Tag: Women in Music

‘As I Open My Eyes’ to Sex and The Police State: An Interview with Director Leyla Bouzid

Two things that make Leyla Bouzid’s new film ‘As I Open My Eyes’ distinct from these other [portrait of the artist, coming-of-age films] are: the lead who resists family pressure by joining a band is a young woman and her parents have more to be concerned about than what the neighbors think. The action takes place in Tunis, Tunisia, in 2010, before the Revolution, so any kind of rebellion, even artistic, can draw the attention of the police and lead to arrest — or worse.

'As I Open My Eyes'

Written by Ren Jender.

“My uncool parents won’t let me be an artist (or writer)” is such a common plot for coming-of-age films that a repertory theater could show a different one every night and fill at least a full month’s calendar. But girls and women usually need not apply as leads in the Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man genre. In these films, the wife and/or girlfriend of the main character rarely has a personality of her own. The male protagonist has a meddling (or mostly silent) mother. We see sisters as troubled or as comic relief, like in writer-director David Chase’s Not Fade Away, a lackluster semi-autobiographical account of a not very successful band in the 1960s.

Two things that make Leyla Bouzid’s new film As I Open My Eyes distinct from these other films are: the lead who resists family pressure by joining a band is a young woman, Farah (Baya Medhaffar) and her parents have more to be concerned about than what the neighbors think. The action takes place in Tunis, Tunisia, in 2010, before the Revolution, so any kind of rebellion, even artistic, can draw the attention of the police and lead to arrest — or worse.

But Farah is a teenager (she’s 18), so she doesn’t believe she’ll get into trouble with the authorities. As her mother (Ghalia Benali) tries to dissuade her from performing with the band, which includes Farah’s slightly older, manbun-wearing boyfriend, Bohrène (Montassar Ayari), Farah says, “Everyone’s scared for nothing.”

Her mother sighs as she tells Farah, “I used to be like you.”

Like girls and young women all over the world, Farah blithely lies about why she’s late coming home which sends her mother into paroxysms of rage and frustration and leads her to vow to never speak to her daughter again. But the fractured family puts on a good front for their other relatives during Ramadan Iftar as they talk of Farah becoming a doctor and avoid any mention of her musical ambitions.

'As I Open My Eyes'

Bouzid, who is from Tunisia, (she now lives in France) co-wrote the script with Marie-Sophie Chambon and they capture the balancing act required of those who live under a police state. Even the band discusses which songs are (and aren’t) safe to play. When one member asks, “Aren’t we censoring ourselves,” we can see how younger people chafe against the restrictions that have defined their parents’ lives.

A great deal of the film takes place during the band’s performances and rehearsals, the songs commenting on the political situation of the country, similar to Cabaret‘s juxtaposition of musical performances and increasing oppression. But the music is North African with a tinge of punk: Farah’s style of singing sometimes reminds us of X-Ray Spex’s Poly Styrene and Farah and her bandmates pogo to one song. Farah’s great curly meringue of hair (like her mother, Farah looks like a different person with her hair pulled back) is offset by an early-’80s-style “tail.”

Medhaffar is fully committed as a singer, sometimes seeming to be nearly moved to tears by what she sings, but she shines offstage as well. Too often, a teen lead is played by an actor several years older, a glaring discrepancy at that age. Medhaffar, if anything, seems younger than 18, perfect for the stubborn, determined, and love-addled Farah. Bouzid and Medhaffar expertly capture the intoxication that is a young woman’s first love and first (good!) sexual experience. Benali is also excellent, so much so that I wished the script added more clarity to her backstory. As I Open My Eyes is the second film I’ve seen written and directed by a Tunisian woman about a Tunisian woman becoming an artist (the other is Satin Rouge), a genre I hope we see more of — and not just from Tunisia.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgx_48jQAmE”]

I had the opportunity to talk with Leyla Bouzid, the director and co-writer of As I Open My Eyes, by phone last month. This interview was edited for concision and clarity.

Bitch Flicks: Baya Medhaffar is not just a great singer but also so good in the scenes that show her emotional and physical attachment to her boyfriend. Were there films that feature a young woman’s first love — and sex — that you were influenced by? Were there mistakes you’d seen in other films that you wanted to avoid?

Leyla Bouzid: We wanted to show the emotion. It’s her first love. The kiss at the start of the film is the first kiss and the time they make love is the first time she makes love, even if she doesn’t say it’s her first time. She just says, “It’s the first time I’ve seen a guy naked.” I was always thinking what was important for her. Because in other films, especially films from the Arab world, the issue would be she’s not a virgin anymore. This is not the truth; it’s not the real feeling this young woman would have. And I wanted the film to be very organic and very tactile, that we feel what you feel when someone is touching you for the first time. What I thought about were Jane Campion’s films, like The Piano. When the lovers touch each other you can really feel it. It’s a feminine way of showing love and attraction.

'As I Open My Eyes'

BF: I liked that the mother character starts out as seeming completely unreasonable, but then as the film goes on we see that she’s not. I’m wondering if you gave the actress Ghalia Benali [who is also a singer] any special direction.

LB: Ghalia was very afraid that we would think her character is hysterical. We talked a lot about the mother’s path. At the beginning of the film, she’s protecting her daughter so much that we think, “She’s crazy.” But at another point of the film we think, “She was right.” I pushed her to become this very protective mother. She trusted me. She said that how she was in the first part of the film reminded her of her own mother when she first started singing.

BF: Although the music is North African it also, especially in Medhaffar’s singing had a punk feel. And Farah has one of Patti Smith’s ’70s album covers hanging in her bedroom. What bands did you want Farah’s band to sound like or be influenced by?

LB: In Tunisia, there is not that much of a rock scene. There was when I was really a teenager but not during the period in the film. But there are a lot of Western bands that make rock and punk in Lebanon and Egypt and I was influenced by them. A band called Adif: it’s the band of the composer of the film [Khyam Allami]. It’s really rock but melancholy. I was also influenced by the Lebanese group called Mashrou’ Leila and by Maryam Saleh and Tamer Abu Ghazaleh. The idea was to have this mixture of traditional rock and traditional Tunisian music.

BF: The film takes place before the Revolution in 2010. Six years later, what do you think Farah would be up to? Do you think she would do as you did [Bouzid, like Deniz Gamze Ergüven, writer-director of Mustang attended the French film school La Fémis] and leave Tunisia?

LB: I think she’s still in Tunisia. She’s probably able to sing and has an audience and more of an ability to do concerts, but if she stays she’s probably disappointed — or depressed. When I was searching for the actress to play Farah, I met a lot of young women that were 22, 23 years old [which would be about Farah’s age now] and they were all kind of depressed. When I told them the story of Farah, they said, “Oh this is the story of my life, but I gave up and now I’m stuck with my family.” When watching the film, we can decide what happens. At the end it’s open, if she continues to sing or not.

BF: Your father is an acclaimed Tunisian director. Did you learn anything from him?

LB: The most useful thing I learned from him is: it is really hard in our country to make a film. In Tunisia making a first feature before turning 30 is unusual but part of why I could do it is because I had seen my father, how difficult it was every time for him to make a new film. Even though he was so famous in Tunisia it was still hard for him to get financing. I think when you start in cinema, it’s a dream and people idealize it. I didn’t. I knew it was really complicated.

BF: Muslims in France have been in the news lately. Your home is in France. Do the bans on Muslim women dressing how they want concern you?

LB: Yeah, I think really it’s just an empty, I don’t know how to say, a non-event. What the hell do you care about the clothes women wear when they swim? I’m relieved that the French courts stopped this. Politically, it was a very, very, very bad sign.

BF: Surveillance from the state, especially in the form of surrogates, like the “friend” of the band, is a big part of the film. Did you have experiences with state surveillance when you were in Tunisia? Did you know anybody who did? In the U.S., Muslims have been very much targeted in surveillance. Is the same thing happening in France?

LB: Yes, in Tunisia this event in the film, it really happened to me, but not in the same situation. When I was 16 and 17 years old, I was in a cinema club. We were all young. Some were 22 and I was the youngest I think. And we met every Saturday and talked about cinema and started to make our films. There was a guy who was the only one who had his own apartment, so we were always having parties at his house. If we were doing something we had to hide or we wanted to make out or whatever, we always went to his house. And after 3 years, I found out that he was a cop and that he was there to watch us. This is something that happened to a lot of people. Also, all the taxi drivers, they were working for the police, so every seventh person in Tunisia was a cop.

In France, let’s say the atmosphere has been really special for the past two years. It’s more speeches and the media and especially television are openly racist and Muslims are targeted in that way. There is more suspicion. I have a neighbor who’s Jewish but her skin is brown. She looks much more like an Arab than I do. And she told me she’s getting a lot of harassment every day. Individuals say to her, “Go back to your home,” and, “We don’t want Arab people here.”

BF: I’ve now seen two feminist films from Tunisian women writer-directors: yours and Raja Amari’s Satin Rouge, which feature women who find themselves through artistic expression. Can you tell me how you’ve been influenced by other women artists in or outside Tunisia?

LB: In general women directors are very inspiring, like Jane Campion, but also Tunisian women directors, like Moufida Tlatli. Also, other artistic women and singers, like Patti Smith. I really liked what she wrote in her books. And Bjork. And Frida Kahlo: these kind of women who are really creating things.

Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing, besides appearing on Bitch Flicks, has also been published in The Toast, RH Reality Check, xoJane and The Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Ladies of the 1980s Week: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts from our Ladies of the 1980s Week here.

Ladies of the 80s Roundup

‘Pretty in Pink’: A Desire for Autonomy by Siobhan Denton

Re-watching the film recently, it seems apparent that rather than Andie allowing herself to submit to Blane and all that he represents, her narrative arc is really a search for a sense of autonomy rather than a desire to transition into a world of privilege. … Andie is not happy, despite outward appearances, and it is clear that for her, Blane represents an opportunity to take control of her life, to become increasingly autonomous in her decisions.

‘A Different World’ Shook Up My World by Shara D. Taylor

A Different World will forever hold a special place in my life. Set at the fictional, historically Black school Hillman College, it became my North Star to an experience largely foreign to me — undergraduate life. It gave me insight into the strength gained from friendships with Black women. … Seeing images of young, gifted, and Black women pursuing higher education at a historically Black college or university (HBCU) shaped my vision for my life.

Historical vs. Modern Abortion Narratives in ‘Dirty Dancing’ and ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’ by Tessa Racked

Given this climate, it is somewhat surprising that two mainstream Hollywood films, Dirty Dancing and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, would take progressive approaches to a topic like reproductive justice. While Dirty Dancing remembers the realities of abortion pre-Roe v. Wade and illustrates the role that class plays in access to abortion, Fast Times at Ridgemont High shows a main character who exercises her right to choose without trauma or punishment, while managing to keep a relatively light tone.

Feminism and Classism in ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’ by Horrorella

The Legend of Billie Jean addresses questions of gender and class that are as real today as they were in 1985 and sets its story within the struggles against the patriarchy and the ruling wealthy class by people who all too often fall victim to those oppressions. … As the story progresses, Billie Jean’s flight becomes more than just the desire to escape from a situation that sees her and her friends unfairly on the wrong side of the law. She wants wrongs to be set right. … She wants dignity, and respect – truly, what she is after is equality.

10 of the Best Feminist Comedies of the 1980s by Jessica Quiroli

9 to 5. If I may, this is the greatest women’s comedy of all-time. So perfect on every level, it’s hard to know where to begin; but how about with the three main characters? … Played by Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton, and Lilly Tomlin, this wild ride is a classic in any era, but a rare, feminist gem of the 80s.

“You Have No Power Over Me”: Female Agency and Empowerment in ‘Labyrinth’ by Kelcie Mattson

So what distinguishes Labyrinth from the Hero’s Journey tropes it so closely follows? Its protagonist. Sarah is the hero of the story. She doesn’t need to be saved because she’s the rescuer, and she carries the plot forward with her resourcefulness, tenacity, and self-actualization. … But Labyrinth’s dramatic tension is centered entirely in a young woman’s mind as she navigates a tricky tightrope between fantasy and reality, dreams and goals, past and future, and discovers the kind of woman she wants to be.

‘Working Girl’ and the Female Gaze by Allyson Johnson

We so often view films through the Male Gaze with camera shots that are more interested in capturing the way a woman’s body looks under the guise of “sex sells” that it’s become somewhat of the norm. While Working Girl is appreciative of the beauty between Sigourney Weaver and Melanie Griffith, it employs a “female gaze” so to speak with Harrison Ford. … Also a change of pace is the fact that by the end of the film, Katharine and Tess aren’t fighting over Jack. They’re fighting over their place in the working world and, to narrow it down to a single moment, they’re fighting over a great idea that Tess had, one Katharine wishes she could have come up with and resents Tess for.

‘Videodrome’ and the Pornographic Femme Fatale by Dr. Stefan Sereda

Blade Runner (1982) featured two fembots-turned-fatale (and another faux–fatale) whereas David Cronenberg’s sci-fi-horror-noir Videodrome updated the femme fatale as a response to media-saturated late twentieth-century culture. … Regardless, in Cronenberg’s prophetic film, the femme fatale is reborn and unleashed to warn of contemporary dangers, including how women’s media representation as sex objects is connected to capitalist propaganda, often with the intent of making a violent agenda seem pleasurable.

The Feminisms of ‘Born in Flames’ by Heather Brown

It’s no coincidence to me that three years later Lizzie Borden would direct Born in Flames, a film that depicts a collection of different feminist voices all aligned in a common goal of resisting what bell hooks terms the white-supremacist-capitalist-patriarchy. … Instead of acting out carceral feminism, which relies on law enforcement and state violence to combat violence against women, the feminisms of Born in Flames create justice rather than restore “order.”

Did Gender Alter the Tone of the ‘Alien’ Franchise? Implications of Narrative Femininity by Kayleigh Watson

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for Alien stated: “The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” …In Aliens – the 1986 sequel directed by James Cameron – both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. Cameron pushed the series into being specifically feminist, having Weaver reprise the role in more extreme circumstances. She gained a surrogate daughter – Newt – to protect, more men to fight, and an Alien Queen – one who breeds – to defeat. … Through the course of the film, we come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

‘She’s Gotta Have It’: The Audacity of Sex and the Black Women Who Have It by Reginée Ceaser

Looking back on the film today, I appreciate this film now because it centers on a Black woman who unabashedly is exploring and thoroughly enjoying her sexuality. By doing this, Spike Lee took long held beliefs and perceptions of Black women and pushed back on the constrictions and perceptions of society.

‘Jem and the Holograms’: Diversity and Female Empowerment by Horrorella

What I didn’t remember, and was pleasantly surprised by, was all of the diversity present in the show and the incredibly positive female role models that it presented to its young viewers. … It offered a positive statement on cultural acceptance and feminine strength at a time when children’s programming was lacking in both areas (and often still is today). The Holograms celebrated an ethnically and culturally diverse group of characters who came from a variety of different backgrounds.

Reagan’s America: Waiting to Die in ‘Testament’s Radiation Zone by Angela Beauchamp

[Atomic Bomb Cinema author] Jerome Shapiro disregards Testament because it is primarily about women’s suffering, yet this very acknowledgement of women’s powerlessness in a world that patriarchal governments have just blown up is feminist at its core. … This 1983 film created by women gave the audience such a grim picture of the near future, without the excitement of special effects or the hope brought by overcoming obstacles, that it was a call to action, a message to avoid this outcome at all costs.

‘Crossing Delancey’: Isabelle Needs a New Perspective on Life and Love by Susan Cosby Ronnenberg

This romantic comedy has always been more of a cult classic. But it was unusual in its female writer and director, along with its distinctly Jewish cultural setting, its generational custom-clash regarding matchmaking, and its conflicted independent protagonist, Isabelle, who could be read as a late 1980s precursor to ‘Sex and the City’s protagonist Carrie Bradshaw. An independent, straight single woman with a successful career, Isabelle has professional and romantic options, ambitions, and flawed preconceptions about the incompatibility of those options and ambitions as she tries to decide between an internationally acclaimed poet or a neighborhood.

Women Muscians in the 80s Used Music Videos to Expand Notions of Womanhood by Gwen Hofmann

…Women in music broadened visual representations of gender as their cacophony of voices inoculated the population to women of all ages, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Most intriguing about this “kaleidoscopic” decade is the way women in 80s music videos displayed these distinct portraits of womanhood. … The ladies of 80s music video brought forth new visual representations of women including: experiences in the workforce, issues of class, messages of power, and unique expressions of love and sex.

‘The Golden Girls’: The Legacy of a Lifetime of Wisdom and Laughter by Adina Bernstein

In 1985, television audiences were reminded that women of a certain age are just as vibrant, sexual, and as full of life as women half their age. They may also share a few life lessons along the way. The TV series ‘The Golden Girls’ — which aired for seven seasons — reminded audiences of all ages that life does not end at fifty for women.

‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’: The Wisdom and Confidence of Linda Barrett by Angela Morrison

Phoebe Cates brings life to the energetic, worldly, confident-yet-vulnerable Linda. Her character is the heart and soul of the movie, as she gives Stacy (Jennifer Jason Leigh) advice on sex, relationships, and navigating her way through high school. … Linda’s attitude toward sex – which she passes on to Stacy – is that it needn’t be a big deal, but rather, should be seen as a fun and pleasurable activity for young women such as themselves. … She urges Stacy to make her own decisions, letting her know that she has the power to decide who she wants to have sex with, and when. The film never takes a judgmental attitude towards these young women, their sexual activities, and their frank discussions of sex.

The Vietnam War Through a Teen Girl’s Eyes in ‘In Country’ by Caroline Madden

Sam is an underrated, if not widely unknown 1980s heroine. She serves as a symbol for America’s 1980s attempt to reconcile with its most controversial war. The 1980s experienced a boom in Vietnam War films, as the temporal distance from the war allowed filmmakers to fully deconstruct the experience. Rarely is the locus of these films a woman. Sam’s character manages to break through the barriers of a primarily masculine film genre. In Country uniquely explores both the female and child experience of the Vietnam War and its aftermath. This is a departure from the wide variety of films depicting the male veteran’s assimilation into post-Vietnam life, such as Born on the Fourth of July (1989) or First Blood (1982).

Revisiting ‘Desert Hearts’ and Its Lesbian Romance by Angela Beauchamp

For heterosexual women, movies and television series show them every day what a loving relationship is and what the expectations are to grow up, fall in love, and find a handsome prince (however flawed that may be). For lesbians prior to Donna Deitch’s Desert Hearts, nothing of the kind existed on-screen. … It is a conventional romance, which is one of the reasons that it is so successful.

‘Pretty in Pink’: The Only Team to Be on Is Team Andie by Isabella Garcia

I fixated on the Team Duckie vs. Team Blane aspect of the film so much that I entirely missed the point. I was so Team Duckie that I blamed Andie for not choosing him. … It wasn’t until I grew up some more, graduated high school, and went through several re-watches that I realized I had fallen into a trap that society has conditioned us to fall into: the dreaded sexist “friend zone.” … It was wild to me that Andie didn’t like Duckie back, but after recently re-watching the film I don’t know why I ever blamed her. She stuck true to what she wanted.

How ‘Big Business’ Made Big Business with Two Women Big in the Business by Kyle Sanders

Yet what sets this 80s flick apart from most films of that era is the fact that the four protagonists are all women AND completely independent. … Ultimately, it is Midler and Tomlin who save the film from being just another forgotten comedy of the 1980s. The two stars bring a certain gravitas to the screen — a perfect combination of comedic timing and contagious chemistry in scenes that might otherwise fall flat in the hands of other capable actresses.

‘The Stepfather,’ Toppling Patriarchy, and Love of 80s Horror Ladies by Eva Phillips

Stephanie emerges as a poised, perspicacious, and resilient female lead. She is a wonderfully surprising alternative from most of the panoply of horror heroines who are tortured, fight, and scream their way through the terrifying films of the 80s. … Stephanie embodies what each of the archetypally male characters in the film fails to, and in doing so transcends the clutches of gender expectations in the film and in a genre that is so often besotted by explicit or implicit gendered presumptions.

Sheila E.’s Agency as an Artist in ‘Krush Groove’ and Beyond by Tara Betts

But Sheila E. represents a woman’s creative musical power in an early hip hop film dominated by male artists. … As we consider hip hop’s presence in U.S. films and documentaries spanning the globe, it is also reasonable to consider that Sheila E. has one of the biggest roles for a woman that was written in the spate of films that began portraying hip hop culture.

Ripley, Sexism, and Classism in ‘Aliens’ by Adam Sherman

One of the most enduring female action heroes in the 80s is Ellen Ripley. In the 1979 movie Alien, we were introduced to her as a competent, no-nonsense space trucker who survived where the rest of her crew did not. However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, Aliens. Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

‘The Fog’: 5 Women, an Environmental Crisis, and No Forecast for Friendship by ThoughtPusher

Before watching the movie with a more critical lens, I reminisced that these strong female characters drove the community response to crisis as they began to interact and even came to depend on each other. … But upon further examination, these characters only come together in a geographic sense rather than develop significant strength through the social bonds of supporting each other. … It seems like The Fog exposes the idea that strong women can’t have any meaningful relationships that might endure and even help them survive and understand themselves better through tough times.

Rethinking ‘Say Anything’ and the Film’s Actual Protagonist Diane Court by Charlotte Orzel

The problem isn’t that audiences misremember Lloyd Dobler; it’s that they forget about Diane Court. Even though the two characters share the screen more or less equally, Diane (Ione Skye) is often treated more as a love interest than a romantic lead. … Not only is Diane an equal player in the action; she’s the film’s protagonist. While we spend a great deal of time with Lloyd, the movie’s story is structured around Diane’s life. … While Diane has a clear narrative of growth, Lloyd is a static character.

Black Women in 1980s Horror Films: Tokenism and Regression by Ashlee Blackwell

However, I do thoroughly enjoy and sometimes defend 80s horror and the Black (female) characters I can find, but it’s crucial to examine the narrow confines of their characterization. … The 80s opened up a dialogue about where Black women’s place was not only in society, but in horror. Katrina demonstrates a stark fear of “the Other” who dwells beyond the parameters of the safe, White institutions, Sheila is a marker of assimilation and the rise of the Black middle class with a Huxtable like allure, while also being a Black girl nerd we like, and Epiphany is rooted in a past that Reagan’s message to America desired; a return to the good ‘ole days when miscegenation was taboo if not illegal.

Horror, White Bodies, and Feminism in ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’

Rihanna’s video for ‘Bitch Better Have My Money,’ directed by Rihanna herself and the Megaforce team, is an intersectional feminist revenge horror masterpiece. This video also has a lot of people up in arms due to its supposed misogyny and definite violent imagery. However, many of its critics have missed the hard facts: for instance, there is very little on screen violence in ‘BBHMM.’ Yet its masterful use of suggestion and direct attacks on ideologies American society values make it an effective and affecting horror piece.

This is a guest post by Josephine Maria Yanasak-Leszczynski.

Rihanna’s video for Bitch Better Have My Money, directed by Rihanna herself and the Megaforce team, is an intersectional feminist revenge horror masterpiece. This video also has a lot of people up in arms due to its supposed misogyny and definite violent imagery. However, many of its critics have missed the hard facts: for instance, there is very little on screen violence in BBHMM. Yet its masterful use of suggestion and direct attacks on ideologies American society values make it an effective and affecting horror piece.

A note before I begin: I have named the characters by the archetypes they represent. White Woman is the woman kidnapped initially by Rihanna and her crew, the women that aid her in the less than lawful activities she engages in the video. White Male is the character played by Mads Mikkelsen, an actor currently best known for portraying horror legend Hannibal on television.

The video’s White Woman is objectified into a symbol of Whiteness from the beginning: She exists in a beige and white house, with a creepily well behaved light-colored dog, and a non entity White husband taking the place of furniture as she dresses in front of his still presence. White Woman applies perfect make up, then dons a diamond necklace. She is blond and thin and wears expensive designer clothing. The camera does not caress her perfect body, but it is also not hidden.

White Woman applies makeup in her beige bathroom.
White Woman applies makeup in her beige bathroom.

 

On this bland palette and sparse introduction we are able to place our own assumptions based on her superficiality. To some viewers she might be a trophy wife, others may see signs of a successful career woman, or even a woman locked in a career where her looks are her resume like a model or a dancer. In any of these assumptions, she is outwardly successful. Material wealth surrounds her, and attractiveness is upheld by her rituals and accessories.

The effect of White Woman’s abuse in the video is incredible: how many of us White female viewers feel blows land on ourselves? Yet with the exception of a blow to the back of the head with a bottle, we see only pushes to swing the woman as she suspends from the rafters of a barn and a minimum of on screen violence.

White Woman attempts to flag down a cop moments before being bludgeoned.
White Woman attempts to flag down a cop moments before being bludgeoned.

 

This violence is all the more effective because of the use of White Woman’s nudity. In her living room, we see her breasts through a translucent bra. She covers them with a designer coat before kissing her husband good bye, then picks up her dog and stepping on an elevator with Rihanna and a large trunk. The next shot is of her nude in a car of fully clothed women. Where a scene before she was powerful in designer lingerie, the queen of her domain even, she has suddenly been made completely vulnerable.

This liberal use of nudity is the “gross display of the human body” in horror described by Linda Williams in her essay “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess.” There is a duality in White Woman’s role: first of all, she is the ideal we have all been pushed to attain. Secondly, she is a woman made helpless when stripped of the armor of her status symbols. Viewers that have felt physically vulnerable as women imagine the bodily abuses on their own physical forms and internalize it: bodily horror materializes.

However, the horror for viewers is not just an attack of a physical nature. The fear of this piece comes just as much from the viewer’s self identification. If they hold themselves up to the impossible standard of Whiteness that is considered the societal norm, they put themselves in the place of White Woman. If they have broken that cycle, they see themselves in Rihanna and view a different story altogether.

Throughout her manipulations of White Woman, an assault on Whiteness itself is bubbling beneath the surface. Whiteness interpreted into these archetypal forms has kept Rihanna from what is assumedly owed her, and this is the visual fantasy of her taking that back.

Rihanna is making war on the white washed femininity that she is held up to, but with her diverse comrades, she is also making war on and conquering that singular view of female perfection that chains us all. By removing and later replacing White Woman’s wrappings, the physicality of the attacks translates into not just an attempt to dismantle the superficial elements of Whiteness, but blows against the White body itself. After all, these impermanent objects are only symbols of the idealized racial identity we are all taught to strive for; they are props to bring us closer to that impossible goal.

Rihanna is aided by two women that are racially different from herself. These women are symbols many critics have missed. Unlike the narratives supported by mainstream, primarily White and straight feminists, Rihanna’s storytelling is truly inclusive.

The male gaze is incarnate in the male police officer that turns up in only two scenes. He is kept from doing his job, catching Rihanna and crew, by his inability to take the attractive bikini-clad women for anything more than something to be ogled at. In the video, this presumption of the male gaze is used by Rihanna to further her goals.

It is during an interaction with this officer that the video makes what I consider to be its only sexual objectification by nature of camera movement. The camera pans to Rihanna’s buttocks next to the floating body of her victim as a parallel to the actions of the officer and a reminder of the job he has failed to complete. While nudity is a repeating focal point in the beginning half of the video, it is curiously lacking in sexual overtones up to this point. Unless, of course, one is unable to separate the naked female body from objectifying sexuality.

Unlike other revenge stories, agency remains firmly in the hands of the protagonist in BBHMM. We do not have to endure what has happened to Rihanna’s character in this narrative in some poorly managed introductory horror sequence, though the ransom requests are illustrated on screen. Instead, we see what Rihanna is: powerful in a society that would otherwise hold her down and screw her out of her money.

This last point is particularly poignant when depicted through her interactions with White Male. In an unexpected turn, it is White Woman’s husband who is revealed to be “The Bitch” and not White Woman herself. While his nature is shown through short cuts of him laughing evilly and the like, his exact crimes are not depicted by the narrative.

Instead, as a lead up to the delicious torture sequence that is undoubtedly about to ensue, Rihanna pauses to inspect the various tools she has at her disposal. While it would make for a tidy story to have him refusing to pay ransom on a woman they randomly kidnapped be the motive, all possible reasons to murder White Male are helpfully written on labels beside Rihanna’s tools to demonstrate the scope and nature of his crimes against her.

In this video, White Male is a placeholder for White males in general, just as the White body of the woman in the beginning of the video represents the overwhelming Whiteness of the narrowly defined bounds of accepted femininity. Much like his wife, White Male’s body is exploited and used as a symbol of his own White power.

His body physically interacts with the money that in this video represent power: bills are literally rubbed on his body in a sensuous display of sexuality by two women that serve as further examples of physical comfort. Just like the furniture and clothing in the White Woman’s entrance scenes, the White Male’s props identify him as powerful by nature of the accepted system of symbols that represent wealth in mainstream culture. It is important to note that White Male is the only character seen with physical money at this point.

In the end, Rihanna’s search for satisfaction and White Woman’s suffering stem from the same root: White Male’s inability to value them, and therefore underestimating them. White Female is returned to her residence, relatively physically unharmed. She apparently does not interfere with Rihanna’s treatment of the husband that did not respond to ransom demands earlier in the video.

White Male struggles against his bindings
White Male struggles against his bindings.

 

White Male’s torture is not shown. The next shot is of Rihanna leaving the house, covered in what could be presumed to be his blood. The act itself is not intended to be the satisfying part, but instead the viewer can take comfort that the job was done.

The final reveal employs relief from the implied violence of an unexpected sort. The bloody legs hanging out of the trunk shown in the first shot of the video do not, as we assumed, belong to the dead body of White Female. Instead of an end to the implied violence and hedonism through what is assumed to be its inevitable conclusion in a corpse, we see a triumphant and relieved Rihanna. Bloodied from her task, but enjoying a cigar on a pile of money she earned.

 

Recommended Reading: “This is What Rihanna’s BBHMM Video Says About Black Women, White Women and Feminism”

Josephine Maria Yanasak-Leszczynski has a name unpronounceable by human tongues. She is a freelance writer, reviewer, and author (as J.M. Yales). Very occasionally she makes art from recycled scraps of metal.

 

 

Miley Cyrus Has America’s Sex Drive By The Balls

But what I do want to talk about is the conversation that has swirled around young Cyrus ever since the ill-fated twerking incident at the VMA’s, and her subsequent music video of her naked on a wrecking ball. Everyone has slut-shamed Miley Cyrus. They’ve wagged their fingers at her dance moves, her tongue, her hair-cut, her entire demeanor, her (unsurprising) change from Disney star to adult, her drug-use, and the fact that she’s just “not a role model for young girls.”

Because apparently America thinks, as it has for the past, I dunno, forever, that female sexuality is “icky.”

Written By Rachel Redfern

Miley and the tongue
Miley and the tongue

Over the weekend you might have noticed the Sinead O’Connor and Miley Cyrus kerfuffle that happened on the internet. The whole thing started when Miley Cyrus states that the Irish singer was one of her idols; a little while later, O’Connor posted this public letter to Cyrus, “advising” her; though really, her advice sounded a lot like condescending, passive-aggressive slut-shaming. So Cyrus then acted out an immature and hurtful scene on twitter by referencing O’Connor’s personal struggle with mental and emotional health. Sinead then descended to the 20-year-old pop star’s level and posted an irate tirade on facebook, cussing out the young singer and just plain-old aggressively calling her a “prostitute.”

The whole thing is horrible and ridiculous and both have acted badly and today, I’m not here to defend or support either of them.

But what I do want to talk about is the conversation that has swirled around young Cyrus ever since the ill-fated twerking incident at the VMA’s, and her subsequent music video of her naked on a wrecking ball. Everyone has slut-shamed Miley Cyrus. They’ve wagged their fingers at her dance moves, her tongue, her hair-cut, her entire demeanor, her (unsurprising) change from Disney star to adult, her drug-use, and the fact that she’s just “not a role model for young girls.”

Because apparently America thinks, as it has for the past, I dunno, forever, that female sexuality is “icky.”

News flash: she’s a POP SINGER. Like Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Britney Spears, Christina Aquilera, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, and virtually EVER OTHER FEMALE POP STAR OF THE PAST 40 YEARS.

And of course the real issue here isn’t that each of these women has had a bout with a dirty dance move and a lot of flesh showing on camera, but rather, that they dared to do it and not feel ashamed. That they dared to do it and own it as a part of who they were, a part of their own sexuality. Because this is what people are really scared of, they’re scared of women’s sexuality just like they always have been. If Miley takes her clothes off and grinds on a wrecking ball in front of their little girl, then someday, their little girl, or little girlfriend, or little wife, might do they same.

You know what world. They are. And some are going to like it.

But I know what you’re thinking, “How dare they like it?!” “There will be no liking of sex!” “Good girls don’t like sex.”

Scary thing about all this? Sometimes, BOYS DO IT TOO! Only nobody really cares if boys do it because they’re uncontrollable sex maniacs anyways, amiright?

And the big thing is, pop singers have been doing this for a long time, to generate controversy, get attention, and sell albums.

Welcome to showbiz, baby.

And you know what, someday, maybe Miley Cyrus will look back on all this and regret it. But maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll be a sex-icon like Madonna for the rest of her life and make millions of dollars and be perfectly happy.

Now, I applaud O’Connor for pointing out the insidious nature of much of the music business executives and the way that they are using the female stars in their contracts. However, it’s possible that Cyrus, who literally grew up in the music industry, is also a market-savvy pop princess entirely aware of the best way to keep herself current and in demand: controversy.

And since she’s embraced her rebel idol status with a rockin’ hair cut and intense tongue use, part of that is expressing an overt, in-your-face sexuality with stunning confidence.

For some reason, America (and much of the world), fears that deep V between a women’s legs and the fact that we like having access to it. For some reason, it’s incomprehensible that some women might enjoy taking off her clothes and feeling the thrill of voyeurism.  Some women, just like some men, love excess and attention and the body is a powerful way to get those things

As media reviewers who pay a lot of attention to female interaction with the media, we often complain the inappropriate sexual exploitation of women, specifically when that happens with the goal of a directed male gaze.  For example, these stupid superhero posters with ridiculously designed uber-feminine poses.

The way women really stand
The way women really stand.

But female sexuality that aggressively maintains control over what it wants and how it chooses to be presented? Well, I can get behind that because it’s her choice.

We also complain when that sexuality is lacking in substance and obviously operating off of a limiting standard of female beauty. As an image think of Megax Fox straddling a motorcycle in booty shorts for no other reason than Michael Bay wanted her to.

How Megan Fox looks when her car breaks down
How Megan Fox looks when her car breaks down.

But super spiky bleach blond hair whilst wearing tennis shoes and a bear-studded leotard? Sure, whatever.

Amanda Palmer, that brilliant musician and feminist extraordinaire, once got fully nude at a concert FILLED with people in a fierce reclaiming of her own body after a snarky post by the Daily Mail. Nudity and sexiness won that day. She’s also written her own letter to Cyrus and its awesome.

Lady Gaga, (Funny feminist Caitlin Moran once wrote in stellar praise of the pop singer), who I’ve seen more times without clothes than I have with, is considered an eccentric purveyor of the avant-garde and hyper-camp. And while she’s occasionally controversial, no one is writing her open letters demanding that she put some clothes back and stop gyrating.

It’s because of age. As always, Miley’s coming out into the realm of the adult, from a coveted child star’s position, means that she must always be sweet and funny and America’s girl-next-door.

But here’s the thing, she is America’s girl next door. At least some of them. She’s experimenting and projecting herself, just do it in a far more public one than your average 21-year-old. And making a lot more money.

Miley Cyrus and the infamous bears
Miley Cyrus and the infamous bears.

So America, get over yourself and your Victorian, false-nostalgia ideas about what a women’s libido is really like. Cause you’re babbling and my vagina and I have better things to with our time.

 

No "Gentleman" Is Psy

Written by Rachel Redfern

K-pop is the standard term for the most substantial part of South Korea’s massively prolific popular culture. Within K-pop there are an elite group of top ten bands that release a new single every few months, a song which then proceeds to dominate every single radio station, YouTube advertisement, and TV show for a week. Even elderly Koreans have the songs as their ringtone just as much as any young person does. For years Korea has been trying to bring that K-pop into the west, but its bubble-gum nature and pre-packaged commercialism has not fared well; Psy suddenly, explosively, changed all of that.

Psy’s surprising viral rise to the top of every musical chart in the world marks a huge moment for Korean culture; in a country often overshadowed by the magnitude of China and the familiarity of Japan (and even its crazy northern neighbor, North Korea), Psy has become the first truly international Korean symbol, an ironic fact considering that his music is not a standard representation of K-pop (click here and here if you would like to see what K-pop normally looks like).

Still from Psy’s latest music video, “Gentleman”
As an American expat currently living in South Korea I see Psy every day. He’s on the side of buses, and buildings, he dances across commercials, and is on every talk show. The next person (either in South Korea or anywhere else in the world) to ask me if I know who Psy is might just lose a limb. For a while he was hailed as a clever entertainer and songwriter, one who’s last song, “Gangnam Style,” satirizes the materialistic culture of one of Seoul’s wealthiest neighborhoods.

However, perhaps Psy’s overwhelming success might need to be tempered a bit, especially in our enthusiasm for his newest video, “Gentleman.”

Korea is, for the most part, a very conservative culture, one where, despite some very short shorts, most female pop stars remain much more covered in comparison with their American contemporaries. Therefore, I was a bit shocked when halfway through the video, K-pop star and lead female in the video, Ga In from “Brown-Eyed Girls,” sucks on a hot dog with cream bubbling out over the edges in one of the most blatant visual representations of oral sex I’ve seen in a while. Oddly enough, KBS, the national broadcasting network in Korea, even banned the video, though not for this scene; rather, the video was banned because he destroys public property. 

Psy’s music video “Gentleman” and K-pop star, Ga In
There has been some controversy about how the video treats women, some calling it simple “irony,” others saying, “irony gone too far.” Perhaps the first situation is the case; perhaps it’s only meant to be a funny, silly video about how people treat each other. On the most basic level the video seems problematic and sets a bad example; Psy acts like a jerk and intentionally treats women badly. Of course, the lead female thinks it’s funny and returns the favor, and the two end up together, finally having found their soulmate. Going one layer of analysis under this surface level suggests that he is actually mocking that behavior; perhaps the video was meant as a satire for the way “gentlemen” still treat women? Or perhaps he was trying to comment on the problematic nature of gender politics in the modern world?

And then I read an English translation of the lyrics: Nope, he’s not making that commentary. 

 
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be hot
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be clean
I don’t know if you know, it’ll be a problem if you’re confused
I don’t know if you know but we like, we we we like to party

Hey there
If I’m going to introduce myself
I’m a cool guy with courage, spirit and craziness
What you wanna hear, what you wanna do is me
Damn! Girl! You so freakin sexy!

[lengthy chorus where the following line repeats]

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

I don’t know if you know why it needs to be smooth
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be sexy
I don’t know if you know darling, hurry and come be crazy
I don’t know if you know, it’s crazy, crazy, hurry up

Hey there
Your head, waist, legs, calves
Good! Feeling feeling? Good! It’s soft
I’ll make you gasp and I’ll make you scream
Damn! Girl! I’m a party mafia!
 

[Chorus again]

Gonna make you sweat.
Gonna make you wet
You know who I am Wet PSY
Gonna make you sweat.

Gonna make you wet.
You know who I am
Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! PSY! PSY! PSY!
Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a, I’m a mother father gentleman
Mother father gentleman
Mother father gentleman

*translation from Huffington Post

Consider one of the main lines, “It’ll be a problem if you’re confused,” followed by, “What you wanna do is me” and “I’m going to make you sweat/I’m going to make you wet.”

These lyrics and the rampant arrogance that comes with the video does present a problem for me. While the actions of pulling out a chair and just being an asshole to women are annoying, to me they are less problematic than the hyper-sexualization and the obvious objectification shown to all the women in the video, most notably in the close-up on Ga In and the hot dog.

Still from Psy’s latest video, “Gentleman”
This scene and the lyrics put Psy in place as the sexual instigator and idolizes his own arrogance and behavior; according to the lyrics, he’s a dirty asshole who will “make you wet,” with the women only being playthings–sex objects and static recipients of his desires. For me, the mocking and disrespect compounds until “women as funny toys” just gets tied into “women as funny sex toys.”

There are problematic performers and songs running around on the Internet every single day, and I usually try not to support those entertainers. After this video, I don’t think I want to support Psy anymore either, cause Psy, you’re just not all that.

What do you think? Is “Gentleman” funny and forward-thinking satire? Or irony taken too far?

Also, I’m not linking to the music video in this article because I just can’t stand to hear the song one more time.

———-

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

‘The Sapphires’ and Solidarity Between People of Color

The Sapphires (2012)

 
This is a guest post written by Jaya Bedi.

I predict that this is going to be a very popular film. 
Well, it already is a popular film — in Australia. But I can already tell that its about to become a classic with me and my friends — up there with Mean Girls, Pride and Prejudice, and Bend it Like Beckham — and its only a matter of time before the rest of North America discovers what a gem this movie is. The fact that Bridesmaids actor Chris O’Dowd is one of the stars is only going to make it more popular, as is the fact that it passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors. But what’s really interesting about this film is its treatment of race and cultural identity. 
The Sapphires is about a group of four young Aboriginal women in 1968, who receive a career-making opportunity: travel to Vietnam and sing for the American troops fighting the war. We follow our heroines from their obscure beginnings, through their “discovery,” their rising fame, and the triumphant return home, and we meet a slew of predictable characters along the way. Make no mistake; this is not a film that breaks the rules of the music biopic genre. But what this film lacks in originality, it makes up with heart. The director never loses his compassion for the outlandish personalities he’s dealing with. We develop a deep appreciation for Cynthia, the hilarious sister with no personal boundaries; Gail, the overbearing mama bear of the group, and Dave, the hapless alcoholic manager/keyboardist, with whom we can’t help but fall in love.
While The Sapphires has the feel of a rollicking adventure, the film deals with some very serious issues, and does so with tact and grace. The film does not shy away from showing the blatant discrimination that the girls face because of the color of their skin — this is made clear at the beginning of the film, following Cynthia and Gail’s disastrous performance at an all-white country club. The film takes a firm stance on internalized racism as well — we see the shame that Kay feels at being associated with her black cousins, and her attempts to pass for white. But this isn’t so much a polemic about the prejudice and discrimination that Aboriginal Australians face as it is a coming-of-age tale, for Kay especially. Kay goes from feeling helpless in her despair at their situation, to feeling empowered by her identity as a woman of color; she learns to love being who she is, despite the hardships that being black entails. 
When the girls arrive in Saigon, they are immediately enraptured by the American men they see everywhere. Cynthia falls in love with an audience member immediately, and Kay develops a gigantic crush on a handsome soldier she meets at the hotel. What made me sit up and pay attention was the fact that not a single man the girls show interest in is white. From the second they get there, they are immersed in black American culture (they are, after all, singing soul music), and they have no desire to leave and fraternize with any of their white counterparts. This isn’t because they are barred from mingling with white soldiers by rule or custom — they don’t do it because they don’t want to do it. They specifically seek out black men as romantic partners because they feel a kinship to them. It was refreshing to see men of color depicted as genuinely romantically desirable, without the gross fetishization that usually occurs when black men and sex are involved.

In Australia, Aboriginals are considered to be “black.”

 The girls feel connected to the black American soldiers whom they meet, because in Australia, Aboriginals are also considered to be “black.” To be black is to be hated, feared, and shunned — as it is all over the world. No wonder that their struggles as marginalized people in their own land would resonate so strongly with black soldiers, who faced similar discrimination back home. The story is a microcosm of the greater alliances that were being built between Australian Aboriginals and black Americans at the time. Black American soldiers on shore leave from the Vietnam War often spent time in Australia, and, fed up with the racist treatment they received from white Australians, would gravitate to the black neighborhoods, where they would share the latest in black American music and political ideas. Inspired by black American thinkers, Aboriginal activists launched a domestic Black Power movement in Australia, with the intention of reclaiming the pejorative implications of the word “black,” to turning it into something to be proud of, and to fighting for more self-governance and an end to racial discrimination within Australia. 

If I had one critique of the film — I wish we had seen a little more from the black men whom Cynthia and Kay date. I wish we could have seen their conversations. I wish as much attention was paid to Kay’s relationship with her boyfriend as was to Dave and Gail, who strike up a peculiar friendship. I wish we could have seen more of Kay’s transformation from self-hating white-identifier to being an Aboriginal woman with a strong sense of self, a proud woman of the Yorta Yorta clan. The change seemed rather sudden, not at all justified by the narrative. Kay’s boyfriend felt more like a foil for Kay’s character rather than an actual character in his own right, which is problematic when one of the things that helps Kay discover her identity is her relationship to a black American man, and to black American culture.

This is a story about American empire, in a way. After all, it takes place on the periphery of the Vietnam War, which was fought in order to strengthen the influence of the American empire on Southeast Asia. It’s a story in which representatives of two racist nation-states meet and exchange ideas — but in an ironic twist, the actors happen to be racially marginalized minorities. Instead of reinforcing the racist hegemony, these people of color resist by sharing ideas of self-love. And amid all the larger questions and issues that this film brings up — it is also an intensely human story, one of family ties and reconciliation, of falling in love, and remembering who you are. For these reasons, The Sapphires is ultimately successful. 

Jaya Bedi is a twenty-four year old blogger living in Connecticut. She likes to write about race, politics, and television. You can follow her on twitter at @anedumacation. 

Shut Up and Sing: The Dixie Chicks Controversy Ten Years Later

Movie poster for Shut Up and Sing

This is a guest post by Kerri French.

This month marks ten years since Natalie Maines made her infamous statement during a packed Dixie Chicks gig at Shepherd’s Bush in London, acknowledging the recent events pointing to the United States’ imminent invasion of Iraq by saying “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence. And we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas.” Two days later, the latter part of her statement was quoted in the British newspaper The Guardian and soon picked up by the Associated Press, grabbing headlines across the US. While the Dixie Chicks initially tried to downplay Maines’ comment in the hopes that the controversy would blow over, it quickly became evident that there was no turning back from the stand they had taken.

Targeted by the right-wing group Free Republic, their number one single quickly fell down the charts, album sales dropped, and radio stations refused to play their music. Faced with boycotts throughout their summer tour and the possibility of losing corporate sponsorships, Maines and sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison quickly realized that the issue could not be easily swept away and chose instead to embrace the controversy, framing it as a free speech issue that they would not back down from. They found themselves further faced with harassment, vandalism, and threats of violence, serving as an example to the rest of the country as to what can happen when you choose to express an unpopular opinion.

The Dixie Chicks messing around on stage

Throughout this time and for the three years following, filmmakers Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck documented the band’s reaction and response to the treatment they faced following their 2003 statement. Alternating between footage filmed immediately after the 2003 controversy and two years later as the Dixie Chicks were writing and recording Taking the Long Way, their 2006 album that served as a response to the backlash they experienced throughout their Top of the World tour, Shut Up and Sing highlights the ways in which the band was forced to reconsider not only how they presented themselves as artists but what kind of music they now wanted to create. Maines, Maguire, and Robison take on the task of writing an entire album of songs for the first time, using many of the songs as a way to reflect on and respond to the hostility, threats, and pressure that surrounded them several years prior. As Kopple and Peck show the band preparing to promote the new album, it becomes evident that the 2003 controversy has become a part of the band’s identity, even three years later when Maines’ actual words have been forgotten by most. Refusing to apologize for what they believe in became deeply embedded into who they were, unable to be separated from the discussions of how best to introduce the music industry and fans to the band’s move away from a more straightforward country sound that now incorporated rock and pop influences. Maines in particular seemed hesitant to introduce their new sound and songs too quickly, wanting to be more cautious than Maguire and Robison out of fear of the backlash the band could experience all over again. The documentary offers a very real glimpse into not only how three musicians balance their career with their beliefs, but also how they deal with the emotional aftermath of all that they are up against.

The Dixie Chicks on Entertainment Weekly
What is most impressive, however, is the way Kopple and Peck use the documentary to capture the bond and friendship among three women facing enormous pressure in an industry that refuses to reward women for being true to themselves. Despite countless questioning from the press over how Maguire and Robison feel regarding Maines’ statement, the band continues to think of themselves as a “we” and Maguire and Robison’s support of Maines is unwavering. Indeed, the band doesn’t back away from the controversy that the statement created, refusing to cater to a fan base and industry that showed them so much hostility. The film highlights the band’s anger in conversations filmed backstage during their 2003 tour, with each member arguing with longtime manager Simon Renshaw over what constitutes a radio ban, insisting that they have done nothing wrong and have no reason to show remorse or ask for a second chance. The connection between these three women appears to only grow stronger the more they embrace their newfound political roles as advocates for free speech. In one poignant moment, the documentary shows Maguire tearfully stating that Maines still blames herself for what happened, despite Maguire’s insistence that it was the best thing that could have happened to their careers. She continues, stating that she would give up her career if that is what Maines needs. Their 2006 studio album has, in fact, proven to be their last; despite brief reunions to play a handful of concerts together, the band has headed in different directions, with Robison and Maguire forming the duo Court Yard Hounds while Maines is set to release a solo album with a decidedly more rock focus in May.

The Dixie Chicks singing the National Anthem

Watching the documentary so many years later, it is hard not to wonder why these three women’s actions in particular so enraged the country. The Dixie Chicks were certainly not the most outspoken celebrities to speak out against the war, yet theirs is the controversy that will ultimately be remembered from that time. Was it more shocking that three country musicians could be politically and socially liberal? Admittedly, it probably came as no shock that Sean Penn and Tim Robbins were against the war, but even liberal Americans must have been surprised that it was the Dixie Chicks of all artists who managed to stir up such strong feelings about patriotism and the war.

Still, the question arises whether these three women were punished so harshly because they were country artists whose opinions went against the grain of a large percentage of their fan base or because they were women who dared to have an opinion. Would a male country artist expressing antiwar sentiment have been met with radio bans and death threats? The behavior of male country artists, after all, is often excused or even glorified with their “rebel” persona; it’s all well and good for male musicians to be loud and outspoken but when a woman dares express an opinion outside of what middle America believes, she not only puts her career at risk but exposes herself to harassment and discrimination from fellow musicians, the country music industry, and all of its fans.

Fans unite in support of The Dixie Chicks
And harassment and discrimination is the only way to fairly describe what happened to the Dixie Chicks in the wake of their 2003 statement against the President. Not only did Clear Channel Communications strike the group from country radio station playlists, the uproar from fans wanting all of their CDs bulldozed was nothing short of a modern day witch-hunt. Metal detectors were installed at their shows throughout the summer and a police escort was needed that July when the FBI revealed knowledge of a death threat against Maines in Dallas. Fellow country artist Toby Keith, branding Maines a “big mouth,” began using a doctored photo of Maines with Saddam Hussein as a backdrop at his concerts while singing “You’ll be sorry that you messed with the U. S. of A. / We’ll put a boot in your ass / It’s the American way”—an act that he was never reprimanded for, despite the use of Maines’ image serving as nothing but pure incitement of hatred and violence against a woman who dares hold her own political opinions. The irony, of course, is that it was the Dixie Chicks, not Toby Keith, who had to worry about their tour sponsorship deal falling through when Lipton sent in a PR consultant to discuss whether the company felt they could go forward with the relationship after the band’s “brand” had been tarnished.

The Dixie Chicks sweep the 2007 Grammy Awards
Ten years on, the very conservative demographic who demonized Maines for expressing her disapproval of President Bush and the war are now the ones saying far worse about President Obama. Maines’ statement seems absolutely uneventful in comparison, so much so that the country’s response to her words is near comical when viewed now. Still, the documentary serves as a reminder that the way these three women were treated was anything but comical; it is clear that under the right political circumstances, political groups and corporations can exert enormous pressure on those who choose to express an unpopular opinion. It is especially fitting, then, when the Dixie Chicks return to Shepherd’s Bush in London at the end of the documentary to promote their new album and Maines jokes that she would like to say something the audience hasn’t already heard before and then goes on to say, “Just so you know, we’re ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas.” This time around, the comment wasn’t met with protests and boycotts; the band was instead rewarded in early 2007 when they swept the Grammy Awards by winning all five categories for which they were nominated. In the end, the Dixie Chicks committed themselves to remaining true to who they were no matter the professional, financial, or personal cost—something an audience has rarely heard before, indeed.

 The Dixie Chicks perform “Not Ready to Make Nice” at the 2007 Grammy Awards Ceremony
Kerri French is a poet whose writing has been featured on Sirius Satellite Radio and published in Barrow Street, Mid-American Review, DIAGRAM, Sou’wester, Waccamaw, Barrelhouse, Best New Poets 2008, and The Southern Poetry Anthology, among others. A North Carolina native, she currently lives in Cambridge, England. 



The Zoe Saldana / Nina Simone Biopic Controversy Illustrates the Need for More Black Women Filmmakers

(L-R): Zoe Saldana and Nina Simone; image via Black Street

When Zoe Saldana was recently cast as legendary singer Nina Simone in her upcoming biopic, the decision ignited a firestorm of controversy. People have vehemently criticized the decision. Not because Saldana isn’t a skilled actor (she is). But because her skin is much lighter than the music icon.

I’ve wanted to write about this topic for awhile now. But how can I, a white woman, do justice to the complex issue of race?
I’ll never know discrimination or oppression based on the color of my skin. But I realized that while the whitewashing of Hollywood remains an ongoing conversation in the Black community, it’s not a discussion amongst everyone. And it should be.
Nina Simone’s daughter Simone spoke to Ebony about why skin color should matter in the casting of her mother’s biopic:

“I can guarantee that the sense of insecurity and the questioning of one’s beauty that results from a grownup telling you that as a child you’re too black and your nose is too wide, remained with her [her mother Nina Simone] for the rest of her life.” 

At The Huffington Post, Nicole Moore writes about Nina Simone and the “erasure of black women in film”:

“Because Simone’s blackness extended as much to her musical prowess as to her physicality and image, it’s perplexing that the film’s production team, led by Jimmy Iovine, expects anyone, particularly in the black community, to (re)imagine Nina Simone as fair-skinned, thin-lipped and narrow-nosed? I guess if you look at Hollywood’s history of casting black female roles, especially in biopics, it’s not all that surprising.”

Hollywood has a massive race and gender problem. Black women’s bodies belong to a dichotomy suffering from either fetishization or erasure. When Black women appear in media, which doesn’t happen nearly enough, they suffer from stereotypes of mammies, jezebels and sapphires. And too many producers and directors clearly don’t understand the nuances of race, thinking any person of color will suffice.

Clutch Magazine’s Britni Danielle writes about the biopic and Hollywood’s massive misunderstanding and insensitivity when it comes to women and race:

“In the past few years Hollywood has consistently gotten it wrong when it comes to telling black women’s narratives. From the questionable choice of casting Thandie Newton as an Igbo woman in the film adaptation of the novel Half of a Yellow Sun and Jennifer Hudson as Winnie Mandela, to Jacqueline Fleming, a biracial woman, playing Harriet Tubman, when other people are in charge of portraying us, it seems like any brown face will do.”

The Atlantic’s Ta-Nehisi Coates also finds the “bleaching of Nina Simone” problematic and reinforcing systemic racism:

“But this casting (with no shot taken at Saldana) manages to both erase the specific kind of racism Simone contended with and at the same time empower it.”  

Most white people probably don’t realize the painful history of colorism and skin shade hierarchy — dark vs. light skin — Black women continually face. When the media portrays Black women, we often see women with lighter skin and more Caucasian features. Both L’Oreal and Elle photoshopped Black women — Beyonce and Gabby Sidibe — to make their skin appear much lighter. In film, advertisements and magazine spreads, the media often whitewashes black women, continually perpetuating the unachievable attainment of the white ideal of beauty.

At The Daily Beast, Allison Samuels writes about “the myth of black beauty” and skin color:

“Skin color and its importance around the world—and particularly in the African-American community—has been a hot-button issue for generations. The debate over skin color and its painful origins dates back to the days of slavery, when lighter skin often equaled a better overall quality of life. With more pronounced European features, bearers of a lighter complexion were also considered more attractive than their darker-skinned peers. Possessing this trait was believed to open the cracked doors of opportunity ever wider.”

Due to white privilege, white people don’t agonize over their skin color. We don’t have to worry if someone will harass us or follow us around in a department store, thinking we’re going to steal merchandise simply because of our skin. If we move, we don’t have to worry about finding neighbors who don’t like us because of our skin color. We don’t have to fret over something as simple as putting on a Band-Aid which won’t match our skin tone.

My point is this: we don’t ever have to think about race. Sure, we can if we want to. But we don’t haveto. And therein lies the privilege.
But Spectra, an amazing Afrofeminist writer, asserts the dark vs. light skin in the Zoe Saldana/Nina Simone biopic debate misses the point about Black women in the media. She poses that Black women must create media in order to reclaim and tell their own stories: 
“The hard truth is this: if we spent more time creating media instead of criticizing it, there’d be way more diversity in representation, and way more stories and perspectives to which white people can be more frequently held accountable. 

“Pushing for ownership of both the infrastructure and content that portrays our lived experiences – that is the crux of the issue; not just the politics of light vs. dark-skinned actresses. So, whereas I am completely on board with calling out the colorism behind the biopic’s casting choices (and the harmful message that’s being sent to young, dark-skinned black girls everywhere by having a light-skinned woman play Nina Simone) there aren’t enough strong lead roles written for women of color in Hollywood for me to fairly tell Zoe Saldana, a hard-working, talented brown woman to ”sit this one out.”

Here at Bitch Flicks, we talk a lot about the need for more female filmmakers and women-centric films. One of the takeaways from the Zoe Saldana/Nina Simone controversy is that we desperately need more women of color filmmakers.

The Help crystallizes Hollywood’s problem with Black women. Sure, we see strong and complex Black women telling their stories of discrimination and hardship to writer Skeeter (Emma Stone). But even in a film containing the inarguably talented Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer giving phenomenal Oscar nominated and Oscar-winning performances, it still remains a racially problematic film. Even in a film that supposedly champions Black women, it ultimately revolves around a white female protagonist’s perspective.
While women filmmakers don’t merely depict female protagonists, when more women are behind the camera, we tend to see more women in front of the camera. Looking back at this year’s movies, female-fronted films such as Brave, The Hunger Games, Prometheus, and Snow White and the Huntsman graced the big screen. We saw women-centric indies like Your Sister’s Sister, Take This Waltz, For a Good Time Call… and Bachelorette. We even witnessed strong women in male-dominated movies like Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises and Black Widow in The Avengers.
But when you look at the female protagonists — aside from Beasts of the Southern Wild, Sparkle, The Lady, Girl in Progress and Celeste and Jesse Forever which all featured women of color in lead roles — you’ll notice their overwhelming whiteness.
Perhaps if we had more Black women filmmakers, we would see more nuanced and diverse depictions of Black women on-screen.
Now, that doesn’t mean white women and men can’t or shouldn’t write strong, complex Black female characters. But it does mean white people have to stop appropriating Black women’s narratives, especially if we’re not going to take the time to attempt to understand the intricate and painful complexities of the light vs. dark skin stigma. And we’ve got to stop pretending we live in a post-racial society. We don’t.
We need more films from Black women directors like Ava DuVernay, Dee Rees and Julie Dash. But we aren’t seeing enough Black women in front of or behind the camera. In her Women and Hollywood cross-post, Evette Dionne wonders “Where are the black women film directors?” She explores the “exile of black women film directors” by studios that refuse to fund their work.

“So black women, one of the most sought after audience demographics for movie studios, aren’t behind the camera providing insight into our culture. This leads to a misrepresentation of the black community on the silver screen. Often, we are caricatures of ourselves, as evidenced in Jumping the Broom and other projects, which leads to resentment for what the media machine represents in our communities.”

When a young Black female tennis player is told she’s too fat to receive funding, when the Swedish Minister of Culture and rapper 2Chainz eat racist cakes of dismembered Black women’s bodies, when the media cares more about criticizing Olympic gold-medal winning gymnast Gabby Douglas’ hair than her performance — we as a society clearly have a fucked-up, racist and misogynistic problem denigrating and oppressing Black women.

Last year, I had the overwhelming privilege of meeting one of my feminist idols, Professor Melissa Harris-Perry (squee!!). After her brilliant and empowering speech on her must-read book Sister Citizen, she graciously stayed afterwards and spoke to each and every person. When I finally got my chance to talk to her, I gushed about how much I loved her and how she needed her own TV show (and this was BEFORE her fantastic MSNBC weekend show was announced!). I also asked her how to be a good ally to women of color. She gave the simplest yet hardest advice of all. Listen. When in a room with women of color, she said to be silent, listen and let them speak for themselves. When you find yourself in a space with no women of color, that’s when you need to speak up.
So we white women (and men) need to speak up against racism.
When people talk about the need for more women in media — sadly, they often mean white women. Many of us who write about the need for women’s representation in film or women-created media feel satisfaction when we see white female leads on-screen and white female writers and directors. But that’s got to change. We need films to portray women of all races, created by women of all races — not just white women and think we’ve somehow achieved some semblance of equity.
White women and men filmmakers need to realize the damage they wreak when they only cast light-skinned Black women (if they cast women of color at all), especially in a biopic of a famous Black woman with dark skin.
It’s time for us white women to listen. Listen to black women. Listen to their needs and wants and support them from the sidelines. We can’t merely be satisfied when any woman stands on-screen. Black women must be behind the camera, telling their own stories.

 

Weekly Feminist Film Question: What Are Your Favorite Songs from Movie Soundtracks Performed by Women?

In this week’s Feminist Film Question, we combined movies and music in anticipation for our upcoming Women and Gender in Musicals Theme Week. So we asked: what are your favorite songs in movie soundtracks performed by women? Here’s what you said!
“Save Me” — sung by Aimee Mann in Magnolia
“This Woman’s Work” — sung by Kate Bush in She’s Having a Baby
“Damn Good Friends” — sung by Elle Varner in Pariah
“Sans Toi” (“Without You”) — sung by Corinne Marchand in Cleo de 5 a 7
“Flashdance…What a Feeling” — sung by Irene Cara in Flashdance 
“Everything” — sung by Barbra Streisand in A Star is Born
“Moon River” — sung by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s
“Feed the Birds” — sung by Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins

“The Weakness in Me” — sung by Joan Armatrading in 10 Things I Hate About You

“Don’t Rain on My Parade” — sung by Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl
“Both Sides Now” — sung by Joni Mitchell in Love Actually
Did your fave song or soundtrack make the list??
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Each week we tweet a new question and then post your answers on our site each Friday! To participate, just follow us on Twitter at @BitchFlicks and use the Twitter hashtag ‪#feministfilm.

Happy International Women’s Day: 11 Films that Celebrate Inspiring & Trailblazing Women

You can’t be what you can’t see. That’s just one of the reasons we need more women filmmakers and more diverse portrayals of complex women on-screen. At this year’s Oscars, actor Gabby Sidibe astutely declared:
“The way I watch movies, I’m really searching for myself because I don’t get to see enough of myself and I don’t, I kind of don’t get to like myself enough. But if I can see myself on-screen then I know I exist.”

We need to see a greater representation of women, especially women of color, queer women and trans women. Women’s history doesn’t exist separately. Yet media often writes women out of history.
Today marks International Women’s Day, a day to celebrate women’s achievements economically, politically and socially as well as to reflect on what still needs to improve. Too often, women and their stories are somehow seen as lesser than men’s: less important, less noble, less substantial. We must stop undermining their experiences and lives. So today, let’s celebrate all of the wonderful accomplishments women have achieved. Let’s embrace the stories and experiences of women…of our mothers, sisters, daughters, grandmothers, friends…and ourselves.
Later this month, Bitch Flicks is publishing a series on Women in Biopics and Documentaries. So here are just a few films honoring the many women who inspire and blaze trails:
1. Pray the Devil Back to Hell – Last month, three women won the Nobel Peace Prize, including activist and social worker Leymah Gbowee and President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (along with Tawakkul Karman in Yemen) who fought for women’s rights and helped achieve peace in war-torn Liberia. Director Gini Reticker and producer Abigail E. Disney, chronicles their battle for peace in their Tribeca Film Fesitval-winning documentary. Pray the Devil Back to Hell tells the powerful and uplifting story of the Liberian women who joined together and peacefully protested, helping end the civil war ravaging their country. Their activism should inspire us all to realize we can each create change.
2. Iron Jawed Angels – One of my absolute fave films, Iron Jawed Angels tells the powerful true story of indomitable activists Alice Paul (played spectacularly by Hillary Swank) and Lucy Burns (Frances O’Connor) and the fight for women’s suffrage. Director Katja von Garnier showcases their tireless struggle, from protesting in the freezing cold outside the White House to arrest and force feedings in prison. My only complaint? While Ida B. Wells is in the film, it only touches upon how many white women didn’t want African-American women to participate as well as diminishing the role African American women played. An amazing film about the women who refused to give up until they won equality and “revolutionized the American feminist movement.”
3. Miss Representation – Challenging sexist stereotypes, warped beauty standards and misogynistic imagery, the documentary “explores how the media’s misrepresentation of women has led to the underrepresentation of women in positions of power and influence.” An eye-opening look at the power of the media and the toxic messages it too often sends to women and girls. A labor of love written, directed and produced by Jennifer Siebel Newsom. Miss Representation will forever change the way you view films, TV shows, advertisements and the news.
4. Chisholm ‘72: Unbought and Unbossed – Feminist icon Shirley Chisholm became the first black woman elected to Congress in 1968, serving from 1969 to 1983. In 1972, she became the first black woman to run for president and the first woman to run for the Democratic presidential nomination. A dynamic powerhouse, she tirelessly advocated for inner city residents, children and healthcare. Directed and produced by Shola Lynch, Chisholm ‘72: Unbought and Unbossed chronicles Congresswoman Chisholm’s passionate and trailblazing campaign. She may not have won the presidency but she continues to inspire generations of women.  
5. Off the Rez – This documentary tells the story of Shoni Schimmel, a high school basketball phenom living on the Umatilla Indian Reservation. When Shoni’s mother Ceci, a strong and powerful woman, gets a job coaching a basketball team in Portland, Oregon, Ceci and her 7 children move. Exhilarating to watch, Shoni’s basketball skills transcend athletics, becoming art. Balancing her goals and her familial ties, it’s inspiring to see this young Native American woman represent her community both on and off the court.
6. The Whistleblower – Starring Rachel Weisz as Kathryn Bolkovac, a UN peacekeeper in Bosnia, “this gripping expose” reveals the harrowing plight one woman risking her life to combat human trafficking. Directed by Larysa Kondracki, the film depicts Bolkovac’s struggle to save women trafficked and uncover the truth amidst widespread corruption. Powerful and disturbing, The Whistleblower will haunt you long after it ends.
7. My Mic Sounds Nice: A True Story of Women and Hip Hop – A BET documentary, director Ava DuVernay “explores the demise of the female MC in today’s music.” Consisting of interviews with Missy Elliott, Trina, Eve and Salt-n-Pepa, the interesting and thought-provoking film celebrates and gives voice to black female musicians navigating the terrain of male-dominated hip-hop.
8. War Redefined – The 5th and final installment in Women, War & Peace (WWP), War Redefined is the capstone of the groundbreaking series featuring politicians, military personnel, scholars and activists discussing how women play a vital role in war and peace-keeping. Narrated by actor Geena Davis, a phenomenal gender media activist, this powerful film threads stories told in the other parts of the series: Bosnian women surviving rape camps, Liberian women protesting peace, Afghan women demanding their rights in negotiations and Afro-Colombian women contending with internal displacement. War Redefined, and the entire WWP series, challenges the assumption that war and peace belong to men’s domain.
9. !Women Art Revolution – A stunning and visionary documentary 40 years in the making, !Women Art Revolution, chronicles the convergence of feminism and art, fueled by anti-war and civil rights protests and the inception of the Feminist Art Movement in the 60s. Director Lynn Hershman Leeson, a performance artist and filmmaker, combines “intimate” interviews along with visceral visual images of paintings, performance art, installation art, murals and photography. The documentary depicts how women activists have fought to express their vision and have their voices heard in the art scene.
10. Gloria: In Her Own Words – Feminist icon Gloria Steinem lays her life out in this documentary:  her triumphs, accomplishments, woes and heartbreak. She speaks candidly about fighting for reproductive justice, her own abortion, her journalism career, facing sexual harassment, rallying for equality and the feminist movement. I didn’t think it was possible to be even more inspired by Steinem than I already was…but I am.
11. Pariah – My pick for the best 2011 film, Pariah won the Independent Spirit Award for the John Cassavetes Award and the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Independent Film. Written and directed by Dee Rees and produced by Nekisa Cooper, tells the story of Alike (Adepero Oduye), a young black lesbian in Brooklyn. An exquisitely beautiful coming-of-age film about a woman discovering her sexuality and asserting her identity. We so rarely see positive portrayals of black women and queer women on-screen. Pariah broke my heart with its beauty and uplifted my soul. Yeah, it’s seriously that amazing.
What films inspire you??

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

‘Scream 4’: The First Mainstream Feminist Horror Film from The Awl

Help an ‘activist’ today–Questions please! from Wellywood Woman

People of Color, Still on the Fringe in “Fringe” from The Double R Diner

Fairy Tale Fest: Is It Really Disney’s Fault? from Bad Reputation

Gosh, Sweetie, That’s a Big Gun from the New York Times

Joy Keys talks with Author Susan J. Douglas about Enlightened Sexism from blogtalkradio

Sophia Loren dazzles L.A. yet again from the Los Angeles Times

Hollywood Won’t Learn: It’s a White Summer Again from The Wrap

Electro Feminism: Girls Like Us from Bitch Media

‘Orgasm Inc.’ Pits Drug Companies Against What Women Really Want from the Hartford Advocate

Dissed Identifications: Desi Stereotypes at the Expense of the Other [TV Correspondent Tryout] from Racialicious

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