Tag Archives: Television

The Wachowski Sisters and Sense8: Maybe Good Lesbian Media Can Only Be Created by Lesbians

The first thing I thought when I read Kelly Kessler’s essay on Bound and how she gave the Wachowski sisters credit for creating a film that’s “titillating to homosexual men without threatening the heterosexual order” (Kessler, 14) was well, the Wachowski sisters are now both out as trans lesbians… so is their depiction of lesbianism really intended for heterosexual men at all?

I have chosen, in this case, to look at their popular Netflix television show, Sense8. (Cancelled too soon!!!!)  Namely, we are going to be looking at the relationship between Nomi Marks (a trans woman, PLAYED BY A TRANS WOMAN) and her girlfriend/fiancee/wife? (I haven’t seen the finale!) Amanita Caplan. I wanna look at their relationship and how the Wachowski’s representation of lesbianism has become more overtly just for queer women, since they are now publicly out as lesbians themselves, and I want to look at how their relationship subverts several stereotypes when it comes to race and gender.

What I really wanna do is take a look at the iconic first sex scene we see between Nomi and Amanita. The first scene that even shows the two of them at all. Amanita is on top of Nomi and they are both completely naked (the show makes no point of hiding anything). Then there is a finishing, and an iconic dropping of a rainbow strap on onto the ground. This scene is intense in its sexuality, and I believe so intentionally. So often with portrayals of trans women, there is an obsession with cis audiences to see what they look like naked, and the Wachowski sisters immediately take away that curiosity. Amanita is also on top in this situation, subverting the idea that the partner who has/who has had a phalice (Nomi, in this case) is the dominant one in the situation. This also adds another layer of nuance, as  Amanita is often black and black women are often seen in roles of sexual submission.

In this way, Sense8’s representation of lesbianism is fairly similar to Bound’s, using techniques that Kessler describes as, “a more explicit approach to sex which includes more graphic lesbian sex coupled with less graphic moments of eroticism” (Kessler, 15).

There are definitely some instances in this scene that might and definitely will cater to male heterosexual audiences. (The women are both thin and femme, there is the explicit showing of their bare tests, and there is explicitly no bottom half shown of Nomi, letting the heterosexual male audience pretend that, just for a minute, the woman getting fucked is cis) At the same time, however, I cannot help feel that with this new context that the Wachowski sisters are working in, as trans lesbians themselves, the depiction of this scene is intentionally provocative without a care about whether or not it’s going to alienate male heterosexual audiences.

What makes this couple for queer audiences however, I think is solidified not just in their sexual encounters, but in the other sorts of intimacies that Kessler discusses. Another stick out scene of the first episode involving Nomi and Amanita is when Amanita has just defended Nomi in a transphobic encounter and Nomi, tearing up afterwards, has her face cupped and kissed by Amanita multiple times before being brought into a tight hug. This scene, I truly believe, is meant for no one else but queer audiences. It’s such a sweet and tender moment of affection and intimacy between two women who love each other so fiercely, over a situation that heterosexual/cis audiences would never have to experience.

So while the Wachowski sisters may not have been out when they were creating Bound, I believe that they were still trying to portray what it is they portrayed in Sense8, an intimacy between two women that is meant primarily (and in some cases solely) to be recognizable by queer women. Sense8 just gets to be their queer swan song, where they freely are allowed to express their own experiences of being trans and queer on screen without any worry about having to please the cis and straight crowd.

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Aren’t they just too stinkin cute? Image descrip: Amanita, a black woman with purple and pink colored dreads, is looking lovingly over at her girlfriend Nomi, a tall blonde woman wearing a plaid shirt, while they do dishes together.

New Girl, Same Old Sexism

In New Girl, Jess lives with four other male roommates: Winston, Coach, Schmidt, and her (then) ex-boyfriend Nick. In Season 4, Episode 7 “Goldmine”, to start the episode Jess announces that she will be bringing a guy home that night and the she is afraid of telling him that she lives with her ex. Though she is afraid of sharing this information with the new man, Nick explains how he uses it to his advantage with women. This shows a double standard between the way sexual histories are held against women and not men, as well as agency of men over women. Nick’s solution to the problem is to pretend that he is gay now, which is problematic in itself.

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Meanwhile, two new neighbors moved in the loft next door. Winston tries to do nice things for them, in hopes that they will sleep with him. They are portrayed as two beautiful, ditzy and helpless girls. As soon as they open up the door, they are so grateful for Winston to be there because they could not have possibly of fixed the non-flushing toilet. Thank god there was a man there to save them. Not only are the women there to please the visual gaze of Winston and Coach, but they also represent the threat of a lack of a phallus. To satisfy castration anxiety Mulvey says, “The male unconscious has two avenues of escape this castration anxiety: preoccupation with the reenactment of the original trauma, counterbalanced by the devaluation, punishment, or saving of the guilty object” (Mulvey, 35). To exert male dominance and protect himself from castration, Winston tries to save the women from the failures of themselves.

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Lastly, and possibly the worst of all, Schmidt is terribly upset with his ex-girlfriend (at the time) Cece, who considers breast reduction surgery to help her back pain now that she has insurance. He completely objectifies her and has total disregard for her well-being in order to preserve his male gaze. Mulvey argues that women are defined in film by being a passive bearer of the male gaze and men are the active lookers.  Mulvey comments on such objectification of women, such as Schmidt reducing Cece to her breast size, “The determining male gaze projects its fantasy onto the female figure, which is styled accordingly. In their traditional exhibitionist role women are simultaneously looked at and displayed, with their appearance coded for strong visual and erotic impact” (Mulvey, 33). During her consultation with the doctor, Schmidt even barges in and asks to speak to one of her boobs, ignoring the woman they are a part of. It is a gross display of objectification, and I expect better from the writers of New Girl.

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New Girl, Old Ideas

“Hey girl! Whatcha doin?” is the playful and whimsical intro tune to New Girl, but it’s also what I find myself asking concernedly when I watch some of the episodes, particularly “Table 34” (Season 2, Episode 16). This episode’s plot is about Cece, a woman of Indian descent, who goes to an Indian marriage convention to meet an eligible bachelor. As a fan of the show, who is also a woman of South Asian descent, I was excited to finally see an episode revolving around Cece, one of the few Indian American female characters on TV. However, I was deeply disappointed in this episode, due to its problematic portrayal of women and Indians.

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The episode’s first offense is against women as a whole. Jess and Cece, the two female characters in the show, are depicted as one-dimensional characters that care for nothing except the attention of men. This episode doesn’t even pass the Bechdel test, which is ironic considering that the show itself is called “New Girl”. Every single conversation that takes place between these two women is about men: either Cece’s dating life or Jess’s kiss with Nick.

As Laura Mulvey writes, “An active/passive heterosexual division of labor has similarly controlled narrative structure…The man controls the film fantasy and also emerges as the representative of power in a further sense: as the bearer of the look of the spectator, transferring it behind the screen to neutralize the extra-diegetic tendencies represented by woman as spectacle” (34). The characters of Cece and Jess fall prey to this exact division of labor, wholeheartedly. Cece and Jess are not the catalysts of this episode; they are passive, meek, and helpless.  

Cece isn’t approached by many suitors and instead of standing up for herself, it takes Schmidt, a man, to tell the room full of men why she is worth the other men’s time. It not only removes agency from Cece but validates Schmidt’s apparent reverence, especially when the other men only engage with Cece after his speech. Similarly, Jess watches as Sam punches Nick, and as Sam breaks up with her. In the already reductive conflict concerning the kiss between Nick and Jess, Sam, a white male doctor, is the only one who really exercised autonomy. The passiveness that Jess exhibits perpetuates the dangerous idea that a woman should wait around for a man to act, instead of living and taking action for herself.

In addition to the active/passive division of labor, this episode also poses some serious problems with the overlapping ideas of male entitlement to and objectification of the female body and consent. The true episode plot (this will be further addressed later with respect to race) is about Nick kissing Jess in the previous episode, with no acknowledgment that this kiss was non-consensual. Yes, Nick and Jess are the show’s ‘will-they-won’t-they couple’, but to introduce that pair in a romantic setting for the first time and to force the audience to experience that catharsis while witnessing a non consensual kiss is extremely dangerous and normalizes the idea that a man can go around grabbing and kissing whomever he pleases. When Jess faults Nick for the kiss, he starts yelling and says, “You have to take a little responsibility, tarting around in that little soft pink robe, not expecting to get kissed. I’m a man Jessica!”

This quote exemplifies the exact male entitlement that is used to justify non-consensual acts, placing blame on the woman for the man’s objectification of her body, as if it is something for him to lay claim on if he so wishes. This falls in line with Mulvey’s assertion that “woman displayed as sexual object is the leitmotif of erotic spectacle…she holds the look, plays to and signifies male desire” (33). Because Nick’s line is delivered in a comedic way, as he waves his arms about, it lessens the gravity of the implication, but the message sent is that it is okay for a man to prey on a woman because she deserves it, by being in her female body. This normalization is what leads to this quote being listed under “Laugh-Out-Loud Quotes” in online Huffington Post episode recaps.

The show’s second offense is against Indians. As mentioned before, what the entire episode is really about is Nick and Jess, two of the white characters in the show. The one episode supposedly about Cece’s South Asian heritage is overrun by white people, littered with racist stereotypes, and full of negative depictions of Indians. Despite the majority of the episode taking place at an Indian marriage convention that Cece is attending, the show manages to make it about Nick and Jess. In fact, Cece has minimal screen time and minimal impactful lines. Her most powerful moment onscreen is arguably when she has an epiphany about her impulsiveness and life choices. However, her own self-reflection happens in parallel with and serves as a vehicle for Nick’s revelation about his kiss with Jess. This tiny semblance of character development and complexity in the one Indian main character is never addressed again and never resolved. 

There are obvious stereotypes in the episode, from Schmidt donning a kurta and turban to telling Cece, “[Our sex] was about history and memory and thousands of years of colonial suffering all being released in one moment of pure ecstasy”. I have seen this episode four times now, and it shocks me every time. Ryan McMahon captures my thoughts when watching this episode when he writes about The Revenant:

“Is the truth…that it is time the world hear indigenous voices? If so, why were there so few speaking roles for indigenous people in The Revenant?…Will audiences believe that indigenous people shop at The Gap, drink Starbucks, and have really, really normal, boring lives that we’d like to talk about in a simple rom-com– without horses, eagle feathers in our hair, or dirt under our fingernails?”

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Though Indians or Indian Americans don’t have quite the same history of decimation and genocide as indigenous peoples, the sentiment of representation being robbed from a minority echoes just the same.

Further than the obvious racism, though, is the dark skin stigma and negative depiction of Indian women. For an episode taking place at an Indian marriage convention, there is an impressive lack of Indian characters. When the episode isn’t focusing on white people, Indians are used as the backdrop, without any real roles. Just as Julien Gignac notes that The Revenant’s indigenous characters “have unexplained roles”, we don’t see many Indians with positive characteristics. The episode purports the stigma against dark skin when the only dark skin Indian woman with a presence is being shushed by Schmidt. He immediately dismisses this unnamed, dark-skinned bachelorette by saying “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie. Pass.” Not only is any possible depth to this character being literally silenced, but she doesn’t stand up for herself, perpetuating the white savior complex that Karen Hollinger discusses in Feminist Film Studies and Race:

“Spivak argues that colonialist powers justified their conquest and domination of the Third World by seeing colonized nations as ‘previously uninscribed’ and completely silencing subaltern peoples, especially women, who are regarded as subjects of oppression and nothing more” (193).

The only Indian depicted as desirable is Cece, who is a light-skinned Indian, which just sublimates gaze theory which emphasizes the white woman above all other women. Hollinger also writes “gaze theory posits a monolithic male perspective without any recognition that the power of this gaze in invested not in all men, but in White men, and that the object of this gaze is not all women, but White women” (194). While Cece is not white, her light skin, straightened hair, and European features serve as the vessel for the concept of the White woman.

While New Girl is a funny show, it has a lot of work to do in the areas of representation, consent, and sexism. The employment of the oppositional gaze reveals the show’s weaknesses but also highlights the weaknesses of the society that accepts these flaws as comedy.

References:

Gignac, Julien. “The Revenant’s White-Saviour Complex.” The Globe and Mail, 16 May 2018, http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/film/the-revenants-white-saviour-complex/article28320619/.

Hollinger, Karen. Feminist Film Studies and Race. Routledge, 2012.

McMahon, Ryan. “Indigenous People’s Stories Need More than Just Leonardo DiCaprio’s Speech.” Vice, VICE, 11 Jan. 2016, http://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kwx53z/indigenous-peoples-stories-need-more-than-just-leonardo-dicaprios-speech.

Mulvey, Laura. Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. 1999.

“Table 34.” New Girl. Fox. 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment. 5 Feb. 2013. Television.

 

The Magical Negro: a Magical No-No

2010. So close, yet so far away. This year saw the release of the original Samsung Galaxy S, the continued fame of Lady Gaga with the song “Telephone,” and the World Cup in South Africa, just to name a few things.

Also, during the beginning of the year, The Vampire Diaries was halfway into its first season.

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You can tell by their phones

Starting in September of 2009 and running until March of 2017, The Vampire Diaries was centered around the small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia where many supernatural beings lived (including vampires, witches, and werewolves) among normal humans. While the show had a large cast, the main focus was on Elena Gilbert, a normal (white) human, and vampire brothers, Damon and Stefan Salvatore, her (white) love interests. Other important characters included:

  • Caroline Forbes, Elena’s (white) best friend
  • Jeremy Gilbert, Elena’s (white) younger brother
  • Jenna Sommers, Jeremy and Elena’s (white) aunt
  • Matt Donovan, Elena’s (white) ex-boyfriend
  • Tyler Lockwood, Matt’s (white) best friend
  • Alaric Saltzman, the (white) history teacher at Mystic Falls High School and
  • Bonnie Bennett, Elena and Caroline’s black best friend

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Oh, and she’s also the

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Um… maybe… maybe she’s a badass witch who’s living her best life and can be a positive role model for young girls!

*Spoiler* She’s not.

She was consistently used by the main and recurring characters for her powers then largely tossed aside. Throughout a majority of the show, Bonnie fit the stereotype of the Magical Negro very accurately, often protecting the white main characters to the detriment of her happiness, health, and even life. Luckily, the writers added some improvements towards the end of the show but the examples and scenes of her fulfilling the Magical Negro stereotype to that point are too much to cover here. Instead, I will focus on the characterization of the witch Emily Bennett, Bonnie’s distant ancestor, in the first season episode Children of the Damned. Contrary to Bonnie who has some depth and complexity, Emily’s sole characterization is that of the Magical Negro. I was able to enjoy Children of the Damned by using the oppositional gaze to recognize, reject, and find some humor in the problematic dominant characterization of Emily as a Magical Negro.

In the world of The Vampire Diaries, there’s not a lot of black people, most of the black people are witches, and most witches are black people thus creating the perfect formula for the Magical Negro stereotype to flourish.

But what exactly is the Magical Negro stereotype? The following cartoon does a great job capturing the essence of this stereotype:

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This stereotype places a wise magical black side character willingly serving the white main character(s). So why is this a problem? Film critic Rita Kempley explains that, “it isn’t that the actors or the roles aren’t likable, valuable or redemptive, but they are without interior lives. For the most part, they materialize only to rescue the better-drawn white characters.” There are no real complexities to this type of character and their purpose is to serve the white main characters.

Emily is clearly an instance of this characterization. She is Katherine’s (a white vampire) handmaiden in Mystic Falls, Virginia in 1864, meaning she was probably her slave. She had children and as a result, Bonnie is her descendant. And she was a powerful witch. Not much else in known about her.

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I feel your pain, Emily

Here is a short recap of Children of the Damned:

This episode is a mix between flashbacks to 1864 and the present (2010). In the past, the townspeople are beginning to capture vampires while in the present, the characters want to find a journal detailing the location of Emily’s spellbook which holds the key to bringing the dead vampires from 1864 back to life.

In the whole episode, Emily is mentioned and appears for a total of six times: twice simply as a servant for Katherine, once as a silent background character, once while being talked about for her powers, once while being mentioned as a giving Katherine a gift, and finally as the person to go to when vampires are being rounded up. None of these instances really add to her original Magical Negro characterization of a powerful witch handmaiden who eventually had children.

Watching The Vampire Diaries as a tween, I didn’t even know about the Magical Negro stereotype, let alone recognize that Emily and almost all of the black characters on the show fit perfectly inside this stereotype. But by rewatching and using the oppositional gaze, I know had “the ability to manipulate [my] gaze in the face of structures of domination that would contain it, [and opened up] the possibility of agency” (Hooks 248).

I first noticed the small amount of black characters using the oppositional gaze. And while some may argue this is just a coincidence, Greg Smith argues the opposite. He explains that “a Hollywood film is one of the most highly scrutinized, carefully constructed, least random works imaginable” (128). This easily applies to television as well. Although there are smaller budgets, television shows are also a “highly coordinated effort by dedicated professionals” (128). Making the conscious decision to have almost all of the few black characters fit this problematic stereotype has very real-world consequences.

Hooks explains that growing up in a racially segregated neighborhood, “watching television was one way to develop critical spectatorship. Unless you went to work in the white world, across the tracks, you learned to look at white people by staring at them on the screen” (249). This also applies to people from homogenous neighborhoods with a background in privilege and power. A future hiring manager growing up in this type of neighborhood constantly accosted by this Magical Negro stereotype may develop the viewpoint that black people in the real world are simply useful for aiding their white coworkers. It could also be used by “progressive” filmmakers claiming that they are inclusive while supporting a negative stereotype (like in the cartoon above). Ultimately, reducing the opportunity for complex, nuanced, and powerful black characters to that of a simple tool is problematic which I was able to recognize and reject using the oppositional black gaze.

After recognizing and rejecting this harmful dominant interpretation, I was able to find some humor in how ridiculous Emily’s characterization was. She’s an extremely powerful witch, one of the most powerful Bennett witches, and is shown to dislike vampires on more than one occasion. And yet, she helps the vampires blend in with humans and later protects them from the town’s wrath instead of killing them all because of reasons.

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Bonus: a parody of the Magical Negro stereotype from the show Community


Sources

Hooks, Bell. “The Oppositional Gaze: Black Female Spectators.” Reading Images, 2001, pp. 247–264.

Kempley, Rita. “Too Too Divine.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 7 June 2003, http://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/2003/06/07/too-too-divine/6043a39c-3be3-48db-aced-c95d45575b72/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.d3f59ba11a1a.

Smith, Greg M. “‘It’s Just a Movie’: A Teaching Essay for Introductory Media Classes.” Cinema Journal, vol. 41, no. 1, 2001, pp. 127–134.