You’re my best (and only) friend

“If not for you/Winter would have no spring/Couldn’t hear the robin sing/I just wouldn’t have a clue/Anyway it wouldn’t ring true/If not for you”

“If Not For You” by Bob Dylan

When I presented* my findings on the Outside Girls about a week and a half ago, I received a lot of intriguing, complex questions from my audience members. The presentation (which went very well, by the way) gave me many new ideas for this blog, including the subject of today’s post. Someone asked me if the Outside Girls had anyone they could confide in and trust completely. And, predictably, my response was “yes and no.”

When it comes to friendships, the Outside Girls often fall in one of two categories. They might have a dramatic split with their best friends, which results in their outsider status. (Angela Chase, Lindsay Weir and Jessica Darling all fit into this first pattern.) Conversely, the Outside Girls might have one really good friend in the margins with them. (Think Enid and Becky, Daria and Jane, Alike and Laura, and Janis and Damian.) In the latter case, the Outside Girls have no use for anyone besides their best friends.

April Ludgate of Parks and Recreation is definitely part of the second group, although she eventually begins to (somewhat) like all of her coworkers in City Hall. Over the first three seasons of the series, April barely hides her obvious disdain for everyone. She is willfully incompetent at her internship and job, openly mocks Leslie’s enthusiasm, tosses insults around like they are candy, terrorizes Ann and preserves an annoyed-yet-monotone voice. As you can tell, April is not exactly the Miss Congeniality of Pawnee, Ind.

The only person April makes a real effort with is Andy Dwyer, Ann’s ex-boyfriend and City Hall’s resident shoe-shiner. These two are almost exact opposites. April is petite, rude, sarcastic , fiercely intelligent and can be recognized by her signature scowl. Andy is tall and wide, kind, has the brain of a golden retriever and can be recognized by his signature childlike look of wonder. On paper, you would think that these two would work better as foils than as allies and eventually lovers. But–to paraphrase Jerry Maguire–they complete each other. What’s more, Andy proves to April that she will always have one person she can always trust and, more importantly, never hate.

But don’t think that April’s devotion to Andy changes her fundamentally. Being attached to a social person does not bring her in from the outside. Their union just makes April an Outside Girl with a husband. As Caralyn Bolte explains, “friendships…solidify this sense of exile.” Bolte’s research is specifically about Buffy Summers and Veronica Mars, but I believe her point can be applied to many other Outside Girls, April included. Bolte notes that “despite developing deep friendships, both [Buffy and Veronica] remain distinctly isolated.” Outside Girls do not have many friends, but the friends they have make life on the margins bearable. In effect, the girls make a conscious decision to only give their affections to someone who really deserves it. But they do not suddenly give up their outsider status; they just find someone to confide in. Similarly, even after the clearly-happy April makes it official with Andy, she does not make a new effort to be just as approachable as her husband. Instead, her unimpressed eyes and perpetual frown communicate how everyone else can get stuffed. Andy is the only person she loves and has the time of day for.

And I realize this analysis is dangerously close to Lifetime-esque, Daddy I love him! He’s the only one who understands me! mania, but I’m here to discuss who the Outside Girls turn to when they, you know, have feelings. Andy Dwyer could just as easily be a female friend, the Jane to April’s Daria. April’s commitment to Andy does not hinge on their romantic connection or her desperation for a relationship. April’s loyalty to her husband is contingent on his ability to listen to her without judging her and for his willingness to accept her as she is. Remember when I said that April does not fundamentally change when she meets Andy? Well, he has no desire to change her. At the end of the day, both halves of this odd couple know there is no one else they would rather talk to than their partner.

*By the way, apologies for the extended break between this post and the last. I’ve been finishing up my senior year and had to temporarily put the blog on the back burner. But I’m back now and will continue posting every week.

Can you think of any other Outside Girl/friend combinations? What are your favorite April and Andy moments? Do you think my argument is off base? Discuss in the comments section!

(Image #1 courtesy of telephonewallpaper.com; #2 courtesy of fuckyeahaubrey.tumblr.com; #3 courtesy of en.wikipedia.org)

She keeps dancing on her own

“Ash told Ethan that she wanted to become a feminist director. In 1984 you could describe your dream job in this way and not be made fun of.”

—The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer

I knew I wanted to study literature in college ever since the eighth grade. This was the year that I had the nice, smart English teacher who encouraged my writing ability. It was also the year I was introduced to my mortal enemy: science labs. Generally, the theory side of science is sensible and interesting. It’s the application that throws me through a loop. And ever since eighth grade, when family, friends and acquaintances ask me what I study (and I decide to answer honestly), I am met with responses like:

• Oh. Really?
• Good luck with that.
• Wait. Don’t you plan on working?
• Is there money in that?
• Power to you, sweetie.
• Well, I guess it ‘s your life.
• What the hell are you going to do with that? At least do something that matters. What’s wrong with math and science?
• I hate reading.
• Great! So you want to be a teacher like your dad?
• What’s the point of paying college tuition when you could just read the same books on your own?

After a while, it sort of beats you down.

I don’t have the privilege of traveling through time, but I can’t help but  wonder if the constant smirking that my education and career plans provoke is just the way rude people act or if the recession has just trained us to see anything besides math and science as a one-way ticket to homelessness. I have a sneaking suspicion that people have always been faintly condescending towards those with artistic dreams, but it has morphed into full-on intolerance since 2008. If I didn’t get so annoyed by it, I would understand. The economy is scary and unforgiving.

If there was ever an Outside Girl who could relate to my own experience of the career/college major hierarchy, it would be Frances Halladay. Frances is an apprentice at a dance company and her main goal is to be full-fledged dancer in her own right. Besides that, her only real goals are to hang out with her friend Sophie, make rent and generally enjoy herself. To me, that is such a basic, attainable plan. If you have the talent and the grace to dance (both of which I totally lack), then dance! Not only is Frances met with the raised-eyebrow response I mentioned above from the other characters in the movie, film critics also are quick to point out that her talent and dream career are akin to unemployment and laziness. People inhabiting Frances’ s universe and our own are cynical and automatically want her to readjust her expectations. By the end of the movie, Frances does not achieve her dream job, and she does compromise on a career, but it is still clear that she is following her own advice and is not merely succumbing to anyone else’s standards. The movie’s final frame is all the proof you need to know Frances is going to make it by exploring her own passions. It also explains the movie’s rather odd title, so that’s helpful.

Frances’s determination to keep dancing and following her bliss, despite everyone else’s opinions, would surely flummox people who are sure that a career in the humanities is an oxymoron. But I would just like to take a moment to say that some of the best characters and texts out there would not exist without the humanities. Noah Baumbach, the director of Frances Ha, not only makes films (which are, *shudder*, art), he works in independent cinema. Michael Z. Newman, writer of Indie: An American Film Culture, argues that independent films are often “anti-Hollywood,” or outside the mainstream film-making process (which is pretty separated from other industries, if you think about it). Newman notes that “it is only when seeing indie cinema through a frame of oppositionality, through an interpretive lens which casts certain textual features as marks of distinction, that the function of independent cinema as an alternative comes into focus.”

So there are quite a few layers of otherness to sort through in this particular text. Frances’s unabashed enthusiasm for dance (despite her apprenticeship at age 27) goes against the technical, practical education that my generation sees as the antidote to financial woes. Then there is the fact that Frances herself exists because of the artistic skills and careers of Greta Gerwig and Baumbach (who co-wrote the film together). And, finally, the fact that the film is independent and uses alternative methods of storytelling (i.e. black and white cinematography in 2013, no formal explanation for the movie’s title, no real plot besides Frances’s vignette-like adventures) marks it as a unique text in an industry dedicated to churning out art (even if it is mass-produced and saturated with cash). It seems that this movie is chock-full of people who ignore the judgement of others and go for their dream jobs. Frances as a concept and character is a product of active resistance to others’ expectations.

With that knowledge, it makes sense that Frances will keep dancing no matter what. I only hope that other like-minded individuals do the same. I know I want to.

(Image #1 courtesy of scenecreek.com; #2 courtesy of mbird.com; #3 courtesy of wordandfilm.com)

This is Janis. She’s almost too cool to function.

“Boys fuck things up. Girls are fucked up.”

–Louis C.K. 

Get in, losers! We’re going to discuss Mean Girls!

In honor of this genius movie’s upcoming 10th anniversary, I am going to analyze an Outside Girl that is so obvious that she is actually easy to overlook: Janis Ian. This character was created by the amazing Tina Fey and portrayed by the equally inimitable Lizzy Caplan. I’ve watched Mean Girls at least once a year since I saw it on its opening weekend (at the probably-too-young age of 12), and I cannot believe that Janis was not my favorite character from the beginning. Because she is definitely the smartest, funniest and most powerful character in a movie with a bunch of strong, funny, intelligent women. Hell, it was even written by one. I mean, just consider the line “You smell like a baby prostitute.” It’s brutally honest, unnecessarily graphic and is aimed to deflate someone’s super-sized ego. What’s not to love?

If you are not (and never have been) a teenage girl, let me clue you in on something that should not be a secret: it sucks. Speaking your mind marks you as crazy, bitchy or, my personal favorite, “someone who can’t take a joke.” It doesn’t matter how smart, athletic, creative, nice or otherwise gifted you are; if you are not pretty by conventional standards, your romantic stock automatically plummets, along with your self-esteem. Oh, and your “best friends forever” often turn out to be your worst enemies. With all of this information, it is a mystery to me why there are always reporters with extensive research stories with the same, groundbreaking conclusion: aggression is not an exclusively male trait.

Although Mean Girls ends with a funny and disturbing physical fight/riot among all the female junior class members, most of the movie portrays what psychologists and sociologists call “relational aggression.” This is how you work out your issues in ways that slowly destroy your friendships instead of openly expressing your emotions. The more acceptable definition, according to Dawn H. Currie and Deirdre M. Kelly in Girlhood: Redefining the Limits, is “related to indirect aggression that includes covert behaviour…that allows the perpetrator to avoid confronting her target, and to social aggression as behaviour that intends to damage self-esteem or social status within a group…” Instead of just coming out and saying what they want, girls often resort to underhanded methods to work out their social problems. Our culture’s version of femininity “emphasizes the importance of relationships in women’s lives,” so actually having it out with a friend seems much less appealing than bitching about her behind her back and solving virtually nothing. And the sick thing is that we know we are being passive aggressive, but it physically feels like we have no other option.

The reason I consider Janis an Outside Girl is not just because she understands that clique culture and Girl World both are really, really messed up.  Instead, I like her because she is the only teen girl in this movie that strays from relational aggression without being instructed to do so. Ms. Norbury leads a workshop to try and build up the high school girls’ self-esteem and strengthen their communication skills and mutual trust. Unsurprisingly, Janis steals the show. (“It’s probably because I’ve got a big, lesbian ca-rush on you! Suck on that!”) Her honesty and willingness to verbally express her grievances separate her from the crowd in a healthy way. Often, being an Outside Girl means being lonely and feeling misunderstood. In Janis’ case, her outsider status could save her thousands of dollars in therapy bills. Because there is no way Regina, Gretchen or Cady will grow up to be well-adjusted. Karen won’t grow up to be well-adjusted either, but she is too stupid to notice. So I’m gonna call that one a draw.

I also like the character of Janis (and I could go on about this forever) because of her relationship to the LGBTQ community. Janis’ best friend and confidant is Damian, who is openly and proudly gay. Janis is not a lesbian, but her peers mock her as butchy because of the way she dresses, her friendship with Damian and because she takes female friendship very seriously. This is another super fun aspect of being a teenage girl. If you are independent , don’t smile constantly, publicly identify yourself as a feminist or have a close female confidant then, duh, you’re gay! In the eighth grade, a hurt Janis confronted Regina about her friend’s neglect and how she felt like she came in second to Regina’s new boyfriend. And Regina, being a relational aggressive, told Janis that she could not come to her pool party because girls would be there. In their swimsuits. It would have been pandemonium, obviously.

In any case, Janis is on the outside because of her clear, assertive communication skills, her willingness to align herself with other outcasts, and because she deviates from accepted gender norms and cannot prove she is not a lesbian. But I don’t think it matters too much to her. She realizes that the Plastics are psychotic Barbies. Like I said before, she is the best character in this amazing movie. And she is the one who really wins in the end:

Do you have any favorite Janis moments? Which Mean Girls line do you use on a daily basis? It would be so fetch if you left your opinions in the comments!

(Image #1 courtesy of scriptsit.tumblr.com; #2 courtesy of rottentomatoes.com; #3 courtesy of wemediacritics.blogspot.com; #4 courtesy of rottentomatoes.com)

What’s in a name? Quite a lot.

“Imagine being born with a name like Miles Davis. You’ve already got it made.”

–from Trumpet by Jackie Kay

During my second year of college, I went to Ireland for spring break. I returned with a souvenir pin bearing my mother’s maiden name.  According to the back of this pin, her former surname is Gaelic for “troublesome” or “light-haired.” Coming from a family of sarcastic blondes, I was delighted to learn that little fun fact. Really, it shouldn’t matter to me one way or another. It isn’t my last name and I could just as easily be a pleasant (ha!) brunette. But our names–whether we acknowledge it or not–influence our identities and even our dispositions. In short, our names are more than something listed on our birth certificates.

Alike of the film Pariah (which you need to see) knows something about the complexity of identity. She is a seventeen-year-old poet and Brooklynite who also happens to be a lesbian. Her sexuality is never really the driving conflict of the film. Alike knows who she is and accepts it. The problem is that her parents refuse to see or support her sexuality. Her constant shift from the person she wants to be (complete with a girlfriend and masculine clothing) to the person her parents expect her to be (complete with a pink, clinging shirt) is the movie’s main source of tension.  Like so many other girls on this blog, Alike is caught between her parents’ ideologies and her own evolution.

I could go on and on about how Alike’s constant clothing changes symbolize her struggle, but I would probably bore you. Anyways, everything you need to know about the protagonist’s journey can be found in her first name. It is pronounced ah-LEE-kay, but is also visually semantic. For all you English majors out there, the OED defines alike as “Of two or more things: like one another, similar, of identical form or character.” Alike’s gruff-but-loving father and her flinty, worried mother have certain standards. They want Alike to adhere to the strict gender code that other teen girls seemingly follow without issue. Arthur and Audrey  see that Alike is physically uncomfortable in frilly clothes. They sense that her friendship with another girl from their church congregation is more than platonic. But they simply cannot handle it. Despite alike‘s coded meaning for conformity, their individual daughter will never act exactly as they planned.

For she is Alike with a better, bolder pronunciation. She deals with heartbreak, isolation and insensitivity from her parents, but you can’t help but feel happy for Alike throughout the movie. Even though she has to hide herself from her parents, Alike is decidedly living on her own terms. After an intense verbal fight between Alike, Arthur and Audrey, Alike decides to move out and attend a prestigious writing program on the other side of the country. Film critic Stephen Holden argues that “Alike does a better job than many young women of negotiating life…while protecting herself until it is time to break free.” That is true–to an extent. I am just as excited for Alike as Holden is, but her identity is not as simple as free/not free. Like her name, Alike’s role as an Outside Girl is up for multiple readings and interpretations.

Yes, Alike’s decision to break away from her family is agentic, independent and the best decision for her. But I have to mention that her otherness is not fully self-inflicted. Most of the other girls I have discussed on this blog are white and upper middle class. They have the freedom to buck tradition for awhile and can return to the status quo if they ever need to. However, Alike’s outsider status is threefold and the most complex: she is black, she is gay, and she needs to get away from her family’s constraints and gender policing. Yes, her family is middle class, but there is a distinct urgency to the way her parents behave. Arthur perceives Alike as “Daddy’s little girl,” but her burgeoning masculinity is a threat to his own. Audrey is so afraid of what other people will think that she sees Alike’s sexuality as a personal affront. How can she build a happy life for Alike when her daughter insists on wearing butch clothes and actively “turning into a man?”

I don’t say any of this to undermine Alike’s journey. The truth is that choosing to walk away from your social circle (with the full knowledge you can waltz right back) is another unfair privilege of being white or having money. Alike is a great character who decides to leave her community instead of waiting around to be pushed away. If I was in her position, I would do the same. But it is important to note that this isn’t just another case of getting bored and making a change in your life. This is a case of leaving everything you love behind and knowing full-well that it is for good. Director Dee Rees might have named the film after a social outcast, but I probably would label Alike “Brave as Hell.” Then again, her awesome name already says it all.

(Image #1 courtesy of en.wikipedia.org; #2 accessatlanta.com; #3 courtesy of usatoday.com)

Orange you glad you resisted?

“Something has changed within me/Something is not the same/I’m through with playing by the rules/Of someone else’s game”

— “Defying Gravity” from Wicked

In sixth or seventh grade, I woke up.  I wasn’t in a coma or anything; I just had the mini-epiphany that hits the more sullen of tween girls. I suddenly stopped buying into the notion that I should be like anyone else in my class, that I should believe everything my teachers told me, that I should pretend to listen to anything I thought was stupid. I started wearing what I thought was cute (as opposed to what was popular), stopped applying lip gloss and refused to style my hair. As you can imagine, black nail polish and Dr. Martens were involved. How did I make good on this quasi-nihilistic vow? I received straight A’s throughout middle school/high school, graduated salutatorian of my class and left for college. I don’t really sound like an Outside Girl, do I?

But I do have a point here. In a chapter of Girlhood: Redefining the Limits, researcher Rebecca Raby concludes that “resistance among girls and young women is likely to be hidden or c/overt–subtle and located in private spaces of interaction.” As you might have noticed, the Outside Girls practice active resistance to societal dictates, gender norms and peer pressure. But they also are undeniably intelligent and often use the system (i.e. school and family) to their advantage. Admittedly, some of these girls wear their disdain on their sleeves. But the majority of them use education and other culturally-approved institutions in order to flout how little they care about fitting in. In other words, they rebel in sensible and discreet ways.

Alex Vause, a.k.a. the coolest character on Orange is the New Black*, is a drug dealer. A really, really good one, despite the whole getting caught thing. Some of you might think, How is a goth-chic dealer working the system in a legitimized, secret way? I will tell you: Alex finds white, privileged, bored young adults and recruits them to be her street dealers/smugglers. Her genius of using rich white kids to move heroin (because our “justice” system is still hopelessly racist and elitist) is her exploiting others to manipulate the system. Yeah, I know that sounds underhanded and Bluth-esque, but if you watch the show, there is no way you would root against her.

Jenji Kohan, the creator of Orange is the New Black and the dearly-departed Weeds, is famous for “putting well-behaved middle-class white women in the middle of stories that typically feature rough nonwhite men,” as Mike Hale‘s succinct review puts it. And it’s true. Nancy Botwin sells marijuana to preserve her McMansion lifestyle and Piper Chapman goes to prison because she was restless after college. (What’s more exciting than smuggling drug money at the request of your kingpin girlfriend?) Kohan creates these characters and is famous for giving them recognizable motivations that land them in seemingly-foreign locations. I can’t help but wonder if Alex herself is a microcosm of Kohan’s creative agenda. Alex uses entitled white girls to do her bidding in OITNB‘s universe; Kohan uses entitled white women to entertain,educate and subvert her audience’s preconceptions. It’s not so different when you think about it. Another similarity between them: totally bitchin’ glasses.

Alex was not always working the system, but the viewer understands exactly why she wants to. After being rejected from the tiny monsters that are fifth grade girls, being denied the fate that Piper takes for granted (“no moolah, no school-ah”), and meeting a father that brings new meaning to the term “disappointing,” Alex wakes up. She is not normal, and pretending she is is a waste of time.  Why should she follow societal norms when conventional people are such dull sheep? Other girls enacting resistance to accepted ideologies might pretend to respect their parents while simultaneously breaking every curfew. A few girls could go all Breakfast Club, be the leaders of mean-girl cliques while hiding their consciences. Others, like me, might do well in school to ensure they will one day escape their hometowns and nightmarish high school experiences. Admittedly, few will look as cool as Alex when they are working the system over. Even with the presence of shiny black nails and combat boots.

And, yes, I know that distributing heroin in bulk will not win you any morality prizes. It hurts too many people. Yet, I admire Alex for using spoiled brats to get what she wants. I also love that she is so matter-of-fact about her crimes, her jail time and her passion for her profession. Her work allowed her to travel all over the world, gave her first-class mind something to do and was thrilling for her. She knows what she did is wrong, but she did it by finessing a flawed-as-fuck system. I know it is weird for me to champion a drug dealer (well, maybe not that weird), but I can’t help it.  I love Alex Vause because she woke up the moment she met her deadbeat dad. Instead of trying to play a rigged game, she created one with rules of her own.

*If you prefer Crazy-Eyes, Red, Sophia, Nicki, Pornstache, etc., come at me in the comments.

(Image #1 courtesy of weheartit.com; #2 courtesy of hollywoodreporter.com; #3 courtesy of reddit.com)

Death becomes her

“Let’s do some living after we die”

— “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones

Death changes everything. (Yes, thank you Captain Obvious.) But it’s true. When someone close to you disappears, your entire worldview transforms. Ideas that you once took for granted might seem outlandish and ridiculous after a loss. And I speak from personal experience when I say that. In fact, I would argue that there are two versions of us: the people we were pre-bereavement and the people we are now. So what kind of person are you when death is a regular part of your life? Or when death is the way you finance your life? Well, if you are Claire Fisher of Six Feet Under, you accept that darkness without letting it define you. And that’s a difficult look to pull off.

Claire’s father–of the titular Fisher and Sons funeral home–dies in the first fifteen minutes of SFU‘s pilot. Like all people who lose a loved one, this affects Claire. But that is not the catalyst for her Outside Girl status.  As someone who spent her childhood in the vicinity of emotionally-shattered people, Claire attends her own father’s funeral in a state of calm detachment. After all, she sees this stuff every day. Funerals are just another part of Claire’s regular routine, and this prevents her from grieving her father’s death publicly. As this scene would suggest, death itself is the barrier between the youngest Fisher and the rest of the world. Her peers think she is freaky because of her father’s profession and the house she grew up in. Instead of being wounded or feeling excluded, Claire decides to be amused and enjoys being outcast. Why else would she paint her car (a second-hand hearse) lime green?

Avi Shoshana and Elly Teman argue that Claire’s refusal to let constant death ruin her life is proof of the character’s embodiment of the “life-self.” This is a self that “is unchained, liberated, and sexual. It does not conform to societal dictates but follows an original path based on curiosity, adventurousness…and openness.” Claire actively enjoys being shunned by her fellow students, and this independent streak even motivates her to carve out her own identity within the family. In other words, she likes that death keeps her away from other people, but she refuses to let it numb her from happiness or passion. Unlike her mother and brother David, Claire uses the constant death around her as a reminder to live her life by her own rules. She is not bogged down by melancholia, but is itching with the need to experience everything during her short time on earth. This primal drive leads to experimentation with drugs and sex, multiple artistic endeavors, deviation from the expected path, surreal musical performances, and attempts to find connection with other misfits and outcasts.

This isn’t to say that Claire is cold or apathetic towards the loss of her father and, eventually, her elder brother Nate. We do see her mourn in several different instances. But her liveliness, her “life-self” stops her from grieving in the socially predictable way. Instead of crying quietly next to her father’s grave, Claire sobs uncontrollably two years later at her mother’s second wedding. Instead of dressing up nicely to attend her brother’s wake, she shows up late in a T-shirt. Instead of acting like everything is alright after Nate is gone, Claire feels her sadness 100 percent. She shows up to work drunk, she flips her coworkers the bird, and screams at her family and boyfriend. Think of it this way: Claire knows that death is a part of life. But damned if she isn’t going to live her life the way she sees fit before she dies.

And unlike many of her fellow Outside Girls, when Claire breaks away from the crowd, she does not go back. From the first season on, she has a natural suspicion of what other people see as normal and even desirable. When she visits a school counselor, she asks: “Is that the only option? Go to college, get a job so you can be a good consumer until you drop dead of exhaustion? I don’t want that…I just want something to matter.” Claire’s personification of the life-self means that she does not care about conformity and living the life that her parents’ imagined for her. Instead, she cares about making a mark by exploring topics she cares about. Claire flits around from art project to art project; medium to medium; boyfriend to boyfriend; passion to passion; even city to city. In many circumstances, I would categorize someone like her as flaky, immature, and indecisive. But that’s not the whole story. It’s better that Claire tries to conquer as much as she can in her life than being like her father. After all, he only really lives after he is dead.

(Image #1 courtesy of theredlist.com; #2 courtesy of malustudio2.blogspot.com; #3 courtesy of rattytime.wordpress.com; #4 courtesy of hbo.com; #5 courtesy of nevermore1408.blogspot.com)

Everyone deserves the right to choose (to listen to punk music)

“In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it.”

—The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

As of last Tuesday, the Alabama House passed radical restrictions on a woman’s access to safe, legal abortion in that state. This new legislation prohibits abortion once there is a fetal heartbeat. That means a woman cannot make the choice to be a mother after the first five or six weeks of her pregnancy. In other words, she might not even realize she is pregnant until after it is too late to make a decision.

This disturbs me for several reasons. If you have been paying attention to me at all, you probably have guessed that I am pro-choice and a feminist. So any law that restricts a woman’s personal liberties sends me round the bend. I also resent the hypocrisy. Not to completely generalize, but many anti-choice politicians are also the individuals who oppose government imposition on people’s individual freedoms. Don’t you think the freedom to make choices about your own body is just as important as the freedom to buy a gun? Finally, it pisses me off that so many of these anti-choice politicians block free access to condoms, birth control, and emergency contraceptives. Bottom line: If you want fewer abortions, make it easier to have fewer unwanted pregnancies.

Why am I going off on this political, probably controversial rant? Because I want to live in a society where I don’t have to worry about being restricted and repressed because of my gender. I don’t want to have to make a devastating decision, like the one Marjane Satrapi was forced to make.

In the course of Satrapi’s graphic narratives Persepolis I and Persepolis II, Marji leaves her homeland, Iran, twice.* She loves her home and her family, but she can no longer bear the oppressive regime and the radically conservative views about women, their role, and their sexuality. In order to be who she is–independent, outspoken, stubborn, sexually agentic, a punk music fan–Marjane has to leave Iran permanently. She does not want to be compelled to wear a veil, practice a religion, act submissive, or hide her true self. Even if she is spiritual and understands why some women wear the veil, she resents religion being a government requirement. As Marjane grows as a person, the Iran she knew devolves into nothing but a memory. The new regime is not safe for an Outside Girl.

Forcing a woman to wear a veil, practice a religion, and prohibiting her from choosing her own clothes, makeup and music is different than denying a woman access to a legal abortion. What Satrapi experienced is an example of extreme government intervention into a woman’s life. Marjane’s very behavior is subject to punishment. But we, as a culture, should not get up on our high horse. The U.S. might seem like the land of liberty and individuality, but denying women the right to choose is not that far away from controlling the way they live their lives. Our plight is not as difficult as Marjane’s, but restricting one right makes restricting others easier.

We like to think of ourselves as a progressive culture, as a free country. But we also have debates about women’s rights on a daily basis. I have the emails from Emily’s List and Planned Parenthood to back me up on this. We’re really not so different from many of the cultures that we condemn as backwards or medieval. We might scoff at the way some countries treat their women, but are we really that far away from being like Marji? No one is making me practice Christianity, but the religious beliefs of some lawmakers seriously affect me and women like me.

Before Marjane leaves Iran for the last time, her mother tells her “You are a free woman. The Iran of today is not for you. I forbid you to come back!” Her mother is right. Even though Marjane loves her country and many of Iran’s customs, she cannot fit in. Marjane is a born rebel, an outsider. After all, as Jennifer Worth opines, for Marjane “the margin is clearly not a negative place, but quite the opposite; it is ultimately a place of freedom, where living on her own terms and performing her own journey is finally possible.” She enjoys being different from the crowd and basks in her own distinctive identity. Unfortunately, being an Outside Girl doesn’t just separate her from the crowd. Her otherness puts her in mortal danger. Marjane’s choice to completely be herself results in more than social ostracism; it marks her as a government subversive.

*Please be advised: I think everyone should have the right to do what makes them happy, but no one should force them into anything. I have no intention of insulting Iran or its people. And I do not wish to stereotype Islam or anyone who chooses to wear the Hijab. Just because there are a few extremists in one nation or religion does not mean that we should write off the entire community. I am only reiterating Satrapi’s story and trying to defend women’s rights around the globe. 

(Image #1 courtesy of progressillinois.com; #2, #3 and #5 courtesy of blogs.stockton.edu; #4 courtesy of  morningsidereview.org)

Protection vs. Freedom: Third Wave Feminist Goals and Methods

This connects to my recent analysis of Buffy. Check it out!

Queer Guess Code

If you ever want an articulate and precise argument, go to a philosopher.  A good philosophical argument will leave you intrigued, rather than confused, because it will define its terms clearly.  This argument about why the methods of Feminist Egalitarianism and Christian Complementarianism both boil down to Chivalry and Patriarchy is a good example.  Andy Rogers defines his terms as system, goal, and method.

A system is the context in which you are working–the facts that you are assuming to be the case for the sake of addressing a specific goal. I hope that goal and method are self-explanatory . It is generally better to first start with goal and system, and then figure out the best method for attaining said goal given the system.

Using this model, I will lay out the groundwork for my own feminist philosophy and standpoint, while heavily disputing Andy’s claim that Chivalry and Patriarchy…

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Maeby? She’s born with it

“Insanity runs in my family…It practically gallops.”

—Arsenic and Old Lace

If I was ever to embark on another in-depth research project and blog, it would probably be about dysfunctional families. Any medium that covers the inherent weirdness in a family is fascinating and hilarious to me. The Corrections, The Royal Tenenbaums, This Is Where I Leave You, Six Feet Under,  Little Miss Sunshine, Maine, the collected works of Nicole Holofcener, The Simpsons, The Snapper and The Upside of Anger are some of my favorite texts.  All of these families have an obvious love for one another, but that love is coated with a bit of hate. The best of this genre would probably have to be Arrested Development. The Bluth family is a menagerie of sociopaths and is arguably an Outside Family. Ironically, Maeby Funke is the Outside Girl of that family because she is the most normal Bluth. Riddle me that.

The layered aspect to Maeby’s outsider status is yet another facet to Mitchell Hurwitz‘s unparalleled genius. After all, Maeby’s characterization is just one example of the show’s narrative complexity or, as Jason Mittell would say, the “redefinition of episodic forms under the influence of serial narration.”  This style of storytelling is becoming more and more of a pattern in television. I would argue that Maeby’s layered weirdness/normality is a chance for Arrested Development to flaunt its own creative density. At first glance in the pilot, Maeby seems to be one of the freakiest members of family. The whole kissing-her-cousin-in-order-to piss-off-her-mother thing doesn’t really bode well for her maturity. But as the series evolves and grows, the other seemingly-together characters show their true colors and Maeby reveals that she is crazy like a fox.

Of course, like all Bluths, this intelligence manifests itself in cruelty. Maeby hangs out with her grandmother to rebel against Lindsay; she continually lies to her family; she convinces her entire school that she is actually named “Surely,” and is dying of “B.S.,” so they will take pity on her and give her money; in a fit of jealousy, she convinces a boy that her mother is a transvestite; Maeby proposes to everyone around her; she has a weird mutual respect with Michael; she even cons her way into a successful movie-executive career at “Tantamount Studios.” In normal situations, Maeby would be the mayor of Crazy Town. But by Bluth expectations, she is actually an independent self-starter. She has integrity, finds a way to make cash on her own, and holds down a career with the respect of her peers. Even the self-deluding Michael can’t claim that.

What I’m getting at here is that Maeby didn’t really choose to be an Outside Girl. Anyone who spends 5 minutes watching Arrested Development can understand why the Bluth clan does not fit in with regular society. However, Maeby does choose to double down on being an outsider by trying to be successful and normal (again, by Bluth standards). Lesley Hart-Gunn argues that the Bluths are not a family “pulling together, but a family keeping up appearances.” Maeby doesn’t care about appearances and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her; she cares about herself. This is undoubtedly selfish, but also is a indicator of her being an Outside Girl in a family that only thinks it is on the inside.

I believe that Maeby leads multiple hidden lives, lies constantly, and keeps countless secrets in order to preserve her sanity. Without this life that is just hers, she would surely devolve to Lucille Bluth status. (Maeby has a tiny bit of confidence about her body and appearance, so let’s hope that that never happens.) Like the upcoming Margot Tenenbaum, Maeby finds a way to separate herself from the Greek-tragedy-with-laughs that is her family. And that separation–that compounded Outside Girl status–is how she maintains her wits and her link with the audience. She recognizes how messed up the Bluths are and she is smart enough to know that the dysfunction is ingrained in her DNA, along with always leaving notes.  But she removes herself from the core crazy and manages to maintain some semblance of of stability by lying like there is no tomorrow.

*Fun Fact: I even wrote my college admissions essay about This Is Where I Leave You. I bet you really wanted to know that.

What are your favorite Maeby moments? Do you think she is actually as messed up as her family? Feel free to vent your dysfunctional family stories and favorite AD jokes in the comments!

(Image #1 courtesy of ifc.com; #2 courtesy of onetinyhand.com; #3 courtesy of verbicidemagazine.com)

Making an ass of herself with agency

“She thought it would be fun to try photography/She thought it would be fun to try pornography/She thought it would be fun to try most anything/She was tired of sleeping”

—“Beautiful” by Belle & Sebastian

No matter your particular age, economic status, gender or race, you probably currently have an opinion about Lena Dunham and her masterpiece of awkward social relations, Girls:

• It is a brilliant portrait of what it means to be female, educated and young in New York City!
• No, it is a dull, self-indulgent piece of crap about four lazy white chicks that pretends it is cinéma vérité!
• No, it is an obscene series because it depicts weird sex, starring a nude woman with an imperfect body and more than  2% body fat!
• It’s Sex and the City, but depressing!
• It demonstrates the bad behavior we all wish we could indulge in, a la Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm or Arrested Development!
• Lena Dunham sucks!
• No, you suck!

You can peruse Twitter at your leisure for more words of wisdom.

As you can probably tell, I am firmly in the pro-Girls camp. I think that the series is a warts-and-all story about four very different, very realistic young women. That being said, I do understand some of the criticism that has been hurled at the series. It depicts a very specific niche and some people–well, most people–are not like Hannah Horvath, Marnie Michaels, Jessa Johansson or Shoshanna Shapiro. But one piece of criticism that I will never understand goes something like this: these Girls are revolutionary characters, but their identities are contingent on the men in their lives.

Pardon my French, but I call bullshit.

There are guys in Girls, but they do not define Hannah and Co. And guess what? Hannah and Co. do not define the guys. These are all self-possessed, independent characters whose paths happen to cross because it is a television show and we need to observe conflict to feel entertained. We’re all free to be you and me! Yay.

But there are viewers who wholeheartedly disagree with me.  Serena Daalmans‘s analysis of the series argues that Hannah’s relationship with Adam (who is interesting to say the least) is completely passive. She opines, “Hannah’s need for something to happen in her life, rather than actually taking charge of her life, is disconcerting, as is her willingness to engage in non-fulfilling, awkward, degrading, and unprotected sex with Adam.”

Sorry, but I don’t buy that. Yes, I find Hannah and Adam’s coupling problematic. His initial behavior in the program is definitely not what I look for in a partner. And according to Dunham’s Fresh Air interview, that is the show’s intention. Yet I’m not going to say that her completely unromantic sexual encounters are examples of Hannah waiting for her life to happen. She does these things out of real affection for that weirdo and, as Jessa would put it, “for the story.” I would not personally make that choice, but I’m also not Hannah.

Hannah puts up with a lot throughout the series, and puts her foot in her mouth on a regular basis. But she is aware about her own flaws, admits to them and makes conscious choices as to how she wants to live her life. She yells at her ex-boyfriend for coming out; she wears some truly horrendous outfits; she hits on and then tries to blackmail her boss; she has sex with a stranger eighteen years her senior; she tries cocaine; she burns bridges left and right; she tells Adam she never wants to see him again, but then accepts his grand romantic gesture.

Even if you don’t agree with this type of behavior, it is hard to see it as lacking any agency. You might think Hannah is a sociopath instead of a human being with flaws and contradictions, but  you still have to admit that she makes these seemingly terrible decisions under no one’s influence but her own. Hannah is a writer who believes she needs interesting experiences to write well. Not all authors would deliberately put themselves in awful situations in order to write, and that is their prerogative. However, Hannah does make that choice and takes herself out of her ordinary life and habits. Her actions are shocking, infuriating and worthy of empathy. You might not be willing to try anything once like she is, but don’t say she is passive about her own life because she has unsexy sex. Hannah is doing what she wants, and screw you if you don’t like it.

How Outside Girl is that?

Am I right or do you think I am way off-base? What is your opinion about Lena Dunham and her series? Please feel free to share your perspective in the comments!

(Image #1 courtesy of cosmopolitan.com; #2 courtesy of hollywoodreporter.com; #3 courtesy of crushable.com; #4 courtesy of nymag.com)