The LA Times recently did a fantastic write-up on the Latina "pint-sized hero," Dora the Explorer, in honor of the upcoming ten-year anniversary of her show. The article traces the development of Dora, from the originally conceived male rabbit to the bilingual and multicultural symbol of adventure and learning. The idea to make the heroine a Latina young woman came after the Nickelodeon executive responsible for developing the show, Brown Johnson, attended an industry conference. There, many discussions about the lack of Latinos in the media arose, and then Johnson had his brilliant idea that would amount to one of the most popular children programs in the world and incredibly lucrative merchandising opportunities.

 

Now, Dora isn't perfect. Well, the character is pretty close, but the treatment of the young woman by merchandising isn't always ideal. Remember when the teenage Dora the Explorer dolls came out, equipped with a tiny waist and short skirt? Parents were understandably upset about the revamped, sexualized image of the tomboy they knew and loved. 

 

New images of Dora have erupted over the internet after the passage of SB1070. She has become a symbol of the immigration plight, and the creators of the show are uncomfortable with the picture of her with black eyes in a mug shot. Still, they can't argue with her political potential; she's introduced a whole new generation to the benefits and beauties of a bilingual youth. Dora gives Latino children an opportunity to see faces like theirs on television, and she reaches out to non-Latino families during a time of heightened racism and xenophobia. I mean, come on, how many white children would advocate for the deportation of Dora? Hopefully very few. 

 

So Dora, today at Sadie we wish you a happy birthday and thank you for ten wonderful years as a role model for young men and women. It's always exciting when a woman of color can not only sustain, but flourish, in mainstream media. Here's to ten more years and many more positive female characters of color on television!

By JoshVanGeest

As a native of Austin, TX I have spent my first fewdays in town searching for a true NYC experience. It was my first trip to the city, and after hitting up a few of the obligatory tourist destinations (Empire State Building, Lombardi’s, Katz’s, etc.) I met up with Jesse, a cousin of a friend, and I started truly enjoying myself.

Jesse took me out to the fabulous Zebulon in Williamsburg and showed me how damn cool (and close to home) this city can feel. The next day she texts me and invites me to see Neon Indian at The Studio at Webster Hall, an underground club (literally) hosting one of the most talked about buzz bands of the year. As a live music junkie looking for the best NYC could show me, it was an offer I could not refuse.

Stuffed from tapas and buzzed from Spanish wine, I step into the cellar-like venue to find myself in a room appropriately filled with black lights, a cramped stage, and about a hundred or so eager fans. The drink specials, a PBR or shot of whiskey for $3, left me feeling like I was back in Austin, while the bathroom graffiti art, glowing in all its black light glory, added to the unique underground feel. Nothing quite like this exists back in Austin, but at the same time that night at The Studio felt all too familiar: buzz band, dancey music, a young attractive crowd.

At their best, Neon Indian are experimental. They showcase an electro-indie-pop mashup reminiscent of Röyksopp and Of Montreal, the lead singer Alan Palomo giving off glimpses of Kevin Barnes, sans the transsexual stage persona or over the top theatrics. The set started strong with heavy drumbeats, catchy loops, groovy guitars, and some solid work from the keys. The night’s high points mostly relied on high tempo and heavy synth all laid over a funky loop and powerful drums.

The less straightforward the better, as Neon Indian’s more traditional pop songs always ended up as letdowns of sorts. The energy in the room seemed to dissipate whenever the notes became clearer, the loops less frenetic, the guitar less fuzzy, the vocals more distinguishable. That being said, the hour long set was filled with more gems than not, and most of the crowd left The Studio still buzzing about the show on their way to the next bar, the night still nestled with opportunity.

I came to NYC wanting to find something trendy, something unique, but still something authentic. So after a few days of hit and miss tourist traps, I found what I was looking for by catching a concert, something strangely enough, I do a few times a month back home. Whether it was the kick-ass venue, the band, or the fact that MTV was there streaming the performance live, I can’t be sure, but Neon Indian at The Studio certainly delivered.

I don't know about you, but when the Hairspray remake credits starting rolling, I remember thinking to myself: "God, I really hope Nikki Blonsky finds work that isn't just the funny fat best friend role." To my pleasant surprise, she did find a role that is compelling, funny, and brazenly feminist in the ABC Family show, "Huge."

 

 "Huge" is an hour-long dramedy about a weight loss camp. It boasts a wonderfully diverse cast in terms of bodies (I wish there was more racial diversity though). Nikki Blonsky plays Will, the teen who sees past the facade of "fat camp." She recognizes that the activities aren't really about health, like the director insists, but about body shaming the campers into weight loss. The first scene of the show features all of the campers in only a bathing suit for their "before picture." In fact, the show, alongside its heartfelt storylines about friendship, family, and young love, is a scathing critique of our weight loss culture and obsession, which is mostly conveyed by Will, whose bed is decorated with a "Screw Body Fascism" poster made of model's body parts.

 

What is perhaps the most refreshing part of the show is that it (mostly) refuses to rely on stereotypes for these teenagers who are usually labeled as fat, overweight, or obese. They are fully developed characters who aren't breaking chairs or furniture, who aren't farting, who aren't smothering themselves with junk food. Well, the junk food part is complicated; some of the campers are obviously craving fattening foods, which aren't permitted at camp, but I was surprised to have show mention Obsessive Compulsive Eating as an eating disorder-- the director, who used to be a camper, goes to 12-step meetings. They don't assign the Overeaters Anonymous diagnosis to everyone as the ultimate reason for being overweight, but they don't treat it as a joke either.

 

Lastly, "Huge" portrays sexuality in a surprisingly progressive manner. One of the characters, Alistar, is teased by some of the other guys and definitely his parents for his effeminate interests, and when he is asked if he is gay, he responds with: "I don't really think of it like that. I don't like labels. I rather just be a person and another person and be comfortable in who I am and who we are."

 

Yes, I was just as surprised as you to read such an intelligent declaration about the fluid nature of sexuality on a teenage drama.

 

I think my favorite part about watching "Huge" every week is seeing talented, beautiful actors of size on screen portraying complex, three dimensional characters. Although Will is the voice of opposition, we see how she struggles with how her parents and her peers see her. Even the "mean" characters are given rich backstories that explains their negative behaviors. The show has only one episode left, and I'm hoping with all of my heart that it is renewed. It's downright revolutionary to have a show that features mostly overweight actors tell the stories of teenage-dom and the stories of struggling with how other people see you when your body deviates from the norm.

 

Oh, and it has a hilarious continuing reference to Twilight; the girls are all obsessed with Phantasma, a romance novel about a mortal girl and a ghost. It mocks youth culture's obsession with unrealistic love stories and perfect bodies, but it never mocks the youth themselves. All the characters are given realistic, yet surprising, narratives that force American society to acknowledge that people who are bigger than the norm are just that: people. 

Just home from a week in Lake Huntington, Knight Island, Warren, and Chesterfield. Last night we went to a corn roast in a field where people were toasting marshmallows and serving home made pies and potato salad. This morning we had breakfast in Northampton at the Green Bean recommended by Matt, and it was pretty much heavenly. I always forget how much vacation rejuvenates you. 

And also how foreign and weirdly temporary it always feels to be back after being gone for more than a few days (even when you aren't that far away and you know you're kind of exaggerating). But in a land not too distant, but also in some respects on the other side of the world, there are glow in the dark tree roots and pebble baths and bread in a can and camp stoves made of paint cans that look like bird cages and canoe rides involving a fifth of whiskey and a bottle of orange juice and seltzer combined. 

And here there is General Tso's Tofu and Julie and Julia (which would have been better/just as awesome without the whole Julie half) and back to work, in a good way. 

First off, it's not a Muslim mosque at Ground Zero. It's a community center two blocks away. But, you know what, why do we care?

 

I've been reading countless blog entries about the "mosque" at "ground zero," and the seething racism surrounding it. Even Howard Dean has backed away from rationality, opposing the building of an Islamic community center near ground zero. 

 

People have already talked about the First Amendment issues (religious freedom, remember that?), but I'd like to add one thing to the mix.

 

On September 11, 2,995 people were killed. Thousands more lost friends and family members. A whole country lost its optimism. And I'm willing to bet money that out of the 2,995 who died too soon, there was an American Muslim who was not involved in the attacks. I bet, there were at least a few American Muslims who were working in the World Trade Center when it crumbled to the ground. What I'm learning from all of these xenophobic and racist fear-mongers is that the memory and the faith of any Muslim who died in the wreckage of 9/11 isn't worth as much as the white American Christians. Because if they were, if we took a moment to realize the diversity of bodies that were attacked on that day, we would realize that Christians and non-Muslims shouldn't be able to claim all of the grief or all of the patriotic mourning.

 

So many Americans died that day. I still remember watching the news, and the footage of one specific body leaping to the ground being looped over and over. I don't know the gender or race or religion of that body that flung itself away from the flames and into certain death, but I do know that body was a victim. We were all victims that day, and we all prayed, meditated, or reflected on the violence, the death, and how the world would change. Pretending that only non-Muslims died that day and that only non-Muslims grieved for the fallen disregards the rich diversity of bodies and of spirit that makes America function and flourish.

 

Come on, America. Wake up and smell your potential. And while we're at it, let's check out that Constitution of ours. 

Last night, I learned (again) that dudes can be friends, as long as they are dudes, you know, real dudes. And in case you were confused, real dudes are so totally straight. Straighter than straight, and if you are confused about how two straight men can be friends without being gay for each other, just watch most of the new bromances, including the instructional film, The Other Guys, for tips on how to constantly and persistently prove your masculinity over and over and over and over and over again. 

 

I don't know why I was shocked about the overt misogyny or homophobia of The Other Guys. Perhaps my love of Will Ferrell (he stole my heart in Stranger than Fiction and my funny bone in Anchorman) or the mostly positive reviews of the movie on Rotten Tomatoes raised my expectations. Maybe the movie is funny, but I was too busy rolling my eyes every time Mark Wahlberg's character, Terry, insulted Will Ferrell's character, Allen, about his feminine traits. 

 

See, Terry feels the need to tell--nay, shout--- all of Allen's "flaws": nothing about him makes him a man; the Prius he drives is just a giant vagina; god, I can't even remember all of the insults Terry hurls at Allen in an attempt to emasculate him. That's pretty much the entire joke of the movie: Ferrell's Allen is just so feminine, so incompetent as a man, that it's unfathomable how he can perform his cop duties or his husband duties to his hot wife. To the fictional cops at NYPD, calling a man a woman or insinuating he is gay is the deepest, darkest, most offensive insult in the book. So the lesson is learned: dudes can be friends, even best of friends, as long as we, the audience, understand just how manly and heterosexual both the men are. Otherwise, their love is just a little bit gay. And of course, the subtext is that everything feminine and everything queer is just plain bad. Oh Will Ferrell, I thought you were better than this!

 

The guy buddy movie is nothing new: Some Like it Hot is one of my favorites, and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is a classic. The buddy cop movie is a subgenre; The Lethal Weapon series, Rush Hour, and now The Other Guys joins the league of police films that celebrate male friendship and the police force, all at the same time. While the buddy movie is nothing new, the bromance has recently risen in popularity. The Apatow crew has taken the buddy film to new witty, critical, and box office heights with 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and Superbad. 

 

Even though I love 40 Year Virgin with the same passion an 11 year old loves fart jokes, the scene between Seth Rogen and Paul Rudd illustrates this tension between straight male friendship and perceived gay love. Ya'll know the scene: the brilliantly delivered "Do you know how I know you're gay" scene. The whole scene depends on two troubling factors: 1. stereotypes of gay men and 2. the belief that being gay is less than, and thus an insult. And despite my love of Apatow-styled bromances, I'm tired of these assumptions. Instead of laughing, now I just roll my eyes.

 

Why is it that men can't express their friendship, their love for each other, without pouring most of their energy into proving their heterosexuality and hypermasculinity? These films seem to celebrate the love male friends share, but they cheapen the friendships with their anxiety and gay panic. Maybe that's why Adam McKay, director of The Other Guys, attempted to display his Hollywood liberal cred with a strong anti-corporation message told through shocking statistics and charts during the end credits. But here's the deal; pie charts about salaries and bail outs don't erase the fact that your movie and its entire premise is offensive to women and gay men. 

 

Can you think of any male buddy films that don't resort to this same anxiety? Or even that feature a gay man (or more!) as one of the buddies?  Or do you think that these portrayals of hypermasculinity are actually subservice critiques? Weigh in, Sadie readers!

Hello Sadie Readers! Sorry about the lack of posting this week; I went out of town for a bridal shower this weekend, and returned with a cold. I'm spending the week on my couch, eating soup, drinking tea, and whining to my dear partner who is serving me whenever I whimper.

 

So, instead of a post, I have a question for our readers! Let's get some discussion going in the comment section:

 

 

 

 

 

Some people say that women are just not as funny as man, but I disagree. Kristen Wiig, Tina Fey, Monique, and Betty White are some names that immediately come to mind. But my absolute favorite funny women (right now) are Sarah Chalke (Elliot Reid) and Judy Reyes (Carla Espinosa) from Scrubs. The boy and I have been marathoning Scrubs this summer, and I'm always cracking up at these two women. They both have amazing comic timing, fantastic physical comedy, and quick, fun rapport with the whole cast. Carla and Elliot are driven, professional women with complex emotional processes and a genuine, committed friendship. And they are funny as hell, often stealing the scenes from the dudes. I just love with Carla tells everyone what to do, and Elliot freaks out about nothing. Seriously, hilarious.

 

So, how about you? Who is your favorite funny woman? 

While I have not always been EXTREMELY proud to admit it (and when I say “not always,” I mean grades 7-9), I was a Girl Scout for an unusually long period of time (i.e. my entire public school career). Being a scout gave me the opportunity to, among other things, camp, hike, volunteer, and as corny as this sounds, participate in a community that had a pro-female ethos that, for whatever reason, I have always valued and enjoyed. Perhaps it is because of my affinity for the Scouts that I notice when they creep into national (or at the very least, the feminist blogosphere) news. And the more I learn about them, the more my scouting affection grows.

 

As many of you probably already know, the Girl Scouts recently joined forces with the Dove Self Esteem Fund to launch “Changing Faces of Fashion,” a campaign that features ethnically diverse “plus-size” models. Now, the phrase “plus-size model” has always made me cringe. Aside from the fact that it seems more suited to soft drinks than people, it also often refers to women whose sizes aren’t really “plus” (And calling attention to the fact that models aren’t rail thin, I think, undermines attempts to normalize a non-rail thin weight). While I am not too keen on this terminology, I don’t, realistically, foresee the fashion industry going anywhere anytime soon. If we accept the fact that the industry isn’t going anywhere, then the least people can do is slowly attempt to seize control of it. And I am happy that the Girl Scouts are doing this.

 

Among other things, “Changing Faces of Fashion,” inspired me to research the Girl Scouts’ large-scale social and political activism—and I was pleased with what I found. Based on my research, the Girl Scouts is a solidly progressive organization.

 

The Scouts were founded in 1912 by Juliette Gordon Lowe. And, according to the Girl Scout’s web site:

In developing the Girl Scout movement in the United States, Juliette brought girls of all backgrounds into the out-of-doors, giving them the opportunity to develop self-reliance and resourcefulness. She encouraged girls to prepare not only for traditional homemaking, but also for possible future roles as professional women—in the arts, sciences and business—and for active citizenship outside the home.

 

In 1952, Ebony noted that the "Girl Scouts in the South are making steady progress toward breaking down racial taboos" and in the 1960s they took an active stance for Civil Rights. In 1993 they, unlike the Boy Scouts, made it optional to “serve God," and they have, over the years, partnered with Planned Parenthood to educate girls about sex and sexuality.

 

Can their most recent initiative, “Changing Faces of Fashion” campaign improve? Yes. But, for the most part, I think that the Girl Scouts are staying on the right track.

Last week, I wrote up a description and analysis of Mad Men's Peggy Olson during Season One, and now I'll look at her progression in Season Two. I had so much fun writing the first entry, I'm thinking I may have to write up all of the female characters. You can trace the history of second wave feminism in all of the women of Mad Men; they are all stuck between traditional and modern notions of femininity. I'm already just shaking with excitement just thinking about it! 

 

Okay, let's get to Peggy. Season Two introduces what will be her central conflict for the rest of the season:

 

balance.

 

After her promotion to junior copywriter in Season One, Peggy struggles with balancing her career, her faith, her family, her femininity, her sexuality, and her personal ambitions.  Doesn't that sound familiar? In fact, it's downright contemporary, even third wave. Think about it: first wave feminism is about getting the vote; second wave is about getting professional, educational, and medical rights and opportunities; and in the third wave, among many other issues, we are trying to figure out how to live as women in a world where we are expected to achieve our professional dreams and still remain feminine, sexual, and maternal. Peggy Olson is a woman before her time, and this season illustrates her struggles to have it all. 

   

 

The very first episode of the second season reveals a new Peggy: she's confident, but still eager to please Don. She impresses Don with the Mohawk airline account, stunning him with the marvelous tagline: "What Did You Bring Me, Daddy?" Isn't it great to see Peggy rock an account that isn't for a feminine product? She appeals to the male demographic with this fantastic tagline, and she's no longer just writing for the lipsticks and weight loss products. Still, her perspective will be thrown aside throughout the season, and Peggy's fight for respect and inclusion in the office is far from over. 

 

Just five episodes later, Peggy is asked her opinion for Playtex bras. Throughout the creative process for this account, Peggy's opinions are dismissed. When Peggy disputes the fact every woman is either Jackie O or Marilyn Monroe, Pete responds with "Bras are for men. Women want to see themselves the way men see them." Even though they brought Peggy on because they needed a woman's perspective, they now dismiss her input. It's almost like because of her career ascent, she isn't considered as feminine anymore. As a professional, do the men think that she lost sight of her own femininity? That she is more masculine than feminine? Perhaps, or maybe after her weight gain (which is all lost by this season), they no longer see her as a sexual, attractive being, which, in Sterling Cooper, means that she is less than a woman. It's a bizarre twist, and reveals the concrete expectations of gender and women in the office.

 

Later in the season, Freddy leaves the office after his alcoholism affects a presentation for an account (yes, that's the only time they disapprove of obscene drinking habits). Freddy's departure means that Peggy is immediately promoted to senior copywriter for his accounts, although her loyalty to Freddy makes the promotion feel cheap. However, the most exciting moment was in the last episode, when Peggy, beaming with confidence after landing the Popsicle account, asks Roger point blank if she can relocate to Freddy's old office, which is roomy and comfortable (and without a giant Xerox machine). Roger, amused by her assertiveness, shrugs and gives her the office. This is where we leave Peggy in Season Two; she is still excluded from the boy's club, but her growing confidence is paying off in the office as she receives a promotion, a new office, and a new respect from the men in charge.

 

Okay, I hate to merge gender and sexuality in the same section because, people, they aren't the same (although they are closely related in our current climate). However, in the 1960s, they were perceived as one in the same, and as chiefly important for a woman's identity. 

 

In Season Two, Peggy is exploring both. After her promotion, she is no longer looking to Joan for all the answers, and is attempting to define her own gender and sexual identity. We see her as a sexual person with standards: at Paul Kinsey's party, we see Peggy making out with a stranger, and then rejecting his weak advances. Unlike the premiere of Season One, when she sleeps with Pete because he was there and she romanitized him in her fantasy, she is in charge of her sexuality here. She wants to play, but makes the final decision on how far the physical action goes. Go, Peggy, get it get it!

 

While she seems to have a handle on her sexuality, her femininity is another beast of burden. TLo have an amazing series about the fashion in Mad Men, looking at how the outfits highlight the tensions and aspirations of the characters, and they note how Peggy still dresses like a Catholic school girl, despite her new status in the office. And yes, clothes, hair, make-up, and shoes are all ways we perform gender on a day-to-day basis. I think Peggy acknowledges fashion as a struggle, which is why, in episode 6, Peggy attempts to join the boys club at an after hours drink with clients in the stunning, blue dress that accentuates every curve. It's funny; in order to fit into the boy's club, she has to act hyper-feminine. She must flirt and show cleavage to be included, but she is included only as the eye-candy for the boys, not as an equal. Peggy spends the night on the lap of a client, and we can see in her face that this isn't how she wants to gain their respect.

 

We never see Peggy dressed like this again. She discovers that she doesn't want to play the Joan role in the office, but the question of femininity in the workplace remains. She doesn't fit in with the boys because she has a vagina, and she doesn't fit in with the other women because she is in a position of power. The only co-worker she hits it off with is the gay consultant, Kurt, who provides some much-needed help in the hair department. Even though we still abide by the gender binary, how we express gender is more diverse than in 1962. In 2010, she could move up in the office with a pants suit or a skirt, but in the early 60s, she doesn't have the flexibility. This is a conflict she'll face over and over again: how to be a professional woman and how to be a woman professional in the age of Sterling Cooper.

 

 

It seemed obvious for me to write about faith and family in the same section for Peggy. We meet her mother and her sister for the first time in Season Two, and her heavily Catholic family, true to Catholic form, guilts her into coming to church with them. Her identity as a daughter/sister and as a Catholic woman are intertwined. Peggy's new career obligations are keeping her away from her family, and as a Catholic working class girl from Brooklyn, her family is a big part of her life. She's clearly close to her mother and her sister, even if they don't all agree about Peggy's current lifestyle. Peggy's obsession with Manhattan style and her career progress threatens to gradually pull her apart from her roots.

 

Peggy's mom finally succeeds in getting Peggy to mass, and here she meets Father Gil, who takes an immediate interest in Peggy. He recruits her advertising expertise for the CYO dance and tries to reconnect her with the Catholic faith. Although it seems he was unsuccessful, and we never truly know his motives, it was a surprisingly respectful way for Father Gil to reach out to Peggy: her work. In a way, by asking her to volunteer her time and knowledge to the church, he was showing her that she doesn't need to choose between faith and career. He was giving her a way to do both. I was surprised by how progressive he was in respecting Peggy's career and experience in the advertising world. I don't know much about Catholic history in the US, but her relationship with Father Gil makes me think that perhaps the church had a different attitude towards gender and women in the 60s.

 

Of course, I can't talk about Peggy and family without bringing up her biological child. We know for sure that the baby was adopted, and the show seems to hint that her sister is now raising the boy. The season finale had the shocking moment when Peggy finally told Pete, the child's biological father, about the birth and adoption of the baby. When asked why she did it, she simply states "I wanted other things." We don't know if it's specifically her career she is referring to, but here Peggy is addressing the challenges of balancing family, career, and life. In the 60s, she would have been forced to choose between having a baby and working as a copywriter and pursuing the freedom Peggy craves. Balance was just not possible (we see this when Betty attempts to model in Season One) for women then, and we still struggle for it now.

 

This is why I find Peggy so relatable; as a 25 year old woman, I feel like balance is challenging to achieve. I can't even imagine how hard it will be if I ever have children. Peggy's ambition is nothing new--women have been driven and passionate since the dawn of time. It's her recognition of the obstacles of being a woman with a career, and her struggles to balance career, love, sex, faith, family, and femininity, that make her such a fascinating figure for a show that takes place in the 60s.

Friends, readers, Sadie family: I feel a rant coming on. The rant has been brewing for a while, but this trailer just set it off. This trailer and rant does deal with sexual assault, so it could be triggering.

 

 

 

And here we go: I am so sick and tired of daddy revenge films, especially when the crime the father is avenging is rape. This has been a recent trend: last year, the movie The House on the Left, portrayed a mother and father who wreak brutal revenge on the group that raped and beat their daughter (who, I believe, survived). Trust appears to be in the same vein. A father is devastated by his daughter's rape, and appears to concoct a plan for retribution that involves big guns.

 

Now, I've never seen either of these films, but the basic premise infuriates me. First of all, these stories take away the voices and the agency of the survivors. They are in the background, and their fathers are the protagonists. These movies are not about the survivor's grieving or healing process after an assault, but how the father takes action against the perpetrators. After living through a brutal assault, these two daughters once again lose control of the situation, their agency apprehended by their revenge-obsessed fathers. Despite the fact that the young women are the victims, and despite the fact that their assault should be their story and their issue, the plot focuses on the emotional processing of the fathers. It is no longer her story: it's his.

 

Now, if these dads wanted to support their daughters, there are resources available for survivors and their loved ones. He could take her to counseling, hold her hand while she called into the RAINN hotline, or give her space while letting her know he was there when she needed it. That, my friends, is good parenting because it focuses on her healing process. 

 

And speaking of his needs, can we please have a film that depicts positive ways of men dealing with grief? I know that the family members of sexual assault survivors undergo their own emotional issues, but I'd like to see a man deal with his frustration, guilt, paternal concern, and sadness in a constructive way, instead of pure, unbridled violence. Men can deal with emotions without giant guns and knives, Hollywood, and its time we saw different representations of masculinity depicted in film.

 

Lastly, I think that bothers me the most about these films how the assault is interpreted; by placing the dad's needs as primary, her rape is now portrayed as an assault against him. The rape of a daughter is less about the brutalization of the body and the loss of control, and more about the loss of daddy's masculinity. By attacking the daughter, these films seem to suggest that the assailants are tearing away the father's ability to protect the family, but also the father's ability to regulate the body of his daughter. These rapes are depicted as acts of aggression against the father's role in the family, hence the overly violent, hyper-masculine responses. They regain their manhood through blood and destruction, apparently not by helping their daughters heal, which is just too feminine for them to seriously consider.

 

When training to help survivors of sexual assault, we learn to not respond with anger and not to go after the perpetrators. It only adds anxiety to the survivor, and once again removes her agency; in this situation, the survivor should decide how to deal with the assault and whether or not to press charges against the rapists. Basically, no matter how much the rape infuriates you, the survivor's needs should be the priority. Fortunately, many organizations are doing all they can to support survivors and their loved ones, including teaching young men about positive masculinity. And that's how I'll end this rant, on a positive note. Here are two resources dedicated to helping survivors in ways that don't include violent retribution enacted by daddy.

 

RAINN has a ton of resources of survivors of assault and incest, including a phone hotline, an online hotline, and information about how to help a loved one. They also have contact information for local rape prevention and crisis centers across the US. 

 

The My Strength campaign is doing wonderful things to empower men to become allies and help prevent sexual assault. It's all about using masculinity to help women and bring peace to communities, instead of hurting the ones we love. 

 

[Author's Correction] After posting this blog to my facebook, my friend, Frankie, who knows much much more about film history than I do, pointed out that the revenge/rape genre has a long history. The genre is a "pretty big branch in the Exploitation Film Genre," he says, which was big in the 60s/70s. He does note, however, that most of those movies feature the female survivor as the enacter of revenge, which I feel is a totally different issue, and if done well, could be potentially incredibly empowering... if done well. That conversation will take place on a later date. Thanks, Frankie, for the info!  

Thea Lim at Bitch Blogs reflects on the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival history of transphobia, allowing only biological women into the festival. The post includes a cartoon that illustrates the power dynamics between cisgendered women and transgendered women, and includes a great line from Thea: "Take it from me: make friends and allies based on politics and ideas, not whether or not someone has the same identity as you. Because I'd rather be on a team with Tim Wise than Condoleeza Rice."

 

Over at Jezebel, Irin blogs an overview of the disturbing new political strategy for anti-immigrant politicians and groups: changing the 14th amendment of the constitution so that babies born in the US to undocumented parents are no longer granted citizen status. Congratulations: they found a whole new way to dehumanize Latino families, especially Latina women.

 

Michelle Chen at Colorlines analyzes how Time Magazine's cover of the Afghan woman without a nose is only helping the Obama administration's war policies, not the Afghan women themselves. 

 

Jenn Fang wrote my favorite blog post of the month on why popular culture matters to racial justice activists and bloggers. It's an amazing piece about the relevance of pop culture, and a rebuttal to the "it's just a TV show/movie/ad/article! Lighten up!" argument we all hear over and over again. Her argument can apply to the writers and/or activists who critique the representations of any marginalized identities in pop culture. It reminds me of my graduate school student chant, Representations Matter!, and how I could repeat it over and over again until someone would let me rant about the latest episode of Glee. 

 

Feministe has a great interview with the kick ass founder of Scarleteen, a feminist, progressive sexual health website for teens. If you work with young people, it's a great resource for non-judgmental, accurate info that doesn't try to shame anyone for their sexual decisions. 

 

Every week or so, the bloggers at Feminists with Disabilities confront the outlandish and offensive assumptions advice columnists have about women, bodies, disability, normalcy, and relationships. This week, s.e. smith takes on a columnist who shames a seven year old for having facial hair. Turns out, even seven year olds aren't safe from body shaming and regulation.

 

And lastly, this video has been swarming around the blogosphere, and for good reason. Ya'll wanted to know what Tina Fey looked like before SNL and Liz Lemon, and here you go:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm sure you've heard of the indie darling by Lisa Cholodenko, The Kids Are All Right. You've probably heard that it features the fantastic Julianne Moore and wonderful Annette Bening as a married lesbian couple with two teenage children. What you may not know (unless you've seen it) is that the film is less about lesbian issues is more about the challenges and triumphs of marriage and parenthood. That isn't a criticism; in fact, it may be the strength of the film, and definitely its political message: the struggles of love and relationships are universal, regardless of gender. 

 

The obstacles that face Jules and Nic are familiar to the screen: Nic drinks too much wine and her work distracts her from her home life. Jules is carefree and desperate for attention. They are both gearing up for empty nest syndrome as their oldest child, Joni, is preparing for her first year at college. It seems like a typical marriage that undergoes the same challenges we see with heterosexual parents, except for one: Jules and Nic each carried a son and a daughter to term thanks to a sperm donor, who the kids seek out. Mark Ruffalo plays Paul, the middle-aged biological father who meets Joni and Laser, and quickly unravels the family ties.

 

Or does he? Jules and Nic are obviously struggling for intimacy before Paul enters the picture; he's really the catalyst for the bad decisions the women make, but not the cause. He isn't the male solution for the lesbian problem, as some critics suggest, but the outsider who is desperate for connection and finds it (superficially) in Jules, Nic, Laser, and Joni.

 

The universality of Nic and Jules' marital complications attempts to persuade the audience of how normal, common, and general their marriage is. It's shockingly familiar, despite the fact that we rarely see lesbian couples in film. In terms of queer politics, that is the films greatest strength and its greatest downfall. By portraying Jules and Nic's relationship as familiar, they simply don't threaten the heterosexual status quo. The desired reaction from hetero viewers is: "Well, they're just like us! Let's let them marry!" It's a politically advantageous strategy, but its also a strategy that ends up excluding queer folks who deviate from the norm.

 

Jules and Nic are middle-class, educated, monogamous, cis-gendered, able-bodied white women. Oh, and Julianne Moore is freaking gorgeous. They are the least threatening lesbian couple Hollywood could create. Daisy Hernandez at ColorLines hits the nail on the head in terms of the racial politics of the film: it wreaks of white liberalism, and all of the characters of color are disposed of by the end of the film. In one case, Jules fires a Latino gardener on the spot because he knows a secret and smiles suggestively; she relies on racial stereotypes for her verbal justification, accusing him of drug use even though she knows that wasn't the case. 

 

Now, I know that not all entertainment is meant to be purely a political statement. I also understand how unfair it is that any film that features a minority lead faces intense scrutiny from feminist, queer, disability rights, and racial justice writers. But I also see how this film embodies, in my mind, the central weakness of the queer movement. This film stands on its tiptoes and shouts on the top of its lungs, "We're just like you!" But that means that anyone in the queer community who isn't just like the privileged demographic this film targets, like queer members of color or disabled queer people, is thrown behind because they aren't as pretty on a movie poster.

 

Futhermore, the racial politics is another attempt to connect the white audience members: "We may be lesbians, but we also take advantage of migrant labor! We also dismiss people of color when they don't fit our needs!" In Black Looks: Race and Representation, bell hooks analyzes how men of color started to treat women misogynistically in order to appropriate white male privilege by relating to how white men historically treat women. Sadly, it feels like Jules' conflict with her gardener is attempting to achieve the same effect.

 

A last note: I have to explain to my partner whenever we go see a film that you can enjoy a film and still think critically about its message. Ultimately, I loved The Kids are All Right. Even though the marital ups and downs Jules and Nic endure are universal, its rare that romantic relationships are portrayed as honestly and raw as this film does. I ached with Jules and Nic during their rough times, and laughed and cheered at their successes because every single performance is believable and heartfelt. The film explores what breaks people apart, but also what brings us together. It's a movie about family, love, parenting, intimacy, sex, and the drive for human connection we all feel. 

California's having a rough time right now, but at least we have our priorities straight: by a narrow margin, Californians have a "higher opinion of Barbara Boxer's hair" than Carly Fiorina's. Yes, this was one of the questions asked in a recent poll about the upcoming Senate election, a poll completed by the reputable Public Policy Polling. 

 

Good to know we're finally taking women in politics seriously. 

 

H/T: California Prefers Incumbent Senator's Hair[Gawker]

Every week, I'll share what I've been reading in blogs and newspapers, and I invite you to share the same in the comments section! Here we go:

 

Mary Elizabeth Williams questions why a U.S. District Judge declared that competitive cheerleading is not a sport in a ruling of a Title IX case. I wonder what Sue Sylvester would have to say about this... 

 

Colorlines covers a recent victory/loss in the New York: The Domestic Workers Bill of Rights. Domestic workers, who are mostly women of color, are now legally entitled to overtime pay, disability benefits, and one day off a week, but they are prohibited from collective bargaining. 

 

I haven't watched True Blood in a few seasons, but if I did, I know I would be religiously following Racialious' fantastically insightful (and funny) roundtable conversations about race and gender in the series. 

 

Sex workers around the world are joining together to protest an HIV/AIDS policy that prohibits any US-funded international organization from distributing preventative materials or services to sex workers. I can't imagine a demographic that could need these services more than sex workers around the globe. 

 

A male writer at my favorite movie blog rips the "artists" responsible for the I Spit on Your Grave poster a new one for overtly sexualizing rape. I hate this poster (it is potentially triggering), but I love when male allies speak up against sexual assault.

 

Fair pay is a feminist and a disability rights issue, and the bloggers at Feminists with Disabilities expose how workers with disabilities are legally paid less than minimum wage in many countries. Perhaps these states and countries need to look up the definition of "minimum." 

 

For writers out there, here are two Call for Papers for amazing projects: Dear Sister is a collection of written works by survivors of sexual assault and Occupied Bodies is an anthology of essays about the self-image of women of color. Share your story and potentially get published!

 

Have you seen this trailer yet? It looks like a potentially the most important documentary in this decade. Also, it made me a tear up a few times. Movie trailers have a strange power over me.

 

 

 

What are you reading, writing, watching, listening to this week?  

 

The Last Airbender isn't alone in this trend. The film Prince of Persia, based on the popular old school video game, revealed Hollywood's belief that you can slap a British accent and some facial hair on an American white dude, and wa-la! you got a man of Middle Eastern descent. Both of these cases beg the question: why isn't Hollywood casting actors of color in lead roles, especially in films that are depicted with a non-white cultural background? Is Hollywood afraid that these performers can't carry a film? That the question of race will always be a distraction? I'm really not sure, but I can tell you this: Hollywood can learn a lot from the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. 

 

I just recently spent a week in Ashland, attending a teaching training seminar and watching the plays. Basically the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is just that: a nine-month festival of theater, focusing mostly on Shakespeare plays, but also showcasing contemporary works.  What shocked me the most about the six productions I saw was the diversity of the company. I mean true diversity; it was more than racial diversity, and far more than simple tokenism. From the audience's perspective, it seemed like they picked the best actors for the roles, regardless of race, gender, and ability, and this made for an empowering and exciting theater experience. 

 

For example, Hamlet was played by the exceptional Dan Donohue, a white actor, and his mother was played by Greta Oglesby, a black actor. This didn't cause any confusion for the audience. It was obvious by both talented performers that they had a mother/son relationship, despite the racial difference. Oglesby played Gertrude with overwhelming maternal warmth, a distinctive interpretation, and she was the perfect actor for the part. Throughout the plays, actors of color were playing lead roles or major supporting roles, without tones of tokenism or white liberal self-congratulations. 

 

But the diversity of casting didn't just end there; throughout several of the plays, non-normative displays of gender and sexuality proved that heterosexuality doesn't always have to be the default in performance. In Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were portrayed as a mixed-race lesbian couple. The musical, She Loves Me, presented many same-sex couples in the background. Think about it: when is the last time, in any mainstream film or television show, you saw a same-sex couple that wasn't the glaring "gay couple" sidekick for the hetero protagonists? Rarely, if ever. Heterosexuality was not the norm in these productions, and it was surprisingly refreshing to see same-sex couples throughout the plays.

 

And lastly, the casting was diverse in terms of ability. Howie Seago is a deaf actor who was cast in almost every Shakespearean play this summer: Hamlet's dead father, Poins in Henry IV, and Tubal in Merchant of Venice. He communicated with his castmembers through American Sign Language, and ASL was beautifully integrated into the performances. He never played the poor pity me disabled character; instead, he just used a different way to express himself, and the plays used the performative nature of ASL to enchance the storytelling. 

 

It was an amazing experience to see classic and contemporary plays choose actors based on skill, rather than their race, gender, or ability. What surprised me the most was just how shocked I was to see actors of color, lesbian couples, and a deaf actor on stage. This celebration of diversity should be the norm, not a pleasant and rare surprise. We live in a diverse society, and yet our major forms of entertainment don't reflect that. Hollywood, take note: The Oregon Shakespeare Festival proves that you can tell a story with diverse voices and diverse appearances without isolating the audience. In fact, watching a culturally mixed cast made the experience more authentic and engaging. 

As you may have noticed, I am obsessed with pop culture, especially how marginalized identities are represented. I get really excited when participants of pop culture come together for a progressive cause, especially a controversial one. Rage Against the Machine, the rockin' rebels they are, have joined with tons of other musical acts to boycott Arizona until SB 1070 is repealed.

 

SB 1070 is the atrocious law that enables law enforcement to stop and ask anyone for immigration papers, and arrest those who are unable to prove, on the spot, that they are documented. Many, including this blogger, believe that SB1070 legalizes racial profiling. It's the latest in a string of anti-immigration laws that attempts to punish the oppressed instead of actually looking at the roots of immigration. 

 

Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes), Sonic Youth, Kanye West, and Ozomatli are among the big names who are pledging to boycott Arizona. Undocumented workers are silenced in this country, due to language barriers, obstacles to education, and criminalization, so I think it's incredibly powerful that some of the biggest names in music are joining to put pressure on Arizona and to raise awareness about the humanitarian crisis that is SB 1070.

 

For lots of updates and analyses of SB 1070, which will go into effect this Thursday, July 29, check out Colorline's archive on Arizona.