pop culture

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
text-indent:.5in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

Dexter’s eye for an eye vigilantism came to a gripping season finale this week with Jordan Chase, serial rapist and murder, brought to a bloody end by Lumen. (If you are not familiar with the show, go here and here for two good feminist overviews of the series or see this series of posts here.)

Season five had much to offer feminist viewers.

For example, Dexter’s single dad status led to one episode with a mommy and me play date that revealed the ruthless world of toddler/parent interaction. As the lone dad, Dexter was the outcast amongst a sea of women – many who viewed him with extreme suspicion. The episode avoided demonizing the moms though, and instead suggested just how gendered the parenting realm is and how dads, when they walk amongst this “female world,” are outsiders in many regards.

And, the rape revenge fantasy at the heart of the season involving Dexter and Lumen allowed for a insightful exploration of sexual assault and violence against women. Lumen (played by Julia Stiles), one of two survivors of a murderous gang that raped, tortured, and murdered 12 women, joins forces with Dexter to bring the male perpetrators to justice. That justice in Lumen’s and Dexter’s book is vigilante murder may not seem in keeping with feminist aims for a less violent world.

So, why was this season good viewing for feminists? Yes, the violence is visceral and the blood excessive. The administered justice is very harsh – with murder on the agenda for those serial killer Dexter decides “don’t deserve to live.” But, underneath its brutal exterior, the show also presents us with deeper moral questions about a legal system that consistently fails to catch or punish serial killers, rapists, and child abusers – and, deeper still, about what type of society breeds such violence and, if indeed our legal system creates just as many criminals as it attempts to apprehend.

The depiction of Lumen – a female raped, tortured and nearly murdered who realizes that the violence done to her cannot be denied and will forever change her view of the world and her place in it – was extremely powerful and expertly played by Stiles. As noted at Feminists For Choice, “the show does an above-average job of accurately depicting the agony of rape trauma syndrome and PTSD.” Moreover, by suggesting the boy-gang formed at summer camp that ultimately became a group of male serial killers is related to the equating of masculinity with violence (and particularly violent sexuality), the show functions as a scathing critique of guyland and its codes.

Ironically Dexter, the serial killer at the show’s center, is one of the best models of masculinity in the series – he is a good father, partner, and brother struggling in a world that often rewards the wrong people. Jordan Chase, leader of the murderous gang is a prime example of this – as a successful self-help celebrity, he is rewarded with admiration and wealth. Yet, beneath his shiny exterior, he is the mastermind behind the torture and rape of at least 14 women.

Men such as Jordan impel Dexter’s “dark passenger” to dole out punishment in order to partially make up for the brutal murder of his mother, which he witnessed as a young child. Yet Dexter suffers with his compulsion, feeling more monster than human. Here too, the show grapples with the complexity of morality and justice, showing that, as Deb reiterated again and again in this season’s finale, things are never simple. This message was also emphasized in the recent episode when Aster, Dexter’s tween daughter, showed up drunk. At first viewers were encouraged to see her as selfish and immature, to view her drinking and shoplifting as sign of a girl gone wrong. Yet, along with Dexter, viewers slowly realize Aster’s behavior was spurred by her attempts to help her friend, who was being abused by her stepfather. Such storylines reveal that often the “crime” committed (in this case, tween drinking and stealing) has much deeper roots than an individual’s “badness.” Indeed, the show turns the entire “a few bad apples” idea, where society is harmed by a handful of “evil people,” on its head. Instead, we see that our society is pervaded with rot – from tip to top – and that this rot is intricately linked to the violence done to girls and women by males raised on an excessively violent code of masculinity.

The show also explores how the competitive model of dog-eat-dog individualism leads to workplace backstabbing, especially among the few women who have had to claw and fight their way to the top.

This was exemplified this season via the storyline in which Lt. Laguerta (Lauren Velez) betrays Deb (Jennifer Carpenter). For me, this was the most problematic narrative arc – not only because it smacked of the “see what happens when you give women power” meme, but also because of its racialized undertones with a lying Latina throwing a wrench in the career of white female detective. However, given the racial diversity of the cast, the series avoids demonizing any one racial group, just as it avoids suggesting only men are violent or only women are victims. To the contrary, the show reveals that no one is safe from the violence that pervades our world and this viewer, like the Feminist Spectator, “can’t help celebrating Dexter’s queer victories, and looking forward to more” – not only because the show transgresses boundaries and challenges a social system organized around a decidedly unfair system of power and privilege, but more simply because, as foul-mouthed Deb would say, I fucking love it.

*Spoiler Alert: in order to critique this show, I need to reveal some plot points.

Zombies do not discriminate on the basis of sex, race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, or ability…people do. This sad truth played out in the short but compelling 6-episode first season of AMC’s new show The Walking Dead. Zombies eat any living thing they come across – scary but not evil creatures because they don’t have a functioning brain which would allow them to be human, to distinguish right from wrong.

 Admittedly, I haven’t read the graphic novels of Robert Kirkman, on which this series is based. So, I’m not 100% sure who to credit for the plot twists that portrayed the violent racism of a white supremacist, the vulnerability of daughter and wife to a physically-abusive man, and the terror of a woman fighting off a former lover who is trying to rape her. When the hospital is invaded by “walkers” (a.k.a. zombies), the living soldiers choose to execute ill and disabled patients rather than try to rescue them. [Mind you, the zombies do not seem to move fast enough to cause problems for someone armed with a semiautomatic weapon, but the choice is still made to sacrifice these lower status people.]

 If a common enemy should unite, then social scripts of bigotry and bias should disappear. As one character notes in the season finale, human beings may have reached their point of extinction. The question is whether the zombies or our own human failings are to blame.

With record ratings, the Wall Street Journal and other sources report that this Sunday night’s finale attracted 6 million viewers.  I may not be the typical fan of this show, so I wonder: will most viewers remain focused on the horror of a gruesome, fictitious zombie epidemic? Or, are there others like me, who despite flinching every time a zombie lunged for a bite of human flesh, left the season finale feeling acutely aware of the very real pandemic that plagues almost all societies: that potent combination of bigotry and selfishness which manifests as one of the many ‘isms. I’ve yet to see a ‘walker’ lurching down a street, but I have encountered far too many living human beings who lack empathy, respect, and compassion for each other and for the diversity of life on this planet.

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
text-indent:.5in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

The good news is that Tangled is funny, fast-paced, humorous, and visually stunning.

The bad news is that it re-hashes the same old story – that as a woman you can either be a princess awaiting her prince or an evil stepmother/witch, that if you are male, you get all the action (in many senses of the word) and that beauty equals white, blonde, thin, and young.

This bad side of the story is ironic considering Disney’s recent announcement they won’t be making any more princess films. Instead, what they have done, is made a princess film but not named it after the princess – how groundbreaking!

As Margot Magowan notes, Disney’s announcement could be a good sign. “Great! No more damsels in distress who end the movie by landing a man,” she writes. Alas, as Magowan and others document, it’s not about ending the helpless princess meme, instead, it’s about making sure the movies have big enough audience appeal (read: appeal to boys and men, not JUST girls and women).

Apparently, to appeal to the male demographic, “swashbuckling action” is necessary, as are the inclusion of many mega-muscular man characters. In order to make the film “gender neutral” Disney has privileged male characters over females – to the tune of countless key male figures in the movie and only TWO – yes TWO – key females – Rapunzel and the evil Mother Gothel.

As it is Disney, media giant, making these representations, they carry inordinate cultural weight. As Magowan writes, “ because this boys club completely dominates kidworld, their privileging of males over females with no care at all, their disregard for half the population, is really sad.”

This male privileging of the story is apparent from the first image in Tangled, which opens zoomed in on a wanted poster of Flynn Rider, as he narrates “This is a very fun story and the truth is it isn’t even mine.”

The “fun” story involves the kidnapping and imprisonment of Rapunzel – the female protagonist that Disney execs decided didn’t deserve to be front and center. And, even though Flynn admits the story “isn’t even mine,” the story becomes very much about him and less about Rapunzel. While this has been called a “gender neutral makeover,” it seems to me it is more of a masculinist makeover.

As noted by the film’s producer during production, “We’re having a lot of fun pairing Flynn, who’s seen it all, with Rapunzel, who’s been locked away in a tower for 18 years.” Ah, a man of the world who has “seen it all” with a woman who knows nothing as she has been “locked away” – how egalitarian and gender neutral!

In addition to the male lead Flynn, Rapunzel has the requisite animal sidekick – a male chameleon named Pascal. And, once she escapes out into the real world – she encounters a plethora of males – the horse Maximus (how is that for a testosterone fueled name?!?), the thugs that serve as Flynn’s former thieving buddies, and, finally, the many light-hearted ruffians from the pub, The Snuggly Duckling. Additionally, Rapunzel’s Father (the King) is focussed on in a few scenes meant to emphasize how much he and his wife (the Queen) still miss their daughter. In these scenes, his hulking, bearded figure dominate the screen, his face torn with sadness – while his diminutive wife (the apparently unimportant queen) stands below and beside him as comforting helpmeet.

As for Rapunzel, imprisoned within the tower since a child, she is a waiflike female with big eyes and a teeny tiny waist that sings about doing chores with the refrain “wonder when my life will begin.” To add to her miniscule waist, Rapunzel is stereotypically overly emotional, swinging from one end of a mood swing to another as often as she (and others) swing from her long golden locks.

By films end, she has lost these magical locks after Flynn cuts them to save her life – and her remaining hair – no longer magical – turns brown (talk about latent color symbolism!). Her “happy ending” involves being returned to her real parents and marrying Flynn – who, the movie makes a POINT of emphasizing, proposed to her, not the other way around.

Admittedly, there are moments where Rapunzel is portrayed as brave and heroic, as when she tells Mother Gothel “for every minture for the rest of my life I will fight” or when she heals Flynn, saves them both from drowning, and is instrumental in their escape from the Snuggly Duckling and various other chase scenes. She is, no doubt, an improvement on Snow White, who could only sing to animals and happily clean up after seven dwarves. Yet, as Scott Mendelson indicates, her bravery is framed in a “condescending ‘girl-power’ punch or two” way – it is the exception to her character, rather than the rule. While Flynn is all masculine adventure, power, and cunning, she is all long blonde locks with a hint of you-go-girl attitude to appease a 21^st century audience.

Obviously the (male) execs at Diseny wanted to stay true to the fairy tale roots and thus kept Rapunzel white and blonde, kept the evil witch character, and kept the rescuing prince (though admittedly amping up his role) – but even keeping to this narrow white and male privileged script, could they not have thrown in some female animals and or patrons at the Snuggly Duckling?

And what possessed the film-makers to have Flynn immediately call Rapunzel “Blondie”? Yes, it’s so funny when we identify women by their looks and body rather than bothering to learn or remember their names! (Not to mention the cultural associations with being called “Blondie” such as the assumption one is dumb, “over-sexed,” and/or good for no more than a pretty appearance).

Moreover, as Renee of Womanist Musings points out, the glorifying of blonde hair – yet again – is problematic. She writes:

“As a Black woman, I know all to well how complicated the issue of hair can be.  Looking at the above image [of Tangled’s Rapunzel], I found that I could not see beyond her long blond hair and blue eyes.  I believe that this will also become the focal point of many girls of colour.  The standard of long flowing blond hair as the epitome of femininity necessarily excludes and challenges the idea that WOC are feminine, desired, and some cases loved and therefore, while Disney is creating an image of Rapunzel that we are accustomed to, her rebirth in a modern day context is problematic, because her body represents the celebration of White femininity.

…

Notably, Mother Gothel, Rapunzel’s evil abductress, has dark hair and eyes and non-Caucasian features.

According to Christian Blaulvelt of Entertainment Weekly, “Mother Gothel is a dark, dark character. I mean, she’s a baby snatcher.” Ah yes, and she is dark in more ways than one – her dark skin, hair, and clothing contrasting with the golden whiteness of Rapunzel.

Alan Menken, the musical composer for the film, similarly notes that “Mother Gothel is a scary piece of work. Nothing she is doing is for the good of Rapunzel at all. It’s all for herself” Emphasizing her manipulative relationship with Rapunzel, Menken admits, “I was concerned when writing it. Like, will there be a rash of children trying to kill their parents after they’ve seen the movie?” Wow – how about worrying if there will be a rash of children who will see DARK-SKINNED mothers (and non-wedded ones) as evil and sinister?

In addition to carrying on Disney’s tradition of problematic representations of race, the film also keeps with the tradition of framing females beauty obsession as evil and “creepy” (Flyn’s words) rather than as understandable in a world of Disneyfied feminine norms. A mirror worshipper to rival the evil queen in Snow White, Gothel is presented as a passive-aggressive nightmare — she is the tyrannical single mother that is so overbearing Rapunzel must beg for the opportunity to leave the tower.

To sum up, in this “gender neutral” remake, we have a film dominated by male characters that focuses on the magical golden hair of a white princess who must be saved from an evil dark witch. Yes, it’s funny with strong dialogue and good songs. Yes, it’s a feast for the eyes and provides many laughs. Yes, I love the fact Rapunzel has more verve and spunk than her princess predecessors. But, no, Disney has not cut its ties to a white male-privileged view of the world. Not even close.

.

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
text-indent:.5in;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

I had the pleasure of spending last weekend in the presence of Isla, a four-year-old who LOVES Toy Story Two and LOVES Jessie even more. When the scene highlighting Jessie’s back story came on, she jumped off the couch and ran towards the television with a look of rapture on her face. Once the song finished and the main narrative resumed, she chanted “More Jessie, more Jessie!!!”

Sadly, if her parents bring home Toy Story 3 for her to enjoy (released on DVD November 2^nd), she will find there is not more Jessie. Rather, the male toys are still front and center. Meanwhile, the female toys have gone missing (Bo), fallen in love with Ken (Barbie) or gone soft for Latino Buzz (Jessie).

Though Toy Story 3 opens on a female-empowerment high, with Mrs. Potato-Head displaying mad train-robbing skills and Jessie skillfully steering Bullseye in the ensuing chase, from there, the bottom drops out of the film’s female quotient. Out of seven new toy characters, only one is female – the purple octopus. This is far worse than the one female to every three males ratio documented in children’s media by The Geena Davis Institute on Gender and Media.

When I first viewed the 3^rd film, I was almost giddy as Mrs. Potato-Head and Jessie chased a train in the opening scene. Alas, after this first scene, the movie went back to its male focus, throwing in rather sexist and homophobic banter along the way. For example, Mr. Potato Head says at one point “No one touches my wife, except for me!” while another character suggests she needs her mouth taken off. As for Ken, he is depicted as a closeted gay fashionista with a fondness for writing in sparkly purple ink. Played for adult in-jokes, Ken huffily insists “I am not a girl toy, I am not!” when an uber-masculine robot toy suggests as much during a heated poker match. In the typical way homophobia is paired with misogyny, the jokes about Ken suggest how funny and scary it is for a man to be either feminine or queer. Admittedly, Barbie ultimately rejects Ken and is instrumental in Woody and Co’s escape, but her hyper-feminine presentation coupled with Ken’s not-yet-out-of-the-toy-cupboard homophobia make this yet another family movie that perpetuates damaging gender and sexuality norms.

Though the film ends with young Bonnie as the happy new owner of the toys, Woody would have to become Wanda and Buzz become Betty in order for the series to break Pixar’s male-only protagonist tradition. Finally a female-helmed film is on the horizon though – Brave – too bad the protagonist is a princess (how original!) and Pixar recently fired the female director (it’s first ever).

This is not to say that Pixar’s films are not funny and clever. And I would agree that in many regards Pixar films are an improvement on Disney. But need we settle for “better than Disney”? Can’t we ask they also make films with female protagonists, with racial and class diversity, without homophobic jokes, and, ahem, with FEMALE DIRECTORS?

Some 43 years after Mowgli’s love interest in The Jungle Book sings of her future daughter, “I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in the home” her metaphorical daughters populate not only Disney films, but also those of Dream Works and Pixar. Alas, not only do these animated daughters still accord to gender norms for the most part, so too do their creators – most animators, screenwriters, directors, and producers are still men, completing Mowgli type adventures in the Hollywood jungle, adventures that still place boys front and center while keeping their female counterparts as figurative water fetchers.

Brenda Chapman, the female director who seemingly broke away from the sticky Cinderella floor to slipper through the glass ceiling into what is reportedly the Pixar boys club was sadly turned back into a non-directing pumpkin– no fairy tale ending for her as the director heroine of Brave, a film she wrote and has been developing for several years. Instead, Mark Andrews has reportedly taken over director duties. The title of his Pixar Short, One Man Band, is a fitting way to describe what seems to have become Pixar’s one-note ode to male helmed and focused films.

While changes in directors are common in the film world, Chapman’s firing caused quite the stir as she was Pixar’s first woman director – all eleven previous films were directed by (and featured) men. Pixar is not unique in this regard: As Sharon Waxman & Jeff Sneider write, “The animation industry is not known as a warm and fuzzy place for women.”

And, it was only this year that a woman finally won Best Director at the Academy Awards, despite the fact women have been involved in filmmaking since its beginnings in 1896.

Tracy L., a former film development executive with 12 years experience in the industry, responded to Chapman’s dismissal as follows:

“The bigger issue here is not the firing but why Pixar has never had a female director to begin with. The bigger story to my way of thinking is the utter lack of female input behind the scenes and the lack of female protagonists on screen.”

In films, this lack of women behind the scenes seems to translate to a certain type of woman character on screen–one who is less heroic, adventuresome, independent and important than the male robots, toys, cars and humans that surround her.

With Disney figuratively cutting Rapunzel’s powerful locks by making Tangled more boy-focused, and now Pixar taking away Chapman’s directorial wand, what’s next–a film about a female warrior who suddenly becomes a gooey-eyed animal lover? Oh, that’s already been done (Pocahontas). How about taking a you-go-girl patriarchy-defier and stealing her voice? Oh, that one is taken too (Little Mermaid).Wait, I know: a movie about a matriarchal society filled with female power-players that have to be saved by a tremulous boy. (Oops, that’s Bug’s Life).

So, I want to add my virtual voice and echo four-year-old Isla “I want more Jessie!” Come on, Pixar, get with the Bigelow effect already: encourage more women directors and more female friendly story-lines! Really, now, let some women lead your (or at least play in) your one-man band, would you?

For this month’s column, I had the pleasure of emailing with Chris Bobel, Ph.D. about her new book which deftly tackles a taboo topic.

——————————————-

You explore new feminist activism that focuses on menstruation. Historically, how have feminists viewed menstruation, and why menstrual activism now?

The issue of menstruation has not been a top feminist priority, though, since at least the 1970s, a few bold feminists have recknoned with socio-cultural and political dimensions of the menstrual cycle. I argue that the menstrual taboo–which impacts us all, even feminists–often puts the issue off-limits. In mainstream culture, the only menstrual discourse that gets any play is making fun of women with PMS. I studied menstrual activists who want to widen and complicate the conversation. Menstrual activism is part of an enduring project of loosening the social control of women’s bodies, moving women’s bodies from object to subject status–something absolutely foundational to addressing a range of feminist issues, from human trafficking to eating disorders to sexual assault.

What do you think of Kotex’s new ad campaign “Break the Cycle,” which lampoons traditional menstrual product ads?

The new campaign could be a game change, but I’m doubtful. First, the campaign only works as long as the menstrual taboo persists; otherwise, their frank talk doesn’t stand out, does it? While I can join in the joke of the industry poking fun at itself–and I love the message of “no more shame”–in the end, it’s the same, just repackaged.

Second, I resent this campaign for exploiting shame to sell product for nearly a centuray and then exploiting THEIR overdue pronouncement–“enough with the euphemisms, and get over it”–to sell product.

Also, you’ve got to wonder if not only Kotex but their whole industry is now pulling out all the stops to try to hold onto its market share as menstrual suppression drugs–like Seasonique and Lybrel–are gaining interest.

So, what do you think of pharmaceutical industry arguments that support these menstrual suppressants?

Their quasi-feminist arguments co-opt feminism to push drugs. Big Pharma is marketing suppression as a ‘lifestyle choice’, but what most don’t realize is that “menstrual suppression” is actually cycle-stopping contraception that does not only reduce or eliminate menstrual bleeding but also suppresses the complex hormonal interplay of the menstrual cycle. We don’t yet have adequate data to really show if this is a safe long-term practice for otherwise healthy women. Check out this position statement.

Furthermore, ad campaigns represent the menstrual cycle as abnormal, obsolete, and even unhealthy. These messages underscore that women’s natural functions are defective, dysfunctional and need medical intervention. This can lead to negative body image, especially in young women. How is this feminist? ‘Choice’ without good, fact-based information based on thorough medical studies isn’t real choice, and a campaign that exploits women’s negative attitudes about their bodies isn’t feminist either.

Your work uses menstrual activism as an analytical lens through which to view continuity and change in the women’s movement, from what some call the “second wave” of feminism through the “third wave.” So, given that the ‘wave’ distinctions are not without controversy among feminists, what do you see as setting third wave feminism apart? Is it truly unique, or is it merely a label that recognizes the next generation?

There’s a lot of continuity between the waves–mostsly in the tactical sense. Today’s feminist blogs are yesterday’s zines, which reflect earlier mimeographed manifestos; radical cheerleading recalls street theater and public protests, like early second-wavers at the 1969 Miss America pageant. Second-wavers practiced what third-wavers call DIY (Do It Yourself) healthcare when they modeled pelvic self exams. But, most third-wavers depart from most (but not all) second-wavers by troubling the gender binary. For example, the radical wing of menstrual activism movements reers to “menstruators”, instead of assuming that everyone who menstruates gender-identifies as a woman.

Tell me more about that!

Most assume that a female-bodied person, with breasts and a vulva, is a woman, and usually that’s true. We also assume that menstruation is a near-universal experience for women. Radical menstruation activists question these assumptions. Menstruation is not and has never been EVERY woman’s experience. Women don’t menstruate for lots of reasons, and they don’t menstruate their whole lives. Also, some transmen and intersex people DO menstruate. So, equating menstruation with womanhood is problematic. Saying “menstruators” makes room for more people, more experiences. This linguistic move is boundary smashing, inclusion-in-action and bodes well for feminism’s future.

But, you’ve written that menstrual activists are not successful at all attempts at inclusion.

The first face of the feminist movement may have been white and middle class, but poor white women and women of color across the class spectrum have always been there, often toiling in relative obscurity. This could be the case with menstrual activism, too. However, I’m a white, privileged academic, and this biases my world view. I looked for women of color doing this work and found a few. But, was I looking in the right places? Was I using the right language? One activists of color said that I was likely missing Black women because I wasn’t clarifying how race and gender intersect in menstrual health. Also, menstrual activism is risky business for all, and especially for women of color, whose bodies have been denigrated throughout history. Taking on the menstrual taboo can make others see you as nasty, gross, improper…and if you’re already struggling to be accepted and taken seriously, then why go “there”?

Well, I and many other women’s health activists appreciate that you ‘went there’!

——————————————-

For more on this topic and her research, check out Chris’s new book — New Blood: Third-Wave Feminism and the Politics of Menstruation (Rutgers University Press, 2010), previewed in the Our Bodies, Ourselves blog and in a provocative article in the Guardian last fall.

I’m always highly attuned to language—its nuances, implications, and effects—so much so that my partner is ready (if not always eager) on at least a weekly basis to hear the latest term or phrase that I find problematic.  So here’s the latest:  I’m troubled by the metaphors of battles, wars, fighting that often get linked to people with diseases or disabilities.

Two nights ago I was watching Extreme Home Makeover.  As a side note, let me warn you never to watch this show unless you just want to sit in front of your tv weeping while simultaneously being vaguely embarrassed at yourself for doing exactly what the show’s makers want you to do.  That pretty much describes my evening.

There are many, many problems with this show that other bloggers should feel free to launch into, but one of the things that struck me was the battle metaphors.  The father of the family whose home was being remodeled has ALS, a progressive neurodegenrative disease.  He seems like a genuinely wonderful person, with a great attitude and a passion for his family and his career.  Everyone who helped with the project of rebuilding this family’s house seemed moved by this guy, and repeatedly throughout the episode folks recognized him and honored him for, among other things, his “battle against ALS.”

This is, of course, a pervasive way of framing people with diseases of all kinds.  The ALS Association’s big statement at the top of every page on their website is “Fighting on Every Front to Improve Living with ALS.”   There are a number of websites devoted to fighting cancer, fighting HIV, cystic fibrosis, multiple sclerosis, etc.  The fight metaphor is often how individuals with these diseases discuss their own lives and priorities.  And yet, it gives me a small, uncomfortable twinge.

I’d be politically troubled or offended if someone had referred to the little boy in the Extreme Home Makeover family as “battling” his life in a wheelchair, or if people suggested that my daughter was “struggling against” Down syndrome.  Down syndrome and paralysis aren’t war zones, they’re simply parts of the lives of some people.  And yet diseases seem to be different, certainly to many who are living with them.  While Down syndrome has been part of Maybelle’s life since the instant she was conceived, ALS comes along later in life, and the fighting metaphor seems empowering and functional for many people.

But I’m not one of those people.  I think that much of why this bothers me is personal.  It’s not that I’m opposed to fighting.  I’m an activist:  I welcome a fight.  I’m happy to aggressively challenge many things in this world that need to be shaken up.  And yet, as a person with a brain tumor, I don’t want my health condition framed in terms of a battle.  I am not someone who’s “battling” a brain tumor.  Some scholars have examined this concept and have identified several ways that the metaphor is problematic—not only because it’s “inherently masculine, power-based, paternalistic, and violent” but because it frames the patient as the one who has to fight fight fight in order to win the war, and if they don’t win, then they didn’t fight hard enough.

I have a brain tumor, and there are things I need to do to take care of myself, but no level of armored-up embattlement is going to make it go away.  I don’t love it, but it’s part of my body.  As the scholars note, “There are conceptual weaknesses in the metaphor. There are no actual enemy invaders; the enemy is self…and the battlefield is the patient’s very body.”  I feel that I’d like a rhetorical framing of my condition that allows me a little more coherence and peace.

Fortunately, I’m very happy with my house, so there will be no need for the Extreme Home Makeover folks to come over here and cheer for my fighting spirit in order to make themselves feel better.

Editor’s note:  I promise that my next Girl w/Pen post will be about something other than my brain tumor!  You all have been very supportive, but I think it’s time for some variety.

st1:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-ansi-language:#0400;
mso-fareast-language:#0400;
mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

It would seem our much ballyhooed entrance into a “post-feminist” reality would translate into more positive and widespread depictions of females in popular culture. Though mainstream representations of women have improved quite a bit, one type of character is still disproportionately evil, missing, and/or killed off – the mother. The mother has been particularly ill-treated and under-represented in animated films, especially in those of the Disney variety.

The mother’s absence or death is often attributed to the fact many animated films are adaptations of fairy tales. Various studies of such tales argue that the lack of mother figures is based in historical reality, as childbirth was a major cause of death before the nineteenth century (see, for example, Sheldon Casdan’s The Witch Must Die or Bruno Bettelheim’s The Uses of Enchantment). However, even contemporary films with little to no basis in older tales are still inordinately fond of leaving (or forcing) the mother out of the picture.

With the rate of release of children’s and family movies, one would assume that mom characters might finally be able to get a fair shake. Alas, as in the bad ‘ole Disney days, most moms are either silent, dead, or wicked. Most don’t even have names (as with Andy’s mom in Toy Story – maybe in film three she will finally get a moniker…). A few mothers get to hover in the background, occasionally saying something useful, as in Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But, for the most part, modern kids’ movies, the fairy tales of today, still present us with usually absent mothers and all-too-present fathers. While mom is gone, dad is here to stay – doling out advice, jokes, aid, and adventure.

In the recent How to Train Your Dragon, mom is dead, but she kindly left behind one of her breast plates to serve as helmet for the (male!) protagonist, Hiccup. Yup, mom might be under the ground, but at least we can still joke about the size of her mammary glands. How sweet. In a comment thread about this film at Two Peas in a Bucket, someone queried “I really wonder what the makers of kid movies have against moms.” Yeah, me too.

The post entitled, “Mommy, why is the mommy dead?” offers a long list of dead mothers. Similarly, the post Motherhood in Disney Films argues that animation is a patricentric world noting that “Since The Little Mermaid, single fatherhood has risen dramatically in Disney films, as has the death of mothers. More mothers have died in the fourteen years since The Little Mermaid than in the fifty-one years before.” Well, there goes the historical reality theory – at a time when we have far more single mothers and far fewer deaths from childbirth, we have more single dads and dead moms in animated films. Go figure.

When mothers are present, they are treated far differently than fathers. Fathers are the center of a child’s life – not only way back when in Lion King days, but also in recent films such as Nim’s Island, Kicking and Screaming, Elf, even Twilight. Meanwhile, dead or bad moms abound –  Finding Nemo, Nanny McPhee, Coraline, Ice Age, Over the Hedge. Even when the mom is part of the storyline, as in The Princess and the Frog, she rarely remains front and center.
Danae Cassandra, author of Brilliance, a blog dedicated to analyzing gender in animation, offers the following rational:

“The only conjecture I can offer to this depiction of motherhood in American animation is backlash. With the decline of two-parent families and the rise of single motherhood, perhaps Disney and other studios are feeding a conservative, patriarchal reaction to the decline of the role of fathers in the lives of their children. …With the exodus of women from the home, perhaps the backlash in popular entertainment is to exalt the status of a single father, eliminating the mother from the picture as someone who would normally have the custodial rights by killing her off. There is no messy divorce, no custodial battles, and the father comes out as the good guy.”

Sounds plausible to me. Though I don’t feel there is necessarily a “decline in the role of fathers” nor a new mass “exodus of women from the home” – rather, there continues to be a decidedly unequal approach to parenting specifically and gender more generally. Or, in other words, we are nowhere near the neighborhood of “post-feminism.” However, our steps towards gender equality do seem to be engendering a conservative backlash (one recently and brilliantly explored in Susan Douglas’ new book, Enlightened Sexism: The Seductive Message That Feminism’s Work is Done).

Whatever rational one uses, the father certainly continues to be the good guy in most children’s films, especially in those stories with a girl child at the helm. These narratives always seem to involve kindly males ushering girls through a strange and dangerous world filled with monstrous females. Think Wizard of Oz. Coraline. Alice in Wonderland. The Golden Compass.

One of my mom’s favorite quotes is “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” Ah, would this were true. Seems more like the hand that pens, produces, and animates the films rules children’s imaginations – teaching them that mothers disappoint but dads deliver.

This mother’s day, why not rock your child’s world – find a film to watch together that portrays a strong, intelligent, wise, funny, courageous, and ALIVE mother. Good luck.

Michelle Cove is a filmmaker, journalist, and bestselling author. Her book Seeking Happily Ever After: How to Navigate the Ups and Downs of Being Single without Losing Your Mind will be published by Penguin this October. Her film, Seeking Happily Ever After, debuts this weekend at the California Independent Film Festival. Here’s Michelle! -Deborah

Seeking Happily Ever After (www.seeknghappilyeverafter.com) is a feature-length documentary about why there are more single 30-something women than ever and whether women are redefining “happily ever after.” The idea sprang from a discussion I had three years ago with a friend at a coffeehouse (where all great conversations take place). We were talking about the media’s focus on the rising number of single women, and how wrong they seemed to be getting it in their portrayal of who these women are. In movies and TV, we watched single women in their mid-twenties and older portrayed repeatedly as either totally desperate to marry or so career-driven they couldn’t be bothered to find a man. The single women of reality TV seem to get falling-down drunk like college freshman, hang in hot tubs with men they barely know, and/or sob in the fetal position like toddlers.

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Live Science reported recently that while there are more single women than ever, the “spinster” stigma is not lifting for women. Um…duh.

Look at the models we see week to week. We’ve got Emma on “Glee,” who pined after Mr. Schuester all of season one like a 5th grade girl; we’ve got Liz Lemon on “30” rock who is so pathetic in the love department that she can’t find anyone to drive her home from the root canal she intentionally scheduled on Valentine’s Day. And let’s not forget our small-screen-turned-big-screen poster child for single women everywhere: Carrie Bradshaw on Sex and the City. So many of us hoped she would remain the cool, smart single woman who followed her own path. Instead, the writers married her off to Mr. Big—the man who made a hobby of letting her down and breaking her heart, even skipping out on the wedding after agreeing to wed Carrie (Sure they eventually get hitched, but it felt like a big downer to me).

I’m proud of Seeking Happily Ever After, which premieres this month at the California Independent Film Festival. Producer Kerry David and I made it our mission to reveal the various ups and downs of being a single woman today—while giving women an array of real-life inspiring stories told by singles around the U.S. Kerry is single, I’m happily married and we have no agenda to push women into any particular relationship status. We just want women to make their choices about “happily ever after” with intention and clarity. Now we just need some media support to boost single women’s confidence instead of perpetually adding to the spinster stigma.

To watch the trailer and support the doc, visit: http://kck.st/bV022F

Ads for menstrual products have been notoriously evasive, avoiding the dreaded ‘v word’ (vagina) and using blue liquid as a stand-in for the blood that is markedly absent in both linguistic and visual representation. Words conveying the reality of menstruation – blood, clots, cramping, etc – are absent, as are visual depictions of what actually happens during a period – or the fact that females bleed, often copiously, from that most dreaded “down there” (a euphemism that, as Feministing points out, “two out of three network censors still feel icky” about).

Yet, a more realistic (and humorous) representation of periods seems to be slowly seeping into popular culture. An example is the recent U by Kotex ad, the transcript of which is as follows:

How do I feel about my period? We’re like this [crosses fingers]. I love it. I want to hold really soft things, like my cat. It makes me feel really pure. Sometimes I just want to run on the beach. I like to twirl, maybe in slow motion. And I do it in my white Spandex. And usually, by the third day, I really just want to dance. The ads on TV are really helpful, because they use that blue liquid, and I’m like, Oh! That’s what’s supposed to happen!

(To see the video clip of the ad, go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRf35wCmzWw)

Though this ad avoids the v word as well any specific reference to the product itself or why one should use Kotex (as pointed out here), it’s self-mocking tone pleasantly parodies the way menstruation has been characterized in the majority of ads. Periods, it reveals, are not a time one tends to want to dance joyously in a tight-fitting sheer dress or frolic along the beach in a white bikini. While the ad does play on the idea of menstruation as “the curse,” and thus perpetuates a negative rather than a positive (or neutral) view of this female biological process, it at least admits that periods often involve pain and inconvenience (not to mention no blue liquid whatsoever).

Though the NYTimes documents that three networks rejected the original ad, which did use the v word, even this de-vaginized version uses humor to mock our cultural shock and horror surrounding menstruation, moving away from ridiculous suggestions that bleeding, bloating, cramping, and/or menstrual headaches really make women want to dance, shop, or exercise (what else, after all, do women ever want to do?). And, though we have no specific references to female genitalia, at least there is an acknowledgment that periods for many (most?) are not all that fun.

Moreover, as reported in the NYTimes, “Visitors to the Web site, UbyKotex.com, designed by the New York office of Organic, part of the Omnicom Group, are urged to sign a ‘Declaration of Real Talk,’ vowing to defy societal pressures that discourage women from speaking out about their bodies and health. …For every signer, Kotex will donate $1 to Girls for a Change, a national nonprofit based in San Jose, Calif., that pairs urban middle school and high school girls with professional women to encourage social change.”

And, while the ad had to be “sanitized” for television (or, in other words no real mention of what a sanitary napkin or tampon is for, let alone a mention of where they go, was approved), the accompanying website is far more explicit in its anatomical and functional details, including a section entitled “challenging the norm” that aims to “start a new, healthier conversation about periods and vaginal care.” Thus, not only is Kotex partnering with a organization aimed at empowering girls and women, it is actually offering REAL information about menstruation and menstrual products – what a concept!

While the tv ad’s self mockery is certainly a fun and refreshing approach to a bloody subject, I wonder when/if the mainstream media will allow ads that admit – horror of horrors – that females have vaginas and this bodily reality is not disgusting, not a curse, not even a reason to boogey-down in celebration but rather nothing more or less than a bodily reality.

I am not saying that having a vagina is not cause for celebration (I personally rather like mine), but I feel whenever the body (or part of it) is showcased as something to uncritically celebrate, the flipside – where the body is denigrated and denied – is not far behind. Instead, I would like to see wider recognition and acceptance of the fact that menstruation happens, and does so often (for too often for my taste, in fact), that the body is not all pleasure and desire but also pain, inconvenience, and monotony.

As I am currently attending the National Popular Culture Association conference where I am presenting on a panel with three other women who are also menstruating, such concerns have been foremost in my mind. After seeing each other face to face for the first time after months of email organization and discovering are bloody synchronization, one of us joked “I know women are often in sync, but are we now so technologically advanced that we can sync via email?”

Our running joke was that we would announce our panel, a feminist analysis of Twilight, via sharing “You are about to hear an analysis of male, heteronormative, white privilege from four menstruating feminists.” In our banter, Robert Pattinson’s now rather infamous claim that he is “allergic to vagina” was a recurring point of reference as well. Though I feel Pattinson meant this as a joke and is likely not the misogynist some have suggested, I feel in contrast that US culture more broadly is allergic to vagina – to the word vagina – let alone to the fleshy, bloody, and yes, toothless, bodily reality.

Alas, as Gloria Steinem wrote in her 1978 piece, if males menstruated it would likely be a sort of bragging right, a competition over who could bleed the most. Yet, as it is female’s bodies that require the use of pads, tampons, and diva cups no such celebratory bragging rituals occur. Rather, even within the self-aware mockery of the way menstruation is rendered invisible and monstrous (such as in the above Kotex tv ad) it is still something that cannot be named, let alone visually represented. This, indeed, makes me blue.

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:10.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;}

My daughter turned eleven this week. Though I agree with Allison Kimmich’s earlier post, which argued that it’s great to be a girl here in 2010, I can’t help but worry that growing up female in our culture still results in growing down.

Some examples to ponder:

When my daughter and I went to the mall to have her ears pierced last Saturday, we were deluged with anorexic size mannequins in thongs and barely-there bras.

Later, at the movies, we watched yet another film with a male protagonist (which included a male sidekick who ogled females throughout the entire movie).

For school, she worked on yet another dead white male report.

On television, she is still inundated by stories that focus on a girls looks and emphasize romance and/or beauty as the most important pursuits for a girl.

In music, there are undoubtedly many power-house female musicians, but this seems dampened by all the singing of ‘ho’s’ and ‘get-lows.’

Yet, there are positive aspects to each of these observations. At the mall, my daughter noticed the sexualization of the mannequins and complained about it, showing her awareness that our culture objectifies women in damaging ways (and revealing what I like to think is more feminist awareness in the culture generally). As for the film we watched, it did include one rockin’ strong girl character – only one, but one is better than none. As for books, we are able to find many feminist-friendly reads to fill her endless reading desires (and she subscribes to New Moon, a great feminist magazine for girls). Television may be the area most difficult to put a positive spin on, but at least there are more girl-driven shows. As for school, in general I think there is more emphasis on a diversified curriculum, one that offers more than the hetero white male view of the world.

However, I wish we had come further since I turned eleven back in 1982. The Equal Rights Amendment failed to pass that year, and has yet to be ratified. Laura Ingalls was still rocking the prairie feminism in “”Little House on the Prairie,” and my mom watched a show driven by the super-heroines “Cagney and Lacey.” Sure, Daisy wasn’t wearing much in “Dukes of Hazzard” and Suzanne Sommers was the stereotypical blonde ditz “Three’s Company,” but at least we had the strong mom and daughter trio of “One Day at a Time.” In music, female power abounded via the likes of the GoGos, Joan Jett, and Stevie Nicks. And ET, the top grossing film of the year, gave us one of my longtime favorite female actresses, Drew Barrymore. It was the year Women’s History Week was officially recognized, which has happily expanded to an entire month. (Ah, would that we could have inclusive history year round!)

In my hazy recollections of being eleven in 1982, I recall feeling I could be or do anything I set my sites on. I think here, in 2010, my daughter feels the same despite the fact popular culture still inundates her with the message she is only a sex object, only good for how she can please men, only important so long as she “plays by the rules” and shrinks to fit the mold of the “ideal female.”

As her world expands to include more ideas and experiences, her body is still expected to shrink to fit ever smaller and tighter fashions. As she grows up, the “queen be” culture at school seems to become ever meaner and more judgmental. As she is able to watch “more grown up” television and films, she is introduced incessant sexualization, dehumanization, and silencing of females. And, as her body starts to show the markers of womanhood, she will undoubtedly become more battered by the male gaze of a culture that is more pornified than ever.

Alas, growing up for girls in our culture in many ways still means growing down – but with feminist moms like ourselves guiding our daughters as they grow, I take heart in the fact that many girls are given the opportunity to expand their thinking, their horizons (and yes, even their bodies) without exhortations to “be quiet and diet.”