis can’t see that the president is going to make things better for us,” particularly after witnessing slow but steady changes in racial policy.
Cecil and Gloria with Lewis (right) and Charlie (left)
What we are witnessing here is friction in the generation gap over ideas about the best means to achieve racial uplift. Cecil espouses the belief in assimilation through passivity and diligence. He grew up in an era where discrimination was benign and silence was survival. In contrast, Lewis believes that discrimination means disrespect and silence equates to, dare I say, emasculation. When Lewis’ generation came of age in the 60s, what was really at stake was the question of the reputation and respectability of black masculinity. Cecil views his way of life as making the best of the limited parameters available for the fulfillment of black manhood, whereas Lewis perceives such servitude as a shameful complacency with histories of racial power dynamics and as an insult to black integrity. In what is arguably one of the most dramatic moments of the film, Cecil snaps on Lewis and his hippie girlfriend Carol (Yaya Alafia) essentially for being apathetic flower children with no respect for the sacrifices of their parents, prompting Lewis to call him an Uncle Tom. This insult provokes an epic slap from Gloria and I must say Oprah has one hell of a backhand. The freeze between father and son becomes permanent and only deepens after Lewis fails to attend his younger brother Charlie’s funeral following his death in the Vietnam War.
Cecil confronts Lewis after he is first sentenced to jail.
Inevitably, the ideological rifts between them soften over the decades. Cecil finally gets the recognition he deserves when he successfully advocates for equal compensation and promotion opportunities for black White House employees during the Reagan Administration (it’s appalling that it took that long). The Reagans invite him and Gloria to the state dinner as guests, but something isn’t sitting right with Cecil and he finds himself increasingly dissatisfied with his job. He decides to patch things up with Lewis and joins him in protesting the imprisonment of Mandela, even getting a taste of Lewis’ life by being arrested and briefly incarcerated. As an old man, Cecil retrospectively feels a great sense of pride for Lewis’ contributions to the civil rights and black power movement. Masculinity is therefore reaffirmed as having the persistence to make your mark on society in the face of great adversity.
Things come full circle as Cecil and Gloria eagerly campaign for the election of Obama in 2008. Gloria passes away, leaving Lewis as Cecil’s last surviving family. Father and son watch the election results with tears in their eyes. Cecil is invited to meet the new president and is warmly greeted by the butler, who is also an African-American man. As Cecil walks stiffly but proudly to meet Obama, there is a definitive sense of collective triumph. Eight decades later, black masculinity is allegedly getting the respect it deserves. Although masculine privilege remains unquestioned and racial dynamics will always be a work in progress, the poignancy of the ending does bring a smile to your face.

Bitch Flicks Weekly Picks

I Hate Strong Female Characters by Sophia McDougall at New Statesman



Why “Solidarity” is Bullshit by Tina Vasquez at Bitch Media

New Film “Lovelace” Leaves a Lot to Be Desired by Monica Castillo at Bitch Media
Austenland movie review by Susan Wloszczyna at RogerEbert.com

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

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

I Hate Strong Female Characters by Sophia McDougall at New Statesman



Why “Solidarity” is Bullshit by Tina Vasquez at Bitch Media

New Film “Lovelace” Leaves a Lot to Be Desired by Monica Castillo at Bitch Media
Austenland movie review by Susan Wloszczyna at RogerEbert.com

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

Bitch Flicks Weekly Picks

It’s Not Easy for Black Celebrities Like Raven-Symoné to Come Out by Allison Samuels via The Daily Beast

Women Directors Take Record Number of Emmy Nods, If Not TV Jobs by Amy Dawes via The Los Angeles Times

She Did That! Issa Rae Brings ‘Awkward Black Girl’ to HBO via Madame Noire

The Banal, Insidious Sexism of Smurfette by Philip Cohen via The Atlantic

More Leading Roles for Asian Actresses Shows Hollywood’s (Slow) Progress by Vera H-C Chan via Yahoo! Movies

‘Orange is the New Black’ Offers New Opportunity to Discuss Trans* Issues by Mychal Denzel Smith via Feministing

Why Talking About Women Directors Matters by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood
Damsel in Distress (Part 3) Tropes vs. Women by Anita Sarkeesian via Feminist Frequency
What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

It’s Not Easy for Black Celebrities Like Raven-Symoné to Come Out by Allison Samuels via The Daily Beast

Women Directors Take Record Number of Emmy Nods, If Not TV Jobs by Amy Dawes via The Los Angeles Times

She Did That! Issa Rae Brings ‘Awkward Black Girl’ to HBO via Madame Noire

The Banal, Insidious Sexism of Smurfette by Philip Cohen via The Atlantic

More Leading Roles for Asian Actresses Shows Hollywood’s (Slow) Progress by Vera H-C Chan via Yahoo! Movies

‘Orange is the New Black’ Offers New Opportunity to Discuss Trans* Issues by Mychal Denzel Smith via Feministing

Why Talking About Women Directors Matters by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood
Damsel in Distress (Part 3) Tropes vs. Women by Anita Sarkeesian via Feminist Frequency
What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘How to Lose Your Virginity’ or: How We Need to Rethink Sex
How to Lose Your Virginity promo.
 
Written by Leigh Kolb
If you talk to a feminist for a significant amount of time, you’re going to hear about virginity–specifically the value placed on women’s virginity in our culture and the persistent virgin/whore dichotomy that places women in an impossible sexual bind (and not the good kind).
The 2013 documentary How to Lose Your Virginity follows filmmaker Therese Shechter’s reflections on her own “loss” of her virginity in her early 20s. Her first-person narrative gives way to interviews with experts and sexual novices interspersed with historical tidbits and definitions.
Shechter features excellent interviews with feminist heavy hitters–Joycelyn Elders, Scarleteen founder Heather Corinna, Shelby Knox, Jessica Valenti, Hanne Blank, Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown, and love and relationship coach Abiola Abrams, among others. Shechter speaks to numerous young people about their perceptions of virginity and sex–including those who claimed/reclaimed virginity or actively shunned it. She talks to the president of Harvard’s chastity club and she goes on location with the co-founder of the “Barely Legal” porn series, Erica McLean.
How to Lose Your Virginity poignantly points out that in our culture, if you are a woman and have sex, you’re doomed, and if you don’t have sex, there’s something wrong with you.
Shechter covers all of her bases, and leaves no sexual stone unturned.
I pressed play to watch How to Lose Your Virginity thinking that I didn’t have that much to learn. I think/write/teach about these issues a lot. However, I  was captivated throughout the entire film. Shechter tackles what we know–virginity mythology, hymen obsessions, queer definitions of virginity, purity balls and the virgin-whore dichotomy–and takes it all a step further, researching and delving into others’ stories and history.
A crew member of Barely Legal shows the white panties that the virginal “first-timers” wear during shoots. The female owner and director points out that her films are about the “first memorable time that you [as a young woman] liked the person.” 

 

My favorite part of this film is that it is upbeat from start to finish. There’s no anger, there’s no judgment. I don’t want to riff on the “angry feminist” stereotype, but I know I tend to get pretty worked up and, well, angry when I talk about our culture’s toxic obsession with female sexuality and expectations of virginity. Shechter’s ability to teach, dismantle, expose and explore is remarkable. The audience is left with newfound knowledge with which they can criticize myths of virginity in our culture. However, the audience is also left with respect for everyone’s stories–those who are remaining virgins (no matter their personal definition), those who don’t and those who have no idea what it all even means. When a documentary can do that, it succeeds in a big way.

 

The phrase “purity balls” will never not make me giggle.

Throughout How to Lose Your Virginity, Shechter establishes common ground and values every individual’s experience, criticizing only the cultural myths that make us feel fear and shame about our sexuality. Even when she tackles pornography and purity balls, she does so with respect and cultural criticism, not disdain.

She wishes that it wasn’t called “losing your virginity,” but instead making your sexual “debut,” and that sexual experiences are a series of first times that create our sexual history. In her peppy, happy narration, she asks us to not think about losing virginity, but instead losing the mythology about virginity that’s controlling how we think about sex.
Now that is something worth losing.
Shechter, who got engaged during filming, tries on wedding dresses and comments on the fantasy and recent history of a white-clad virginal bride. She jokes and laughs with the store attendants, but shows us that the fantasy has gone on long enough.

 

How to Lose Your Virginity is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”
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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

 

‘The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars’ Explores Transformative Feminism in Prison

The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars promotional still.
 
Written by Leigh Kolb
 
With the success of the memoir-turned-Netflix-TV series Orange is the New Black, the feminist blogosphere has been abuzz with commentary and analysis. Besides looking at the show as an artifact within a vacuum, many feminists are taking this opportunity to think about incarceration–especially in the case of female prisoners. While the show is entertaining, the reality behind the fiction transcends one privileged woman’s memoir.
The 2012 documentary The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars examines the lives of a group of women in a maximum security prison in Mitchellville, Iowa. Filmmaker Noga Ashkenazi was part of Grinnell College’s Liberal Arts in Prison program in 2009 (her senior year).
Ashkenazi said,

“I wanted to make a documentary about my experience there because I had a feeling that teaching a feminism class at the women’s prison would be a good framework to talk about women’s issues in the criminal justice system in general and to bring the stories of these women to the public through this film.”

So she gathered footage, edited it, got funding, and released the film. And The Grey Area provides an excellent framework for discussing the oft-ignored issues surrounding incarcerated women.
The film opens with sobering facts: the number of incarcerated women in the US has grown 800 percent in the last three decades. Two-thirds of the women in prison are there for nonviolent crimes. Eighty percent of incarcerated women have a history of being victims of sexual assault and/or domestic abuse.
The documentary was filmed at the Iowa Correctional Institute for Women.
The Grey Area presents the stories of inmates–their whole stories, not just their rap sheets–cut with interviews with prison officials and social workers and commentary from the three young female college students who are conducting the Grinnell course on feminism to the prisoners.
The interviews with and footage of the incarcerated women are incredibly moving. The nature of their crimes highlighted the title of the film–there are so many gray areas, yet our prison system only has settings for black and white. Toward the end of the film, the prison warden herself said that about 20 percent of the prisoners actually need to be there (she says the rest aren’t violent or a danger to their communities).
The way the women respond to the weekly classes on feminism (with topics such as motherhood, bodies, sexual assault and privilege) is poignant and insightful. When the class wraps up, the women are asked about the impact of feminism. They eagerly claim the title of feminist, and respond with comments on how talking about feminism has “empowered” them. More than one says that being in prison helped her identify as a feminist because she learned she didn’t need to depend on a man. One says, “Our lives are posters for what not living in a feminist society can do.”
These women’s stories were highlighted throughout the documentary.
The Grey Area isn’t simply a snapshot of the college course on feminism. While the college students have insightful things to say, the real excellence in this film lies within the prisoners’ stories and the professionals’ commentary. Ashkenazi did an excellent job of gathering and editing footage to create and sustain suspense and elicit an emotional response from her audience. The parole hearings and anxious hopes for commutations were nerve-wracking and sometimes heartbreaking. The follow-ups with the inmates are uplifting and devastating.
Toward the end of the film, you learn how many commutations Iowa’s governors have granted in the last 30 years, and you feel as if you’ve been punched in the stomach.
The Grey Area tackles a subject that we all too often ignore and forces us to face the fact that justice is neither blind nor black and white. Cycles of abuse, sexual assault, poverty, objectification and social injustice are all feminist issues, and are all under a microscope in America’s prison systems. It’s our job now to have the conversations and work to effect change. Documentaries like The Grey Area provide a clear, in-depth context for having conversations beyond what happened on this season of Orange is the New Black.
The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”
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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

Documentary Explores the ‘Forbidden Voices’ of Three Female Bloggers

Forbidden Voices movie poster.


Written by Leigh Kolb

In repressive societies, voices of dissent are dangerous to the regime, and are stifled as quickly as possible. The documentary Forbidden Voices, by filmmaker Barbara Miller, weaves together the struggles of three female bloggers who have done tremendous work against the governments that have tried, sometimes successfully (but only temporarily), to silence them. 




Yoani Sanchez


Yoani Sanchez, Cuba
Yoani Sanchez’s blog has been censored by the state. She has been beaten by police. She says, “I live in fear.” But she keeps writing. She has been profiled as one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people and toward the beginning of the film, she’s unwrapping and lovingly sniffing her brand new book, Cuba Libre. Sanchez is featured in Forbidden Voices as a prominent Cuban blogger. She not only spends her time writing and covertly updating her blog, but she also holds blogging workshops for other writers and is a human rights activist (the film focuses on her work for a specific political prisoner who is on a hunger strike). 
Sanchez’s parts of the film–since she is still active in her country–are powerful and disturbing. The recording of her being beaten by police is played and there is footage of protests and state-sanctioned counter-protesters. While Sanchez is not safe–she knows her phone is tapped and constantly feels like she’s in danger–she keeps working. She says that she does so for her son, so she can answer him when he asks, “Mom, what did you do to help change things?”
Farnaz Seifi
Farnaz Seifi, Iran
When Farnaz Seifi started her blog in 2003, the Iranian government had little to do with censoring the blogosphere. Six months after she and a few other women started blogging about women’s issues in Iran, the censorship and arrests began. 
In the film, Seifi explains how the Iranian revolution caused women to lose all of their rights. She cites the legal case that if a man’s genitals were to be hurt in a car accident, there’s more money awarded to him than if a woman is killed in a car accident. 
Seifi says that she was drawn to blogging because “You can be the media yourself.” Shortly after, the government started filtering the word “women” and access to the women’s rights activists’ blogs was denied. Feminist groups held peaceful protests, and police responded with brutality (the film has footage). Seifi was arrested, and she now lives in exile and works with Reporters Without Borders. When she is featured in Forbidden Voices, it’s clear that she aches for her family and for making change in her home country. She, against her desires to have her name out there, blogs anonymously to protect her family. Seifi speaks of the “cyber war” and that at this point it is a “cyber army vs. the government.” Online activism and social media have been a central focus during the uprisings in the Middle East, and Seifi’s interests in writing about the abuses of women’s rights have helped keep the momentum going. 
Zeng Jinyan
Zeng Jinyan, China
Zeng Jinyan has used blogs and Twitter to speak out against human rights abuses in China. Her activism has resulted in house arrest (which is shown in the film). Her husband was imprisoned for over three years for his AIDS/human rights activism, and she and their new baby were kept in an apartment. But she continued to write. 
In the film, she says, “I’m desperate. I don’t know what to do.” She is continually shadowed by agents (in one chilling scene, they repeatedly try to block her from moving forward on the sidewalk). Their apartment was searched, phones and computers were confiscated and their internet was shut off. She argues that their freedom of speech is protected by the Chinese constitution, but it’s being ignored. Jinyan explains the “great firewall of China,” the cyber police, and the fact that many people don’t even know about Tiananmen Square. “Everything resembles Orwell’s 1984,” she says. She focuses on how cruel the house arrest is for her daughter, who is growing up with an imprisoned father and no access to parks. Jinyan says, “My keyboard now is the only thing that helps me bear my sorrow and indignation.”
Forbidden Voices is a compelling and deeply disturbing documentary that makes those of us who freely sit at our laptops and type realize how much we take for granted, and how powerful these women’s voices are in their repressive societies (and how threatening that power is, which is evident in the fact that they are continually threatened and silenced). The end of the documentary points out that there are thousands of Internet activists in jail right now. This wave of courageous blogging, especially at the hands of women like Sanchez, Seifi and Jinyan, is a threat to patriarchal, repressive regimes. May their voices stay strong. 


Forbidden Voices is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”

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

‘Salma’: The Poetry of Repression and Seclusion

Salmai movie poster.


Written by Leigh Kolb


In the village of Thuvarankurichi in rural India, young Muslim girls are locked away once they start their periods. While their early years are filled with school and play, once puberty hits, they are taken away from the outside world and relegated to the confines of their family homes until they are married (which often happens soon after menses).

Salma was one of those girls. The internationally acclaimed documentary Salma explores her return back to the village after she has, despite innumerable odds, become an accomplished poet and politician.
Her determination is highlighted throughout the film, and no amount of dramatization is needed to convey the depths of despair for the women in this culture and the odds that were–and still are–against Salma.

Interviews with family members show how conflicted many of them are about Salma’s success. Her father says, “She’s a good girl, but she’s too clever.” Her aunt says also that Salma has always been “clever,” although she was also always “disobedient.” The women around her have poignant observations on what it means to be a woman in their society, but are unsure how to change it.

When Salma was removed from the outside world, relegated to a basement room with a small grate for a window, she was still desperate to learn and read. Groceries came wrapped in old newspapers, and she would dig them out of the trash so she had something to read. She was in despair over her situation, and she says the “anger was boiling inside me”–so she started writing poetry. Her poetry grew out of the intensity of the realization that her life was to “get married, have kids and die.”

Salma, a Tamil poet and politician.

She finally was forced to marry the man who had been chosen for her, and she tried to continue writing. She would keep a journal, and the journal would disappear. She would write on torn-up bits of paper and hide the paper and pens in boxes of sanitary napkins and under blouses–they would still disappear any time her husband found them. She finally discovered a place that she could hide her writing, and would smuggle it out to her mother, who would send them to a publisher.  
We are able to follow Salma’s rise to power through a window of her world, which still isn’t perfect. Her husband says that he’s accepted her gift, but he clearly harbors a great deal of anger and resentment–their relationship appears cold and distant. Salma seems exhausted and tired of fighting in many scenes, except when she has the opportunity to talk to young girls about their plans and futures. 
Salma consistently encourages girls to stay in school, and is most alive and exuberant when speaking to young women about their educations. Her heart clearly breaks as she watches other young girls get whisked out of school and into arranged marriages. She is working through her writing and through her leadership to empower and educate young women and has success in preventing child brides, but all too often, the traditional culture wins. 
One of the most poignant and difficult aspects of this film is the complexity of Salma’s family members. Her mother was both her captor and her rescuer–she took her out of school and locked her up, but also helped her get her poetry published. Salma’s husband is angry and for years destroyed her work, but he now supports her political and writing careers. It was difficult as a viewer to try and condemn her family, because each of them is portrayed as a complex human being with clear motivations. It’s incredibly powerful when, as a viewer, you are left with the heaviness of a complex reality.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the film is hearing the next generation of men speak. Salma’s nephew doesn’t want his mother (Salma’s sister) going to the movies, and he’s critical of Salma’s choice not to wear a head scarf. He goes on and on about how burkas are women’s rights, and they should wear them for “men and society.” He doesn’t want his mother going to the cinema “for her own good,” and expresses disappointment in Salma. Salma’s sons, too, seem to disapprove of her and she says that being in the village turned them against her. 
While Salma’s successes and continued influences on women’s lives are powerful forces, the battle is not won. The film does a beautiful job showing that.

Salma still must confront resistance from her family and the next generation.

It’s also important to note that the practice of shutting girls away–literally and figuratively–upon puberty is not relegated to conservative Muslim cultures. In Salma, a young Hindu girl is shown getting married, stunned and sick-looking. In America, there is the Christian Patriarchy movement, which keeps girls in the home and away from higher education. While Salma captures the devastation of patriarchy in one little corner of the world, the ideals and practices are not confined to India by any stretch of the imagination.  
Filmmaker Kim Longinotto has spent her career highlighting the plight of oppressed women, and she does so in Salma with grace and precision. Salma doesn’t simply present the life of a Tamil poet; instead, it is a suspenseful unfolding of a complicated story without a wholly happy ending. Salma–the film and the poet–shows the great power and limitations of one woman who takes a stand against the confines of her environment. It’s a reminder of the great strides that still must be taken around the world for women’s equality. As Salma tirelessly points out, education is where it all must begin. And in a larger culture that has a history of keeping women from literacy and silencing their voices, this is an imperative step. 
Salma is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”

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

10 Fascinating Female TV Characters Who Are Often Overlooked

Written by Rachel Redfern

As a spin-off from last week’s discussion about the female characters and the rise of the male anti-hero on TV, I thought that today I would point ten of the most interesting female characters on television within the past ten years (although I’m sure there are many more out there), many of whom are only side characters and might have been passed over.
Note, this is not about the most bad-ass female characters, or even the ones I would consider to be role models (though some are); this is about the most interesting female characters. Just as it can be limiting to find male characters as always the knight in shining armor, or the action hero superstar (hence the darker, more varied male characters on television), I think it can be the same for women since they are often placed into their own boxes.

So here it is, ten female characters that I find unique and fascinating, and unfortunately, often overlooked (please add any more you think of in the comments).

Katee Sackhoff as Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica
Starbuck (Katee Sackhoff)

Starbuck was a man in the original Battlestar Galactica series and Ronald Moore’s decision to revamp the character into a woman for the remake was pretty traumatic; Sackhoff even reported that she had death threats after the casting decision had been made. However, Starbuck quickly became a show favorite and with good reason. Starbuck is one of the most diverse female characters on TV, ever.

She smoked cigars and drank to excess, got into a lot of fights, struggled with commitment, but loved her husband and friends deeply. She was fearless and talented as a pilot, but conversely sensitive to music and painting because of her relationship with her absent father.

Moore gave her a pretty intense back story as well, showing the physical and mental abuse that her mother submitted her to as a child, and her struggles with pain, having children, and the intense developments her character was subjected to.

Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane and Kim Dickens as Joanie Stubbs in Deadwood
Calamity Jane (Robin Weigert) and Joanie Stubbs (Kim Dickens)

Deadwood has a few strong and interesting women, but Calamity Jane and Joanie Stubbs and their relationship have often been overlooked.

Robin Weigert was masterful as the blustering, loyal, drunk Calamity Jane, managing to display both bravado and a deep frailty. Weigert consistently portrayed Jane’s insecurities and sadness, effectively showing her as a sensitive and lonely outcast.

Joanie Stubbs (Kim Dickens) was an elegant whore who has spent her whole life under the physical and sexual control of men, first her father, then her unstable and dangerous boss, Cy Tolliver. But Joanie’s search for freedom and escape from her past life became very painful and difficult to survive and understand her own place in the Deadwood camp.

The fact that the two women, both on the fringes of acceptable society, both damaged and distraught, find each other and develop a strong friendship (with it growing into a possible romantic one) was a beautiful subplot for the show.

Julia Louis-Dreyfuss as Selina Meyer in Veep
Selina Meyer (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) 
Selina Meyer (Julia Louis Dreyfuss) from HBO’s Veep is intensely unlikable, and I love that. She’s selfish and oblivious, whiny and incompetent (the perfect politician) and treats her employees and staff horribly.

But there is something very important about such unrelatable and unlikable characters–not all women in the world are pleasant, but despite her flaws, Selina is a deeply human character in a competitive world.

Yunjin Kim as Sun Kwon in Lost
Sun Kwon (Yunjin Kim)

Sun, at least in the beginning of Lost, seemed to be a minor character, one whose sad smile and soft voice suggested a submissive and lackluster personality being pushed around by her husband. Of course, that wasn’t the case, and it became apparent through later episodes that she was a strong, intelligent, forceful character, willing to do what was needed in order to survive.

Sun’s character and backstory provided a fabulous look into how humans change, seeing her first as the sweet, naïve bride, then the angry, bitter woman desperate for her freedom, and finally as a strong survivor in later seasons.

Maggie Siff as Tara Knowles in Sons of Anarchy
Tara Knowles (Maggie Siff)

Gemma, the great matriarch of the Sons of Anarchy clan, often gets most of the attention, and she is an amazing character: strong, fierce, and dangerous. But I also find Tara, Jax’s wife, to be complicated and compelling character. As opposed to Gemma, whose whole life has been the motorcycle club, Tara is a respected young surgeon attempting to raise her children in a normalized environment.

But then she changes and starts to exhibit a darker side, a change that heralds in her own deep conflicts with her healing career but destructive personal life. In season five she takes a wrench to another woman for possibly endangering her husband; a few episodes later she’s performing delicate surgery on an infant.

Liza Weil as Paris Geller in Gilmore Girls
Paris Geller (Liza Weil)

Gilmore Girls is sometimes dismissed as being light entertainment, an opinion that does a disservice to a snappy show with amazing dialogue and clever, quirky characters.

One of these characters being of course, the hyper-intelligent, aggressive, irrepressible, intense Paris Geller. Originally, Paris was only intended for a few episodes in the first season, but quickly grew into a main character because of the unique perspective that her personality offered to the show.

Paris’ character, that of an elitist academic loaded with money, quick temper, and fast-talking, clever comebacks, can’t really be found in any other show. She was a mashup of brilliance and so many neuroses and problems that it’s almost overwhelming, but also funny and sad.

The truth is, women like her, passionate, intense and bossy, are often completely hated and overly stereotyped, whereas Gilmore Girls managed to present her as a lovable and competent women, albeit with a few idiosyncrasies.

Rutina Wesley as Tara Thornton in True Blood
Tara Thornton (Rutina Wesley)

Sookie gets all the attention in True Blood, both on- and off-screen. Which is a shame, because Tara Thornton, Sookie’s best friend from childhood is an angsty, wisecracking southern girl who always took the show to the next level.

Intelligent and well-read, but dealing with her mother’s alcoholism (and intense religiosity) and poverty, makes Tara full of emotional issues and anger, but also passionately loyal. Tara is astute and honest and not afraid to tell other characters when they’re being stupid. The world probably needs a lot more people like her.

Natalie Dormer as Margaery Tyrell in Game of Thrones
Margaery Tyrell (Natalie Dormer) 

The rich world of Game of Thrones has several noteworthy women–so many in fact, that some of the minor, but equally interesting female characters, can get passed over. For example, Margaery Tyrell (most prominent in the third and last season) is actually far more dynamic in the TV show than in the books, and much more unique.

Margaery is an incredible politician; she’s manipulative, cold, ambitious, charismatic and astute. I love how each action is carefully planned out, revealing a methodical and calculating nature, one that is far more dangerous than Cersei (I think) because of her ability to control her temper.

I love a good ambitious character; powerful women who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty fascinate me. In fact, I would argue that Margaery Tyrell is a born leader, one with an innate understanding of politics and power.

Vote for Margaery?

January Jones as Bretty Francis Draper in Mad Men
 
Betty Francis Draper (January Jones)

Mad Men’s women are incredibly varied, from sexy, confident Joan, to naïve, talented Peggy, but often pushed to the side is Don’s beautiful and bitter ex-wife. Mad Men’s portrayal of her obvious loneliness, and her (deserving) anger over Don’s behavior is incredibly sad, but also poignant.

Rather than sugarcoating her character and painting her as a distressed angel, Betty builds upon the difficulties that pushed her way, and her flawed decisions are thrown in with attempts to pull her life together.

Sometimes redemption is hard; so is pulling yourself out of cycles of pain and resentment. Betty is therefore complex and interesting, incredibly frail and static, but also unbending and aggressive in her life choices.

Nicolette Sheridan as Edit Britt in Desperate Housewives
Edie Britt (Nicolette Sheridan) 

Desperate Housewives‘ Edie is probably no one’s role model, and at first she seems like the perfect stereotype of a wealthy, self-absorbed, boy-crazy blonde. She sleeps with everyone, has multiple affairs, and has no qualms about manipulating people.

However, she was also hilarious, clever, and often incredibly honest and realistic. She made no bones about who she was or her actions, and more than once was the voice of reason.

And sometimes, there’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish.

Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

 

‘Girl Most Likely’ to Not Meet Expectations

Kristen Wiig as Imogene in Girl Most Likely

Written by Lady T.    

There’s a certain risk involved in being excited for a film. High expectations often lead to disappointment, especially when anticipating the film for two years.
Such was the case with me and Girl Most Likely. When I first heard about this film, it was called Imogene and still in pre-production. The premise intrigued me immediately: a female playwright fakes a suicide attempt and is forced into the custody of her overbearing mother.
I wasn’t just eager for this film. I was pumped, and not just because of DARREN CRISS OMG. The premise had “dark comedy” written all over it. I expected Imogene to be the next Young Adult and give us the next great comic antiheroine. With the combined talents of Kristen Wiig, Annette Bening, Matt Dillon, and Darren Criss, Imogene was going to be a brilliant dark comedy that would immediately make its way onto my DVD shelf, be completely ignored by the Academy Awards, and prompt another scathing blog post from me criticizing the Oscars for disrespecting comedy and not recognizing great female characters.

These two women in the same movie? Sign me up!

Instead, Imogene was a movie called Girl Most Likely, a quirky film about a woman in New York City whose life falls apart, and she has to return home to her family in New Jersey. At first, she resents having to go back to a life that she didn’t care for, and doesn’t like living with her quirky and strange family, but eventually, she Learns to Appreciate the Important Things in Life and reject all those New York snobs who didn’t really care about her as a person.
So, kind of like Sweet Home Alabama, except in New Jersey. Not exactly the great dark comedy I was looking for.
Now, I still enjoyed a lot of things about the movie. The script is often unfocused, but contains a lot of sharp writing and clever dialogue. Imogene’s family is delightful, and I was immediately charmed by her younger brother Ralph (Christopher Fitzgerald), a mollusk aficionado. I loved the relationship between Zelda (Bening) and “George Bush” (Matt Dillon), two weird, offbeat people who adored each other. (I also love that Zelda being older than “George” was not mentioned at all – extremely rare in depictions of relationships between older women and younger men.) Bening, Fitzgerald, and Dillon are consistently funny, and Darren Criss is charming and sexy as a singer/performer in a Backstreet Boys cover band.

I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought for a minute.
Because there was a lot to enjoy about Girl Most Likely, I tried not to be overly critical just because it wasn’t the movie I expected. In the wise words of Marlo Stanfield from The Wire, “You want it to be one way. But it’s the other way.” It’s not the film’s fault that I expected something different after reading the premise. I tried to judge the movie for what it was, not for what I wanted it to be.
But even after putting my expectations aside, I couldn’t help but notice two glaring flaws in the film: 1) Imogene isn’t likable, and 2) the story trivializes suicide.
Regarding flaw #1 – I recognize that female characters are often held to a higher “likability standard” than male characters. (Theater critic and my good friend Carey Purcell has a great article about likability on her website.) I don’t need all, or even most, of my female characters to be likable. But I got a very strong sense from the script that Imogene was supposed to be likable – and she’s not.
And whether the character is male, female, or genderqueer, if the writer wants us to like the character and we don’t…well, that’s A Problem. 
There are very few times in the film where I genuinely like Imogene, and all of those scenes involve her interactions with Ralph. She’s affectionate to Ralph and supportive of him, and as a big sister of brothers, I have a soft spot for sister characters who are nice to their brothers. 

Imogene talks to her brother’s crush. (Don’t get too excited to see Natasha Lyonne – this is, like, her only scene in the movie.)

But when Imogene interacts with any other character in the film, I have to wonder, “Why are these people wasting their time with this woman?”

When Imogene talks to her mother, I want Zelda to stop being so nice and yell at her daughter for being an ungrateful brat. When Imogene hangs out with Lee, I can’t help wondering what he sees in her. When Imogene finally confronts her absent father (Bob Balaban), the father character is written as such an over-the-top intellectual snob stereotype that I can’t take Imogene’s pain seriously. 

But the main reason I find Imogene unlikable ties directly into Glaring Flaw #2 – the movie trivializes suicide.

Remember, Imogene fakes a suicide attempt to get her ex-boyfriend back. She fakes a suicide attempt to get her ex-boyfriend back.
In the real world, threatening to kill oneself to get a partner or ex-partner to stay with you is an act of emotional abuse. But for Imogene, it’s just a sign that she really needs help, poor thing.

Lee is really into her, for some reason.
And when Imogene confronts her ex-boyfriend and snobby fake friend at a book launch party, we’re supposed to recognize that these people are jerks and cheer her on. Because gasp – her ex-boyfriend didn’t even check in on her after she tried to kill herself! And he was totally cheating on her before he dumped her!

And we’re supposed to be outraged about this – except, considering that the suicide attempt was fake, I don’t think Imogene has any leg to stand on.

And if a screenwriter wants us to sympathize with the main character, I shouldn’t watch the big confrontational scene between the main character and her snobby fake friends and think, “Uh, the snobs kind of have a point here.” 

More problematic, though, is the way a faked suicide is portrayed as another quirky character flaw in a film filled with quirky people. It’s just like Ralph’s fondness for mollusks, or Zelda’s penchant for gambling, or Lee’s Backstreet Boys cover band, or “George Bush” having been struck by lightning three times. 

I don’t think I need to explain why portraying a faked suicide as a mere sitcommy quirk is a problem, do I? Good.

Imogene is depressed. So am I, but for a different reason.

And this goes right back to my initial point about my expectations for Imogene and the movie that Girl Most Likely turned out to be.
It’s not a bad thing that Girl Most Likely wasn’t the movie that I expected. It’s not the screenwriter’s job to write a dark comedy about an antiheroine just because that’s a movie I want to see.
But while a faked suicide attempt is a great inciting incident for a dark comedy about an antiheroine, it doesn’t work as well for a quirky comedy about a woman who needs to pull herself up and learn to appreciate her family. 
And if Girl Most Likely would rather be a quirky comedy than a dark comedy, that’s fine. But I can think of about ten different inciting incidents to bring Imogene back to New Jersey that don’t involve trivializing suicide or pretending that emotional abuse is just a quirk. Would it have been so hard to have Imogene reluctantly go back home because of Ralph’s birthday, a dead grandparent, or just because she left the first draft of the play she was most proud of in her mother’s basement?


Lady T is a writer with two novels, a screenplay, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.

Welcome New Staff Writer Erin Tatum!

Written by Erin Tatum
Hey everyone! My name is Erin and I’m so excited to contribute to this awesome website. I just recently graduated from UC Berkeley with a major in Film and a minor in LGBT studies, so I think I win the award for the bachelor’s degree that is simultaneously the coolest and most irrelevant to just about any mainstream career path.
I’ve been addicted to television for years now, but my love for media hasn’t stopped me from noticing that television and film don’t always do right by women and other minorities. Although I definitely endorse television as escapism, I also think it’s critical that we don’t just shut our brains off. I am a bit of a trope analysis junkie. To put that more accurately, I live on TV Tropes. The fact that media representations fall into certain patterns fascinates me because I think it speaks volumes about how our society perceives a group at large. In particular, as a disabled woman, I am deeply invested in the representation of disability. Frankly, we have a lot of work to do. I also eagerly await the day when killing off both disabled and LGBT characters is no longer your run-of-the-mill resolution.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you that watching television is a waste of time. I was able to turn my love for the show Skins into a presentation at an academic conference and it was amazing! It really confirmed my commitment to obsessing over television in a professional context for the rest of forever. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have preferences for what I watch. I absolutely loathe love triangles and I think they’re the cheapest and most tired gimmick in the creativity handbook. Yes, we understand these things happen in real life and that happy relationships are supposedly boring to portray, but that doesn’t mean you have to beat that dead horse into glue every season. Part of the reason I get so attached to certain shows is because I am a sucker for innovation. I am easily seduced by strong performances and fresh ideas and I’m not ashamed.
I have an unhealthy obsession with the BBC. Some of the programs I watch include Orphan Black, My Mad Fat Diary, Fresh Meat, Bad Education, Orange is the New Black, Skins, Misfits, Downton Abbey, Futurama, Bomb Girls, Girls, and New Girl. Actually, I watch a lot of things with the word “girl” in it, which probably gives my blatant feminism away right off the bat.
In summary, if you ever want to talk to a bona fide TV fanatic fixated on improving representation of marginalized identities, I’m your girl.