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Who's that Girl Stalking her Ex? It's Jess

5/6/2016

4 Comments

 
​*Spoilers here unless you’re all caught up, New Girl fans!
 
As far as television sitcoms go, New Girl is one of my favorites. I think about it as the millennial version of Friends with understated feminist themes, progressive takes on modern masculinity, and moments that make me laugh so hard I almost pee my pants. Watching Schmidt freak out when he realizes Jess made out with his dad? Pure bliss. I replayed that scene about ten times until there were tears streaming down my cheeks and my partner had to check on me from the other room because I was making such a ruckus. It was a beautiful moment between me and the Hulu I shall never forget. 
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New Girl Season 5 Episode 12 “D-Day”
But the show is not perfect. Just two episodes after being so impressed at the writing and directing that resulted in Schmidt’s drive heave meltdown, Elizabeth Meriwether and company really disappointed me in their portrayal of stalking. As someone who has counseled countless students, hotline callers, and friends who have experienced stalking, the whole storyline of Jess harassing, following, and relentlessly pursuing her ex was a big turnoff.
 
The stalking begins in the first few minutes of the show. We are reminded of Jess’s role in the breakup between her ex, Sam, and his new girlfriend. His last words to Jess? “Get out of my life.” Much to the outwardly expressed disapproval of her friends, Jess has continued to text and call Sam. Next thing we know, she is served a restraining order requiring she keep her distance. She is surprised, but she refuses to take the situation seriously. Her friends tell her to leave Sam alone.
 
In protest, Jess visits the police station to request the order be dropped, where Winston attempts to convince Jess to obey it and talks her out of writing Sam a letter. Next scene: Jess goes to Sam’s place of employment to leave a letter on his car. In the parking lot, she spots Sam and to hide, quickly throws herself in the back of a random truck—the truck, of course, turns out to be Sam’s. He gets in and starts driving while Jess makes a panicked phone call to Winston for advice. When the truck finally stops, Jess realizes Sam is driving through an automatic car wash. After being pummeled by the water sprays and rotating scrubbers, Jess throws herself onto the hood of Sam’s car, scaring the bejesus out of him. 
 
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New Girl Season 5 Episode 14 “300 Feet”
Outside the car wash, Jess and Sam have a short conversation in which Sam reiterates the presence of the restraining order. Jess makes a fool of herself, runs into a pole, and Sam reluctantly offers to give her a ride home out of pity. When Sam gets fed up with Jess a few minutes later, he pulls the vehicle over and orders her out. Jess says some romantic-esque line about how Sam was right to take out a restraining order on her because ever since she saw him again, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The music shifts, and all of a sudden Sam grabs Jess and starts making out with her.
 
When they return to her apartment, Winston yells at Jess to get legally mandated 300 feet away from Sam, but Jess insists they’ve “figured it out.” Sam tells Winston he is dropping the restraining order, and Winston attempts to get them both to consider whether or not getting back together is a good idea. Jess tries to explain that both she and Sam have matured. Winston, the voice of reason, responds, “Jess, nobody takes out a restraining order unless they think that they’re in danger.” Sam agrees, but the twist is that he felt Jess was “dangerous” because he didn’t trust himself not to contact her because he, like Jess, couldn’t stop thinking about her. Cue soft music. They say goodbye. Winston is relieved the situation is finally over.

Then Jess runs down Sam's truck as he is driving away, she jumps into the cab, and they start making out again. Happy music. End of episode. 

“I’m not a restraining order person.” –Jess, in response to being served a restraining order


The first thing worth noting about the portrayal of stalking in this episode is the way it plays into the myth of who a stalker can be. When most people think of a stalker, a popular stereotype comes to mind: a creepy dude wearing a ski mask and hiding in the bushes, not a thirty-something adorkable white girl who’s obsessed with her ex. But the reality is that stalkers can be any age, gender, or race, and since most people know the people they are being stalked by, they can be coworkers, colleagues, classmates, and current significant others in addition to exes. They could be anyone. Stalking isn’t defined by who a person is or isn’t, but what behavior is involved.

 
“I just don’t get why Sam would do this. I’m not dangerous.” –Jess, about the restraining order

​This brings to me next point: Jess—along with most of the rest of mainstream society—rarely takes stalking very seriously, especially if the stalker does not meet the stalker stereotype. In reality, stalking situations are serious and involve a pattern of conduct that causes a person fear or distress. Though all 50 states in the U.S. have stalking laws, they vary a bit in what is considered fear or whether distress or discomfort is part of that definition. But however progressive or limiting a particular stalking law is written, it does not matter whether or not Jess views her behavior as dangerous. If a person feels uncomfortable, unsafe, anxious, or afraid because of someone else’s repetitive actions, that meets the definition of stalking.
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​“I’m not crazy” –Jess, after throwing herself on the hood of Sam’s truck 

Another myth about stalkers is that they are mentally ill. This idea is harmful in multiple ways. First, it is simply not true. Sure, there may be a small portion of stalkers who have mental illnesses, but people who stalk others—and commit other forms of gender violence—are not people incapable of knowing what they are doing. Stalking doesn’t happen by accident; it is calculated, manipulative, and all about power and control. It’s about ignoring someone else’s boundaries, and it’s a violation of consent. Second, the idea that stalkers are “crazy” give people who are mentally ill a bad rap. When it comes to gender violence, we tend to blame people with mental illness because it can be difficult to imagine that people we think “have it together” or appear “normal” could be capable of such things. This is unfair, ableist, and inaccurate. 

 
“I’m not dangerous and you don’t need to be afraid of me” –Jess to Sam, outside the car wash

​We still have a long way to go when it comes to recognizing stalking as a legit problem. Jess’s stalking of Sam is meant to be laughable, and sadly, this is the mainstream response to women stalking men. Gender stereotypes make it difficult for us to view women as aggressive or criminal and men as victims. Even if a dude is believed when he reports stalking or discloses to someone close to him, his situation may be dismissed with the popular adage, “Bitches be crazy.” This is meant to suggest that women may be 
crazy, but they’re certainly not dangerous
. Not only does this contribute to the idea that stalking is a joke, but it minimizes men’s experiences of stalking that may result in massive amounts of stress, life disruption, and many psychological, physical, and emotional responses just like any other victim of stalking.
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“Yeah I get it…it’s too sad to watch.” –Jess to Sam after running into pole outside the car wash

I couldn’t have said it better myself. This episode was sad to watch because of its seemingly innocent yet harmful misrepresentation of stalking. The worst part of all of it is that Jess’s stalking—as well as Sam’s act of getting the restraining order—get spun as romantic actions that result in bringing them together by the end of the episode. Though I am thankful for Winston’s earnest commitment to the value and importance of the restraining order throughout the episode, the only suggestion of the potential gravity of the situation is overruled by lovey-dovey music and heavy snogging. That’s ok, we’re told, because the restraining order was never something “serious” anyway. And, everything worked out ok in the end, so we needn’t give it another thought. Six episodes later, Jess and Sam’s relationship is still going strong despite the hilarious foundation it was built upon. Also: it is disappointing to me that Jess is portrayed as simultaneously immature, obsessive, cunning, pitiful, and innocent in this episode. Not only does this characterization let woman stalkers off the hook, but it really undermines the whimsy, generosity, and other centeredness I thought were cornerstones of who Jess is. Maybe that’s why the writers tried to redeem her in Episode 20 when Jess selflessly invites a woman in love with Sam to express her feelings to him. Strangely, Jess is super calm and reasonable about the whole thing even though her relationship with Sam might be over. Or perhaps this is just the real Jess emerging from whatever dark tunnel we were just in. 


Yes, I’m still watching the show. No one can get it right all of the time. But stalking is a form of gender violence we have yet to take seriously as a culture, and it’s time we change that. We shouldn’t laugh it off—this show is too awesome for that.  
 
Why is stalking a serious issue to you? Join the conversation at #stalkingisaseriousissue.

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Feminist Resistance & Humor in Janelle Monáe’s “Yoga”

8/11/2015

3 Comments

 
I first witnessed the music video when I was on the treadmill at the gym. I have to admit I was a bit skeptical: I do lots of yoga and for me it’s a physical and spiritual practice that gets my head right and prevents my neck and back from causing me major problems. It’s not something I ever feel sexy doing. I’m way too worried about my spandex inching down my ass and my boobs falling out while I’m in downward dog, not to mention the loud Ujjayi sounds I make with my breath to distract myself from comparing my body to the skinnier and leaner ones next to me adorned in Lululemon. I also fart a lot. See? Not very sexy.

But Janelle Monáe reminds me that in addition to all of the things I express through my body, like my awkward attempts at asanas, the occasional yoga breakthrough (like that one time I did full-on wheel pose ALL MY MYSELF in my living room), and my commitment to groundedness, my body is also a sexual body, even while doing yoga. I know, I know, Janelle is singing about getting down at the club, but there’s something about the song that gets me thinking about how yoga has helped me to be more comfortable in my body, especially since experiencing sexual assault. It has helped me to be more confident, healthy, and self-aware, more focused on my body’s (physical, emotional, and sexual) needs, and more flexible (mentally as well as physically). It hasn’t drastically changed my physical appearance, but I have certainly developed more of an existence of being in myself, if that makes any sense. Yep, yoga has been life-changing for me.

So, back to the song. If you haven’t heard it, you must. It’s super catchy and fun and sexy and even better because it’s written by a six-time Grammy nominee on her own record label. The video is great because I can dance along to the chorus (seriously—the moves are super follow-able for us the common folk who wish we could dance and actually feel like we can kind of dance with moves like this) and feel all empowered while I do it with lines like: “I ain’t got no worries, I’m my own private dancer” and “Crown on my head but the world on my shoulder / I’m too much a rebel, never do what I’m supposed ta.” Not to mention that I love how Janelle takes yoga out of the context of studios filled with upper white class women and owns it by her own terms. 

And then there’s the last part of the second verse: “You cannot police me so get off my areola, get off my areola.”

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So this is the point as you’re reading this that if you haven’t seen the video, I recommend you watch it now. I’m serious. You have to watch Janelle’s face when she sings, “areola.” It’s this amazingly awesome moment in which she achieves a balance of resistance, boldness, self-awareness, and humor. Whether she is speaking to the truths of black women or all women, she’s saying something about the policing of bodies and sexuality and sexual expression and self-expression. And the way she does it is brilliant, because it is inviting rather than alienating. Some folks have suggested that she’s making a nod to #freethenipple, and that may be true, but I think the line is about so much more than that.

It’s a reminder about how women’s bodies are still objectified, commodified, trivialized, and controlled. It makes it seem ironic, then, that “areola” was censor-worthy when Janelle performed “Yoga” on The Tonight Show back in May. If you listen closely, she actually sings something that sounds like “little ola.” The performance is still great, but come on. I didn’t even know “areola” was considered profane, let alone not suitable for late-night programming. Still, Janelle reminds us that “Sometimes I’m peachy, and sometimes I’m vulgar / Even when I’m sleeping I got one eye open.” She may have self-censored, but she’s aware of it and she will find other ways to express resistance. At least this is what I like to think about her performance.

At any rate, I’m still in love with the song and the way Janelle creates space for bodily agency and empowerment. Though some arguments can be made for “Yoga” catering somewhat to a hetero male audience—and such points made stronger by some of Jidenna’s lyrics—Janelle has made it clear in the past that she’s a feminist and that she is “not for male consumption.” In a culture in which we are still struggling against slut-shaming, abstinence-only education, rampant sexual violence, and victim-blaming, “Yoga” offers an affirming path for self-loving sexuality.

I think the key, as Janelle models, is to not take ourselves too seriously. Some of my favorite yoga instructors offer the same mantra: work hard, but do it with a sense of humor. This kind of feminist resistance is fierce and focused, but invitational. Feminism, like yoga, should be flexible and self-aware and strong, but it can also be fun, sexy, humble, and willing to laugh at itself. And if this is the kind of feminism we engage in, maybe more folks will join us. After all, no one wants to join a yoga class full of uppity snobs only concerned with appearances and showing off. Let’s flex our humor-filled feminist muscles with Janelle. We might even achieve a kind of feminist nirvana.
 
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Battlebots, Women, and Taking Up Space

7/14/2015

13 Comments

 
Recently, my significant other and I have made a Sunday evening tradition of Battlebots. We settle on the couch with a pizza, make predictions about which bots will last the round, and yell out in playful glee as these big chunks of metal shred each other apart in each three-minute match. It’s pretty awesome. 
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There aren’t many ladies on the show, but there are a few standout women engineers in the championship quarter finals like Andrea Suarez (Witch Doctor) and Wendy Maxham (Stinger the Killer Bee) who have built some pretty fantastic bots. 

There are also two women announcers. Though I’m not sure they have as much fun as ring announcer Faruq Tauheed does when he introduces the competitors (which seriously must be the best job on the show), Alison Haislip provides enthusiastic sideline reporting dressed in stylish nerd fashion. She’s cool, and she seems to connect well with the engineers she interviews. And then there’s Molly McGrath.

Though McGrath is the first cast member listed on the Battlebots website and she holds the general title of host (Chris Rose and Kenny Florian are play-by-play and color commentary announcers), her role seems to deviate the most from the super nerdtastic amazingness that is this show about remote-controlled machines battling it out in a combat elimination tournament. I’m not just talking about how she is clothed, though her short, tight dresses and heels seem to be meant for dudes who apparently need a stereotypically-presented female figure to reinforce the masculinity they risk losing by watching a show about robot battles. It’s not Sunday night football. Clothing choices aside, McGrath is presented as the eye candy intermediary between all of the other commentators on the show. Perhaps more significant than the lack of airtime or substance she is able to present as host, however, is the way McGrath stands as she interacts with Rose and Florian in the studio. 

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Instead of standing strongly on two feet, McGrath often stands on her right foot, crosses her left foot out in front of her right leg, and points her left toe. It must take a lot of work to stand that way – she’s rocking fabulous stilettos as she does it – but I question what the directors and producers of this show are going for with this ultra-meek, deferential, and supposedly sexy posture. As someone who teaches public speaking, I am especially concerned that a professional sports reporter like Molly McGrath is modeling a stage presence predicated on her ability to make herself appear smaller. If you watch closely, you’ll notice that her transitions to actually standing on two feet (a grounded, empowered speaking position that is Public Speaking 101) are clunky and awkward. And if you really think about it, watching McGrath do the cross-legged standing thing just seems weird in a context in which badass women engineers are dominating the Battlebot arena with heavy metal flippers and flame spitting partner bots. I mean really. It’s distracting, and it makes me mildly furious because I’d rather not have to get all feminist critic on a show about battling robots.

I’m not suggesting that Molly McGrath is anything short of capable and empowered. She is an engaging host with the small segments she is given. But I do wish the producers would give her the literal space she deserves to do her job, look hot, and seem strong and grounded as she does it. After all, Molly McGrath is not a robot herself, nor should she be made to act like one.

13 Comments

 I am Not Madonna:   Sexual Entitlement in "Bitch I'm Madonna"

6/24/2015

2 Comments

 
PictureHalloween 2011
There is a lot to almost love about Madonna’s new music video. You’ve got cute little white girls at the beginning dressed up all 90s Madonna-style, cameos from a handful of superstars, and the Queen of Pop herself. “Bitch I’m Madonna” has the potential to be the next hashtag movement that embraces self-love, glitter, fame, and power. Sounds fun, right? After all, I too am Madonna. Really. I rocked my Madonna self at Halloween a few years ago, lace gloves and all. I’m a fan.

So when I watched the music video to find Madonna stumbling around at a party, appropriating other cultures, and teaming up with Nicki Minaj to make sure “these hoes know” that “Bitch I’m Madonna,” I was surprised and frankly, profoundly disappointed. I think of Madonna as a feminist  
icon, an image of sex-positive empowerment, a goddess. When I watch the video I do not witness a Madonna of fierce, sexy independence; instead, I watch someone on a power trip attempting to retain her legendary image at the expense of others, and at the expense of what has made her so fabulous in the first place.



In “Bitch I’m Madonna,” Madonna models the kind of sexual entitlement many of us are sickened by in predictably sexist music videos like “Blurred Lines.” Case in point: about two minutes into the video, Madonna walks up behind a guy seated at a bar, pulls him backward by the hair, pours a drink in his mouth, then pelvic thrusts him from behind. The guy is caught off guard, and the directors of the video don’t even make an attempt to make it look like this he enjoys any of what Madonna has just done to him. Though I appreciate the attempt to queer up this moment a bit with the woman who simultaneously pelvic thrusts Madonna from behind as Madonna thrusts into guy at bar, this moment falls very, very, short of being consensual. If a dude did this to a woman we as a public would be super angry. Being a woman, or being Madonna, does not make it ok.

Second case in point: about a minute later when Madonna grabs a woman at the top of the stairs, pushes her briskly against the wall, and kisses her. In this instance, the woman is smiling as Madonna grabs her, so it is unclear if what happens is consensual. But the message here is that it’s super sexy to act upon other people’s bodies as long as you own it, and have the social capital to do so. Sadly, I have witnessed women at parties who have done just this to my friends, especially when said friends have had a few drinks and can be caught off guard enough for the instigator to think they can get by with it. And they have. But let’s be clear: this is sexual assault. And being a woman does not make this kind of behavior acceptable, however famous you are.

We need to look past gender stereotypes enough to realize that the “Bitch I’m Madonna” kind of Madonna is one predicated on sexual entitlement and power at the expense of other people’s bodies. There are so many other ways Madonna could embrace power, queer sexuality, and sex positivity without treating men like animals and women like passive recipients of her prowess in this video. It seems like the “bitch” to which she is referring could be anyone she feels entitled to act upon, or anyone who might disagree with her behavior because, after all, she’s Madonna. But this is not the kind of Madonna, or the kind of “bad bitch,” I want to be.

If I am going to reclaim the word bitch at all, it is with abandon. It’s in a Lady Gaga “Bad Romance” kind of way—a reclamation that is fun and powerful and, most importantly, not at anyone else’s expense. The big difference here is that when Gaga tells us, “I’m a free bitch, baby,” and when I sing along and claim this for myself, it’s about choice. It’s about bucking the system, being labeled a bitch, and then co-opting that label in powerful reclamation. “Bitch I’m Madonna” takes on a controlling, dehumanizing kind of power, and there’s nothing sexy, liberating, or fabulous about that. 

#iamnotmadonna
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Feminism is Not a Game of Thrones

5/27/2015

1 Comment

 
*No spoilers here, GOT fans! Read on!

I love engaging in feminist critique of popular culture. It’s actually one of my favorite pastimes, because I love feminism and I find pop culture fascinating and fun and entertaining and maddening and disturbing and impossible to ignore. The world of pop culture is accessible to many, it often reflects where we’re at on social issues, and it also suggests where mainstream culture may be changing when it comes to stuff like gender roles and sexual violence. There are so many angles and perspectives and theories and questions that people can bring to a dialogue about any given film or TV show or music video, and this should make for incredibly interesting, complicated, and nuanced discussion. Except when it doesn’t.

I read feminist blogs that make awesome contributions to how we think about pop culture, but do it in a way that suggests that if you and I don’t agree wholeheartedly, we might be stripped of our feminist namesake and cast out of the community without a second thought. I watch my friends shy away from making bold, intelligent critiques in public forums like Facebook because, in their view, they are not on the “feminist bandwagon” and will get bludgeoned by the more popular feminist critiques if they speak up. I witness my significant other crafting careful responses to critiques of video games in the Twitterverse only to be viciously attacked in the name of feminism. People, we can do better than this.

I refuse to engage in a simplistic debate about whether Game of Thrones is good or bad and if choosing to watch it means you are no longer a feminist. I refuse to name-call when someone makes a critique I disagree with, and I most definitely refuse to claim that my feminist view is the only one worth considering. I refuse to hurl insults at people who continue to watch a show even if I personally condemn its violence, and I refuse to make snap judgments that assume I know people’s motivations for remaining committed to consuming a particular art form despite its sexism. Yes, GOT has some pretty horrendous depictions of rape. Yes, it may be triggering for many folks, and no, rape is never, ever ok and yes, I’m sick of its omnipresence in our lives. But I’m not sure that omitting all forms of sexual violence from the script is the best solution. Sometimes its representation—however difficult to witness—can offer audiences opportunities for engagement and reflection that they might never otherwise encounter. I also think every individual should have the right to choose how they want to respond to the sexual violence in GOT. I respect folks who decide they are done and take a public stand based on this position. I respect folks who decide not to watch because it would threaten their emotional health. And I respect those who continue to watch and witness and remain deep within its throes, because they may be the ones offering the feminist arguments that those of us who have opted out cannot.

I’m not saying we should tone down our critiques or sacrifice whatever feminist values we subscribe to. What I am suggesting is that we reconsider the ways we engage in feminist critique, because right now an awful lot of us are pitted against one another. When we hate on each other, we silence one another, and that ain’t what feminism ought to be about. We should be challenging easy arguments and struggling through the complexities and caveats that make discussions about pop culture interesting. We should talk about this stuff without creating casualties, and we should recognize that our antagonism doesn’t exactly make feminism appealing to folks who don’t share our passion for the cause. Cercei Lannister dropped this truth: “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.” Let’s stop swinging our swords at each other. Feminist engagement shouldn’t be a game of thrones.

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    Jenn Freitag, Ph.D. is an educator, activist, scholar, and performance artist committed to ending gender violence. 

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