This Year In White Feminism: Greatest Hits of 2014 (Part Two)

And we're back with Part Two! This year was so awash with white feminist fuckery that I had to compile two lists! Isn't that just delightful fun? Thankfully I'm in a pretty good mood today because I finally got my copy of Roxane Gay's Bad Feminist and there's very little that can bring me down, but this post is already two days late, so let's get down to business. There's much more fuckery to mock and cry over. Don't forget to check out Part One!

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11. Emma Watson Thinks Feminism Should Be Nicer To Men: Back in September, real life S.P.E.W. member Emma Watson gave a speech at the UN advocating for the HeforShe "Solidarity for Gender Equality" movement. The speech was a direct appeal to men to get involved in the fight for gender equality because of the varying ways that the patriarchy hurts men too. She asked me to think of their sisters, wives and daughters, and the mainstream media ate that shit up. But as good as Emma's intentions were (and I genuinely believe they were good) her speech once again asked us to centre men in a movement meant to benefit women. It also ignored an intersectional approach that would have focused more resources to help women of colour and poor and working class women, in favour of... making sure men felt more welcome. While I don't remember who said it first, (I think I first heard it from Roxane Gay, but if you know for sure, let me know!) [EDIT: I'm told it was actually Kelly Temple!] I think it's important to remember that men shouldn't be asking us to make feminist spaces more comfortable for them. They should taking the spaces they occupy in the world, and making them feminist. Emma's speech asked us to make nice with men instead of asking men to make nice with us.

12. Feminist T-Shirts Made by Economically Depressed Women of Colour: Speaking of intersectionality, while Hermione was asking us to be nice to men and posing for pictures, women in Mauritius were being paid a dollar an hour to fabricate the feminist credentials of many of our favourite celebrities. In other words, hundreds of women were being subjected to unfit working conditions and ushered into the vicious cycle of poverty, while Cumberbatch pointed at his face. Nice. This is one of the reasons that intersectionality is so important. While in the West we might think getting people to identify as  feminists is all it takes, there are women with concerns that are far more pressing; like earning a living wage. Parading their feminism does exactly squat for them, and shaming women who are living paycheck to paycheck for not wanting to align themselves with a movement that has yet to show that it is at all concerned with their interests in bullshit.

13. Lena Dunham Doesn't Pay: During promotion for her book tour, it was revealed that Lena Dunham was not paying the people hired to perform at her appearances, despite the tour being virtually sold out. But don't worry, she changed her mind after she was publicly shamed!

14. Annie Lennox Thinks Lynching Is Universal: Expertly following up her intersectional feminist fail, earlier in the promotion cycle for her new album, Annie Lennox discussed her cover of Strange Fruit, saying:

It's a human theme that has gone on for time immemorial. It's expressed in all kinds of different ways, whether it be racism, whether it be domestic violence, whether it be warfare, or a terrorist act, or simply on person attacking another person in a separate incident.

Ms. Lennox, I'm gonna need you to stop. Strange Fruit is not a metaphor. It is not a broad song that covers all kinds of injustice. It is literally a song about black people being lynched by white people. It's right there in the lyrics. There is zero room for interpretation. For a white artist to cover this song and then try to whitewash it's meaning is active violence against the memory of the African-American people who lost their life due to the deep seated racism of white Americans. There is no generalizing that experience. It is not universal. Annie Lennox can have several seats.

This Year In White Feminism: Greatest Hits of 2014 (Part One)

In January, I wrote a monster essay defining the way I use the term "white feminism." A phenomenon that goes by many names, white feminism is essentially the practice of centering the issues that disproportionately affect white, middle-class western women, while specifically and intentionally excluding or ignoring the often more pressing issues that affect the women who do not meet this criteria, namely women of colour. "White feminism" is feminism without intersectionality. That's it. That's all it is.

And yet, white feminists still don't get it. 

Nearly a year later, the mainstream white feminist media still fiercely and disproportionately protects whiteness, causing active harm to women of colour. I got a lot of pushback on that essay because my use of the term "white feminist" was perceived as racist and exclusionary, but frankly I don't give a fuck. Watching feminist discourse unfold online over the last year has reinforced for me that white feminism is dangerous and has no place in the movement. Actively harmful and violent shit happened time after time after time, and those of us who called it out were shouted down as divisive, race-baiting, jealous and toxic.

Everyone's praxis is different, but as Flavia Dzodan once said, "My feminism will be intersectional, or it will be bullshit." So in no particular order, here's part one of the greatest hits list of all the ways that white feminism was bullshit this year.

1. Saartjie Baartman: The Original Booty Queen: In one of the more egregious examples of disregard for the painful history of sexualization that black women were subjected to, Jezebel published a guest essay which posited that Saartjie Baartman, also known as the Hottentot Venus, was actually a "diva" and "illegal immigrant" who used her body to "strike it rich." The problems with the essay are too numerous to name, and "revisionist" doesn't even cover it.

2. Amanda Marcotte Advocates Incarceration Rape Victims to Force Compliance: Because further traumatizing a rape victim by subjecting them to legal sanctions and jail is exactly the way we encourage more victims to speak up about their assaults. Marcotte's assertion is that putting the rapist in jail is more important that catering to the well-being of the victim, but considering that few rapists are ever prosecuted or even charged, is it really okay to prioritize what has proven to be an ineffective legal system over the mental and physical well-being of the victim of the crime?

3. The Art Center College Thinks Beyoncé is Hijacking Feminism: The racial divide in the feminist movement is nothing new, and the targeting of Beyoncé's feminism in particular has been a favourite white feminist past time in 2014, but ACC sunk to a new low when it published the course description for a class called "Pretty Hurts" that not only called Beyoncé's feminism into question, but implied she had no right to identify with the movement at all because her husband "is a pimp." It was yet another blow in the ongoing struggle between white and black feminists, and was rightfully recognized as an institutional attempt to separate feminism from blackness.

For Feminists Who Resort To Racism When Slut Shaming Is Not Enough

White Feminists, we need to have a chat about this unruly beast we call feminism, and the intersection of race and sexuality. I like to assume that you mean well, but you've been fucking up quite a bit in the last few months, and I think it's my duty as your presumptive sister-in-arms to do some minor course correcting for all our sakes.

Beyoncé has been Beyoncé-ing for over a year now and you're still questioning her feminist credentials because her praxis doesn't match yours. Nicki Minaj has been vocal about her feminism for years but you revoked her credentials because she made a video about her exquisitely crafted rear end and rapped about the men who want to fuck her. To me, all that debate sounded a lot like judgement of other women for the way they chose to express their sexuality. This really confuses me because I thought that sexual agency was a cornerstone of contemporary feminist thought. After all, a woman's body is her own, and what she chooses to do with it or how she chooses to exercise and experience her sexuality is up to her alone.

Except, apparently, if you're black.

I'm seeing a trend of people labeling any sexual black female as an anti-feminist sexualized object & not discussing the nuances of agency.
— Michelle Huxtable (@MichelleHux) September 16, 2014

I've spent the last few months reading piece after piece and comment after comment decrying Beyoncé and Nicki for catering to the male gaze with no acknowledgement that agency plays a significant role in how perforative sexuality becomes. I've read thinkpiece after thinkpiece about why these two women are detrimental to the feminist movement because they take pleasure in exploring and embracing their sexuality publicly. The main issue that keeps cropping is the male gaze. Supposedly, because Beyoncé and Nicki perform in ways that are traditionally sexy, they must be performing for the male gaze, and doing so is decidedly unfeminist.

Well here's where your lesson starts white ladies, because I'm about to drop a truth bomb: the fact that something appeals to the male gaze, does not mean that it exists for the male gaze. It's really as simple as that.

a feminism that centers men is not feminism at all
— Tracy Clayton (@brokeymcpoverty) September 21, 2014

anyway. you can't make feminism all about men. you cant let it revolve around how men respond or what they see/think
— Tracy Clayton (@brokeymcpoverty) September 21, 2014

I know. Totally revolutionary right?

As I've said before, framing every instance of females sexuality from the perspective of the male gaze is not only extremely heteronormative, but it strips women of their sexual agency and ignores intersectional approaches to feminism. It completely negates the possibility that a woman can be sexual for her own enjoyment or pleasure. And while feminism is explicitly about dismantling the patriarchy and allowing women to be free of sexist expectations, making choices based on what does or doesn't appeal to patriarchal presumptions makes one literally beholden to that very system. If all your choices are direct responses to the patriarchy, you are still reactive to its whims, rather than proactive to your own desires.

If you don't do femme because men like it you are still influenced by male gaze. That's the point, reclaim the gaze & center YOUR feelings
— Shaadi (@tgirlinterruptd) October 8, 2014

Until we are truly post-racial, (so never...) the racial divide will always matter in feminism. This means that our feminisms will differ depending on our intersections, and that's okay. It is perfectly acceptable to acknowledge that different women have different needs. But the constant gatekeeping of mainstream feminism reveals the deeply entrenched racism within the movement. The face of my feminism isn't going to be the face of yours because we don't have the same concerns and therefore we're looking for different things in the women we look up to. Sexual liberation isn't going to look the same for you as it does for me because we're moving forward from different historical contexts. Embracing and acknowledging this fact rather than rejecting it is key to moving forward in solidarity.

And this is where my issue lies. Being able to safely express sexuality is important for black girls because it's something that was previously out of our control. Sexual agency was legally denied. That context does not exist for white women, and that can make it harder for you to understand how sexuality can be empowering. But just because something doesn't apply to you personally doesn't mean that it is worthless or deserving of derision or ridicule. Because of differences in race, class and sexuality, not everyone's feminist praxis looks the same.

White feminists ask "How do we know she's being sexual because she wants to?" I ask "Why would you assume that isn't the case?" Nicki Minaj's participation in the music industry doesn't lobotomize her or render her incapable of making her own decisions. She has shown time and time again that she is fully capable of directing and controlling her image, so why would you negate her agency now by insisting that she no longer has that power simply because her expressions of sexuality have become more explicit?

On #Reign, Rape And Sexual Assault As Plot Device

Trigger Warning: This post contains discussion of rape and sexual assault.

Let me start by saying that Reign is a great show. I started watching during the break between seasons one and two and haven't turned back since. In a lot of ways, Reign is typical CW fare: pretty people's pretty problems, but in others, it's a very progressive and feminist look (even if wildly historically inaccurate) at the life of one of history's most notorious and fascinating women.

One of the show's biggest strengths is that Reign deals quite openly with the struggles that women faced at the time; from their inability to own property to their inability to guide the very direction of their lives. The show expertly demonstrates how the show's female characters find ways to move through a world that refuses them power or autonomy. Because of this, I'm very surprised and disappointed that the show chose to have its title character violently raped as a way to advance the plot.

I am not as plugged into this show's online fandom as I am with other shows that I watch, so I was not aware that the details of this particular plot had leaked online a few months ago, and consequently did not see it coming. I will admit that even as it happened, I thought Mary might escape. After all, this would hardly be the first time that Mary has been under threat of rape in the show. Additionally, Reign had previously tackled rape (poorly) when Catherine de Medici, Mary's mother-in-law, admitted that she had been gang-raped as a child in a season one episode. A petition started back in October to persuade the showrunners not to go through with the storyline nicely sums up many of my issues with this episode:

Many of us have come to love this show for its portrayal of strong female characters and the unflinchingly feminine light it shines on the dynamics and pitfalls of power in a world that is dominated by men. Much of the series has focused on Mary's womanhood and how she has learned to utilize it, manipulate and weaponize it, even as the outside world has looked upon it as her greatest weakness. After persevering through so much adversity and triumphing over those who have fought so hard to silence her, to have her suffer through this violent assault sends the message that the world will only punish--crushingly and humiliatingly--those women who dare to assert their places within it. It is a message jarringly out of tune with everything we have come to admire about this series, and it has no place in a show geared toward young women who dream of a future in which they may rise without fear of retribution at the hands of men.

As with the HBO drama Game of Thrones the argument can certainly be made that the threat of rape is a historically accurate concern for women of the time. But Reign makes no pretense at accuracy and never has; this rape is a fictional concoction inserted into the story solely to create controversy and advance the plot. They cannot even hide behind the defense that they simply bungled the retelling of a true story.

Free The People. Fight The Power. Fuck The Police.

Darren Wilson will not be indicted.

I think we all knew that it was coming but it still feels like a slap in the face. For me, it's painful on so many different levels that it's honestly a little difficult to process.

It's so much more complicated that not getting justice for Big Mike. It's about realizing that there's little we can do short of setting the world on fire, to undo the systems that oppress black bodies every day. It's realizing that it isn't just Ferguson or Florida. It's the whole world. Anti-blackness is global and white fear will always be more valuable than black life.

The psychological effect of carrying that in your heart every day; of having to fight to see humanity where the world sees a threat? It takes a toll on your spirit. It eats at you. It lessens the person you're trying to be. And when you finally retaliate they tell you that you deserve your pain and the mental battle to hold fast to your dignity starts anew.

I don't know if I can keep doing this. I fear for my friends, for my brothers. I fear for the brilliant women who allow me to witness their lives online; giving of themselves in a show of solidarity for the men and women who look like us. And I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to read another story of a little black child barely out of infancy, lost to us forever because their skin made them loom larger and more terrifying than they were.

But I don't know what to do. I don't have any more tears to shed for this latest injustice. They've sucked me dry.

If Loving This Is Wrong, I Don't Want To Be Right: Reviewing @FeministaJones' "Push The Button"

If you have a free weekend and $5 to spare, then go get Feminista Jones' kinky debut novel, Push The Button. I promise it's a decision you won't regret.

At a little over 100 pages, Jones' erotic novel is an example of BDSM done right, with lots of steamy scenes and a tight narrative to keep you engaged. Without giving too much of the plot away, Push The Button is about a woman named Nicole who is in a committed submissive relationship with her boyfriend and later fiancé, David. Circumstance pits them both against an abusive former flame of hers in a situations that ramps up to a spectacular ending that will leave you literally begging for more. Push The Button  expertly strings you along like a lustful lover only to giggle with mirth as they leave you to climax on your own.

It's difficult to talk about erotica these days without mentioning the 50 Shades trilogy but according to Jones she doesn't mind. The story structure makes it very clear that Jones set out to counteract the way in which 50 Shades carelessly conflated BDSM with abusive tactics. Nicole's current flame David is meticulously contrasted with her past flame Marcus, and Jones goes to great lengths to dilligently demonstrate the line between consensual and forced submission. There is even an amazing passage in the final chapter (that I won't detail here to avoid spoilers) that deals with the different ways in which consent can be violated and the consequences that it can have.

I won't pretend that I didn't struggle with the at times. I consider myself a sex-positive feminist, and while I intellectually understand that BDSM is not abuse, I am unfamiliar with the intimacies of BDSM in practice, and there were definitely scenes in the book that left me a little uneasy because the lines of consent seemed blurred to me. But Jones, an established voice and advocate for sex positivity  clearly prepared for this effect. For every scene where I questioned whether Nicole was being taken advantage of, there was another that reminded me that her relationship was something that she entered into willingly with eyes wide open. In fact, in the story, Nicole is the one who teaches David how she prefers to be dominated, and slowly introduces him into "The Life." Jones makes sure to remind us that being sexually submissive is Nicole's choice and not something that we should pity her for. While it is easy to reactively connect some of the situations in the novel to emotional  or physical abuse, it's important for us to remember (and for Jones to remind us) that consent is key, and that voluntarily relinquishing control is entirely different from having it forced from you; a situation that Jones also deals with in detail.

Full disclosure, I was given a copy of this book for free for the purposes of writing this review, but I absolutely stand by everything I've said here. I'm not usually a fan of erotic novels, but Push The Button made me not only reconsider my stance, but also demonstrated that "erotic novel" doesn't have to be synonymous with "crappy story with some sex scenes thrown in." Jones is a great writer, and she manages to construct scenes that make you sweat and clutch your pearls while seamlessly tying them into a larger story with ever increasing stakes.

But the main thing I love about Push The Button is that it's a story about something that isn't necessarily mainstream that centers on a black woman. As with pretty much everything else in our culture, white people tend to be the face of kink, and it was refreshing to see the topic dealt with through black characters. In a way, it made my own curiosity about kink seem less strange or stigmatized, because the book allowed me to imagine people who look like me participating and enjoying themselves.

In her short debut, she makes us care about the well-being of her characters so much that the final chapter feels like a punch to the gut. Push The Button is a well crafted piece of fiction that I'm so glad I was exposed to, and you're missing out if you don't get yourself a copy.

Push The Button is available for sale from Amazon and Gumroad as an ebook download.

On Using #GoneGirl As An Excuse For Misogynistic "Fear"

Recently I decided to break my standing rule about going to see movie adaptations blind, and went to see the Gone Girl move without having read the book. I had a vague idea of the plot from the book's reputation, but for the most part, I didn't know the story going in. Ever since then, I've spent a lot of time thinking about the way that people in my circles (both online and off) have been reacting to it. It struck me as telling that nearly all the men I know have come away from the movie with a conclusion somewhere in the range of "ZOMG BITCHES BE CRAZY." And yes, Amy is "crazy" and manipulative and narcissistic and pathological, but it occurred to me that she is also just the inverse of all the men that women fear in real life.

In the movie, after discovering that Nick is cheating on her, Amy frames Nick for her murder. But on a deeper level, Amy sets him up for failing. For not living up to her expectations for him. For no longer being the bright young guy that she agreed to marry. She punishes him for being a disappointment and for daring not to meet her at her level. In real life, women actually get murdered for much less. And to me, that's what makes Amy's fabricated story so believable to the people around her. The situation is not just totally plausible, but likely, because we hear about the repercussions of stories like the one that Amy concocted every day.

On the face of it, Gone Girl is a misogynist's wet dream. It validates every bullshit MRA fear that women are out to destroy men. After all, Amy frames ex-boyfriends for rape as a matter of course, meticulously frames her husband for murder, murders a different ex-boyfriend during sex, for the crime of helping her escape her "abusive husband" and being a little too possessive, and then traps her husband in their loveless marriage by stealing his sperm to become pregnant. It is a literal laundry list of things that convince men that feminism at its core is simply a "misandrist revenge fantasy."

But in truth, Amy simply took her frustrations to the same "logical" conclusion that men get to every day in the real world. Instead of just leaving Nick, she transposes all her frustrations onto him and then punishes him for them. But how is that any different from the men who beat their wives because they're frustrated with their own unemployment? Or hide their assets so they can run off with the new girlfriend and leave their wife destitute? Or the ones who kill their wives for cheating, or God forbid, "dressing too sexy" or even looking at another man? In Gone Girl, Amy and Nick's positions are simply reversed from the traditional roles of aggressor and victim.

Count On My Love: Tessanne Chin's Major Label Debut Showcases Her Winning Voice

Unless you’d been paying close attention to her various social media channels, you might never know that Jamaican songstress Tessanne Chin, winner of season 5 of NBC’s The Voice, released her major label debut Count On My Love all the way back in July. Yup, July. Limited promotional support from her label translated to the lowest post-Voice sales ever, with just a measly 7,000 units sold in the first week. And it’s a shame, because with Count On My Love, Tessanne shows us just why she deserved to be recognized for her powerhouse voice.

Now, this was never an album that would storm the charts. (Count On My Love debuted at #41 on the Billboard 200.) The songs were clearly chosen with an interest in showing off Tessanne’s vocal range, as opposed to ensuring commercial success. But the music is lilting and easy; Chin’s sound is noticeably more mature than her 2010 independent release, In Between Words.

The single choices are baffling however. Tumbling Down, Tessanne’s “coronation song”; written by Ryan Tedder of One Republic fame, and performed the night she was announced as the season’s winner; is a middling number. It’s a mid-temp, slightly pop-y ballad that doesn’t adequately let Tessanne shine, and should never have been chosen as the album’s lead single. The second single Everything Reminds Me Of You does nothing to improve on the tepid impact of the first.

A much better choice would have been the album’s incredibly radio friendly title track, Count On My Love; a delightfully breezy pop song with a distinct “island vibe.” It’s a great song, and by far the stand out track. The song could easily have been the sequel to her 2010 duet with local star Kees Dieffenthaller, Loving You. This fact brings to light another issue with the record: it is entirely a solo effort, with no collaborations. While Tessanne most definitely holds her own, proving her mettle from track to track, the lack of other voices is conspicuous, considering the number of high profile musicians she has worked with in the past.

The entire album has a consistent rock steady vibe, but this is both a blessing and curse. Many of the songs blend together, indistinguishable except by their hooks, and punctuated by Tessanne’s breathtaking voice. But the positives largely outweigh the negatives on this ten-track record. The tunes are very catchy, and they’re exactly the kind of songs you want to sing along to in your car. The melodies are fun and they show off Chin’s extraordinary vocals without lapsing into the oversinging that plagues many popular artists (*cough* Christina Aguilera *cough*) Chin’s voice easily reaches notes most wouldn’t dare attempt and her intermittent lapses into Jamaica patois are endearing, and a clever stylistic choice.

The one track that feels misplaced is the closing number, One Step Closer. While not a bad song, the track seems to be the one attempt to produce something radio ready. But the heavy bass and dubstep influences battle for attention with Tessane's voice, and it's a testament to her skills that they never quite overpower her. After nine tracks of breezy melodies, One Step Closer stands in stark contrast.

In the end, I give the album a B+. It’s a solid body of work that deserves far more recognition that it got. Tessanne’s skills don’t disappoint for a second, and the music shows how talented she really is.

Pop Culture, Racism And Values Dissonance: Dr. Algernon Edwards On Cinemax's #TheKnick

If there's any show you need to catch up on this summer, Cinemax's The Knick is it. Set at the titular Knickerbocker Hospital in 1900's New York, the show centers on a group of surgeons working at the turn of the century, using the era's boom in technological advancements to refine and improve their craft, and attempting to drive down obscenely high mortality rates.

So far, I've been thoroughly engrossed in watching the show unfold, but I've had a deep discomfort about the experience as well. As you may likely have deduced, 1900's New York was not.... a progressive time in the history of the United States, and much of the storyline revolves around the racism that Dr. Algernon Edwards (Andre Holland), the first black doctor at the hospital, must face not just from his colleagues, but also from the patients he treats and the world at large. The Knick does nothing to sugarcoat the prevalent racial attitudes of the time, nor does it make the show's protagonist Dr. John Thackery (Clive Owen) suspiciously enlightened for his time. Rather, the show goes to great lengths to reinforce that pretty much everyone is racist, and it refuses to let you forget it.

There's an element of respectability to Edwards' story too, that I didn't pick up on until I started writing this. Algernon Edwards is the best of the best. Having studied surgery all over Europe under the patronage of the family that owns the hospital (his mother is their longtime maid), Edwards is far and away the most qualified doctor at the Knick. He has co-authored and published papers in well-respected medical journals, and innovated surgical techniques and tools. His skills are unmatched by his fellow surgeons and yet, they refuse to work with him; Dr Everett Gallenger (Eric Johnson) is openly hostile to him within the surgical theatre and without, harboring perhaps understandable resentment that Edwards was appointed Deputy Chief of Surgery over him.

Edwards is reduced to running an illicit clinic for African-Americans in the subterranean office that was assigned to him in disdain in order to actually treat patients. Even under these conditions he is able to devise a  new technique for hernia repair, and create a new tool for suctioning excess blood during surgery (using a modified vacuum cleaner). The Knick goes almost above and beyond to show us that he does not deserve this; this being the racism directed at him from all corners. But what I think the shows misses is an understanding that it's his inherent human dignity that should shield him from racism, and not his surgical qualifications.

That said, this show traffics in values dissonance in a very heavy-handed way that I personally have found to be quite triggering at times. Last Friday's episode featured a mob attacking random black people in street in retribution for the death of a police officer at that hands of a black man. Never mind of course that said (corrupt) police officer had first propositioned the man's wife and offered her a place at a brothel because "it's always good to have some dark ones around" and pulled a weapon first. The mob scenes were understandably violent, but framed against the backdrop of real life police violence being done to black people in 2014, from Eric Garner to Mike Brown, there was almost something obscene about the way the show used faceless and nameless black bodies as the stage upon which it made its point about racial discrimination. 

And while I'm definitely happy that The Knick confronts the race relations of the time rather than trying to side step it the way Mad Men does, or mention it in hushed tones the way Masters of Sex does, it's unsettling to see that depictions of black suffering are the only ways in which it could think to do that. And that isn't to negate that these things happened. After all, lynching is a particularly dark stain on our collective histories. But in a contemporary context, I'm disappointed that there wasn't a more elegant way to allude to those events without subjecting the viewing audience to such intensely triggering imagery. One scene has a unknown black woman shoved against a metal gate and beaten across the face with a brick. And though the point was certainly made, I can't get the image out of my head; another person who looks like me, mercilessly beaten for the crime of having been born with skin darker than society deemed acceptable. More than anything, watching this show has reminded me that not enough has changed, and ripples of these archaic and bigoted attitudes are still being felt today.

But don't misunderstand me. I really do enjoy this show. It's brilliantly acted, the music is fascinatingly appropriate and it is masterfully filmed. The sense of time and place is exquisite. I really like seeing medicine in the historic context of the 1900's: from chopping off limbs in barber shops, to using cocaine as a painkiller, to prescribing turpentine(!) for stomach ailments. It makes me wonder if 100 years from now the surgeons of 2114 will look back at our medical techniques and remark at how primitive they were. One of the storylines centered on sanitation and the spread of disease. (Apparently people didn't yet know to wash their hands in 1900.) Another deals with a nun who performs illegal abortions for the desperate women who come to her. But the heavy handed treatment of race in The Knick transitions too quickly from poor sanitation to punching the black doctor in the face, and eliciting derisive laughter from his colleagues. The mood whiplash is so severe sometimes that it takes me out of the show. 

For all my misgivings however, I'd still recommend the show. It is a brutal look at the social mores of the times, but perhaps a necessary one, given Hollywood's inclination to whitewash things of this nature. Just once though, I wish we could have a period drama that didn't evolve around a white protagonist.

Mz007's "Important", Black Women, And Defiant Self Confidence

"I'm coming through, bitch I'm gorgeous!" That's the battle cry of this up and coming rapper Mz 007. Yesterday I stumbled upon the music video for her single "Important" and I couldn't be more in love.

Firstly, the song is catchy as hell. I've been bleating "I'm important!" at random inanimate objects for a solid 24 hours now and I'm just getting started. I can totally see myself jamming out to this in a club, and it's already on my "pantless dance party" playlist. But the biggest reason I love the song is Mz 007 herself.

It may seem like overkill to even mention this, but having a fat, black woman boldly declare that she's important is a huge deal. When black women are being beaten by police officers, targeted for sexual assault, and routinely assumed to be prostitutes, we need the reminder that black women are people too. Our worth is routinely under fire, so a track like this is a nice reminder that we matter, regardless of the fact that society tries to convince us otherwise.

What I also find so affirming about this song is how incredibly defiant it is. We're all subjected to the media narrative of what it means to be a desirable woman in society, and due to racist double standards, black women are almost always at the bottom of that list. To have Mz007 embody the antithesis of the exalted ideal, (white, blonde and skinny) and still dare to identify with and vocalize her own worth is revolutionary and I love her so much for it. This video makes me think of Rihanna's media portrayal in the way her attitude is so clearly unbothered:

"I told the bitch, I'm fat. You ugly. I can fix fat. You can't fix ugly."

Let's not even get into how long and loud I laughed at that. Totally my new motto!

The video is a fun track that anyone can enjoy, but I can't help having just a little more fun knowing that Mz007 is empowering other black women who might happen across her music by daring to be unapologetically herself. Representation is such an important issue and I'm glad that she is carrying the torch for women like me by bravely defying society's rigid standards. 

Nicki Minaj's #Anaconda And Reclaiming "Black Girl Sexy"

If you haven't seen Nicki Minaj's new Anaconda video yet, stop what you're doing and watch it immediately! If you have seen it, then you already know that I love it. Ass, ass, everywhere. It's a big booty black girl's dream! But deeper than that, I love the way that it's an expression of agency on Nicki's part. She is a young, gorgeous and successful woman, and she's earned the right to be just as raunchy as she wants to be. She's never shied away from that and I love that about her. 

Naturally, the criticism of the video (as with the cover art) was swift and loud, but as usual, most of it intentionally misses the point. As I've talked about before, much of the criticism of high profile black women being sexual rests on the assumption that they have no agency to make the decision to be sexy on their own. This great piece from The Rogue Feminist illustrates why there's a stark difference between the treatment of sexualization of race in Nicki's video and say, Miley Cyrus's or Lily Allen's:

In contrast, Nicki Minaj is reclaiming a song (Baby Got Back) that was made by a Black male rapper who celebrated (but also objectified) Black female bodies. Throughout her song, Nicki raps like a man would, talking about her sexual conquests with men and the size of their dicks, almost as a way of doing to men what they have done to women (objectifying their dicks as Sir Mix A Lot objectified Black women's asses and many other men objectify women's vaginas). She also brags about her sexual prowess and stays in control and aggressive in the video (she goes as far as cutting a banana representing a dick and slapping Drake's hand away—the video critiques the male gaze). The target of mockery and disparagement in Nicki's video is men and the male gaze, and the video works to reclaim agency from it. 

In what way is Nicki asserting power over her dancers? In her video, she twerks along side her back up dancers and dances with them and interacts with them on the same level. She is just as scantily clad as they are. Lily Allen, however, stays fully covered in her video, does not dance provocatively, and thus contrasts her own pure and respectable femininity with the Black women, using their twerking and scantily clad bodies as an example of "bad" female sexuality and femininity—of women "objectifying themselves." This is racist because it frames Black female sexuality as lesser than white femininity and antithetical to feminism. 

In summary: Nicki's video is very much a celebration of female Black beauty and sexuality coming from a Black woman. Conversely, Lilly Allen's is using Black women as props to frame them as a vile or bad form of sexuality or being too sexual to prop up her own feminism.

What I love about the song and video is that it isn't just Nicki being sexy. It's a flat out display of her power over men. Nicki actively disregards the male gaze in the video. Between the lyrics, the tongue in cheek mishandling of the banana and literally slapping Drake's hand away when he tries to touch her ass, it's a song and video about her enjoying her own body and sexuality, and inviting other "fat ass bitches" to do the same. The assertion that because she looks traditionally "sexy" she is "desperate for male attention" doesn't hold any water when you approach it critically. Just because something happens to be appealing to straight men doesn't mean that straight men are the intended audience. It's an incredibly heteronormative assumption. Would we assume that femme lesbians are vying for male attention because they prefer to present as traditionally feminine?

At the end of the video, Nicki crawls away smiling as Drake is left visibly frustrated. This is a clear instance of her exerting sexual control over him. What she's doing here and in the rest of the video is reversing the male gaze entirely, something she does often. Instead of flaunting for men, she's taking on the role of those same men, and standing in as a female substitute, purporting to be bigger and better than they could ever be. This song doesn't "appeal" to men, it literally taunts them for not being good enough to match up to her. She spends a good portion of the song actively cackling in their faces!

Nicki has a long track record of tackling issues of sexism in the industry head on and it's silly to think that those issues weren't at the back of her mind when she created this video. Nicki Minaj is savvy and her feminist politics are on point. She just isn't here for your respectability, and I'm perfectly okay with that.

Race, Racism and Mental Health: A Look At #OITNB's Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren

I'm pretty convinced Suzanne Warren's mother is racist. Unintentionally so, but to detrimental effect.

As you know, I was very excited for the Season Two premiere of Netflix's Orange Is The New Black. I stayed up for hours and watched three straight episodes before my body gave in to fatigue and I went to bed. I spent the rest of the weekend inhaling the new stories that these women had to tell us, and I was grateful to be able to immerse myself in their lives once more. 

There were more than a few surprises when it came to the backstories that were explored this season most notably Morello, Poussey and Miss Rosa, in my opinion. But the backstory that stood out to me most was Suzanne's. In the second season's third episode, Hugs Can Be Deceiving, we get a glimpse into the difficulties Suzanne faced growing up as an adopted black child in a white family, who while clearly loving and protective of her, remained stubbornly blind to her mental health needs. 

So why do I think Suzanne's mother is racist? It's a bit difficult for me to articulate, so I'll defer to this completely out of context quote from Bitch Flicks about a young black female character on the Disney channel show Jessie:

"The worst part about her character to me is not just the stereotypes, but the fact that she is exhibiting urban Black stereotypes despite never having been a part of urban Black society. She lives in an Upper East Side penthouse and was born in Uganda. It is reminiscent of early 20th century ideas: things like social darwinism. These characteristics of Zuri exist in her genetics just because of the color of her skin."

Emphasis mine. Just let that percolate for a bit while I get into this next bit.

We the audience have had two seasons to get to know Suzanne, but even from the very beginning when she doggedly pursued Piper and nicknamed her Dandelion, it was clear that she suffered from some form of mental disorder. While demonstrably very intelligent (can you quote Shakespeare from memory?) Suzanne is inappropriately sexually aggressive, lacks social boundaries, and demonstrates difficulty understanding interpersonal cues. That she is "different" is plainly obvious to the casual observer.

And yet. 

In Hugs Can Deceiving we see Suzanne's mother self-righteously accuse another mother of racism for not wanting Suzanne to attend her child's sleepover in a flashback scene. The sleepover is for her 6-year-old. Suzanne is 10. The scene rubbed the wrong way for a lot of reasons. 

Rereading Harry Potter: 10 Questions I Have About The Magical World

Because I'm a dirty cheater, I'm rereading the Harry Potter series in order to meet my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal for this year. (Too lazy to hit the library for new books!) I reread the novels every year, but this is the first time I've really been reading with a critical eye. I sped through both Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets but I as a Muggle fan of this amazing work of fiction, I still have questions about the mechanics of this universe. Here is a greatly condensed version of my running tally of enquiries for the first two novels:

Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone

1. Why don't we don't hear about Sirius Black until book three? In this novel, we see Harry be introduced to his magical roots, and Hagrid has to hastily give him the story of what made him famous. He gets the Sparknotes version: Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of all time, killed his parents and tried to kill him when he was only an infant, and inexplicably, he could not. Dirty old Voldy was reduced to a shell of his former self, and Harry was left with his scar. This is Harry's origin story. But, shouldn't the fact that his parent's very best friend betrayed them factor into that some how? Doesn't that little bit of information have a profound effect on the mythology of this story?

2. What happens to wizards who get expelled? We know that Hagrid was expelled in his third year, and that Dumbledore allowed him to stay on as Gamekeeper, but how does a situation like this play out for other expelled wizards? Hagrid's wand is snapped and he is forbidden to perform magic. Does that include other forms of magic like potion making or divination? Since getting expelled is essentially like flunking out of school, are there adult remedial classes for wizards who never finished school? Or are they forbidden from magic forever and encouraged to join the muggle world like squibs?

3. How is there is no faster magical way to find information than the library? Throughout the novel, we see Hermione sprinting to the library to research information. I understand that the magical world has largely shunned technology, but there must be a magical shortcut that works as the equivalent to a search engine. Not even an "Accio books about Nicholas Flamel" spell? That seems strangely archaic. I just feel like "because magic" should be a reasonable explanation. Why isn't it?

4. How do muggles get to Diagon Alley? Do muggle-borns' parents get an extra letter with instructions on how to get access the wizarding world so they can buy their newly minted magical child's school supplies? How does that affect the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? Are they allowed to roam Diagon Alley during the term? Do their minds get wiped each year so that they can't go blabbing about their witch and wizard children?

5. How does this moving between portraits business work exactly? Is it limited to portraits in the same building? Or is it any portrait of the same person regardless of location? Since we find out later that the portraits can be used to deliver information, does that mean that all portraits of a particular person have all the knowledge of every other incarnation of that person? What happens when a new portrait is made? Can different portraits of the same person interact or does that rip a hole in the space-time continuum?

Tropes vs Women: "Ruby Sparks" As The Manic Pixie Dream Girl

You may have heard that Nathan Rabin, the writer who coined the term "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" and named the trope apologized last week for doing so, saying:

"The trope of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a fundamentally sexist one, since it makes women seem less like autonomous, independent entities than appealing props to help mopey, sad white men self-actualize. Within that context, the phrase was useful precisely because, while still fairly flexible, it also benefited from a certain specificity."

Despite the fact that the piece itself comes across as being disingenuously self-aggrandizing, I actually both agree and disagree with Rabin's apology. While he's right that the term has been wrongfully expanded to encompass characters that only vaguely fit the bill, the term itself is perfectly suited to the purpose for which it was coined: to identify female characters who exist solely for the purpose of helping a male protagonist self-actualize. 

Rabin cites Zoe Kazan's (writer and star of the film Ruby Sparks) criticisms of the term as one of the reasons he is apologizing, but I don't agree with her take on the situation either. While she's spot on that writers rely on cultural props to signify personality rather than doing the work to flesh out their female characters, this is the very practice that the manic pixie dream girl trope is meant to critique. The term itself isn't meant to be shorthand for "quirky and cute." Though I see how it has morphed into that through usage, the term is meant to be an identifier, not an accusation. To me, Ruby Sparks is a movie about exposing the lie of the manic pixie dream girl. The film centers on a protagonist who literally manifests a woman in order to serve his ego,  and then gets bent out of shape when she dares to have an inner life of her own. The term "manic pixie dream girl" is a condemnation of the trope as a literary crutch, not the personalities that often get associated with the term.

I actually loved Ruby Sparks. It's a great movie that you should check out if you haven't seen it, but the message that I got from it (which, I guess wasn't want Kazan was trying to convey apparently...?) was that the movie was a direct dissection of the trope. Ruby is initially presented to the audience as a one-dimensional paper-thin character who gradually reveals herself to be a whole lot more, much to the chagrin of her writer boyfriend/creator who only wanted an MPDG to serve his emotional whims. When he realizes that she is beginning to develop a unique personality, he intentionally fucks with her to try to keep her from self actualization because he's afraid (and rightly so, the little shit) that she'll want more or better than him as she allows herself to become a whole person who exists outside his personal desires. 

The movie is actually pretty brilliant. But I saw the film as a way to pinpoint the fact that no matter how reductively you to try to frame them, women are more than backgrounds upon which men can work through their personal demons, and to highlight the specific kind of hipster/artist fantasy that leads to the creation of one dimensional female characters of this sort in the first place; essentially, to undermine the MPDG trope. I thought that came through loud and clear. To me, Ruby is  a manic pixie dream girl, but the wit of the film comes from demonstrating all the problems that would arise if women really were just the aimless supporting characters in the lives of their men.

At the end of it, I think "manic pixie dream girl" is a useful and instructive term that describes a sexist phenomenon, and excising it from our cultural lexicon is pointless. I do think that we need to be more nuanced about our application of the trope instead of simply using it to signify any character who happens to approach Zooey Deschanel's orbit.

A Feminist Character ≠ A Character Who Is A Feminist: Examining Claire Underwood and Olivia Pope

The Ampersand

As far as I can tell, there's a stark difference between a "feminist character" and a "character who is a feminist." While there certainly can be overlap, there rarely even seems to be, and I can't understand why there seems to be so much confusion.

This post has been buzzing around my head since February's season two debut of Netflix's House of Cards, but somehow I haven't been able to properly articulate what I've wanted to say until today.

The House of Cards premiere generated a lot of discussion regarding Claire Underwood's "credentials" as a feminist, specifically in regard to a plot line wherein she gets revenge on (and supposedly justice from) the man who raped her in college, (now a decorated military man) by invoking him as the reason for her (several) abortions in a live television interview. In one fell swoop, Claire is able to forever demolish the reputation of her attacker, and deftly explains away her childless marriage in a way that secures sympathy for herself and her husband witin the political arena.

For this, Jezebel declared her a "feminist warrior anti-hero."

If you've actually watched the show, you know different.

While the desire to hail Claire's actions in that scenario as a kind of feminist triumph is completely understandable, (especially as it is the beginning of a longer story arc in which Claire attempts to tackle reforming the handling of sexual assault and reporting in the US military), it too conveniently forgets that earlier in the same season, Claire threatens to revoke a pregnant former employee's health care in a ploy to strong arm her into dropping a(n admittedly fraudulent) wrongful termination suit.

Let's Talk About Robin Thicke's Manipulative Ploy To "Get Her Back"

By now, most people know that serial boundary pusher Robin Thicke is reluctantly single, and in the middle of a full on media blitz to prove contrition for the unnamed offenses that drove away, his lady love, actress Paula Patton. Said media blitz is supposedly meant to "Get Her Back", as indicated by the lead single of the same name, from his new album of public apologies, Paula.

Here's why all of this musical self-flagellation is not only not romantic in the slightest, but actually borderline abusive instead. 

Imagine this: A woman has been in a relationship with a manipulative man for years. He lies, he cheats, he drinks too much and he embarrasses her publicly. She's ashamed of how she's been treated but she finally has the courage to leave, and takes solace in the fact that this can be her private shame, and when she's gone she'll never have to look back again. She tells all her friends and family vaguely that they've just grown apart after so many years together.

But wait! The manipulative man shows up at her workplace with a bouquet of flowers and a huge sign that says "I'm sorry I got drunk and cheated on you so many times. Please take me back." The next day, he turns up with a brand new car that he bought just for her because he knew her old one was on its last legs. When she refuses his advances and asks for some space to think, he posts flyers all over town with a picture of them that say "Please help her forgive me. I love her and I want her back." Strange people she's never met start pressuring her to forgive him in the grocery store, at the bank, in the park. After all, look at how hard he's working to try to change! He's so sorry that he hurt her! Why can't she see how good she has it? Now, the woman feels obligated to take him back. Not only does everyone know how he humiliated her, but they all think she should go back to him, and that she's heartless and frigid if she doesn't.

Are we starting to see the cracks in this story?

It's lovely that Robin Thicke thinks his marriage is worth saving, but this is not the way to go about it. This entire album, the track names, the hashtag; if this is in fact a sincere effort to "get her back" it's basically a how-to on abuser dynamics. Rather than allowing Patton the time and space to decide whether or not to reconcile in private, with this album, Thicke has effectively enlisted the public to get on his side and pressure her into going back to him, and make her the villain if she refuses. "Oh, but he wrote a whole album about her! He's really sorry!" All while he rakes in the cash, and she loses her resolve to stay away from a man who cheated on her, publicly embarrassed her and ruined a decades long relationship. 

And I haven't even gotten to the video yet. 

On The Semantic Inaccuracy Of The Term "Slut Shaming"

via A Lofty Existence

Today, ​@FeministaJones published a great essay that explains why she takes issue with the term "slut shaming." In it, she describes the way we use language to imply specific connotations, and how that language applies when we coin terms about behaviour.

When I realized what the essay was about, I was apprehensive at first. After all, what we understand to be slut shaming within feminist discourse (ie. shaming women for their sexual choices) is definitely something that happens, and is quite obviously a practice that needs to be eradicated. I was unsure of why anyone would take issue with a term that seeks to identify and name that behaviour. 

But since I've been following @FeministaJones for almost a year now and I very much respect her voice and opinion, specifically as a sex positive black woman who writes openly about her sex life, her interest in kink, and the difficulties of confronting that in a society rife with respectability when it comes to black female bodies, I knew that I should do myself a favour and read it before drawing conclusions. 

I'm really glad I did.

Jones's argument is essentially this: When we "defend" women from being shamed for "being sluts", we are implicitly agreeing that they are sluts.

How? Well she breaks it down wonderfully by examining the ways in which we talk about female sexuality, and the words we use to describe female sexual behaviour within the patriarchal system.

"By definition, a “slut” is a woman, described as slovenly and promiscuous. Slovenly is by no means a compliment and promiscuous certainly has negative connotations. Think of what comes to mind when you think of that particular adjective. Be honest—isn’t your first thought about a woman? How often are men described as promiscuous?"

She also juxtaposes this with the terms "victim blaming" and "fat shaming" to underscore that when we use those terms, we are defending people from being shamed for who they are.

So why do we use “slut-shaming” in the same way? Following the usage of “victim blaming” and “fat shaming”, are we not basically calling women sluts when we talk about them being “slut shamed”? Are we not calling upon the prevalence and relevance of abusive terms and labeling women accordingly, while attempting to empathize with the shame they experience?

Following that thinking, when we frame the phenomenon of women being shamed for their sexual choices as "slut-shaming", we are implying that we are also defending them from being who they are, and stating that who they are is a "slut". The term effectively says "It's totally fine women are sluts. There's nothing wrong with that."

What Jones essentially says in her essays is that there shouldn't be derogatory terms to describe women's sexual behaviour (she also examines the usage of "whore", "promiscuous" and "prostitute"), and that by invoking those terms to defend ourselves we are inadvertently validating them. As we all know, a woman does not have to engage in sexual activity of any kind to be slut shamed, as the shaming stems from the desire to control women's sexual behaviour.

We are not “sluts”. We are WOMEN and we are being shamed because we are women (who have sex). It is important to keep this at the forefront of the discussion and not rely on catchy buzzwords to make points that, quite honestly, are counterproductive. If we uphold this idea of “slut shaming”, we agree that the word for a woman who enjoys sex is a slut. We become complicit with upholding the standards of sexual morality that generated these words. We are actively accepting and sustaining the limitations placed on sexual enjoyment. We are operating within the parameters of respectability when it comes to sexual pleasure and expression and we’re essentially agreeing that it’s OK to call women sluts. It is never OK to call a woman a slut, even if you’re fighting against so-called “slut shaming”.

FJ was kind enough to engage with me on twitter about her essay and I've complied the conversation so you can see my thought process if you so choose. I had never really considered the term from this perspective before and I appreciated the opportunity to critically think about something that I've taken for granted for quite some time.

I have always seen the reclamation of the term "slut" as a way to take the sting out of something that was created as a weapon against women who refuse to have their morality tied to their sexuality, but after reading this essay, I see that practice in a different light. Reclaiming slut is almost like willingly accepting blame for a crime you didn't commit, or rather for doing something that shouldn't be a crime in the first place.

While I won't go as far as calling for a moratorium on the term as FJ does, I do think it's important to constantly be questioning and critically thinking about the terms we use to describe the influences we come up against. Jones's essay was very enlightening, and I definitely recommend giving it a complete read.

How Ramaa Mosley And #GirlRising Tried To Co-Opt The #BringBackOurGirls Movement

ABC News

Ramaa Mosley, a film director and documentarian, gave several interviews (on ABC, CNN and MSNBC that we know of so far, though reports have mentioned interviews on NPR and ET as well) claiming credit for launching the hashtag #BringBackOurGirls and starting a global movement. I've previously written about this here and here, but here's the information all in one place. 

The story was framed as a "simple LA mom, who didn't even know what a hashtag was(!) was so moved by the story that she decided she HAD TO DO SOMETHING."

Despite the fact that twitter's own analytics tools, as well as several other sources made it clear that the hashtag was in fact created in Nigeria, by Ibrahim M. Abdullahi and largely amplified by Dr. Oby Ezekwesili, and her 126K followers, Mosley shamelessly positioned herself as the leader of a movement.