The Dangers of Humor in a Pre-Post-Sexism World

I’d like to propose a new expression. This expression refers to the phenomenon wherein someone makes a joke based on the assumption that we live in a post-sexism world, and ends up pissing everybody off because we do not actually live in a post-sexism world. Such a misstep shall heretofore be called: a Spinning Vergara.

Example: “At the Christmas party, Dan pulled a Spinning Vergara when he attempted to guess Michelle’s bra size. He argued that since he was only kidding and truly respects her as a coworker and an equal, that it wasn’t really sexist.”

I am talking, of course, about the much pilloried skit at this year’s Emmys where Sofia Vergara was displayed on a spinning platform as a sexy adornment to some executive’s speech about how far television has come in terms of gender and racial diversity. It was meant to be ironic; the Television Academy congratulating themselves on their progressiveness while displaying a woman of color like a brainless prize. More than that, it was supposed to be amusing. The public (as embodied by the Twitterverse/blogosphere/mainstream media in that order) was not amused. People were shocked and appalled by what they perceived as a tasteless, sexist, disgusting stunt.

I am constantly mystified by the choices made by the entertainment industry. Rarely do I watch an awards show without asking myself “oh God, what were they thinking?” several times. Strangely enough though, this was not one of those times. I’m not saying it was a great bit. But I can kind of see what they were going for. I can see why they thought it would be funny to jazz up a boring speech with some good-natured T&A. I can see how the repeated instances of the term “platform” in the speech led to the idea of using an actual platform. I can see how they discussed who could sell the bit best, settling on the one woman who had the measurements of Christina Hendricks, the hammy comedic chops of Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and was a past Emmy winner to boot. I can totally imagine how they came up with this idea, and I also can see how they hedged their bets and concluded that most people would appreciate the humor. After all, it’s an overt send up of sexism. That’s why it’s not sexist. Right?

                For whatever reason, I feel the need to play devil’s advocate on this one. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the subtext of the skit (“Hey! Look at Sofia Vergara! She’s hot! It’s funny because she’s hot!”) is also the subtext of pretty much every scene that she’s in on Modern Family. And if there is one thing that the Emmys LOVE it is Modern Family. One way or another, Vergara’s fabulous curves are being exploited to comedic effect. And to celebrate that exploitation in one context while chastising it in another seems a mite hypocritical to me.

                I also genuinely believe that Vergara liked the idea and wanted to do it. She responded to the first round of haters, saying the skit was “the opposite” of sexism, going on to say “it just means that someone can be hot and funny and make fun of herself”. Her defense didn’t seem to change anyone’s mind, which I find kind of surprising. It’s almost like they’re suggesting that Vergara, silly naif that she is, simply failed to recognize that she’s being objectified. This is not giving her anywhere near enough credit. She is the highest paid woman on TV. More importantly, she is a 42 year old, curvaceous Latina owning an industry that is still overwhelmingly biased towards scrawny 22 year old white girls. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s totally in control of her own image. So if she’s doesn’t see a problem with it, why should we?

                I’m not saying the skit was a good idea, because it wasn’t. It grossly misinterpreted the times. It’s like when a joke is considered “too soon” except in this case it’s more like “not yet.” Hopefully there will come a time when the objectification of women of color in entertainment is such a foreign concept that a skit blatantly lampooning the practice doesn’t leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth. But we don’t live in a post-sexism world yet. At best we live in a pre-post sexism world. The goal is in site, and we’re all working towards it, but the reaction to this skit was a powerful reminder that we’re not there yet. In the meantime, many more Spinning Vergaras will occur. And when they do, we need to take them as a chance to reflect, reassess, and communicate with each other.

Feminism is finally in the spotlight - now what?

Feminism is everywhere these days. It’s become such a buzzword that one would think it had only recently appeared in the lexicon, flanked by “selfie” and “YOLO.” But of course, the word dates back to the nineteenth century, and since then many books have been written, university departments have been established, and multiple “waves” have ebbed and flowed. So why does it all of a sudden feel so fresh? So fresh that it stole the show at the trend-obsessed VMAs? 

During her performance of her hit “Flawless” Beyonce (aka Queen Bey) projected the word FEMINIST in towering lights on the screen behind her, while a monologue from author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie played in the background. Beyonce has made it clear that her identity as a Feminist (like her identity as a mother) plays a major role in her uber-brand. She’s not the only one. Taylor Swift and Katy Perry have jumped on the bandwagon, after nimbly avoiding the term for years. Joseph Gordon Levitt recently identified himself as that rare and controversial creature: the male feminist. The rapper Brooke Candy (whose music videos make 2014 Miley Cyrus look like 2008 Miley Cyrus) expressed both support and skepticism about this new trend in an interview with Bust Magazine, stating “I just wish it had happened earlier, and that they weren’t so afraid back then. I guess maybe now they’re not afraid anymore.” 

Candy doesn’t specify what “back then” refers to. But since she is 25 years old it’s likely that she’s referring to the mid-nineties to early 2000s, when millennials were first becoming aware of popular culture. “Back then” there was a sense that overt feminism could be detrimental to a female artist’s career. That it would make her seem too serious, too intense, less fuckable. And by extension, less marketable. 

Feminism “back then” had a very strong presence in the music industry, just not in the most lucrative part of it. That was the heyday of Ani DiFranco and the Lilith Fair crowd. The riot grrrl music scene – thanks to Kathleen Hanna and her contemporaries – was a dominating force in the 90s. As were musicians like Courtney Love, who allowed themselves to be loud and messy and complicated. They were opinionated in their lyrics, confrontational in their stage performances. Being a lust object for teenage boys, as often as it happened, was never the top priority.

But that was the alternative crowd, and the early 2000s were all about TRL dominating pop stars like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Jessica Simpson. Women whose public personas were shaped by record labels, who would never ascribe to any idea system that hadn’t first been market tested and deemed acceptable.  For a female performer hoping to achieve super mega stardom in the mainstream, the term “feminist” was too heavy a load to bear. Fortunately, the industry had a solution, a phrase that was pro-female without all that icky baggage: Girl Power. 

The term “Girl Power” was originated by Bikini Kill, but passed on to the Spice Girls who turned it into Feminism’s bubbly little sister. This cute, non-threatening alternative evoked no thoughts of bra-burning or head-shaving or state-smashing whatsoever. Geri Halliwell (aka Ginger Spice) sometimes elaborated her catchphrase with “Girl power: equality between the sexes.” So really, the two terms meant exactly the same thing. Only one had intellectual, historical, and political implications, and the other could be written in sparkly letters on a tube top sold at Limited Too. The “Girl Power” trend coincided with another trend of decorating tween garments with 60s hippie iconography (flowers and peace signs, etc.) creating a weirdly neutered homage to a revolutionary time gone by. 

So maybe this was the fear that Brooke Candy referred to. This idea that in order to be desirable, bankable, and universally loved, a woman had to sugar coat her demand for equality. Now we’ve got Beyonce announcing herself as a feminist with the same showmanship she used to announce her pregnancy at the 2011 VMAs. No one is sexier than Beyonce, and no one is more of a feminist than Beyonce. There is no better way to broadcast the message that Feminism is sexy now.   

I cringe at the implication that Beyonce is more influential than her radical predecessors, but it’s hard to argue with those numbers. As Roxane Gay (author of the brilliant Bad Feminist) tweeted “What Bey just did for feminism on national television – look, for better or worse, that reach is WAY more than anything we’ve seen.” 

Fact is, militant feminists have been risking their lives and livelihood for the cause for many years, but the idea was never meant to stay on the fringes of society. It was meant to gain traction over time until it became the norm. It’s great that the superstars of today can proudly say that they support gender equality and female empowerment without having to duck behind some floral scented euphemism. 

The challenge now, is to make sure it sticks. The problem with being “of the moment” is the fact that moments pass quickly. Monster trends like metallic lipstick and partially shaved heads tend to sour and turn passe within a matter of months. This was the fate of Girl Power – it ossified as part of a moment in time, without inciting a long term paradigm shift. No name stays in bright lights forever. We need to ensure that once feminism is forced out of the spotlight it can still find a permanent – albeit less glamorous – home in our social consciousness.  

Blake Lively's Preserve.us and the Desperate Quest for Authenticity in the Digital Age

Blake Lively’s lifestyle website Preserve was released last week and the internet - right on cue – ripped it apart. Some amount of giddy opprobrium was to be expected. Even Lively saw it coming, predicting “plenty of people who will say horrible things” in her interview for the August issue of Vogue. But she was referring to the public’s love of ridiculing celebrities. That accounts for part of the abuse, no question. But I’m sure we could have found a way to forgive Lively her stardom and acknowledge that she’d made a good website – if she had made a good website. Unfortunately, she made Preserve.

Where to begin. There’s the writing, which is overthought, overwrought, and under-edited. Most of the copy reads like it came from a thirteen year old (or a beautiful, famous 26 year old) who has never been told to scale it back. There’s also the weird tone deafness of the site’s philanthropic side. It’s good that the company wants to do nice things for those in need, but there’s something uncomfortable about dedicating an entire section (one of only three tabs at the top of the homepage) to the fact that somewhere out there people are starving and they intend to kind of help. A classier move would be to mention in a discreet footer that a percentage of the proceeds were going to a specific charity. Speaking so blithely about human suffering while reminding us that they are a for-profit company (I’m sure we’re supposed to be refreshed by the transparency) is somehow callous and sanctimonious at the same time. The bleeding heart capitalist asking for absolution so that she can sell $40 sea salt with a clear conscience.

But all of that could be overlooked if the site was showing us something new. If it had tapped into some nascent trend, and was ready to introduce us to our future tastes. And if it had been released ten years ago maybe it would have done so. But it came out in 2014, and hipsters everywhere have been doing the whole upscale rustic thing for a good while now. “Artisanal” has replaced “organic” as the fastest way to get cool young folk to pay a premium for something they don’t need. The aesthetic was well enough established in 2012 that Portlandia was able to flawlessly mock it with the sketch “The Dream of the 1890s.”

Preserve aims to introduce the past (as personified by a dude in a bowler hat writing poetry on a typewriter) to the future (e-commerce websites). Thing is, these two worlds have already met. In San Francisco, the heart of the tech boom, pretty much every business catering to the Google Glass set is lousy with hand-carved tables, small batch goods, and vintage light fixtures. And every stand at every flea market has an Instagram account and Twitter handle RTG.

It’s no surprise that the Gossip Girl star’s tastes are not exactly cutting edge. Trends are invented by outsiders, creeping inwards until they can be tamed and mass produced for maximum profit. Now that the stylized nostalgia craze has reached the point in its lifecycle where a Hollywood starlet believes she came up with it herself, perhaps it is time to retire and move on. There are other signs: on August 4^th the New York Times published an article about a recent spike in barn weddings (weddings held – often by rich city folk with a yen for the pastoral – in a barn) and how annoying they are to the actual farmers next door. Articles like this one remind us of what we really are: posers. Posers who crave the authenticity that we associate with the past, while becoming increasingly reliant on modern gadgetry.

Why is this? Perhaps we feel like our attachment to the days of yesteryear when everything was simpler and faintly sepia tinted (right?) is the only thing keeping us from a full-blown sci-fi dystopia. If we don’t keep buying Polaroid cameras on Amazon and decorating our apartments with rusty (sorry, oxidized) 50s Coca Cola advertisements, then we may as well surrender to our robot overlords.

Or not. According to the site’s description, the creators of Preserve “believe that nurturing a better tomorrow upholds the yesterday we cherish”.  Maybe so – but they skipped a day. Is it me or has the present been getting the shaft recently? We’re always either distracting ourselves from immediate reality with our phones, or drooling over how great some other era was (20s, 60s, 90s, pick a decade). Maybe it’s time to pay a little more attention to the here-and-now, instead of waiting for the retroactive rosy glow to set in. Maybe for once we could try knowing what we’ve got before it’s gone.

Or we could drop $20 on a wooden cocktail muddler because Serena Van Der Woodson wrote a free verse poem about it. Either way.