We run this motha

It’s getting might discouraging out there for us ladies with what passes for political discourse these days. Bills to allow employers to decide what health care we can have. Bills to allow doctors to insert medical devices into our bodies without our consent. National broadcasters who feel justified calling us “sluts” and “prostitutes” and national politicians who don’t think we need to be represented on panels discussing birth control. Yes, these are crazy times to be a modern woman. I mean, it’s not like the pill first came on the market some 52 years ago. Whereas Viagra was invented 14 years ago, and no one is passing bills to make sure it’s being used for procreation purposes only. But, hey, a guy’s got to get it up, am I right? Right. While certain voices in today’s politics seem determined to bring us back to the Stone Age, we’ve fought long and hard for gains. And we won’t go back into the kitchen or the cave. Because we’re awesome. And despite what all those men in suits say, we run this motha. Happy Monday, ladies.

Project Unbreakable

[NOTE: Trigger Warning.]

People look to art for countless reasons. Entertainment. Information. Distraction. Validation. Meaning. It can do all those things, it can do none of those things. It’s entirely what we make it. And sometimes, just sometimes, it can give us the power to heal ourselves. Or, at the very least, help start to put the pieces back together. There are countless worthy art projects in the world. Some are more famous than others. Some are more effective than others. But today, today I feel moved beyond words to talk about Project Unbreakable. It’s a simple concept, so simple it’s surprising it hasn’t been done before. That is to photograph sexual assault survivors holding the posters with quotes from their attackers. In essence, it a project to “take the power back of the words that were once used against them.” Will this project end sexual assault as we know it? No. Every two minutes someone in the Unites States is sexually assaulted. But what it can do is help to heal those who have been assaulted and release the shame that is all too often associated with such attacks.

I feel fortunate so far in my life to not be among those statistics. But women I know, women I love deeply, are. And there are so many more, both men and women. Project Unbreakable was started by Grace Brown, a 19-year-old freshman at The School of Visual Arts in New York. Scrolling through the project filled me with both anger and hope. Anger at a society that allows attackers to think treating another human being this way is ever acceptable. Hope that we can come together to heal the hurt and turn the shame around onto the people who really deserve it. We humans can be monstrous sometimes. But we can also be each other’s better, unbreakable angels. I want to live in a world with more of the latter.

Project Unbreakable is in the midst of a modest funding project. You won’t find any red bracelets or hip posters or action kits for sale, but there are several nifty gifts available at different funding levels. Check it out and throw it a few dollars if you can.

For those seeking counseling or emergency support, please contact RAINN for free and confidential help.

Wilde wiggle

So, if you follow Olivia Wilde’s Twitter feed, you know she can be a pretty funny lady. Also pretty. But also just funny. And you know how I love me a funny lady. You probably also know I love to look at pretty, funny ladies. I am totally not above a good ogle now and, well, kind of now. Though, I try to appeal to my own better angels by making it a respect-based objectification I practice here at Surrenders HQ. But, still, I unabashedly like to look at the ladies. It comes with the whole gay thing. Which brings me back to Olivia. The very nice to look at Ms. Wilde appears on one of two new covers for the New British GQ Comedy Issue. Which, you know, is fine and good. She’s wearing a bra and jeans and precious little else. See, women are both pretty and funny and pretty funny. But then, oh dear, then things get complicated. The other cover features a host of funny fellows, all dressed in their GQ best. They are dubbed “The Kings of Comedy.” Right, I know – this is a lad’s mag. What should I expect? But then, then they had to go and release a video trailer to promote the issue. And, well, here’s where things get at once more complicated and more basic. Please, sit back and take in the next 1 minute and 48 seconds.

Right. So, yeah. I’m guessing you rewound back to second :14 a couple, few, dozen, wore out the button – eh? Yes, people of the Internet. Olivia Wilde just jiggled her boobs for your enjoyment. Boobs. Jiggle. Yes.

Oh, but here is where that complicated v. basic thing comes in. On the one hand, as a red-blooded American gay lady, I am drooling a little over my keyboard and high fiving my cat at the sight of a lady as luscious as Olivia giving the ladies a little loving. On the other hand, as a women’s studies minor earning progressive feminist lady, I am fairly appalled that Olivia is the only woman included and being put into an assortment of skimpy outfits while the men are all wearing full suits. So it goes like this:

Brain: This is so sexist!
Area Lower Than Brain: Shut up and hit rewind!

I’ll admit, it is kind of a chicken and egg situation. Which is right? Are both answers right? Are both answers wrong? I think, in the interest of science, we should watch those 3 seconds in question again and again and again. For science. Yep. Science.

My lady business, myself

When life, both personal and public, gets really frustrating often the best medicine is a little laughter. The whole “if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry” thing is real. Well anyone who has been paying attention to our political landscape recently has been howling to keep from hysterically weeping. A Congressional hearing on birth control with no female panelists? A Virginia law that would requires women to be penetrated with a transvaginal ultrasound before being allowed to have an abortion? An Indiana State Representative who thinks the Girl Scouts of America are “radically pro-abortion,” “promote homosexual lifestyles” and in cahoots with “feminists, lesbians, or Communists?” One of the biggest financial backers of GOP presidential contender Rick Santorum telling women that birth control is cheap, just put a Bayer between your knees and squeeze? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. SOB.

Sure, this war on women from the right wing of politics is nothing new. But the fact that things that seem so basic – like birth control is important and should be accessible basic – coming under attack is pretty fucking ludicrous. I keep thinking the Republican presidential candidates have arrived in our dimension from 1952 via a hidden rip in the space-time continuum. But no, here we are in 2012 talking about why it’s bad to exclude women from the conversation when we’re talking about women’s bodies. Though, maybe that Indiana idiot is onto something – I was a Girl Scout and I’m a feminist and gay lady and while not a Communist, I do believe some careful application of socialist principles could help our country a great deal. Also, their cookies are delicious.

So now, to keep from crying, please enjoy some very hearty chuckles at those wingnuts expense.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
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To quote Amy Poehler, don’t tell me what to do with my body or brain, GOP.

My Weekend Crush

I’ve never understood the forces against choice. Not just the choice over when and how and whether we as women have a child or not. Though that does baffle me to my very core. But the forces against choice, freedom, access and rights in general. Why limit and restrict when you can free and grant? Yet here we are, in the year 2012, and we are still fighting a basic fight to be in control of our own bodies, to be granted the full rights, to be free to choose how we live our lives. And to be honest, it pisses me the fuck off. Like when I heard this week that the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, the world’s largest breast cancer organization, had bowed to political pressure and pulled its support for Planned Parenthood, it majorly pissed me the fuck off.

Komen has given Planned Parenthood about $700,000 in grants each year since 2005, which have funded some 170,000 of the breast exams and 6,400 mammograms. But now, that money has stopped. You can have whatever opinion you want on abortion. I certainly am not some sort of abortion cheerleader, but I also certainly respect the right and choice of any women to decide what happens with her own body. But this isn’t about abortion, because none of the Komen money went toward abortion. It went to what the Komen Foundation is supposed to be about – preventing and curing breast cancer.

Komen’s bullshit answer is it has a new policy where it does not fund organizations being investigated by local, state or federal authorities. And it just so happens that Republican Florida Representative Cliff Stearns has launched an investigation over how Planned Parenthood spends its money. Stearns, it should be noted, is virulently anti-choice and, just for good measure, also super anti-gay. Heck, he even wanted to ban gay adoption. How dare we try to be parents to those babies the women who did what you demanded and decided not to have abortions gave up for adoption!

But for the record, because it bears repeated repeating, only 3 percent – yes, THREE PERCENT – of Planned Parenthood’s patient care goes toward abortion services. The vast majority is contraception (35 percent), STD infection/prevention care (35 percent), cancer screening/prevention (16 percent) and other women’s services (10 percent). In case you’re doing the math, the other 1 percent goes to other services. Also, Congress has already banned the use of federal money for abortions. So while the federal government does provide a large portion of Planned Parenthood’s funding, it is already prohibited from using any of that money for abortion services.

I have been lucky in my life not to need Planned Parenthood services. But I have many friends who have. In fact one in five women in the U.S. has visited a Planned Parenthood health center at least once in her life. The organization helps millions of particularly low-income and minority women who would otherwise have absolutely no access to safe and affordable health care services. These are life-saving services like pap smears, breast exams, STD screenings and more.

So what’s this all about then? If the Komen money goes toward breast cancer screening and the federal dollars are already prohibited from being used for abortions? It’s about attacking women. It’s about denying us the most basic health care rights. It’s about controlling our bodies. It’s about making the choices for us. Well, we can make our own choices. We are in control of our own bodies. We are not political footballs. We are women. And you will now hear us roar. Donate to Planned Parenthood today, tomorrow and as long as it takes. Happy weekend, all.

UPDATE: UPDATE: Indeed, Komen has issued a statement saying it changed its policy prohibiting organizations under investigation from being eligible for its grants. It said “We will continue to fund existing grants, including those of Planned Parenthood, and preserve their eligibility to apply for future grants.” Given the debacle, this is a clear attempt at damaging fallout from this clearly political decision. While I am happy Komen has made Planned Parenthood eligible again for its grants, I have learned more about the organization that makes me wary of its motivations. Not only did it hire a stridently anti-choice senior vice president for public policy last year and its CEO is a major contributor to Republican political candidates. The good news, Planned Parenthood has received some $3 million in donations since this whole debacle started. The moral of this story? The women and men who support women’s health are legion. And we will not be silenced.

Be Brave

I am so excited for “Brave” for so many reasons. 1) Pixar, I love Pixar. 2) Red-Hair, I love red-hair. 3) Scottish accents, I love Scottish accents. And 4) A Heroine, I love a good heroine, not to be mistaken with the sort you inject and listen to jazz with. Though it’s that last bit that’s the most important. In all of its acclaimed history, Pixar has never made a movie around a heroine. They’ve had female characters, clearly, but it’s been the Nemos and WALL-Es and Woodys who have saved the day. But with “Brave,” that’s all different. Brave is set in the Scottish Highlands and follows “tomboyish” Princess Merida (voiced by real Scottish lady and “Boardwalks Empire” actress Kelly Macdonald) who has a shock of fire-red hair and appears to be handy with a bow and arrow. The rest of the voice cast includes Emma Thompson, Billy Connolly, Craig Ferguson and Julie Walters. Pretty damn impressive, if you ask me.

Now, I know there has been some complicated behind-the-scenes backstory involving the film’s original female director being replaced. But to me, while problematic, it does not detract from the true import of the thing. And that is this: Girls deserve to be the heroes of their own stories. We aren’t just damsels in distress or funny sidekicks or beautiful girlfriends. Sure we can be those things, and we sometimes are. But if that’s all we are shown as, well, then that’s doing a disservice to everyone. Boys, girls, everyone. Because in the real world, women are the heroes of their own stories every single day. You don’t need a focus group or a test market to discover this. It just is. That it’s taken so long for Hollywood to realize it, well, that’s the real fairy tale.

Game changer

It has taken me a full day to process my feelings about “Game of Thrones.” I know we live in a knee-jerk, instacritic culture where 140-characters counts as thoughtful dialogue (and, believe me, no one loves those 140 characters more than this unapologetic Twitteraholic), but I needed more time to truly think about this series. I haven’t read the books, which puts me at a disadvantage. So right now all I have to go on is the pilot. And, right now, I’m just not sure.

Granted, the production is gorgeous. You can always see money on the screen, and this thing looks the exact opposite of cheap. The writing is tight, the acting is solid, the story is complex. It feels epic, it is epic. But, and I means this with all seriousness, what’s in it for the ladies?

I’ve read a lot this past week about the gender politics of this much-hyped show. It’s for boys. It’s pandering to girls. It’s feminist. It’s misogynistic. It’s oddly fixated on doggy-style sex. (That last one isn’t a question, just a fact.)

New York Times reviewer Ginia Bellafante called it “boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half.” She also strongly implies that women don’t read fantasy fiction. So, let’s get this out of the way right away. That’s just some crazypants nonsense right there. One, of course women read fantasy novels and to suggest otherwise signifies a profound arrogance about an entire gender. And two, her argument that the sex is thrown into the story to appease women viewers makes me think she actually didn’t watch the premiere. Because the “sex” she spoke of was (SPOILER ALERT) incest, rape and paid servicing from prostitutes. You know, just like “Sex and the City.”

So, clearly the argument that “Game of Thrones” is fantasy therefore women won’t like it and therefore it’s pandering to women and therefore it’s bad is not the argument I’m making here.

But I was disturbed by what I saw happening with the women in the premiere. (MORE MAJOR SPOILERS) We see a wife to a powerful lord, who seems loyal but has little power. We see the queen to a king, who appears to be evil and power hungry and – oh yeah – is totally fucking her twin brother. We see two daughters of the lord, who are made to go to crocheting class while the boys learn archery – one is kind of boy crazy and one is a tomboy. And we see the sister to a power-hungry brother who sells her off to the head of a warrior tribe who then consummates their relationship against her will. Fun times for the lady folk, let me tell you.

Still just because these are dark times for women, does not mean better days aren’t ahead. What I understand from reading about this series is that us feminist fans will need to be patient. This is clearly not a woman’s world – right now they are largely just for pawns or playthings for men. But the question is will the series allow them to overcome their relegated positions in this society? Will we see independence, influence, intellect? I really hope so.

To me feminist stories do not require that all the women are portrayed in a positive light or necessarily even treated well. But it does require that female characters are allowed to be complex and layered and ultimately in control of their own destinies. Are women integral to the story outside of their relationships to men? Do they wield any power? Do they show strength and smarts and other abilities and not just sex appeal? Do they get to be human, just like the men? That is what makes a story feminist. That is what makes a story worth investing in for me.

If “Games of Thrones” starts to make its ladies more than just pieces in powerful men’s games, then I’m in. If it doesn’t, well, then game over.

EDIT: Just wanted to add that I thought it was very interesting and more than a little troubling that, as one of you commented, Dany gave her consent in the book, but not the show. That means the entire foundation of their future relationship in the series will be different from the original book. Like I said, troubling.

That's Ms. Bossypants to you

Happy Bossypants Day! Tina Fey’s book goes on sale today and if you aren’t currently jogging toward a bookstore as we speak I will consider it a personal affront to my Fake TV Wife and you will never be invited over for a fake dinner on a fake double date with your Fake TV Wife, Sara Ramirez. So there. But, seriously folks, I feel oddly proud about her book launch today. (Which, I am fully aware, is in no way my accomplishment. I’m delusional, but not that delusional.) Mostly I’m happy that in a world that so often questions, judges, challenges, restricts, belittles and ignores women that such a smart, capable, independent woman has been able to reach this level of success. It’s not that the world is lacking Tina Feys. There are smart, capable, independent women all over the place. It’s that our society stubbornly refuses to look at them through the lens of just their abilities. It’s always couched in gender. And, don’t get me wrong, I understand there are inherent differences between the genders. Hello, clearly. But when people chastise and even ridicule President Obama for relying on council from his female advisers on how to act in Libya, you know we our opinions aren’t being placed on anywhere near the same playing field as the menfolk. So, today, in honor of Tina’s book, let’s all allow our inner Bossypants to run free. Let’s be (or continue to be, as hopefully is the case) bossy and unapologetic and powerful. Let us never be afraid to be the smartest person in the room. In fact, let’s work hard to make sure everybody knows it.

And, on that note, please enjoy Tina Fey telling everyone how much better she is than Helen Mirren.

Putting the Awe into Some

They say Tuesday’s Child is full of grace. Well, grace is nice and all. But outside of ballerinas and Audrey Hepburn, I think being full of awesome is a mite more practical. I mean, who doesn’t want to be awesome? Awesome is awesome. OK, now I feel like I’m saying awesome so much that the word is starting to lose its meaning and just become a collection of sounds. Like whenever I say the word “obey,” I drag it out like how I heard this one Southern minister say it at this wedding where the bride and groom still kept the “obey” part of the vows because they mistakenly though this was 1954. Wow. I’ve gotten awesomely off track. I was saying something about being awesome. Oh, I remember. These videos are awesome.

Cyndi Lauper is awesome.

She lifts the mood of some stranded, cranky air travelers in Buenos Aires with the best girl power song ever.

Daniel Craig & Judi Dench are awesome.

Even 007 knows it’s hard out there for a dame. On this International Women’s Day, remember nothing is sexier than equality.

Thumbs-Up Kitty is Awesome.

Also, a little creepy. Like, now what’s to prevent them from taking over the world?

Brittana being on is awesome.

If tonight’s big Brittana moment is even half as awesome as this fanvid, we’re in for a whole lot of awesome tonight.

There, well I hope those helped make your Tuesday a little more awesome. If you’re still looking for grace, you’re on your own.

Case study

So Neko Case can’t get laid. OK, wait, let me rephrase that. I am sure Neko Case can and does get laid, but she’s not getting laid by groupies at the rate of her male singer counterparts. And, to extrapolate further, it seems no female musicians are getting laid at the rate, frequency and intensity of their male counterparts. There is, apparently, just no such thing as the male groupie. Salon did an interesting piece on Neko’s recent Twitter admission that “ladies in bands don’t get ANY action.” It’s interesting but also kind of a bummer because someone as talented and beautiful and smart and successful as Neko Case should be awash in whatever kind of sexual smorgasbord her heart desires. She is Neko goddamnfucking Case. Take her to bed immediately, men of this planet.

But it also illustrates a broader, equally bummer truth in our society. Most men simply find it easier to get action than most women. And this is especially true when it comes to smart, successful men and women. While men are awash in lady loving, their female counterparts find their options more limited. Why? Well, we could be here for weeks talking about sexual politics and societal patriarchy, power dynamics and gender norms. But let’s just mutually agree that this is a fact, like gravity and the impossibility of eating just one Pringle. Or, now that I think about it, Twizzler.

So here is the obvious follow-up question: Is this true to gay women? Does this mean we doubled down on the inability to get some? Or does this make it total cake? I can tell you from my own totally unscientific empirical observations, lesbians really suck at hitting on each other, even when none of the parties involved are famous. Obviously, someone needs to interview Tegan & Sara on this subject immediately. I have no idea whether lesbian artists have ardent and active fanbases willing to drop and fling their panties at them. I don’t know if they’ve got to hire double security to block the stage door or can saunter out into darkness unnoticed. I know I’ve seen many, many a lesbian performer on stage and have never waited outside of the tour bus to see if I could my own private encore. But then, I’m not really the groupie type. Though, as always, I would wait at the stage door to hell forever and always for just one shot at Tina Fey. (Had to put it out there one more time. You understand, universe.)

I guess, in a way, I’m a little glad that female musicians don’t partake in the bedroom buffet line that many of their male counterparts do, where they open the door and point. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with sex for sex’s sake between two consenting adults. Sex is natural, sex is fun. Sex is usually best when it’s one-on-one. But mostly this is just because any more than one other person and the experience becomes a complicated timing exercise of how much and how well one spends attending to each separate partner – or so I’ve, um, heard. Right, where was I? Ever the ERA backer, I think her refusal to board this particular sexual gravy train should be entirely the female artist’s choice. As Neko tweeted after her groupie lament: “I realize for myself, I didn’t want to be hit on BY lots of men so much as I wanted to be hit on AS MUCH as men. Competitive inferior complex.”

Neko, darling, if you’re interested in testing your theory with the other team, I am more than willing to help. Point me to your stage door. I’ll be happily waiting.

Really, men aren’t lining up for that? God, they can be such idiots.

Our stories, Ourselves

I try to write about women’s issues a lot on this blog – not just because I’m a woman, but because it matters how 51 percent of the population is treated in this world. I would hope that even if I wasn’t a woman I’d still care a lot about women’s issues. Women’s rights, women’s representation, women’s equality – they aren’t just about how women are treated, but what we value as a society. Even though this is mostly just a silly site that merrily muses about effervescent pop culture and pretty, pretty ladies, I try to do my small part to advocate for more, better and total inclusion of women in all forms of entertainment. This year I made an informal resolution to myself to stop watching TV shows that don’t pass the Bechdel Rule. So that killed “Hawaii Five-O” (Grace Park in a bikini is great, but it’d be even greater if she had another regular female castmate to talk with each week.) In TV – where we follow characters for years, not just 90 minutes – it’s even less excusable to not pass the simple test of having two female characters who talk to each other about something other than a man.

But what we see on screen is one thing, what happens behind the screen is another. The simple fact, the undeniable truth is that we women simply are not in command of our own stories. You see, who tells a story matters. Yet according to a new study by the Women’s Media Center, only 8 percent of all film writers are women. That means 92 percent are men, telling all of the stories we see on the screen. In 2009, women directed 7 percent of the top films that year. That’s the same percentage as in 1987, more than two decades ago. Last year, everyone crowed about the great stride for womankind with Kathryn Bigelow’s win as the first woman in 82 years to win an Academy Award for directing. She was only the fourth woman ever to receive the nomination. This year no women were nominated, despite two female-directed films landing best pictures nods. One step forward, yet we’re still looking up from the bottom rung.

These kinds of stark imbalances are sadly not sequestered to the world of entertainment. Women represent less than 25 percent of all op-ed pieces written, 13 percent of Sunday morning news show guests and 3 percent of the decision makers in the media. And we haven’t even reached the halls of real power. Out of 435 members of the House of Representatives, only 79 are women. Out of 100 senators, only 17 are women. We’ve only ever had one female Speaker of the House, who has now been relegated to minority leader. We are still waiting for our first-ever female vice president or president. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Just yesterday it was revealed in The New York Times that just 13 percent of Wikipedia contributors are women. And Wikipedia is a self-selecting group that can create, edit, contribute at will. So we’re self-selecting ourselves out of 87 percent of the information shared on one of the world’s largest information databases. Fantastic.

These numbers should make us furious. We should be livid. We should demand and accept nothing less than an equal place at the tables of power. Yet, here we are, chugging along. We coexist calmly in the face of inherent inequality. And, sure we frequently bemoan our fate and raise a righteous fuss, but otherwise we kind of just accept it. Maybe it’s that we've been conditioned to pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. So we’ve been fooled into not caring. But it matters who tells our stories, who makes our news, who controls our power.

I guess this is my long and rambling way of saying, I’m mad. I think we all should be mad. That informal Bechdel resolution is now a permanent one. Same goes for movies. Same goes for whatever I put out there every day in my small of slices of that media pie. I’m going to try harder, be madder, get louder. Our stories deserve to be told, and we deserve to tell them.

The cruelest cut

I talk about my love for Tina Fey endlessly a lot here. I make no apologies for my unabashed Feyminism. But every now and then, it doesn’t hurt to have a reminder of exactly, precisely, without-a-doubt why I love her. And today that reminder is in the segment PBS cut from her Mark Twain Prize acceptance speech.

“And, you know, politics aside, the success of Sarah Palin and women like her is good for all women — except, of course, those who will end up, you know, like, paying for their own rape kit ‘n’ stuff. But for everybody else, it’s a win-win. Unless you’re a gay woman who wants to marry your partner of 20 years. Whatever. But for most women, the success of conservative women is good for all of us. Unless you believe in evolution. You know, actually, I take it back. The whole thing’s a disaster.”

See it for yourself here:

[Sorry the right side is cut off, stupid parameters.
Tina nails it at 12 minutes and 30 seconds mark.]

Boom. I love the smell of roasted Mama Grizzlies in the morning, it smells like victory over hypocrisy. Also, s’mores. Well, it would have if PBS had actually aired the bit in question. According to The Washington Post, PBS executives say the quote was trimmed for length. The show ran 19 minutes over and every presenter apparently had his/her segment snipped.

PBS also trimmed Tina’s individual shout-outs and thanks to presenters and friends, which she herself acknowledged “we’re probably going to cut this part for the broadcast.” But to then snip such an obviously political and pointed part of her speech seems, well, off. I mean, about 20 minutes of the 90-minute show were clips from her past work anyway. You can’t cut clips?

What the hell, PBS? You are PBS. Everyone knows you are liberal elite lunatics already. Go with it. You’re not fooling anyone. And, speaking of not fooling anyone, give it up with the Bert and Ernie are “just roommates” stuff. Yeah, for 40 years.

The best humor cuts through the clutter and lays bare simple truths. It doesn’t have to be political, often it’s about the mundane. But we relate, if sometimes through nervous laughter, because of its core truth. And whether PBS cut the Sarah Palin slam out of misplaced anxiety or overactive politeness or wussy fear of the new Republican Congress cutting its funding, it was the wrong call. Boo, PBS, no reusable canvas tote bag for you.

To extrapolate wildly from this one incident and make broad generalizations (What? It’s my blog and I can extrapolate wildly if I want to.), this timidity is sadly endemic in our media – political or otherwise – these days. We like to push this canard that there are two equal sides to every story. Sometimes, believe me, there just aren’t. Not all opinions are created equal. Some are based on fear and ignorance and flat-out lies. That doesn’t mean you don’’ have the right to that opinion – you absolutely do. Believe, think, say whatever you want. But I don’t have to give it as much weight as an opinion based in fact.

Fact are not political, or at least they shouldn’t be. So when someone like Christine O’Donnell, who doesn’t even know that the separation between church and state is built into the First Amendment, gets thisclose to going to Congress, we’ve failed as a media on a very basic level. When Sen. John McCain’s constant flip-flopping on his reasons for opposing the DADT repeal isn’t called out when he moves the goalpost yet again, we’ve failed as a media on a very basic level. (And don’t get me started on Cindy McCain’s about-face (more like two-face)on DADT. Did old man yell at more than lawn to make you go from bold equality backer to cowardly intolerance back tracker in 2.5 days?). When the daughter of the almost vice president of the United States of America uses gay slurs on Facebook and we don’t question the mentality that allows that, we’ve failed on a very basic level.

Let’s be honest here. The Mama Grizzlies aren’t feminists. They aren’t good for all women. They’re good for people who believe a very specific, very conservative ideology. Which, if you believe those things, good for you. But let’s not buy into the lie that their victories are ours. They are not. For many of us, they’re just a disaster. Preach it Tina, preach.

One size fits none

Last week, as I wrote my response to the Marie Claire controversy, I knew someone would mention all the pictures of slim women on my site. I knew this because I’ve been doing this a long time and have developed a sixth sense about what kind of comments I am likely to receive. I had considered addressing it in the post, but ultimately thought that would take away from my main message which was that people deserve to be happy and respected, no matter their perceived differences. Heavy, thin, gay, straight – we’re all human and shouldn’t be shamed for the simple act of existing.

Now, it’s also true, I do post pictures of mostly slim women. Part of this is symptomatic of my chosen topic: the entertainment industry. There just aren’t that many women in Hollywood who are larger than a Size 0. The vast majority of famous women in Hollywood are conventionally thin. And unless I want to write about Queen Latifah, Nikki Blonsky, Gabourey Sidibe and Camryn Manheim every day, my options are limited. Even the women who sometimes get lumped in with the “plus-size” category aren’t really all that plus, like Sara Ramirez, America Ferrera and Christina Hendricks.

But this isn’t to say I shouldn’t do better. I should. I try not to glorify or perpetuate the unhealthy – in either direction. I don’t regularly post photos of models, because I think most are beyond unrealistic looking. (But not all, and those I celebrate to the fullest.) I don’t regularly post overly Photoshopped pictures, because there’s nothing realistic at all about the overuse of the liquefy tool. (I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really hate over Photoshopping. For real.)

Which brings us back to the topic of size and what I post on my site. I actually do think about inclusiveness, be it size or race or left handedness, a lot. A lot, a lot. But it’s not always that easy. I post about what I watch and enjoy because, well, it’s my site. But not all the TV/movies/music I watch and enjoy includes women of varying sizes. “30 Rock” – maybe Sherri Shepherd, but she’s on maybe twice a year. “Glee” – Amber Riley who is perpetually second fiddle of Lea Michele. “Rizzoli & Isles” – those two could fit on a twin-size bed with room to spare, trust me, I’ve imagined it. “Buffy” – Xander got a little chunky in the later seasons. “The Vampire Diaries” – nada, blood must be slimming.

I used to write about America Ferrera more often, but then “Ugly Betty” got bad and now it’s off the air. I write about Queen Latifah sometimes but closet organizing gets old after a while. And then, it can start to feel like tokenism. I’ve got to throw the Queen into this post, I’ve got to add Gabby to that post. Like I said, it isn’t always easy.

Also, do you know how hard it is to find pictures of some of these ladies in tank tops? The one, one, I’ve ever been able to find of Sara Ramirez I posted.

I guess this is all just a long, rambly way of saying – I do care and I do try. I want to be representative and I want to be inclusive. But I also write about a sliver of our popular culture that tends to be show women who look like a sliver. So trust me when I tell you, my love for women is not one size fits all.

p.s. Apologies to those expecting a post on the midterm elections today. I just couldn’t, it is too – well – ugh.

Fat and Happy

Opinions are like assholes, or so the saying goes. So it only follows that many assholes have opinions. But you are still taken aback, way aback, when an asshole is such an asshole about her opinions. Like, for instance, the Marie Claire blogger who posted her thoughts on the new CBS sitcom “Mike & Molly.”

Let me break down the essence of her post for you:

HEY FATTIES, EAT SOME UNPROCESSED FOOD AND GET OFF YOUR BIG ASSES. ALSO, STOP KISSING. GROSS.

And I’m not even really paraphrasing there. This is what was actually written.

My initial response was: Hmm, being overweight is one thing — those people are downright obese! And while I think our country’s obsession with physical perfection is unhealthy, I also think it’s at least equally crazy, albeit in the other direction, to be implicitly promoting obesity! ….

So anyway, yes, I think I’d be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I’d be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room. ….

I’m happy to give you some nutrition and fitness suggestions if you need them — but long story short, eat more fresh and unprocessed foods, read labels and avoid foods with any kind of processed sweetener in them whether it’s cane sugar or high fructose corn syrup, increase the amount of fiber you’re getting, get some kind of exercise for 30 minutes at least five times a week, and do everything you can to stand up more — even while using your computer — and walk more.

(p.s. That last sentence is 84 – EIGHTY FOUR – words long. How about learning how to slim down your writing instead, lady?)

WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCK WAS THAT FUCKING SHIT?

The post has made the rounds, been roundly criticized and, by my rough estimate, garnered some 6 gazillion very unhappy replies in the comments section. The writer has apologized, said the post was an insensitive, thoughtless reaction to her own struggles with anorexia. Blah blah blah. That may well be true. While we should be rightfully furious with its writer (a Maura Kelly – who has been published in The New York Times, The Washington Post and Glamour, among others. Also, she loves peanut butter!), we should also see this as a symptom of a larger, more insidious disease we have as a society. This Maura person articulated it almost perfectly.

In our society, we think to be loved you have to look a certain way. If you don’t look that certain way you are unworthy, unhealthy, unhappy, undeserving. If you don’t look a certain way you shouldn’t kiss, find love, walk across a room. If you don’t look a certain way you should be ashamed, disgusted and hate ever fiber of your big, ugly, repulsive body.

What a colossal load of unrelenting horse shit.

Without getting into the flat-out fallacies of Maura Kelly’s argument (all weight can be managed through diet and exercise, etc.), let’s talk about her piece’s casual yet calculated cruelty. It’s a cruelty that permeates our society. It’s fed by the fashion and beauty industries. It’s fed by Photoshopping the already beautiful into impossible beauty. It’s fed by almost every image we see projected and plastered everywhere. This is how you should look, if you don’t look like this how could you possibly be happy? An entire body-shaming industrial complex profits from our continued misery.

It shouldn’t be a radical statement to say that we are all humans and that we all deserve happiness no matter our size, race, sexual orientation, disabilities, whathaveyou. Yet here we are, in the year 2010, and some people are still saying how gross it is that two fatties have the audacity to actually kiss. How dare they be happy, don’t they know?

Treating all people with basic human decency and respect, now that’s fucking beautiful.

My Weekend Crush

I’m not sure even if it is possible to be in love with a multimedia project, but I am. The New York Times, the staid national paper of record, ran an exhaustive special package on the women of professional tennis this week. It came with a fairly standard feature story talking about the state of the women’s game. But oh, kittens – the extras. Everything is in the extras. The project included an online photo essay and video gallery. That doesn’t sound like much until I tell you it’s a slo-mo video gallery of the incredibly fit, incredibly toned, incredibly strong women of tennis hitting balls really, really hard. I mentioned it was slo-motion, right? I am not even going to try to count the number of times I watched these videos back-to-back, on a loop, with the lights dimmed. This is porn, porn for muscles.

[See them all at the source.]

Now, I could get into a long-winded discussion about whether an article about the present state of women’s tennis really needs a blow-out multi-media package featuring some of the game’s biggest and most comely stars in flowing, spangly outfits and immaculate, full makeup hitting tennis balls. Objectification, glamorization, etc. etc., blah blah. But this is not the time or place for that. Instead I want to admire, with every fiber in my body, the dedication and drive, strength and sweat it takes to become a professional athlete. I want to appreciate how hard these women worked to be able to hit that hard. I want to leave small sacrificial offerings at the temples that they’ve transformed their bodies into. I want to marvel at the beauty that comes with strength. In short, I want to watch them play. Happy weekend, all.

Free as a bird now

And now, for some real outrage. The Swiss government has decided to not extradite Roman Polanski so he can finally face justice for his rape of a 13-year-old girl in 1977. He is now a free man. Though “free” is kind of relative considering the majority of his “imprisonment” was being confined to his luxury Swiss ski chalet and grounds. We should all be so lucky.

This puts a sad, sickening end to the spectacle that has been the Free Polanski movement. His supporters are no doubt thrilled, but what are they really thrilled about? That a very rich, very successful, very acclaimed, very entitled man was able to – again – evade justice that is long overdue? This is something to cheer about?

That Roman Polanski is talented has never been the issue. He is talented. “Rosemary’s Baby,” “Chinatown,” “The Pianist” – great films. But talent is not a get out of jail free card. Much discussion has been made around this case (and others) about what responsibility an artist has. As an artist, your greatest responsibility is to make great art. But as a human being, your responsibility is to be good to other human beings. Not all great artists are great human beings, obviously.

Professionally, brilliant. Personally, abhorrent.

While we may quibble some on what being a good human being means, I think we can all safely agree that raping a 13-year-old girl – no matter if it was in the 70s and everyone was doing it, no matter if she had had sex before, no matter if you directed “Chinatown,” no matter if you had a tragic personal life – is not being good to other human beings.

So what, then, is the great injustice of finally facing justice? That he doesn’t want to? That he is too talented to? That he has earned the right not to? Fail, fail, faility fail.

The Internet is often a place it fueled by outrage (that and terrible, terrible spelling). With the click of a button we can register our unwavering anger about anything: two wars, an ongoing oil spill, whether “The Daily Show” is sexist, LeBron James, the iPhone 4 reception problems, how an octopus could be better at predicting the World Cup than every veteran sports analysts, whether a movie where a lesbian sleeps with a man can be good. So much so that we can fall into outrage fatigue. What are we protesting? How many petitions do I have to sign? Will I really need to learn a new chant?

But I hope, most sincerely, that in our exhaustion at everything that is wrong with the world, we can still muster enough righteous indignation to realize that never letting justice be served in a case where a man admitted to drugging and raping a child is wrong. Because that, that is an outrage.

Hello, Modern Lady

Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of American…ladies. My Fake Internet Girlfriend Sarah Haskins has passed her mantel as Funny Lady Business Commenter in Chief to new CurrentTV contributor Erin Gibson. The former “Target Women” host dropped by to give her blessings in the form of the Golden Tampon.

That must be that new model Tampax is testing: “The Niagra,” for those extra, extra, extra heavy flow days.

Erin’s new InfoMania segment is called “Modern Lady.” Her first women target, if you will (yes, I miss Sarah. So. Much.), is reality TV moms who want to pose for Playboy.

Granted, this is no “the funnest yogurt ever,” but it’s a start. I am a little concerned that Erin seems to be targeting the actual women themselves, as opposed to how Sarah targeted the products and media aimed at women. But it’s her first time so we will chalk it up to growing pains.

Erin posted a short video, to let viewers know what she’s all about.

Well, at least we have one thing in common: Neither of us believe in the sun. So, what do you think? A worthy successor to President Haskins? I can’t say she has my vote just yet, but I am willing to listen to her platform.

World according to Emma

Every day could use a little more Emma Thompson, don’t you think? She has always been a favorite, what with her insistence on not futzing with her face and always eating desserts. And every since she make the deliberate decision to take her name off that awful petition, we are free to love her unabashedly again (not that the love ever went anywhere, it was just muted with deep disappointment). Still for whatever reason it’s easy to forget her continued brilliance and constant lovability – I blame her living all the way across the pond. But then she says something so brilliant and so lovable you just want to fly across the Atlantic to knock on her door and give her a big old hug. Well, you would if that damn unpronounceable volcano wasn’t still mucking up the works.

I mean, how else am I supposed to feel when she tells the Daily Mail that she is “a bit of a fundamentalist about all that size zero stuff” and that the only way to combat the ultra-thin mindset is to:

“Put on weight and say F*** off. Demand bigger sizes. Go into places where you can’t get a 38D bra and say, ‘I want a 38D bra and give me one. If you can’t, I am never coming here again.”

See, don’t you just want to hug her for like five solid minutes? Also, who else could look this radiant while walking a pig?

Well, consider this a virtual, cross-Atlantic hug. A few of my favorite moments on the incomparable Ms. Thompson.

Channeling Jane Austen at the Golden Globes in 1995


Channeling her inner Daytonian for Ellen in 1998


Channeling her inner exotic dancer on Ellen in 2006

Told you every day could use a little more Emma.

In defense of Fey-minism

So now, all of a sudden, feminists are mad at Tina Fey. Not all feminists, mind you. I am not so presumptuous to think of feminism as one homogeneous thought block. I consider myself a feminist (with the women’s studies minor to prove it) and, clearly, I am not mad at my Fake TV Wife. Sure we have small disagreements like any imaginary couple, but my love for her as a whole far exceeds any temporary discontent that may arise. That’s how relationships work, you cut people some slack.

Of course, that’s not how idolizations work. In an idolization you put someone on a pedestal, worship them with holy chants and sacrificial offerings and then – as Newton and his apple demand – send them crashing back to earth for the crime, real or imaginary, of displeasing the gods. Tina has been on that pedestal for quite a while, so the backlash was inevitable.

But some are surprised by the source – namely, young feminists.

I, for one, am not all that surprised. To be honest, I thought it would have started ages ago. But ever since Tina’s “Saturday Night Live” hosting gig last weekend the vitriol has risen sharply among some of her most vocal feminist detractors.

The issue, it seems, is her frequent mocking of single women (i.e. the Liz Lemons of the world). And, to be more specific, the number of her SNL sketches that were about sad, pathetic and/or evil single ladies. Witness: the Brownie Husband lady, the slutty golf commentator lady, the creepy crushing on Justin Bieber teacher lady, the 9-inch hooker with a heart of gold lady and the Bombshell McGee (I really can’t bring myself to say “lady” after her name, sorry).

The criticism has been swift and unforgiving:

Sady Doyle at Feministe:

“It seems kind of weird, actually, that someone with so many thoughts on All the Single Ladies (“If you were likable, he would have put a ring on it” — Tina Fey’s Feminism) hasn’t apparently been single since the Clinton administration. But, then again, it’s really not. The women Tina Fey defends tend to have something in common with her. The women she makes fun of tend to have obvious differences. Which is the whole point: Feminism is for women, but Tina Fey’s Feminism seems like it’s for… Tina Fey.”

Jessica Grose at DoubleX:

“…(I)t has come to the point where the pathetic single woman trope is such a constant refrain in Tina Fey's work that one has to wonder what she’s really trying to say.”

Amanda Marcotte of Pandagon:

“When I hear a married woman rant about the evils of sluts out there, I tend to wonder who her husband’s been dicking.”

So much for the solidarity of sisterhood. Isn’t that exactly the kind of behavior we abhor in our own critics? Knee-jerk name calling. We get nowhere when the response to someone calling us bitter single bitches is for us to yell back that they’re smug married cheaters.

Now, I will whole-heartedly agree that Tina’s SNL episode was spotty. It’s always spotty these days. But it had three genuinely funny bits: the opening monologue, Brownie Husband and Sarah Palin Network. That’s more than most Saturdays. Granted, the 9-inch-hooker skit was patently unfunny. It was puzzling and ridiculous. And the show obviously had no faith in it either because it was the last sketch before the goodbye wave, typically the place where funny has already gone to die and is now starting to smell.

And I’ve already detailed my disappointment in her Bombshell bashing without equal time going after the other party involved – namely the philandering husband. Why bag on someone who “looks like a dirtbag’s notebook” and not the dirtbag, too?

But to say that Tina Fey has a problem with single women after those sketches is pretty preposterous. Lest we forget, Sarah Palin is super-duper married and that was the best and meanest skit.

The real criticism that should be leveled at Tina’s SNL stint is that only one sketch paired her with another female cast member. And that sketch, where she played a mom with an unusually clingy daughter, was primarily about the daughter. The writers, it seems, didn’t think two women could be funny at the same time.

The serpent eating its own tail argument that inevitably arises in these kinds of criticisms is that women shouldn’t bash other women. But to say as a monolithic group that females can’t criticize other females is as silly as expecting an entertainer to be a feminist savior. Instead of handing out bad feminist cards, how about we focus on the people who don’t believe in feminism at all.

Let’s be perfectly honest, women who flock to married sports stars and married celebrity husbands are fair game in the mocking department. These are both very bad life choices. Are there a myriad of external societal and economic forces feeding into a woman’s decision to go that route? Sure. But surely we can also call a spade a spade without it being a larger commentary on womankind. Some women do dumb, terrible things. We can make fun of them for it; it’s OK.

Part of this is just the nature of the Internet. Something makes you mad. You type furiously. You hit send. Other people read it, they get mad, they type furiously, they hit send. Deeper reflection and time to cool off is in no way correlated to the ability to press the submit button. Sometimes anger becomes a meme.

The bigger problem, I fear, is with expectation. We demand perfection from our idols and when they fail to meet our impossible standards, we toss them aside. Much the same thing is happening with President Obama among progressives. We are disappointed in some of his decisions and disillusioned by some of his actions. But baby and the bathwater, people. If we keep building people up only to tear them down when our every expectation is not met, what will we have left? Tina Fey has never claimed to be a feminist icon. She is a funny lady who considers herself a feminist. But her real job is to make us laugh.

Rebecca Traister at Salon.com’s Broadsheet blog has a particularly thoughtful take on the Fey-minism fallout. She concludes her post (though really, read the whole thing) saying:

“Feminist comedy cannot always take as its targets the Jesse Jameses and the Richard Nixons of the world. Women also have to be able to mock -- sometimes harshly, sometimes sexually, sometimes intellectually -- the Sarah Palins and the Bombshell McGees, to laugh at our single selves, at our high-achieving selves, at our professional selves and our maternal and sexual and idealistic selves, or we will quickly re-earn a reputation for humorlessness. We can't expect to escape all the mean jokes, or the mean girls. And we can't lay the blame for the often ruthless nature of equal-opportunity mockery at the feet of a woman who never promised to do anything but entertain us.”

As an unmarried, college-educated, food-obsessed, self-deprecating, klutzy nerd I find her tweaking of unmarried, college-educated, food-obsessed, self-deprecating, klutzy nerds hilarious.

My criteria for her work is therefore quite simple: Was it funny? Was it smart?

A hero doesn’t have to be perfect. Most of them aren’t. Thomas Jefferson slept with his slaves. FDR had multiple mistresses. Einstein was awful to his wife. Dr. Martin Luther King plagiarized parts of his doctoral dissertation. These facts do not diminish their accomplishments. They are just part of what it means to be human – we kind of suck sometimes.

The older I get, the more I understand that life is filled with gray area and endless compromise. Youth is the domain of black and white. I can see the other side, if still vehemently disagree, of almost any argument. Well, except for Glenn Beck. There is no reason for Glenn Beck.

The continual critique of feminism and feminists (and let’s go ahead and roll lesbians into that group, too) is that they lack a sense of humor. Our PC culture – which I completely understand and for the most part try to adhere to – demands that we create a buffer zone to protect feeling, egos, psyches and toes. But that’s not how comedy works. Perfect people are not funny. Flaws are funny. Foibles are funny. Fucking idiots are funny.

Certainly, I’m not suggesting that all the women who are criticizing Tina just “lighten up.” That’s the infuriating retort always thrown at women when we fail to laugh at society’s latest date rape joke or dumb slut joke or fat bitch joke. What we need to do is set realistic expectations. I expect a lot from President Obama, because he is the President of the United States . Have I given up on him? No. Do I want him to so better? Yes.

I expect Tina Fey to be funny and smart. Are all her jokes funny and smart? No. Do I still think she is funnier and smarter than almost every other female entertainer working today? Hell yes.

Of course, all this should have been prefaced by the fact that I am deeply, deeply biased. No one talks shit about my Tina. I am Liz Lemon, hear me roar.

Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails

Well, you knew that was coming. You can’t give a little girl a “boy’s” haircut, let her wear pants and play with swords without the world exploding, possibly ending and definitely having a shit fit. Now, I’ve taken note of little Shiloh Jolie-Pitt’s endearing tomboy tendencies for a while now. I think they’re wonderful. Which, of course, means there is something pathologically wrong with her upbringing, possibly evil and definitely worth consulting a panel of stylists over.

Now I’d be angry (and, truth be told, I am angry), if this all didn’t feel a bit calculated. I mean, I don’t honestly think the editors of “Life & Style” think Brad and Angelina are turning Shiloh into a boy. But it sure does make a good headline. And it sure stirs up controversy. And it sure adds to the bottom line. Well fuck that noise. I am not linking the “article,” if you can call it that. But if you must know it calls her haircut “shockingly short” and that it pushes the boundaries into “cross-dresser territory” and even quotes an “expert,” again if can call him that, from Focus on the Family.

Whatever. People who really do feel this way make me mad, obviously, but sad for them as well. Their lives are so limited, their definitions so rigid. Life is wonderful because of its variation and possibilities and freedom. If a little girl wants to cut her hair short, run around in cargo pants and avoid ruffles like the plague, what is it to you? What is so threatening or scary or wrong with letting children just be themselves? Big sister Zahara wears plenty of dresses and frills and traditionally “girlie” clothes. So, clearly, it’s not some sinister plot to reassign the gender of all the Jolie-Pitt clan (though, truth be told, Brad in a dress has its virtues). If more people let their children express themselves freely – wear what they wanted, pursue what they wanted, be who they wanted, love who they wanted – this crazy world of ours would be a much happier, healthier place.

Again, I say, whatever. And get a life, people. Because life really is way too short to sweat the small stuff. And a haircut, that’s not even small – that’s minuscule. Plus, Shiloh’s is adorable. So suck it, “Life & Style.” Hard.