While the virgin-in-chains turned abortion-activist was my favorite image in the film, the most emotional moment was during an email exchange with a woman from Nairobi. She kisses the pills when she gets them, and a raw, personal email exchange follows as she goes through the process.
I’m not married and am pregnant. I cannot have a baby.
I heard you can drink bleach, but I’m scared it will kill me.
My sister told me about your ship. Can you help me?
– Amina, Morocco
This plea opens Vessel, the documentary about the abortion-rights organization Women on Waves (and Women on Web), led by Dutch doctor Rebecca Gomperts. Women on Waves was launched in 1999, when Gomperts realized that if a Dutch ship sailed to international waters adjacent to countries with abortion restrictions, she could legally help women to have a safe abortion.
Directed by Diana Whitten, Vessel examines how, as Whitten says, “a woman had to leave one realm of sovereignty to reclaim her own.” Gomperts—who has been an artist, Greenpeace activist, doctor, and mother, all roles that inspire her work with Women on Waves—is dynamic on camera. The scenes of her deftly dealing with protesters and pundits show us the power and strength necessary to do the work that she’s doing—providing safe abortions and reproductive education to the women in places least likely to receive those services.
Rebecca Gomperts
The original aim of Women on Waves was to sail their mobile clinic (contained in a shipping container) to countries where women most needed their services. They would get the women on board, sail 12 miles off-shore, and administer the medical abortion. Their maiden voyage was to Ireland, where they were met with harsh press, angry protesters, and legal setbacks.
When a journalist presses Gomperts and asks if she’s had an abortion, she shoots back:
“It’s a frequent medical procedure. Just because it’s women, because it’s invisible… no one fucking knows. Are you going to ask someone who works with Amnesty International if they’ve been tortured?”
One of the most powerful aspects of the documentary is the inclusion of the actual women’s words (and women in need call and email constantly). Gomperts is right: abortion is frequent and necessary. The fact that it is about women’s autonomy and choice makes it invisible, and in countries where abortion is restricted, this is incredibly dangerous. The words and voices of these women drive the documentary forward.
When they arrive in Poland, Women on Waves is contacted by a desperate young woman. She was raped, and is seven weeks pregnant. “Welcome Nazis,” male protesters scream at them as they dock their ship. This juxtaposition—the desperate woman, the vicious protestors—underscores the larger issues at play in activism surrounding abortion rights. It’s about male control.
The Portuguese government sends warships to stop their ship from sailing into international waters. The masculine image of a warship up against a small, feminine vessel built to liberate women, is dramatic. The ocean—so often symbolizing femininity—is full of possibility, and full of limitations. Through all of the gorgeous shots of the water, it’s hard to not think about Virginia Woolf or Kate Chopin’s The Awakening. The femininity of the water is liberating and stifling, and Gomperts and her amazing crew feel that when faced with each new obstacle. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” she says.
“We decided if women couldn’t get to the ship, we could help the women get the pills,” Gomperts says, and she announces on air on a Portuguese talk show exactly how women can self-medicate with just Misoprostol to give themselves abortion. She quickly and aggressively gives the prescription as the host nods and the smug male pundit looks stunned.
Immediately afterward, she announces her pregnancy. “If it’s wanted, it’s delicious,” she says. She stresses that she wants to show that side—that you can be pregnant, a mother, and be supportive of abortion rights. This evolution of her ethos goes hand in hand with the evolution of her activism.
A volunteer says that they get more and more emails from women who want to get the pill. There’s a plea for help from a woman in the US military in Afghanistan. “Every story of the women who write is different,” the volunteer says. “It’s hard to generalize because abortions are so common.”
The power of the Internet gives the women a new wave to ride on. They field emails and calls, and created their sister organization, the website Women on Web. It may be illegal to give women the pills, but giving information on how and when to take the pills isn’t illegal. So education—via trainings and hotlines—became their new voyage.
The power of female solidarity in Vessel is overwhelming. These women seem tireless in their goals of empowering women all over the globe—from educational workshops in Tanzania to draping “Tu Decision” with their phone number on the La Virgin del Panecillo in Quito, Ecuador (my favorite scene).
“Your Decision,” “Safe Abortion” at the feet of the Virgin at El Panecillo in Ecuador
In 2012, Women on Web responded to more than 100,000 emails from 135 countries requesting information about abortion with pills. They point out that in some countries, abortion may be legal, but not accessible to women. The United States of America is one of those countries.
We are often so focused on changing laws that we don’t realize the power in giving women the right tools and education to empower themselves “despite the laws.” Through their campaigns—across the sea and across the web—Women on Waves and Women on Web do it all, effecting change in legislation and in women’s personal lives.
The documentary is understated and beautiful, and we are left with a sense of hope. The images of women celebrating in spite of men screaming and yelling, and the images of a fearless older woman with bruises on her arms from fighting with police who ransacked their ship remind us what power we truly have.
While the virgin-in-chains turned abortion-activist was my favorite image in the film, the most emotional moment was during an email exchange with a woman from Nairobi. She kisses the pills when she gets them, and a raw, personal email exchange follows as she goes through the process. When it’s over, she requests the name of the volunteer who was emailing her. A Women on Web volunteer responds that they are a collective, working as a team, so she couldn’t give the specific name—a beautiful and poignant reminder of the power of both individual stories and collective support.
“Women will make it happen.”
* * *
Vessel, Diana Whitten’s first feature film, won the Audience Award in the Documentary Competition and the Special Jury Award for Political Courage at South by Southwest.
However, Vivian Maier–besides being an obvious genius–remains a mystery. ‘Finding Vivian Maier’ follows the narrative mystery as we pursue the reclusive and eccentric Vivian (or her personas of Ms. Meier, Mayer, Meyer, Meyers, Maier) across the US and through the streets of the 1950s and 1960s, attempting to discover more of a woman who is still unknowable.
In April of 2009, one of the greatest street photographers of the 20th century died in a Chicago nursing home. Her passing was quiet and seemingly without notice, and the photographs that she left behind were dusty unknowns, auctioned off at a storage locker in Chicago. The buyer, John Maloof, began posting the photos on the Internet, hopeful that someone would recognize their quality. When the photographs went viral, Maloof began searching for the photographer, just a handwritten name on a few receipts stuck into the boxes, and stumbled upon a woman as fascinating as the art she produced.
Directed by John Maloof and Charlie Siskel, Finding Vivian Maier is an award-winning documentary exploring the art and artist discovered on an auction house floor, and whose prolific work has been subsequently shown all over the world. During her life, Vivian Maier produced over 150,000 photographs, as well as films and audio recordings, and did so while keeping her talents and work completely hidden from the world—choosing instead to work as a nanny in New York City and Chicago.
However, Vivian Maier–besides being an obvious genius–remains a mystery. Finding Vivian Maier follows the narrative mystery as we pursue the reclusive and eccentric Vivian (or her personas of Ms. Meier, Mayer, Meyer, Meyers, Maier) across the US and through the streets of the 1950s and 1960s, attempting to discover more of a woman who is still unknowable.
A portrait of the artist–Vivian Maier
Vivian Maier hid herself well during her life, and there has been some speculation: is it right to expose her now in death? Would Maier be pleased at the recognition of her talents? Her friends say no, but Maloof disagrees (for obvious financial reasons), arguing that since Maier corresponded with an art printer in France that she was obviously interested in displaying her work at some point.
Finding Vivian Maier embodies an art historian’s meta-dream of art exposing art and reveals the way that art can be lived in a person—empathetic, obviously political, socially conscious, occasionally gritty artwork, reflective of the woman behind the lens.
For photographers there is often the thought that we must be standing in front of the exotic to have something worth photographing; however, Maier exposes women, children, minorities, laborers, and other “background” faces in “normal” cities with a compelling charisma. As one historian states in Finding Vivian Maier, the fact that Maier was able to push so deeply into the personal space of her subjects and then photograph them with such an honest vulnerability, is remarkable. As an artist, her work is not a moment out of time, but instead occupies a contradictory grounded timelessness where we, the viewer, are included in a sympathetic, deeply personal interaction.
One of Maier’s beautiful, inclusive moments from the streets of Chicago
Despite the occasional self-congratulatory tone of the Maier discovery, the documentary is exceptional. Finding Vivian Maier is paced like a mystery film and viewers are drawn in to explore the fractured pieces of Maier’s secretive life along with Maloof. However, in a delicious, almost teasing way, after Finding Vivian Maier is finished, we’re still left with much to wonder about the enigmatic artist and spirited woman that was Vivian Maier.
Additionally, within the past few months a legal battle has surfaced over the right to print, publish, curate and sell Maier’s work by a Chicago lawyer (aptly) named Mr. Deal. Until the case is decided it seems that the unknowns surrounding Maier’s curious life and work will grow even more.
Finding Vivian Maier was released on DVD July 29 and can be viewed in theaters around the country. Collections of Maier’s photographs can be viewed at exhibitions in New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles and a host of other cities around the world. To view Vivian Maier’s work online, click here.
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Rachel is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. While a big fan of campy 80s movies and eccentric sci-fi, she’s become a cable acolyte, spending most of her time watching HBO, AMC, and Showtime. For good stories about lions and bungee jumping, as well as rants about sexism and slow drivers, follow her on Twitter at @RachelRedfern2.
On April 18, 2014, 16 Sherpas, the great guides of the Nepali mountain range, were killed in an avalanche from the Khumbu icefall, making Friday, April 18, the deadliest day in Everest history. The tragedy brought light to a controversy of Everest summiting that had been brewing for the past few years. Suddenly, there was a spotlight on the high-adventure tourist industry running out of Everest: the overcrowded and littered Everest summit, the fights between Sherpas and trekkers, and the fact that Sherpas do the hardest, most dangerous work of summiting without awards or recognition.
In light of the 2014 tragedy on Mount Everest when 16 Sherpas were killed in an avalanche, the release of Dave Ohlsen’s 2009 K2 documentary, K2: Siren of the Himalayas, feels especially timely. On April 18, 2014, 16 Sherpas, the great guides of the Nepali mountain range, were killed in an avalanche from the Khumbu icefall, making Friday, April 18, the deadliest day in Everest history. The tragedy brought light to a controversy of Everest summiting that had been brewing for the past few years. Suddenly, there was a spotlight on the high-adventure tourist industry running out of Everest: the overcrowded and littered Everest summit, the fights between Sherpas and trekkers, and the fact that Sherpas do the hardest, most dangerous work of summiting without awards or recognition.
K2, however, is a slightly different animal than her more popular sister; while summiting the highest mountain in the world, at 8,848 meters, is no mean feat, and by 2010, 3, 142 individuals have climbed Mt. Everest.
As of 2010, 302 have climbed K2.
K2: Siren of the Himalayas
At 8,611 meters, K2 is not only the second-highest mountain on earth, it is also widely considered the most dangerous; its faces are steep and technical, and there is no safe path to the top. Over one-fourth of those who attempt K2 will die.
K2: Siren of the Himalayas follows four world-renowned climbers, Fabrizio Zangrilli (USA), Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner (Austria), Jake Meyer (England), and Chris Szymiec (Canada) as they attempt to summit K2 on the 100 year anniversary of the Duke of Abruzzi’s surveying expedition in 1909.
For these four Alpinists, summiting K2 marks the peak in their careers; Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner especially since she had already climbed 13 of the world’s 8,000 meter peaks and K2 would make her 14th (only 32 people have ever completed all 14). And the Zangrilli/Kaltenbrunner expedition stands in stark contrast to those on Everest: Zangrilli and Kaltenbrunner explicitly climb without the use of oxygen or high-altitude porters.
For what at first glance feels like stock tribute to a group of male climbers dominating a mountain, is actually a contemplative, slow-moving exploration of the dangers of high-altitude mountain climbing. And while there are stunning vistas of sunrises, sunsets, and glaciated mountain ranges, the majority of the film centers on the close-knit climbing community and their measured patience and startlingly humility in the face of their accomplishments. Especially since so much of the film shows their unwearied acceptance of their failures over the mountain.
Rather than a puff piece on “Look what I did!” K2: Siren of the Himalayas is instead, “Look what I could not do, but continue to respect and admire.”
The film evolves as well as Kaltenbrunner comes into focus with her calm wisdom, joy of the mountains, and humility at her failures and successes. Kaltenbrunner would actually be the only one from the expedition to attain the peak and become the second woman to climb the fourteen eight-thousanders, and the first to do it without oxygen and high-altitude porters. Basically, she’s amazing.
Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner after reaching the K2 summit in 2011.
As much of the climbing world contemplates the unsteady future of Everest expeditions (the 2014 season was canceled after the avalanche), K2: Siren of the Himalayas stands as a moderated, joyful glimpse of why so many climbers do what they do, as well as highlighting the great dangers of our beautiful, and volatile home, and the adventurers who explore her.
K2: Siren of the Himalayas will be released in the USA on Aug. 22, 2014: visit their website here for information about screeners and locations.
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Rachel is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. While a big fan of campy 80s movies and eccentric sci-fi, she’s become a cable acolyte, spending most of her time watching HBO, AMC, and Showtime. For good stories about lions and bungee jumping, as well as rants about sexism and slow drivers, follow her on Twitter at @RachelRedfern2
While women are generally underrepresented in the media, stories about domestic and sexual violence overwhelmingly place women in the roles of the victim. In a world where men play the heroes and villains, the damsel in distress is an on-screen role where women are positively overflowing. Breaking that stereotype with strong women is crucial, but for true gender equality, men need to be seen in vulnerable positions as well.
Kickstarter photo of Yeah Maybe, No
This is a guest post by Kelly Kend.
While women are generally underrepresented in the media, stories about domestic and sexual violence overwhelmingly place women in the roles of the victim. In a world where men play the heroes and villains, the damsel in distress is an on-screen role where women are positively overflowing. Breaking that stereotype with strong women is crucial, but for true gender equality, men need to be seen in vulnerable positions as well.
It is with this in mind that I’m making Yeah Maybe, No, a documentary about a male survivor’s experience with sexual assault. Our story centers on Blake, a student at Reed College in Portland, Oregon, who had found himself in a “crappy situation” with his first boyfriend. In a story that any survivor will recognize, he was hesitant to immediately call it a rape and still doesn’t love using the word. He feels that because his attacker used coercion rather than brute force, it somehow doesn’t really count.
Popular movies about female rape victims don’t particularly help with this situation. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has a particularly violent rape where Lisbeth Salander ties down and brutalizes a man who brutally raped her. In the more recent Divergent, Tris is tested through a simulated rape and applauded for fighting back. While this might be great wish-fulfillment for many survivors, it creates an unrealistic picture of what rape looks like in the real world. While some rape is very violent, many more women report being scared and lying still, waiting for it to be over, and having a hard time speaking. These reactions are the body freezing up in response to a traumatic situation. This is a biologically normal and potentially life-saving response, but one that we don’t see very often, likely in part because it is much less dramatic on-screen.
Rape scene from Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
In Yeah Maybe, No, Blake says that a lack of awareness about non-violent rape is a reason why he didn’t immediately recognize this assault for what it was. But this isn’t the whole story. Due to feminist activists, the definition of rape has shifted over the last century. In 1920, it was defined specifically as something that happened to a woman, and necessarily used force. In 2012, the FBI defined rape as any unwanted penetration, of any orifice, with or without force. According to this definition, what happened to Blake is a crime. However, Blake has no intention of reporting. He calls his experience an assault so he can get support and understanding from his peers, not so he can bring anyone to justice.
This situation is what some might call a “gray rape.” It is different from a “rape rape” in that it’s not a “forcible rape,” but more like “date rape.” Feminist activists would counter that it’s just a rape because “rape is rape.” The truth present in all of these terms is simply that people don’t really know whatrape is. For Blake, he stays out of it as much as possible and generally avoids using the word altogether. Instead, he says it was an assault, a crappy situation, or a bad relationship. It’s a situation where he kind of, maybe gave a silent-implied yes to, but inside it was definitely a no. There was no enthusiastic consent, but there was no fighting either. Blake is left with emotional scars, but he doesn’t want to press charges.
So, is it really a crime? As an activist and a survivor, I want to tell him that yes, yes it is. But as a filmmaker, I need to ask harder questions. Am I really seeking justice for Blake, or for my own unresolved experience? Who am I to tell someone else how to interpret one of the most intimate and emotionally charged experiences of his life?
Through asking these questions, Yeah Maybe, No tells a story of ambiguity in one survivor’s experience. By looking at research and talking to experts, we can establish that yes, his experience was a rape, but by also looking at his struggle with what that means, we can learn so much more. Please join us at KickStarter to help tell his story.
Kelly Kend
Kelly Kend is a documentary filmmaker living in Portland, OR. She has a background in anthropology and has worked on educational and research-based projects for higher education and government agencies. Her work tends to be focused on the details of human interaction and seeks to amplify quieter voices. Yeah Maybe, No is her first independently produced documentary. Her website is www.kellykend.com or you can follow her on Twitter. https://twitter.com/projectid
Green’s intimate reporting and the incredible cinematography and editing that makes the film stand out accomplish the goal of respecting, questioning, and empowering these women activists. Green, in examining those fighting against the patriarchy, exposes and dismantles the patriarch who was running the show.
“Ninety nine percent of Ukrainian girls don’t even know what feminism is.”
This is the sentence that opens Ukraine is Not a Brothel, which premiered in the US last weekend at the True/False Film Fest in Columbia, Mo. The film chronicles Femen and uncovers the patriarch behind the movement.
The aim of Femen–the topless feminist protest organization that began in Kiev four years ago–is to shock the masses and raise awareness for that 99 percent of girls who are growing up in a society that treats women as second-class citizens and to dismantle the fact that Ukraine is seen as a hub for prostitution and sex trafficking. Director Kitty Green (who makes her feature-length documentary debut with the film) was struck by the image of a Femen protestor holding a sign over her bare breasts that said, “Ukraine is Not a Brothel,” and Green embedded herself with the group for a year, serving as their videographer while collecting footage for the documentary.
In one of the opening shots, one of the Femen activists has her body painted.
Femen says that they fight against the patriarchy and against sexism in all forms. In a Q&A after the film, Femen leader Inna Shevchenko (who was featured prominently in the film and has since moved to France) said that the goal of Femen is “fighting patriarchy and its global weight.”
Inna noted that the way Femen uses their sexuality–by running and screaming while naked, and not by posing or trying to attract the male gaze–is a core part of the protest. “We are trying to provoke,” she said, but in a different context.
Everything about Femen sounds pretty great, and their goals and messages are a shocking but valuable chapter of feminist protest.
But it’s more complex than that.
It’s not that simple.
Just as the feminist movement as a whole has its issues, Femen isn’t all that it seems.
During the pre-fest Based on a True Story Conference in conjunction with the Missouri School of Journalism, Green explained to an audience that while she was living with and filming the women of Femen (she was arrested eight times and was abducted by the KGB with them, as well), she started to realize that the movement was actually run by a man who no one knew about. She said that he was abusive to the women, and she had to “shift ideas and expose him,” instead of simply filming the women. She had to secretly film him, and admitted only after she was almost ready to leave the country admit to the women that she was going to expose him.
“They needed to break away from him,” she said, and it was a difficult moment in their relationship, and in Femen. (In an announcement that got cheers from the opening-night crowd, Inna said that it’s been a year since they’ve had contact with Victor.) Green considered the women she lived with to be friends and family, and her “heart broke” when she would hear Victor yelling at them, and the next morning they were holding signs that said “This is the new feminism.”
The film does a beautiful job of dealing with the complexities and paradoxes of Femen–and really, all of feminism. Ukraine is Not a Brothel highlights the Ukrainian protestors–their lives, their struggles, and their goals–while also shining a light on feminism as a whole. Green’s intimate reporting and the incredible cinematography and editing that makes the film stand out accomplish the goal of respecting, questioning, and empowering these women activists. Green, in examining those fighting against the patriarchy, exposes and dismantles the patriarch who was running the show.
The documentary also quietly examines the difficulties that feminism has with other aspects of its modern identity. Worldwide, prominent feminists are often conventionally attractive (white) women. Third-wave feminism grapples with its relationship with sex work. Women are not widely exposed to or immersed in feminist theory. Women’s bodies are still sexualized, even when we try to use that sexuality in protest. Men still think they have the power, even in progressive movements. And oftentimes they do.
It’s all complicated. And Ukraine is Not a Brothel doesn’t offer solutions–except that the women need to be free from the patriarchal influences that are pushing and abusing them.
Green said, “Victor never thought I was capable of this. I was the young blonde girl who sounded like a child when I spoke Ukrainian. I was not taken seriously, and this gave me power.” She pointed out that women in journalism have a perceived weakness that can give them great power. “I want to keep making films about young women,” she said, hoping that this power can help her tell more stories.
If Ukraine is Not a Brothel is any indication, we can be excited and hopeful for the stories that Kitty Green has yet to discover and tell.
Inna pointed out that in all of the unrest and revolution in Ukraine right now, she gets messages from people there who tell her “You were first!” and credit Femen for being a galvanizing force in Ukrainian protest.
In the same way that Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer purposefully vacillates between humor and intense seriousness, between laughing young women and the same smiling faces screaming and being dragged away by police, Ukraine is Not a Brothel highlights the serious and violent struggle women are fighting against worldwide. These are specific, localized fights that have spread their influence around the world.
Women’s power–especially when they break free from patriarchal forces–is on display in this remarkable documentary. From Green’s intimate storytelling to the protesters’ screams, we are reminded that feminism in all its forms needs to be stripped down and critiqued while we respect and humanize the women putting up the fight and figure out ways to fight with them.
Whether we make online videos that directly respond to terrible portrayals of us in the media, videos with the purpose of educating and doing advocacy, or produce feature films, sex workers who make media are constantly pressed up against all of our stereotypes. Over the last decade, I have dealt with documentary media about sex work as an audience member, a subject, and a producer. Whether we’re portrayed as villains or victims, pretty women or desperate girls, sex workers are a popular focus of documentary projects. But the only way to reach beyond simplistic narratives is for sex workers to be involved in the production of these projects.
Anna Saini from The Red Umbrella Diaries
This guest post by Audacia Ray appears as part of our theme week on Representations of Sex Workers.
“I took you into my house and allowed you to shoot and you have laughed at us,” Anita’s subtitle reads as she looks directly into the camera in a 2010 Youtube video produced by Veshya Anyay Mukti Parishad (VAMP, the Prostitutes’ Collective Against Injustice). VAMP’s video garnered a little shy of 19,000 views against the nearly two million views of Prostitutes of God, a VICE documentary that inaccurately depicted sex workers in Sangli, India and reported one sex worker as being HIV positive when she was not. VAMP’s video response to the VICE documentary was swift, fierce, and supported by sex worker and human rights activists. VICE edited out the clip falsely identifying a woman as HIV positive, but otherwise did not respond.
Whether we make online videos that directly respond to terrible portrayals of us in the media, videos with the purpose of educating and doing advocacy, or produce feature films, sex workers who make media are constantly pressed up against all of our stereotypes. Over the last decade, I have dealt with documentary media about sex work as an audience member, a subject, and a producer. Whether we’re portrayed as villains or victims, pretty women or desperate girls, sex workers are a popular focus of documentary projects. But the only way to reach beyond simplistic narratives is for sex workers to be involved in the production of these projects.
In 2009, I led my first media spokesperson training for sex workers in New York. At that training, I shot a one-minute PSA video (and I added more footage in 2011) called “I Am A Sex Worker.” In the video, the participating sex workers say one mundane fact about themselves, followed with “and I’m a sex worker.” The purpose of the video was to speak to a general audience and humanize sex workers as people who are multifaceted. I have to admit that it is not a technically “good” video. It’s all people talking directly to the camera in front of an uninspiring background, and the lighting and sound leave a lot to be desired. This lack of technical filmmaking finesse is not uncommon in sex worker-made media. Figuring out how to make the videos ourselves is resourceful; it is preferable to make a video with content completely controlled by sex workers ourselves, instead of handing the power over to a filmmaker we might not trust. Furthermore, there’s something compelling and awesome about sex workers telling even a sliver of their own stories while making eye contact with the camera.
Some sex-worker-created advocacy-driven online videos have a much narrower audience than mine though. The subtitle of the 2010 video conceived, developed, and produced by Lusty Day and Beef Jerky, “Every Ho I Know Says So” spells it out: “advice for partners, lovers, dates, and sweethearts of sex workers.” In this nine-minute video, shot mostly on handheld iPhone video and combining clips shot by many different people, 21 sex workers address the viewer as “you” and give advice about how best to treat a sex worker in a dating situation. The video is offered up as a resource for sex workers to show to their romantic partners and potential partners and for partners to find on their own.
Both of these videos feature the identifiable faces of sex workers, with a couple of exceptions where people’s identifying characteristics are concealed. But exposure can be risky for many sex workers. Whether a sex worker is doing legal or illegal work, exposure can mean loss of income (especially if the sex worker has another job or tries to transition into work outside the industry), loss of child custody or housing, or threats to their well-being from the local community. Showing people’s faces, of course, is an important part of establishing humanity and depth of character in any film project. But some sex workers have been successful in creating videos that don’t reveal their identities while revealing intimate details about their work and motivations.
Live Nude Girls Unite! poster
The Amsterdam-based organization Voices of Women Media (VOW) works with marginalized women to develop media skills so that they can tell their own stories. In a video documentary collaboration with two women who are sex workers in Amsterdam, VOW supported a woman named Chantal as well as an anonymous woman to script, produce, and shoot documentary shorts based on their lives. The resulting pair of 2010 videos, “Drowning” and “Los Caminos,” are portraits of women that are intimate, showing the interior of their work spaces behind the famed Amsterdam red light district windows, but also protect the identities of the women. As more stylistic elements are introduced, like b roll, staging, music, and with them, more complex editing, more skills are needed to create films like these. Collaborations like the Voices of Women Media project can work well if the stories and skill development of sex workers are centered, and if creative control remains with the sex workers and isn’t handed over to someone who will reshape the story for what they perceive as a better narrative. Authenticity is important, though it certainly takes longer to do a project this way. Authenticity, by the way, is not what happens when two young filmmakers decide to “pose as strippers” for two weeks (aka briefly become strippers while also looking down on actual women who strip for a living) and make videos about it, as an upcoming series on VICE touts.
It’s a big leap from DIY web videos to feature documentaries in terms of skill and of course fundraising; there have not been too many feature films about sex workers told from our perspective. The first one I saw was Live Nude Girls Unite, a documentary released in 2000 about the unionization process of the Lusty Lady strip club in San Francisco. There is a lot of hand-held camera work in the film as Julia Query, the producer, co-director, and a character in the film, takes the viewer through the club. In the film, we meet the dancers, attend their meetings, and even get to sit in on Julia’s coming-out to her mother. The dancers create a union, and a historical moment in sex worker labor organizing is documented.
More recently the 2013 feature film American Courtesans, produced by Kristen DiAngelo, an escort who also serves as the interviewer in the film, has played the festival circuit and won critical acclaim. The film features 11 cisgender women from around the United States who Kristen found through her personal networks. There isn’t a narrative structure; instead the film is a series of spotlight shoots of the women, who do sit-down interviews with Kristen and tell their life stories. The film strives to create empathy for the experiences of escorts as both workers and people. Though it doesn’t gloss over the challenges the women have faced in their lives–there are tears on camera more than once in the film–ultimately the filmmakers’ intent is to portray escorting as a legitimate and positive career choice for the women in the film.
After many years of working to produce media with sex workers and create spaces for sex workers to individual stories about our experiences, in the past year I’ve set out to produce my own feature-length documentary, The Red Umbrella Diaries. The film will tell the story of seven LGBTQ sex workers (myself included) as we prepare to tell our stories on stage at Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater in NYC.I’ve learned that my previous experience shooting web shorts as well as directing and producing a feature-length porn film, The Bi Apple (which won a Feminist Porn Award in 2007), has not really prepared me for this process. I’m grateful that I have been able to step aside and not be the filmmaker–instead I’m leaving that to the professionals, an Emmy-award winning crew–but I’d be lying if I said that its been easy. I have said no to many filmmakers who approached me over the years because I don’t trust just anyone to tell my story, and now I’m not signing away my right to review the final product – I’m doing the opposite actually. As an adult model and in other media situations, I have signed those releases, and I know how it feels to see myself represented in a way I dislike and not being able to do much about it.
Now I’m working with a crew I trust, guys who attended the storytelling events I produce for almost two years before showing up with a camera. We are currently working on our rough cut of the film. I’ve learned that having creative control over the final product still means that I need to trust the filmmakers I’m collaborating with. For me, there is definitely such a thing as being too close to the subject matter. I forget that there are elements of the lingo around my former profession that need to be defined, and that if this film is going to be accessible to a general audience, we do have to take the time to spell out things that I think are basic. But I know, and the filmmakers agree, that sex workers are experts on our own experiences, so there won’t be any professors or other experts explaining things on camera. Just us. I feel certain that we’re contributing something positive to documentary film, and I’m excited to prove that a collaboration where the “subjects” of a film have the final say over the content can be a rich and interesting project with complex storytelling.
Audacia Ray is a former sex worker who is the founder and executive director of the Red Umbrella Project, a small organization based in Brooklyn. She is the editor of the literary journal Prose & Lore: Memoir Stories About Sex Work and the executive producer of The Red Umbrella Diaries, a feature documentary with a targeted premiere of spring 2015. http://redumbrellaproject.org, @audaciaray on Twitter/Tumblr/Instagram.
Sunny Dooley, one of the primary narrators, as well as the writer and performer of Changing Woman Poem that is woven throughout the film, is also a former ‘Miss Navajo’ (1982-83). During the second opening sequence where photos and archival footage of the contest flash across the screen, Sunny narrates, “You have to speak your language, you have to have a skill, you have to have a talent, and I think that’s what makes our pageant one of the few that really taps into the whole woman.”
Beauty pageants are often the butt of jokes and the subject of mocking derision in American society, but Miss Navajo (2006) provides a glimpse into a much more serious and culturally important beauty pageant that changes the very meaning of such an event. According to Rebecca Tsosie (Yaqui), a law professor at Arizona State University, “Indian nations are fighting to preserve not only their remaining lands and resources, but also their cultures and lifeways” (Indigenous Women and Feminism, 38). The Miss Navajo Nation competition seems to be an exercise in cultural sovereignty, attracting ambitious, young, Diné (Navajo) women and encouraging the maintenance of language and lifeways knowledge. The 60-minute documentary by Billy Luther and World of Wonder Productions follows contestant Crystal Frazier, 21, during the 2005 Miss Navajo Nation, an event that began in 1952, as she competes to be the top goodwill ambassador for the Nation by demonstrating traditional skills, knowledge, talents, spirituality, and Navajo language acuity.
Opening with a pre-dawn image of the Days Inn where the competition is being held, the first language heard is from a woman speaking Diné (Navajo). The female voiceover continues as the camera shifts to inside the hotel, finally showing us the female judge who is asking Crystal Frazier a question. The woman goes on as the camera shifts again to show Crystal in a beautiful forest green dress with silver details, adorned with a long, three-strand turquoise necklace, sun-like throat pendant, and earrings. Crystal exhales in concentration and mild frustration as she looks down and away from the speaker. This is the language fluency test and Crystal is struggling.
Crystal Frazier, 21, a 2005 contestant for Miss Navajo Nation, and our guide through the pageant experience.
When the Diné speaker finishes, Crystal looks up, smiles, and asks in English, “Could you repeat that question in Navajo, or English, please?” This slight misspeak reveals Crystal’s nervousness. She is not as fluent in Navajo as the contest demands, but like the other contestants, she does the best she can. “One thing I need to work on is my Navajo speaking,” Crystal says as she prepares at home beforehand, “It’s the only thing I’m insecure about. I can talk to my grandma, but I’m not fluent.” The default to English for most of these young women in the film makes clear the need to preserve Diné language and the Navajo Nation Department of Diné provides this language education for Navajo peoples and, ostensibly, anyone interested in learning the Diné language. However, in the film, the girls seem to obtain most of their language skill from their families and home environments where Navajo may be spoken more often.
Sunny Dooley, one of the primary narrators, as well as the writer and performer of Changing Woman Poem that is woven throughout the film, is also a former Miss Navajo (1982-83). During the second opening sequence where photos and archival footage of the contest flash across the screen, Sunny narrates, “You have to speak your language, you have to have a skill, you have to have a talent, and I think that’s what makes our pageant one of the few that really taps into the whole woman.”
Sunny Dooley, former Miss Navajo (1982-83), is one of the primary narrators for the film, Miss Navajo.
As Sunny and other former winners narrate their experiences with the contest, images from the early days of the competition show Navajo women on the rodeo grounds being selected by audience applause. The competition has changed a bit since those early days and now involves a more formal process, but the opportunities to travel and be a role model remain the same. Former winners talk about meeting Liberace and Senator Robert Kennedy, being invited to Senate hearings on Indian education, and experiencing places only seen on TV or in the movies. One former winner states, “It was an experience to be able to tell the dominant society here we are, we’re Native Americans, we’re very much alive, it’s a responsibility we will take all our lives.” Listening to these former winners provides a dose of reality and a specific antidote to mainstream American education and general knowledge, which mostly ignores contemporary Native peoples, and Native women in particular.
Former Miss Navajo Nation contestants, one of many such images featured in the documentary, Miss Navajo.
Instead of barely-there swimsuits, Barbie-fied bodies, and perfect mascara, the Miss Navajo Nation contestants compete primarily in culturally significant categories focused on skills and knowledge that a Navajo woman should possess such as a clear understanding of the traditional matrilineal construct of the Nation, how the tribal government operates, creation mythology, and the ability to butcher and cook a sheep. And yes, the ladies are dressed in brightly-colored finery wearing aprons as they prepare the fires, tie up and butcher the sheep, and then cook different parts along with freshly-made tortillas. Former winner, Tina James Tofoya (Miss Navajo, 1992-93), explains, “That’s one of the things about Miss Navajo, you just never know what you’re going to be asked to do. A lot of the times, people will ask you to do things that they think that Miss Navajo or a woman, a Navajo woman, skills and talents that she should possess and that’s probably one of them. It’s all part of the cooking process and feeding people.”
Photo credit: Laura Morales/Fronteras. Butchering scene from the 2012 Miss Navajo Nation competition.
While this aspect of the competition and this portion of the film may horrify vegetarians and vegans, the significance of sheep to Navajo culture is immense and the inclusion of the butchering and cooking skill in this pageant honors that importance. Sunny Dooley acknowledges how scary this element of the competition can be for the contestants, saying, “I’m sure it terrifies a lot of people to butcher a sheep, it’s quite a traumatic event. It is a part of our culture, sheep is life to the Navajo people, we use every aspect of that sheep from spiritual purposes all the way to signs of family wealth and success. And it also teaches a lot of discipline.” In fact, the documentary clearly suggests that every element of this pageant is culturally and practically significant to the Navajo Nation. These demonstrations take precedence over physical beauty and clothing, although physical appearance and styling, particularly the wrapping of their hair, certainly play a part in the competition.
Miss Navajo Nation contestant butchers her sheep.
About five minutes into the film, viewers see Crystal at home on the reservation in Table Mesa, New Mexico. Scenes shift between wide open, red rock spaces and the farm where Crystal, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt, shorts, and white “Grand Canyon” ballcap, feeds and shears sheep with her father, and discusses the importance of animals and her comfort with reservation life. “I don’t really enjoy city life. Living out here, you get used to having quiet and privacy, this is what you call home. I’m a reservation person,” Crystal says. She is an introvert who loves new challenges, explaining that her parents were raised with traditional teachings. “My mother always tells us that animals are valuable. It teaches you so many things from respect to even discipline, and a reason for getting up in the morning, learning how to actually care for something that’s living, something that depends on you.” This respect and care for animals, as well as their importance to Navajo lifeways play a part in the Miss Navajo pageant, which is just one characteristic that distinguishes it from other beauty pageants.
Miss Navajo (2006) is a 60-minute documentary well worth your time.
Winner of the 2007 Special Founders Prize in the Traverse City Film Festival, winner of the Best Indigenous Film at the 2007 Santa Fe Film Festival, and an Official Selection at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, Miss Navajo is available to stream through Amazon (commercial-free rental at $2.99 for three-days), Hulu (free with six commercial breaks), and Snag Films (free with four commercial breaks). The easy availability and shortness (60 minutes) of this film make it a sensible addition to any teaching plan that focuses on Indigenous peoples or on women. The women of Miss Navajo Nation demonstrate that inner beauty, cultural knowledge, respect for history, and traditional skills are more important than external physical attributes, and that is a preferable message for our young people, especially our girls.
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Dr. Amanda Morris is an Assistant Professor of Multiethnic Rhetorics at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania with a specialty in Indigenous Rhetorics.
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world. Documentary ‘Maidentrip’ chronicles Laura’s voyage. It’s an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world.
Following her journey was documentary filmmaker, Jillian Schlesinger; from film shot while meeting with Dekker at various points in the trip, and sea-voyage scenes filmed by Dekker’s hand-held camera, Schlesinger has produced an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
Since there were two Bitch Flicks’ staff vying for the opportunity to review Maidentrip, which premieres Friday, Jan. 17, in New York City, writers Rachel Redfern and Megan Kearns teamed up to produce a special conversation-based review, sharing their reactions to the award-winning documentary.
Rachel: Well first of all, this movie was fantastic! It really hit me on a personal level, since I just returned for two years living abroad in South Korea, and I remember what it was like to really push myself outside of my comfort zone. Watching the changes that Laura goes through and her feelings of loneliness and wonder, it made me relive a lot of my own experiences. But after watching the film, I wanted to go on an adventure again, to leave and challenge myself. Which to me means that it’s a powerful and dynamic film, when it can force audiences to identify with the protagonist, evaluate their own emotions, and then motivate them.
Megan: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!! I completely agree with you. I thought Maidentrip was fantastic too. The film really struck a chord with me on multiple levels. I thought it was incredible to be able to view her journey through her perspective, to see the world through her eyes. It’s rare for a film to show us a woman or girl’s perspective throughout. I was also impressed by her determination and resolve.
Megan: Laura wasn’t doing this for fame or notoriety or money, but that she had a dream as a child that she was determined to fulfill. That she wanted to go after something so passionately. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but due to finances or school or work, I’ve never been able to travel as much I yearn to. So it was wonderful for her to seize the moment and just do it. I also loved that she didn’t like school because she didn’t like people telling her what to do!
Rachel: Yes, I was blown away by her maturity and how grounded she was, she’s obviously an incredibly mature and independent young woman
Megan: Yes! We need to see more independent young woman like Laura on-screen. It’s so fascinating how she was far more interested in exploring, meeting new people, trying new things, seeing new places.And how comfortable she was with herself and with being alone, yet when she met people, she had these deep connections.
Rachel: That speaks a lot to her personality I think, to be so comfortable disembarking from her boat at the age of 14 and wandering around a country by herself.
Megan: She rejected the narrative of what she’s “supposed to do.” And I love that. It was intriguing to see her journey. It was a moving love letter to travel and to sailing.
Rachel: I absolutely agree. In fact, I thought that the film did a beautiful job of showing the wonder and beauty of sailing, as well as the great community around sailing. The film also did a great job of showing how skilled Laura is as a sailor and her obvious love of sailing. I loved that Laura confesses that only Guppy, her boat, feels like home, but it could also be taken as a criticism of her home life and relationship with her parents
Megan: I also thought it was interesting when she says that true freedom is to not have attachments. It seems like Laura became increasingly comfortable on her own away from people. She seemed to crave solitude.
Rachel: I was really struck by Laura’s development, as she came into herself and became a more private person–obviously not wanting to deal with other people, and loving the moments when she was just alone on her boat. That was one thing I loved about the film was that it was able to really show Laura’s changes; it’s fantastic to be able to see someone grow up in a two hour film.
Megan: Yes, me too! That typically only happens in the arc of a TV series. Not a two-hour movie. AND we typically only see coming-of-age stories with men/boys. Not women/girls.
Rachel: Yes, I found it refreshing! I was really stunned that Schlesinger was able to show so much or Laura’s self-assurance and confidence as the trip progresses. I just felt that it painted a whole and complete picture of an individual really coming of age. And, maybe a weird side note, but I love that we see Laura physically change (her face, she grows up, and dyes her hair).
Megan: That’s a fantastic point! I couldn’t believe that so much was shown, revealed…yet it felt so expansive and not rushed at all. The film really breathed. Although sometimes, with my short attention span, I wanted things to hurry up. But I was so glad that they didn’t. The film really unfolded beautifully. I really felt that I want on this emotional and physical journey with Laura. It’s as if her journey at sea was a physical manifestation of her moving through the liminal stages of childhood/adolescence and into adulthood.
Laura Dekker on the deck of “Guppy”
Rachel: What did you feel that you gained the most from the film?
Megan: I’m glad you asked! I think I’d have to say the most I gained was to stop wasting time or making excuses and go after what you want. To pursue your dreams, whatever they may be. To not give a shit about people’s opinions. To chart your own course. Sometimes we as adults get bogged down in our day-to-day duties and responsibilities. We forget what matters most to us. We put our dreams on the back burner.
What did you gain most from the film?
Rachel: Something similar to you I think; I gained a desire to travel/go abroad again. I guess that it reaffirmed my belief in the power of experiences to change us in really profound ways and the need to be proactive in our lives and really push and challenge ourselves. And challenging yourself can be so difficult, that it seems daunting and overwhelming sometimes. For instance, in the film, when speaking about a difficult time in her journey, her first few weeks alone on the first big ocean crossing, Laura said, “I just couldn’t get any food down, I just feel really strange.” I kept thinking about my own experiences living abroad, and how it can be so expanding, but also terrifying. But then, only a few minutes later, we see her crying as a group of dolphins play alongside her boat and she confesses to the camera how much they mean to her, as company, and as a reminder of the beauty of the world.
Rachel: Laura’s story is an intense one, and has garnered a lot of media attention. It’s great that they are recognizing the accomplishment of this incredible young woman. And in conjunction with that, it was interesting when Laura talked about the two other young woman who tried to do the “Not Stop Around The World” records: Jessica from Australia and Abby from America. Did you notice all three were women? I was curious, if there were also a lot of young men trying to do the same thing?
Megan: Yes, I DID notice that too!
Rachel: I think that it’s telling that there are brave young women so willing, and so focused on their goals, that they’re out there doing these kinds of things.
Megan: Perhaps there’s this notion of getting out there because society so often dictates to women what they can and can’t do. It’s a form of rebellion. A revolutionary act. Maybe even on a subconscious level?
Rachel: Interesting idea. What did you think of the cinematography of the movie? Especially since half of the film was hand-held footage from Laura herself?
Megan: I thought it was stunning, breathtaking. I really felt the majesty and beauty of nature. And I liked that the majority of the footage was shot by Laura. Sure, some of it was choppy. But I thought that added to its charm. It’s a little rough around the edges. But then the camera pans on this exquisite sunset. Seeing the waves crash against the boat in the storm, the dolphins swimming beside the boat. It made me feel like I was right there alongside her. Also, I thought the score was haunting and beautiful, punctuating the story perfectly.
Rachel: Yes, it made me feel more involved in the film, the traveling and the sailing with the camera rocking around; probably just one more reason that the movie was so powerful. I also thought it was a tribute to Jillian as a filmmaker that she was able to effectively use different elements of storytelling to accentuate Laura’s youth, and the fact that she is searching for herself, her place in the world, and her independence. Yet, all of this is couched within the framework of Laura’s love of sailing. I love how this film was able to speak to both of us on such a personal level, and really connected with us in our past experiences.
Laura Dekker and her home, “Guppy”
Megan: But now you’ve got me thinking… Documentary films are so tricky. Because I’m thinking of the film, framing it as a story, despite it being a true one. Documentaries always have a bias, a perspective that the filmmaker wants you to see. They’re manipulative. Not necessarily in a bad way, but they’re trying to make you see/feel something specific.
Rachel: I think that’s a great point. What perspective/bias do you think Jillian was trying to portray?
Megan: Hmmm…I think she was trying to convey a coming-of-age story. That here’s this incredibly brave, independent, mature, thoughtful young women. Setting out to achieve her dream but also discovering more about herself along the way. There’s this aura of anything is possible.
Rachel: I love that the film brought up Laura’s very conflicted relationship with the press, touching on the fact that the Dutch government tried to stop Laura’s journey, and even have her removed from her father’s custody, especially since Laura never wanted that kind of notoriety for her trip.
Megan: YES. But it’s so interesting that she has a film made about her, yet she values her privacy and doesn’t like journalists with their prying questions.
Rachel: I would be very interested to know how Julian (the director) was able to convince Laura and her father to participate in the project. As a little aside though…I did some research yesterday and found a few articles stating that Laura Dekker is not happy with the film and isn’t supporting it anymore. Which is a very interesting continuation of Laura’s distrust of the media.
Megan: Oh wow.
Rachel: But apparently Schlesinger (the director) has been fantastic about Laura’s refusal to support the film
“Jillian Schlesinger, to her credit, doesn’t seem to be taking Laura’s disapproval too personally. ‘We prefer to respect Laura’s privacy and to let her speak for herself on the matter as much or as little as she’d like to at this time.'”
Rachel: I suppose it would be hard for me to watch a story of my own life journey from kid into adult….To see my mistakes, even if it did end up in a positive place?
Megan: While of course Jillian edited the film and scored it, it’s still a majority of Laura’s footage which I think makes it different than most other documentaries. Perhaps this is naive, but I feel like it makes it a “purer” story. Truer to the source.
Rachel: Especially since it’s all Laura, there are no outside influences going on there.
Megan: You raise a great point about how hard it must be for Laura to watch this, to see her triumphs but also her mistakes, her pain and her growth. What do you think about the film’s commentary on the passage of time?
Rachel: Oh, great question! Because it does cover a full two years in only two hours, I think that it can sometimes be easy to forget just how long two years is, and they end up shortening six weeks at sea into five minutes of footage. Perhaps, whether intentional or not, the film really underscores memory of time, only choosing the parts we consider the most important or significant to remember, when in reality, there might be more to the story. Things that could have been important to someone else, but that we don’t always remember or see or hear about. What do you think that the film is saying about time?
Megan: I agree with you. Also, I thought it was interesting that Laura says, “After 30 days [at sea], time doesn’t exist any more. It was the best feeling…I made peace with it. I was just there, with nature.” That was really powerful. To slow down. To not obsess over the past or worry about the future, but to really live in the moment.
Megan: I know we already talked about the media. But I thought it was interesting and awful to see all the headlines and descriptions of Laura in the media before her voyage. That she was “crazy” and “unstable.” I wonder, would they have said the same thing about a boy her age?
Rachel: The horrific things people were saying about her! Do you remember that one person said, “I hope she sinks” And I just thought, “Really? I mean, really? You thought that was OK to say? Wishing for someone else’s death?!” I was shocked. Hmmm, I’m not sure that they would have, I think they would have been more willing to let him go ahead with the trip.
Megan: Yes, I remember her saying that! That’s disgusting. Why would you wish for someone’s death?! And the media would never say that about a boy. They might say reckless or impetuous or something like that. But not “crazy” or “unstable.”
Rachel: That is one thing I’ve noticed, as a traveler and a woman, People are ALWAYS telling me, “But do you feel safe?” “Don’t you think it would be better to travel with a group?” I think people definitely have this perception that women maybe shouldn’t be traveling alone, because it’s too dangerous, and because of this, many women stop themselves. And while yes, we can’t ignore that it can be more dangerous as a woman, I think it’s unfortunate that so many women stop themselves from opportunities, or are stopped by others, because of fear.
I love that Maidentrip is about a girl taking control of her life and doing what she needs to do.
Rachel: But all that said, would I allow my 14-year-daughter do what Laura did? Probably not. And I think it is a valid point, and one that is underscored by Laura’s own admissions, she didn’t have the best relationship with her parents, making her an incredibly self-assured and independent young woman
Though, I wonder, while I don’t think many 14-year-olds would be ready to leave their parents and go off into the world, history is full of people stepping up at that age and doing incredible things.
Megan: You raise a fantastic point. I wouldn’t let my daughter (if I had one) go on a trip alone at that age. Especially sailing, when there’s so much that can go wrong. But then I think, you can’t live your life in fear. I’m torn. But yes, her loving yet strained relationship with her parents had to have played a role.
Rachel: I think people are far more capable than we give them credit for and Maidentrip is definitely a testament to the human ability to adjust itself to its environment.
One thing, the sea is always thought of as a woman (as is mother nature), perhaps it’s significant that a girl who had a very sad relationship with her mother, would have this typically female symbol (the ocean) guiding her into womanhood.
Megan: YES! And boats are named after women. That definitely makes the film even more powerful on a symbolic gender level.
Rachel: Yes! It becomes an incredibly female film, centered in the female experience.
Megan: Yes, it illustrates Laura’s perseverance, determination and resolve. What a survivor. I also love when Laura says, “There were all these people who looked at me like it was impossible that I had come in with this weather. And then as I finally started to warm up again and to think straight, I realized that wow, that’s actually pretty badass.” Such a powerful declaration — her realization of her own power and agency. She’s not shy or humble or timid about it. She embraces it.
Rachel: It was definitely a moment of self-realization, for her to be able to see that in herself. How powerful for us, and the audience, especially when you think that “sailor” stories always seem to be male ones, (pirates, etc…).
Megan: You’re SO right! Almost all sailor stories — and survival stories in general — are told from a male perspective. Like All is Lost, Castaway, and Captain Phillips.
Rachel: Or Life of Pi and Liam Neesen’s The Grey.
Megan: That’s one of the reasons why I love Gravity. It’s important to see women survivors and explorers too.
Rachel: Yes! And I just thought, “I want more women to have that kind of experience!!!”
Megan: YES! Exactly!! I felt that too.
Rachel: Maybe that’s the true power/message of the film? Hopefully that it could make women (and men) realize that inner ability.
Megan: Laura will never stop searching, never stop being herself. I want every woman to recognize and embrace her inner strength and power.
Rachel Redfern is a Staff Writer at Bitch Flicks. She is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. She writes for Policy Mic and tweets at @RachelRedfern2.
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.”
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
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
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.
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.
“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.
It was 2006, Los Angeles, and I was attending yet another audition technique seminar. I stood on the stage, hoping to fascinate and stun the visiting talent manager with my craft. I was hopeful when I saw that it was a young, black woman. Surely, this meant she was supportive of women and actors of color. I gave it all I had. Or, as good as one can give with dialogue for a one-dimensional, “cute, racially unspecific,” best friend role with no arc. The feedback changed my life.
“You are great, but you don’t look enough like Halle Berry.”
A bored audience
This is a guest post by Candice Sanchez McFarlane.
It was 2006, Los Angeles, and I was attending yet another audition technique seminar. I stood on the stage, hoping to fascinate and stun the visiting talent manager with my craft. I was hopeful when I saw that it was a young, black woman. Surely, this meant she was supportive of women and actors of color. I gave it all I had. Or, as good as one can give with dialogue for a one-dimensional, “cute, racially unspecific,” best friend role with no arc. The feedback changed my life.
“You are great, but you don’t look enough like Halle Berry.”
Like lightning, clarity ran through me. Every role I had ever auditioned for was a poor attempt at filling a race or gender quota. Not because there aren’t good writers out there but because it doesn’t matter. It’s a business. What Hollywood wanted from female actors was to just look the part and say the words. This woman knew that for the machine to make money, she needed to be able to sell me. I was not an attractive commodity.
I started dissecting every film that was in production at the time. Even when a woman had written the original script, there was a man also listed as a writer. Even when a woman was the producer, there were far more men with producer titles. In every capacity, women were outnumbered. Except in front of the camera.
Despite a lifetime of acting classes, a five-year audition marathon trying to infuse life into flat black/latina characters and the loss of a dream I had for so long, I stopped. Right then. Cold turkey. There was no way for me to make an impact in front of the camera. There were enough people striving to book a role–many of whom look like Halle Berry.
I wanted to be behind the camera. I began taking writing and production more seriously. I focused on ways to develop and empower women in the business conversation of film. This presented an even greater challenge. Many of the women I came across were looking for the best way to market, finesse, and accept the films that were being made. Thinking like Capitalists.
The media spoon-feeding its audience
I wanted to be a satisfied audience member.
I couldn’t understand why these women weren’t identifying the issue instead of trying to assuage it. The issue in the very first step, the step that all the other steps are built upon. The step that allows actors to not have to look the part but to understand the complexities that go into every woman, fiction or otherwise.
The writing.
The writing became everything to me. I wrote until I couldn’t stand the clicking of the keys any longer. I attended any seminar (I could afford) that focused on writing. I joined groups for underrepresented writers in entertainment. I worked in branding/promotions in the industry with a focus on empowering women’s voice and issues. I hosted and taught groups of young women in high school and college who were interested in becoming writers, hoping to nurture their interest and support their goals. I sent my materials to every possible festival, contest, open submission that had a mailing address. I got back “encouraging” feedback like “strong writing but not what we are in the market for” or “love your voice but could you water it down a bit for the audience?” It amazed me each time because I WAS the audience for my work. The women and girls in my life WERE the basis for my characters. This was the true face of women but not the image the industry wanted women to see of themselves.
Every woman can see a romantic comedy for the first time and predict the ending. Every woman knows the tale of the power struggle that the successful female character has with her mate on television or that her success prevents her from finding a mate. Every woman can watch a sitcom and know exactly when the Mom’s desperately forced and unfunny lines will be delivered. Even though we know these things and can handle more intellectually stimulating content – we accept it.
I love independent film
For those who are more conscious of their content, they might deploy some effort and search for something indie, to feel like they are not just another part of this machine. I like to include myself in this group, but I keep coming to the same questions. Why is “indie” the place to find realistic female characters? If today’s society is full of women with fascinating lives and varied interests that do not all revolve around the same core story – why does our mainstream content not reflect it? Would we not pay the same $14 for a movie ticket about a woman we really connected with that we do for the one that is a caricature?
I believe that we would. I believe that if the content were accessible, it would be supported. The truth is we all have a say, if we choose to exercise it.
Through this journey, I have met wonderfully bold and gifted female writers and producers who are looking to make a way. In my current documentary, Click Here: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Making Movies, we are highlighting a new generation of storytellers who are doing it their way. People who have been met with the frustration of an industry that tells them there is no audience for their work and who choose to ignore it and make it anyway. These are women, men, and even students who are trailblazers in my eyes. The group may be small, but it is inspiring.
So what do we do in a world where you can do anything? We blog, we crowdfund, we search, we SXSW, we Hulu, we Netflix, we YouTube, we support and spread the word about the content that speaks to us. We don’t let ourselves get caught in the web of the lesser of all content evils. We seek out the content creators that we believe deserve a chance. We actualize our place in this world of film. We don’t remain passive audience members but active participants in the conversation. We do it because we now have the tools. We do it because it will eventually make a difference. If we do it enough and do it consistently and do it boldly, there will one day be a girl in an audition room who is reading for a role that feeds her mind and soul, that represents the emotion, intricacy and capability within every woman.
Forgive my rally call but now more than ever is the time.
Actress turned advertising executive turned branded content expert turned writer, producer and mommy–with creative prowess and keen business savvy–Candice has developed original content for major brands (Visa, Pepsi) and indie distribution alike. She is currently in production on the documentary Click Here: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Making Movies. More information can be found at http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/click-here-or-how-i-learned-stop-worrying-and-love-making-movies.
The Boxing Girls of Kabul is a Canadian documentary about the boxing careers of three young Afghan women, sisters Sadaf and Shabnam Rahimi and Shahla Sikandary. It was written and directed by the Afghan-Canadian filmmaker Ariel J. Nasr. Based in Afghanistan, Nasr produced the recently Oscar-nominated live action short, Buzkashi Boys (2012).
The Boxing Girls of Kabul opens with harrowing archival footage of an execution of a woman at the Olympic Stadium in Kabul on November 16th, 1999. Many will recall this secretly-recorded film from news reports, but it will always disturb and haunt: the kneeling woman, clad in a pale blue burqa, attempts to turn her head to her executioner as she is about to be shot. Mercifully, the camera cuts to a blue sky and carries us directly to contemporary Afghanistan. We see, in close up, the determined brown eyes of a young female boxer training at the very same stadium where women were executed during the dark days of Taliban rule.
We are first introduced to Sadaf who tells us that she and her fellow fighters spar in the same gym where girls were imprisoned. She is somewhat frightened by the place itself but explains, “When we play sports, we forget our problems. When I box, I feel happy. I box because I want to advance myself, and advance Afghanistan.” Sincere and ambitious, the girls want to determine their own destinies. Shahla says, “In the future, I want to be the most progressive and bright of all Afghan girls…a champion.” All are hungry for medals.
Image from The Boxing Girls of Kabul
Boxing has always, of course, been the most traditionally masculine, most brutal and most controversial of sports. Female boxing remains a divisive issue around the world and only became an Olympic event at the London 2012 Games. It is all the more remarkable that girls from a land scarred by gender discrimination have taken up the sport. The girls’ coach, Sabir Sharifi, explains, “The Taliban were absolutely opposed to sports. They had an especially strong opposition to boxing.” A girl boxer in a hijab is an incongruous image for many–or most–Westerners. For the Taliban, female boxing is simply sinful. Boxing has also, however, been the sport of the marginalized and oppressed so it is perhaps unsurprising that these young Afghan women have chosen boxing. The sport for the trio is identified with self-empowerment and female self-worth.
It is interesting to see the boxing girls of Kabul negotiate the streets and shops of the capital with their trainers–as well as journey abroad for competitions–but the interviews with them and their families at home and in the gym provide a more intimate and perhaps more illuminating portrait of the nature of their lives. In the locker room, we see the trio and their peers talk about exam results, tease each other about their hair and spray bottled water over each other. These glimpses serve to remind the viewer that their interests and aspirations are fundamentally the same as most young women around the world. They also give a strong idea of both their incomparable pressures and camaraderie.
Nasr also provides helpful insights into the attitudes of the men in the boxers’ lives. Their coach is a very likeable, middle-aged man. Sharifi formed the girls’ boxing team in 2007 with “a few brothers.” He himself was a victim of Afghan’s tragic, war-torn history. The 1980s Soviet occupation, he explains, put an end to his Olympic ambitions. Sharifi and his colleagues consistently demonstrate support and affection for their charges. He says he wants champions. There persists in the West an Islamophobic, racist belief–even among self-proclaimed progressive people–that all Muslim men in all Muslim lands dominate, control and persecute their daughters. The forward-thinking likes of men such as Sharifi constitute a formidable response to such bigotry. He is not alone. Shahla explains that it is her father who supports her the most in her family. “He thinks that a girl can be someone in the future,” she says. Sadaf and Shabnam Rahimi’s father is also encouraging while their progressive mother wants them to continue both their education and sporting career.
Image from The Boxing Girls of Kabul
Female boxing, of course, enrages the Taliban and Afghan conservatives in general. The girls are given the opportunity to compete in Vietnam and Kazakhstan. Unhappily, increased recognition brings increased intimidation for both trainer and coach. Sharifi is threatened on the street while Shahla experiences pressure to stop boxing from her brother. He is shown to be infinitely more conservative than her father. In English, he expresses concern that his sister’s boxing career will endanger the family in the event of a full-blown Taliban resurgence. He worries that the family will be accused of being “kuffar” (non-Muslim). “Nothing except this,” he insists. But is he merely motivated by concern for his family’s safety? He scorns his sister’s independence, accuses her of not praying with satisfactory piety and delivers this extraordinarily unsettling threat: “If I was in my father’s place, I would set so many restrictions she wouldn’t even be able to eat without being afraid.” But the girls bravely pursue their sport despite these difficult and dangerous circumstances.
There are other obstacles. Funds and facilities are inadequate. They do not even have a ring. In Vietnam and Kazakhstan, we see them outclassed and overwhelmed by their hosts. It is painful to watch, but I was reminded by a quote by the novelist and boxing writer Joyce Carol Oates: “Boxing is about being hit rather more than it is about hitting, just as it is about feeling pain, if not devastating psychological paralysis, more than it is about winning.” The girls, understandably, complain of inadequate training and resources, but they are also, of course, cutting their teeth. Shahla is fortunate to secure a bronze medal in Vietnam–there were only four in her weight class–gaining the attention of the Afghan media. Her father is proud of her achievement.
We learn, at the end of the documentary, however, that Shahla no longer competes. Pregnant with her first child, she visits the gym “when she can” and works part-time. You wonder if she will return. It is heartening though to hear that Sadaf continues to compete and that Shabnam aims to be a doctor. Perhaps they have been empowered by their mother’s words: “In Afghanistan, we have to fight against men to show we have pride.”
Image from The Boxing Girls of Kabul
Documentaries like The Boxing Girls of Kabul are invaluable in that they give voice to the voiceless. These young women possess a rare courage. Spirited, ambitious and attractive, they make engaging subjects. The cinematography (by Nasr) is not particularly striking in The Boxing Girls of Kabul and it is a no-frills documentary formally. The director is modest and unadorned in both style and approach. The interviewer is a silent presence; the boxers as well as trainers and family members speak for themselves. This works well as they appear to reveal their hopes and fears quite openly. The documentary, however, is simply too short at 52 minutes. The trio’s stories could have been further developed. It is evident that they box for themselves, their gender and their country, but it would be have been rewarding if the filmmakers had explored their motivation more deeply. Their influences could also have been cited. Which fighters (male or female) inspired them?
The young women are trail-blazers in a patriarchal society still plagued by religious extremism. They are, equally, children of war. For decades, Afghanistan has been blighted by conflict. Bizarrely, the documentary does not mention that ongoing war between foreigners and the Taliban. The prolonged presence of the American military in Afghanistan is curiously absent from all conversation. It would have been interesting to know the boxers’ thoughts on the conflict as well as the role of the West in relation to the status of women in Afghanistan. The Boxing Girls of Kabul gives relatively little historical background and context. It does not explain how the Taliban came to power or shed new light on their mindset. (If you want to learn about the roots of Taliban, start with Ahmed Rashid’s 2000 book Taliban: Islam, Oil and the New Great Game in Central Asia.)
Listening to Shahla’s conservative brother was, then again, quite enlightening. His obsession with what others think reveals a deep lack of imagination and reflects a fear of difference. Social conformity seems to have a tyrannical hold on him. The documentary does, however, unsettle stereotypes about both Afghan men and women. This is invaluable. Nasr has created an affecting, compassionate portrait of proud, independent Afghan womanhood in The Boxing Girls of Kabul. Ultimately, there are few things more moving than witnessing the endeavors of an oppressed group or people.
