Bad Feminist

The surrender of privacy and lack of respect for people’s boundaries seem mundane in the Information Age, but people forget that public figures are also humans, demanding the intimate details of public figures’ lives. There is also an intrinsic connection between privacy and privilege, with heterosexual privacy taken for granted. Gay notes that in recent years, LGBTQ+ celebrities like Anderson Cooper have tried to preempt the invasion of their privacy by coming out.

There were a variety of responses to Cooper’s disclosure, but Gay emphasizes the responses that hold public figures to a greater obligation to come out. This indicates a failure to consider why public figures may have been “withholding” information in the first place. At the same time, Gay acknowledges that it is culturally significant when a celebrity comes out because anti-gay bias exists in both society and law—e.g., the bullying that LGBTQ+ youth face in schools, high suicide rates among LGBTQ+ youth, states where gay couples can’t adopt children, and instances of hate crimes against LGBTQ+ people. One prominent example of the discrimination that LGBTQ+ people face is Sally Ride’s widow being unable to receive the federal benefits given to a surviving spouse.

Even insofar as society accepts LGBTQ+ people, it only encourages people who fit certain standards to come out, ignoring others. While Cooper exemplifies the “right kind of gay” and someone whose privileges exempt him from the worst ostracism (166), Frank Ocean represents someone with a lower profile and more to lose by disclosing his sexuality. Ocean came out publicly in 2012, which was particularly significant because he is a “part of the notoriously homophobic R&B and hip-hop community” (167). While Gay acknowledges that many celebrities and fans supported Ocean, she also questions what it means for Ocean’s friend and collaborator, Tyler the Creator, to unapologetically use anti-gay slurs in his music.

Despite the complex cultural climate and the need for mainstream representations of marginalized groups, Gay finds it unreasonable to place the burden of openness and visibility on public figures. Instead, she advocates that members of the ordinary public ask themselves what sacrifices and stands they are willing to make for the greater good.

Gay cites Meg Wolitzer’s New York Times book review highlighting the disparity in the consideration that men and women writers receive. Gay considers it shameful that talented writers have to devote so much time to this issue, and she finds the discourse repetitive. The solution for Gay is simple: The literary world needs to publish more women writers, including actively seeking them out. Intent and effort are all that is necessary to fix the issue.

Gay discusses the problem with the term “women’s fiction,” noting how it is vague and almost derogatory, generalizing the work of women writers and implying that they don’t tackle broad questions, themes, and societal issues. She notes that prominent male writers like John Updike, Richard Yates, and James Salter write about subjects that, if explored by women, would fall under the “women’s fiction” category. Gay posits that there are more similarities between the writing of men and women than there are differences, and she questions why male authorship and readership is the standard by which literary merit is measured.

Reiterating the misogyny behind the “women’s fiction” designation, Gay asserts that she knows the content of her work and that arbitrary designations won’t change that. The responsibility to fix this issue is on male readers, not female writers. While the conversation about misogyny in the literary world is ongoing, Gay wants everyone to remember that the joy of reading is what matters, and she is hopeful that change will come.

Gay recalls a childhood classmate who was ostracized after a joke he made crossed the line. This recollection makes her think about inappropriate humor and how she’s often not proud of the jokes that make her laugh. She admires comedians whose inappropriate humor is delivered skillfully, like Patrice O’Neal, but she finds Daniel Tosh’s comedy unbearable, primarily because of his unapologetic misogyny.

She points out an incident where Tosh made a rape joke, and when a female audience member objected, he followed up with a gang rape joke. Gay concedes that humor is subjective, but she questions how people can find rape jokes funny. She points out the sense of entitlement many comedians feel—the idea that they have the courage to say what others are supposedly afraid of voicing—which she thinks speaks to a misunderstanding of the First Amendment that conflates freedom of speech with speaking without consequence. She also points out the audience’s role, noting that their silence on inappropriate rape jokes indicates tacit acceptance of pervasive sexual violence. What disturbs her the most about the Tosh incident is that only one audience member had the courage to challenge Tosh’s joke, while others sat by idly and even laughed.

Gay hopes that these “young ladies” are joking about their willingness to endure Chris Brown’s violence in exchange for his attention, but she fears that they are serious and points out that they are sacrificing their dignity. She understands their attraction to Chris Brown, but the acceptance of abuse would not be an even exchange. Where the BDSM community requires consent, in the case of domestic violence, there is no control over the situation. Gay points out that the details of the police report from the Chris Brown case indicate that it was not an isolated event.

Gay apologizes to young women for a larger cultural failing: the pervasive messaging that abuse would be a reasonable trade for a celebrity’s attention. As evidence, she notes that Brown went on to perform at the Grammys twice and win Best R&B Album after his violence came to light. She mentions other celebrities, like Charlie Sheen, Roman Polanski, and Sean Penn, whose abusive behavior and freedom from consequences demonstrate the extent to which culture has failed young women. Gay notes that she too has succumbed to celebrity charm in the face of abusive behavior in the form of comedian Richard Pryor.

Gay argues that Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” espouses that women really mean “yes” when they say “no.” While critics have been vocal about the song’s undertones of sexual violence, Thicke was unapologetic and doubled down on his bad-boy persona with the release of “Give It 2 U.” Gay admits that she likes both songs, but the enjoyment comes at the price of disregarding her own humanity. Respect for artistic brilliance versus acknowledgment of artists’ bad behavior is a difficult choice that people often face.

Thicke and other examples in the essay point to how much culture caters to men, giving them what they want at the price of women’s safety. The consistent messaging is that women exist only to satisfy men’s needs and whims. However, misogyny in pop culture doesn’t exist in a vacuum but is part of a broader spectrum that includes everyday disrespect for women’s autonomy as well as national legislation. Gay puts forth the idea of “trickle-down” misogyny, meaning that national legislation makes casual and pop culture misogyny possible, but she also questions whether misogynistic law or misogynistic pop culture came first.

Gay discusses a New York Times article wondering whether support for abortion would grow if more women shared their stories. Gay questions what effect women sharing their stories would have, noting that the responsibility of dealing with oppression should not be placed on the marginalized in the first place. In short, women sharing their stories would become an emotional spectacle, even as those entrenched in their misogynist belief systems remained unmoved. The “blurred lines” are people’s embeddedness in a cultural sickness so pervasive that many cannot help but consume works that reinforce the sickness.

Gay enjoys fairy tales despite her cynicism; she believes there are, or should be, happy endings for everyone. However, she also takes issue with fairy tales that demand extreme sacrifice and compromise from women to achieve the happy ending of finding Prince Charming. She provides examples from Disney films and the Twilight series, noting Edward’s obsessive behavior and Bella’s sacrifices for him, before going on to the main subject of analysis: the Fifty Shades series by E. L. James.

Gay provides a brief plot description, emphasizing Christian Grey’s interest in BDSM and Ana’s desire for a “normal” relationship. She discusses the media frenzy about the popularity of the series, noting that most of this frenzy revolves around the erotic elements. While she understands the series’ appeal, especially because female pleasure is a dominant theme, she argues that a deeper look at the series reveals that it’s really about “a man finding peace and happiness because he finally finds a woman willing to tolerate his bullshit for long enough” (197).

Gay finds the Fifty Shades writing so terrible that it is amusing. She points out some of the plot elements that she finds absurd: Ana’s lack of a gag reflex, Christian being a talkative lover, the rampant materialism, the sex contract between Ana and Christian, repetitive tics in the dialogue, and the personification of Ana’s subconscious and inner goddess. There are also things that Gay finds infuriating and irresponsible. For example, James pathologizes BDSM by making Christian’s interest a result of childhood trauma. Furthermore, James romanticizes Christian’s controlling and abusive behavior and weaponization of sex. Throughout the series, Ana exhibits the signs of an abuse victim, and when she does express her indignation at Christian’s behavior, her righteous anger never lasts long, and she always forgives Christian. Gay concludes that the series reinforces the pervasive messaging that women should tolerate practically anything in order to secure Prince Charming’s love.