White Patriarchy – Bitch Flicks

The “Threatening” Aspects of ‘The Bletchley Circle’

This show doesn’t say that all women should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. It says White cisgender heterosexual women, particularly ones who are young, skinny, and meet current White cultural expectations of beauty, should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. While the show was not cancelled after its first season, the second season showed more “nice guy” characters, probably to placate White male viewers who had a problem with the basics of White feminism depicted in the first season.

Written by Jackson Adler.

Trigger Warning for Sexual Violence

During the Second World War, Bletchley Park was the UK’s central site of its Government Code and Cypher School. It was at Bletchley Park where Alan Turing and many others decoded Nazi and Axis intelligence, bringing the war to an end two to four years earlier than it could have stretched, saving thousands of lives. The BBC’s TV series The Bletchley Circle follows four (and later, five) fictional White female Bletchley Park code breakers in their lives after the war in the 1950s, during which they start solving crimes. The first season premiered in September of 2012, and the series did not return until April and May of 2014. During the second season there was a female director on the show, and, while there had always been White feminist aspects to the show, the writer Guy Burt’s theme of (White) women standing up for (White) women was taken to a whole new level under Sarah Harding’s direction. That this White (and somewhat) feminist show, which was written by and often directed by White men, was not renewed despite mainly addressing only the basics of White feminism – that (White) women shouldn’t be kidnapped, murdered, and raped (in the first season, the villain worked in that order) – is upsetting. This is the most palatable kind of feminism for rich White men, and yet even this story is silenced.

Not only is the story “palatable,” but the heroines themselves are written as overly “perfect” and not very “threatening.” They are kind, intelligent, empathetic, humble, and rarely confront the men in their lives for their condescension and sexist comments and actions. Meanwhile, shows about White men who solve crimes show the “heroes” as egotistic, unkind, confrontational, and violent. The shows about these male heroes and anti-heroes are everywhere on television, and they get renewed again and again. There is hardly a man or Woman of Color to be seen in The Bletchley Circle, and all of the romances of the characters, all of whom are cisgender, have been heterosexual. This show doesn’t say that all women should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. It says White cisgender heterosexual women, particularly ones who are young, skinny, and meet current White cultural expectations of beauty, should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. While the show was not cancelled after its first season, the second season showed more “nice guy” characters, probably to placate White male viewers who had a problem with the basics of White feminism depicted in the first season. Though the heroines were still standing up for each other and saving themselves from “bad” guys, the show started depicting more “nice guys” on which the heroines could not only occasionally rely, but also date. The most prominent of these “nice guys” was offended that the character Lucy did not trust him right away, and the show seemed to say that she should have trusted him. If this man is supposed to be an ally to women, a male feminist, then why was he so offended?

It would have been different if this were the start of a character arc, one that showed a man just starting his journey as an ally, showing him making mistakes and learning from them. However, that’s not what happened, and was essentially a “not all men” argument displayed in story form. This is especially problematic because the writer chose Lucy out of all the other female characters to be put in this position. Lucy, played by Sophie Rundle, is quieter and seemingly more “submissive” than the other White female characters, seeming to more easily fit into what is traditionally desired of White women by the White patriarchy. However, being quiet, submissive, “feminine,” and marrying young does not save her from violence at the hands of men.

Lucy’s husband is verbally and physically controlling and abusive. In one day, she is almost raped by a man on the train, only to return home where her husband nearly kills her. And yet, she is shamed for not having trusted this “nice” male coworker in the second season right away? Made to feel embarrassed for being wary of this man who has been overtly flirting with her? Wary of this man who is sometimes condescending to her and gives backhanded compliments? This was seemingly a story line to comfort White male viewers who were made uncomfortable by the basics of White feminism and by White women saving and supporting White women. Instead of Lucy being “the ball,” as Anita Sarkeesian states, in a “nice” men vs “bad” men competition, she is saved from “bad” men by fellow women and her own strength. Though there are times when men assist and support the women of the show, the women are the ones leading the fight against sexism and violence against women. Evidently, many White cismale and (mostly) heterosexual viewers and studio execs were made uncomfortable by the notion that these White women are, for the most part, not saved by White men, but by themselves.

The first season has The Bletchley Circle, led by protagonist Susan (played by Anna Maxwell Martin), solving a serial murder case in which a man is killing women and raping them post-mortem. While the villain could easily have been made into a straw-chauvinist by the male screenwriter to make the other male characters look good, this is not the case. In fact, it is often in regard to the serial murder case that the misogyny in the other male characters surfaces. This underlines the fact that the allowance of microaggressions sets the stage for more blatant sexism, which then makes violence against women and girls more permissible in Western society, and thus creating a culture where rape and violence against women and girls by men and boys is often excused, not taken seriously, and not thoroughly addressed. When Susan’s husband accuses her of neglecting her duties as a mother due to her not staying home as often as he would like, the truth is that she was being a good mother by trying to make the world safer for their daughter and not as damaging to the character of their son.

In the first story arc of the second season, Susan is naturally still traumatized by events of the first season, which include almost being murdered and raped by the villain. Though she leaves the crime solving life behind, she does not leave it until she makes certain that the circle is in good and capable hands. This adds realism to the story in that trauma is not something that can just go away or be ignored, especially not at a moment’s notice. However, it is sad that this rare and realistic portrayal of a hero and the trauma they face was done with one of the few positive and complex female leads of television, while male heroes of similar shows are not shown dealing with their trauma in any where near as realistic a way. They stay on their shows and keep “fighting the good fight” for years despite whatever trauma they face.

The Bletchley Circle, including Alice and Lizzie

Though the show’s cast were always a sort of ensemble, they become more so in the second season. The capable hands in which Susan leaves the circle belong to Alice (played by Hattie Morahan). Alice fits more easily into White cultural expectations of beauty than Susan does, being blonde, blue-eyed, taller and thinner. However, the character is complex, and instead of her “taking charge” of the team, she is welcomed into it, helps in the ways that she can, and the show becomes more of an ensemble than it was previously. This is not to say that Susan was always “taking charge,” just that she pulled the team together in the first place and the script followed her story more than the others. Susan had a child out of wedlock, and was forced to give up the child to adoption due to stigma and cultural standards. During the second season, she reconnects with her now adult daughter Lizzie (played by Faye Marsay), and the two form a sort of warm friendship rarely seen between women on TV and film. The other women of the circle never judge Alice for having sex and a child out of wedlock, nor do they judge each other for whatever choices they make. Shy and conservative Lucy never judges Millie (played by Rachael Stirling), the more outgoing one who likes tight fitting clothing, make-up, and the color red, and Millie never judges Lucy. Jean, the “mother hen” played by Julie Graham, is not judged for being a mature single woman, nor does she judge her younger female friends in their choices. Not only do these women save each others lives, but they also support each other as friends in their personal lives, outside life as code breakers and crime solvers.

In the second arc of the second season, which is the final arc of the show, the story follows Millie just as much if not more than Alice. This is possibly what lead more to the end of the show than other aspects of it. Millie has arguably more autonomy than any of the other characters. Though she is shamed for “getting in trouble” with the Greek mob, what lead her to it was not her fault. She was laid off from work with the government despite being one of the best workers there and having had a history with them, most certainly due to being a female employee. In order to stay financially dependent, she started selling unsanctioned perfume and stockings, not realizing that she was helping the Greek mob in the process. When she realizes that she is helping people who, among other things, traffic underage girls, she works with her female friends to bring the operation down, which they do with very minimal help from “nice” guys. That the female character who is seemingly most in control of her sexuality is the heroine of this arc was probably threatening to male viewers, and probably the reason why this story arc was the show’s last. In rape culture, women supposed to be sexualized but not be sexual. That Millie, a sexual woman, stopped the sexualization of women and girls was “threatening” to rape culture and patriarchy.

This show has strong feminist aspects and is arguably feminist. If it had been allowed to continue, its feminism would most likely have become stronger, and hopefully would have eventually shown Women of Color supporting each other. As it stands, this show that only really showed the basics of White feminism was cancelled, while shows that promote White male supremacy continue to air.

Black Solidarity and Family in ‘The Retrieval’

There is a lot said in this film without dialogue, and without anything spoken within the first few minutes of the film. Most of the African American characters have an unspoken sense of solidarity, one which Will eventually learns to hear. The film explores how Black families are often torn apart and turned against each other by the pressures of a white patriarchal society.

This guest post by Jackson Adler previously appeared at his blog, The Windowsill, and appears as part of our theme week on Black Families. Cross-posted with permission.

Chris Eska’s independent film The Retrieval (2013) is a coming of age/road trip/period drama in which a young teenage boy named Will and his uncle Marcus are forced into working for white bounty hunters to “retrieve” escaped slaves during The American Civil War. There is a lot said in this film without dialogue, and without anything spoken within the first few minutes of the film. Most of the African American characters have an unspoken sense of solidarity, one which Will eventually learns to hear. The film explores how Black families are often torn apart and turned against each other by the pressures of a white patriarchal society. Will needs the money not only to get by, but also to reunite with his father. He and Marcus know that if they do not do as they are told, they could very well be murdered by their employers. When Marcus sees that his nephew is beginning to feel empathy for Nate, a man they are hired to “retrieve,” Marcus points to Nate and says, “That’s money.” Marcus encourages Will to see fellow African Americans as less than people for the sake of his own gain, as well as to make it easier to set aside his guilt. However, Will learns solidarity through his interactions with other African Americans in the film, and creates surrogate families in spite of the pressures of white patriarchy. Though most of the film focuses on Will, Marcus, and Nate, women play crucial roles in the story. It is mostly through the example of women that Will begins to understand that African Americans need to support and stand up for each other.

The escaped slave whom Will betrays, played by Charissa Jarrett.

At the very beginning of the film, a white woman with a shotgun offers safety on the Underground Railroad to Will, thinking he is a runaway slave. Once hidden, a Black woman offers him some of the little food she has. He betrays these women, but the memory of his betrayal haunts him and sets the foundation for his actions throughout the rest of the film, particularly toward Nate. Marcus and Will tell Nate that they were hired by his sick brother to help him travel south safely in order to visit his brother before he dies. This is a lie, as the brother is already dead and Will’s and Marcus’ true employers have evil intentions, but Nate believes it and goes on the journey with them out of loyalty to his brother. When Marcus is shot and killed by a white soldier, Will realizes he has to make up his own mind about what to do. While Nate and Will are traveling, a second Black woman accepts them into an all-Black camp in the woods, giving them food and a feeling of community. While there, Will meets a girl his age and they share an emotional connection. Will is offered the chance to stay with this community, where African Americans look out for one another and are one family. Though he and Nate end up travelling on, Will has become more humanized by the camp, and encourages Nate to visit his “woman,” Rachel, whom he was forced to leave years before at the risk of re-enslavement or death.

Will (Ashton Sanders) and Nate (Tishuan Scott)

Rachel’s new “man” is the one to first greet Nate, accompanied by Will, at Rachel’s house. There is no animosity between Nate and this man as they talk, but a warm and sad understanding – no explanations needed. While left unsaid, it is the White patriarchy that broke up Nate and Rachel, and Rachel is not blamed for finding comfort in someone else. When Rachel and Nate see each other, Rachel is at first upset that Nate never came back for her to help her achieve freedom – “Why now?!” However, each understands that the other has had to make a new life for themselves. Once again, no explanation is needed, and no blame to be had between them – only upon the hateful and harmful society in which they live. Will soon finds he is not just an observer in this, as Rachel asks Nate, “Are you responsible for this boy?” She says that Will and Nate sound so much alike that they might as well be father and son, though she knows they aren’t. This comment seems to resonate with Will. It also seems to touch Will when Rachel mothers him for a bit, checking his clothes and hair. For a moment, it is like the three of them – Rachel, Nate, and Will, are family. Shortly after this scene, Will attempts to bail out of his assignment, but is scared into doing so when his boss confronts him. Will is aptly named, as it is his will to do right by his fellow African Americans, especially Nate, that eventually makes him turn against his employers. However, when he does so, his boss and his posse are already approaching. Nate, knowing that Will faces death if his boss finds out about the betrayal, stabs Will in the leg to make it look as though Will tried to keep him from running. Will’s attempt to save Nate results in Nate saving Will’s life. Though Will’s actions do not spare the life of his newfound friend and father figure, Nate dies with dignity and on his own terms due to Will’s actions. At the end of the film, Will returns to Rachel, who takes him in.

Black families are still torn apart by systems that were built on the backs of slavery. African American women are still especially marginalized. In America, Black families are still heavily oppressed and pushed to make difficult choices. Police violence threatens their lives, and low minimum wages keep their children hungry. The Retrieval is incredibly relevant to today’s world, as solidarity is needed behind every movement, and every person needs the welcoming warmth of a family. In the film, Will learns what a Black family truly is – one of solidarity and support in the face of those who would break and oppress them.

Jackson Adler is a transmasculine aromantic bi/pansexual skinny white middle class dude with an Auditory Processing Disorder and a Weak Working Memory who enjoys cartoons, musical theatre, and vegan boba drinks. Jackson has a BA in Theater, and is a writer, activist, performer, director, teacher, and dramaturge.

The Popes and the White Patriarchy in Shonda Rhimes’ ‘Scandal’

While the show is not overt, at its core the story is about race and gender relations. Race- and gender-specific language is often omitted from the dialogue, yet the meaning is there. Rhimes takes the White patriarchy of America and individualizes its contributors so that neither (most of) the characters nor the audience realizes that they are contributing to harmful White patriarchal norms and internalizing them until the rare moments when they take a step back from the action.

This guest post by Jackson Adler previously appeared at his blog, The Windowsill, and appears as part of our theme week on Black Families. Cross-posted with permission.

Shonda Rhimes’ TV series Scandal is a political thriller about “fixer” Olivia Pope (played by Kerry Washington), who gets scandals in Washington, DC “handled.” All of the characters in the show have terrible flaws, do terrible things, question what is right, and whether the ends truly do justify the means. While the show is not overt, at its core the story is about race and gender relations. Race- and gender-specific language is often omitted from the dialogue, yet the meaning is there. Rhimes takes the white patriarchy of America and individualizes its contributors so that neither (most of) the characters nor the audience realizes that they are contributing to harmful white patriarchal norms and internalizing them until the rare moments when they take a step back from the action. Some of the characters claim to be colorblind, while others experience the effects of race in their everyday lives the way Black families across the country experience it.

Neither Olivia, nor her parents, nor the people she loves are free from this. The central relationship of the show is between Olivia Pope and U.S. President Fitzgerald (Fitz) Grant, with whom she has an ongoing affair. When Olivia, whose influence and position as a powerful African-American woman has often been challenged, confronts him about whether or not he is using her and in a position to control her (“I’m feeling very Thomas Jefferson/Sally Hemmings about this”), he skeptically responds, “You’re playing the race card on the fact that I’m in love with you?” and says that a comment like that “belittle(s)” their relationship and is “insulting and beneath [her].” “We’re in this together,” he says. However, he is in a more powerful position than she is, and he uses it. When he wants to speak with her and she doesn’t want to see him, he sends a private jet and secret service to collect her and bring her to him. He seems to claim to be colorblind in how he sees their relationship, and that he thinks of himself as just “a man,” but in other scenes proclaims himself as “the Leader of the Free World” in order to privately intimidate others and get his way. He says he would “give up” his position and influence to prove his love for her and start their life together, but each time it comes down to it, he chooses power – he chooses to be president instead of a loving and loyal husband to her.

Rowan (Joe Morton) confronts Olivia (Kerry Washington)

Olivia’s father, Rowan, is often the one to point out these problems in their relationship. Rowan calls Fitz a “spoiled, entitled, ungrateful little brat,” to his face, and says that he is not “a man” but “a boy.” Rowan reminds Olivia that “[white] power got [Fitz] elected” in the first place, and that Fitz will always choose his white male power over her well-being. Fitz’s words and actions are highly reminiscent of white #AllLivesMatter hashtaggers who are stubbornly ignorant about the dangers of being Black in America, and of members of the GOP who say that Obama supporters use “the race card” (thereby attempting to silence the argument) when they treat Obama worse compared to how they would treat a white president. Olivia’s parents call out Fitz’s behavior, but while Rowan mostly verbally attacks it, her mother Maya physically attacks it.

Olivia’s father, Rowan Pope, achieved a powerful position in the government as Command of a CIA subdivision called B613, through sheer ruthlessness and brain power. Olivia calls her father and his position “the thing that goes bump in the night” – he is someone who does all the behind the scenes dirty work (including assassinations) for the government. He was the first in his family to go to college, and got his daughter into “the best schools” through his own hard work. He regretted not spending more quality time with her when she was younger, but – in Rhimes’ riff on the narrative of the absent Black father – he was not very present in her life because he was so protective of her. He kept her from seeing the terrible things he did as a part of his work and his attempts to gain influence, and ended up sending her to the same boarding schools as “the children of kings” because of it. One of the main reasons Olivia achieved her powerful place in DC is because of him, and he never lets her forget it. While Rowan technically works for the government, unseen but literally calling shots, Olivia’s mother, Maya Lewis, is a terrorist mercenary whose main goal is to take out the patriarchy/white male presidency of the United States. While Rowan pushed Olivia to participate in/assimilate into the government/patriarchy in order to further herself and gain influence of her own, Maya wishes Olivia was not involved in it at all, and says she wished “better for [her].” In one scene, Maya only refrains from blowing up the president and his family because Olivia puts herself in the way. Though Rowan and Maya have very different approaches in how to deal with the government/white patriarchy, they each remind their daughter that being colorblind will only lead to her getting hurt before she even realizes what has happened – “Whose victory do you think they will fight for [when it comes down to it]? Whose body do you think they will bury?”

Olivia’s relationship with her parents is beyond dysfunctional, but her parents still love her very much and make their love known. Rowan alternatively helps Fitz and her other love interest, Jake Ballard, due to Olivia’s affection for them. However, Olivia believes her parents are dangerous and cannot always trust them, let alone support them in their violence. When Olivia teams up with Fitz and Jake, two white and powerful men, to assassinate Rowan, he gives her the benefit of the doubt. He provides her with a gun and the chance to kill him in order to test her loyalty to family, as well as race. The gun turns out to be bullet-less, so Olivia does not succeed in killing Rowan. However, the pain in his face and entire body is evident in the scene as he says, “Are you kidding me?!” He is angry and deeply hurt that his own daughter would have killed him were the gun loaded. For the first time, he tells her “Now you’re on your own.” Olivia turns away from Black patriarchy, but her actions benefit white patriarchy.

Jake Ballard (Scott Foley), Olivia Pope (Kerry Washington), and President Fitzgerald Grant (Tony Goldwyn)

Olivia is constantly asked to choose and re-choose sides, and race is not something she can or even is allowed to ignore in those decisions. Her father particularly challenges her to think in terms of race and familial loyalty in his numerous aggressive monologues. Meanwhile, her mother does what she wants regardless of what anyone thinks – even shooting and killing her white male lover when forced to choose him or give up her goals. Olivia despises the aggression of her parents, and loves the white men in her life who continually hurt and use her. Her dream is to go to Vermont with Fitz, settle down and “make jam” in their perfect home in a small town, but she has come to realize that her dream of Vermont might never become a reality. Fitz is drawn to the presidency/power, and Olivia is compelled to continue being the powerful “fixer” that she is – firmly establishing herself as an African-American woman in control of her own destiny. The Pope family loves each other, but their different approaches to white patriarchy turn them against each other. Whether or not Olivia will “fix” the white patriarchy, or continue to inadvertently contribute to and be crushed by it, remains to be seen – though I’m certainly hoping for and excited to see the manifestation of the former. Scandal challenges the members of its audience to think of institutionalized and internalized patriarchal norms, and how best to face them – and to what lengths they will go to do so.