(Miss)representations of Women on Screen

     #MeToo. Scroll through Instagram and Twitter. The hashtag is everywhere. While it’s a way for someone to express that they too have been a victim of sexual harassment or assault, it signifies something so much greater: a cultural reckoning. People are using #MeToo across social media platforms to shed light on the commonality of being sexually harassed. Activist Tarana Burke founded the Me Too movement in 2006, while actress Alyssa Milano made #MeToo go viral earlier this fall (Zacharek, Dockterman, and Sweetland Edwards). Public figures are using their popularity to create a safe environment for victims to speak their truths. Most importantly, #MeToo is being used to hold the harasser accountable for their deplorable actions. The hashtag stands for solidarity between survivors but now with so much momentum, each use of #MeToo publicly calls for not only justice and but the sheer acknowledgment that sexual harassment should no longer be acceptable. Using the hashtag is not a shout into the black abyss of social media, rather a call to action, a call for justice and a call for change.

     The brave people who have come forward, the “Silence Breakers”, were recently revealed as TIME Magazine’s “Person of the Year”. Such a distinction is significant because it demonstrates a cultural shift in how our country perceives sexual assault. No longer are decent Americans content with relegating sexual assault survivors to the background. Or more fully, survivors are no longer content with being sidelined and ignored.

While the Silence Breakers range from actresses to singers to British Parliament members, TIME did not limit the distinction solely to public figures. Everyday people, including dishwashers, university professors, hotel and hospital employees are taking part in the reckoning (Zacharek, Dockterman, and Sweetland Edwards). In doing so, TIME is signaling to the world that this movement is not just for famous people, but that every person deserves justice and to be heard. And on the most basic level, to be believed. In TIME’s “Person of the Year” article “The Silence Breakers”, Brooklyn Nine-Nine actor Terry Crews reflected on his experience with sexual harassment as a man, “Why are you questioning the victim here? Let’s flip it. Let’s talk about what the predator is doing” (Zacharek, Dockterman, and Sweetland Edwards). Such a sentiment, coming from a heterosexual male, perfectly encapsulates the temperature of the reckoning: being silent and complacent as a survivor should no longer be the knee-jerk reaction.

By the Silence Breakers being named TIME Magazine’s “Person of the Year”, the way the world reacts to sexual assault will hopefully never be the same. A sense of validation is created in showing the faults of the entertainment industry, as it mirrors what happens in real life, for real people. This is a far-reaching issue. It is not experienced by one gender, sexuality or race. Sexual harassment itself has been misrepresented in the media. Moreover, sexual harassment is not a new issue, merely arising a few years ago. Being taken advantage of is not a new phenomenon. Zacharek, Dockterman and Sweetland Edward stress that “When a movie star says #MeToo, it becomes easier to believe the cook who’s been quietly enduring for years.” A large-scale, highly publicized conversation enables and encourages survivors throughout the world to demand to be heard.

This conversation matters because it reveals how society views women. Or rather, how society wishes women conducted themselves. The ideal woman has her own thoughts but doesn’t express them too brashly. She doesn’t step on toes. She isn’t a shaker or a mover, merely a woman content with what she has, because let’s face it, that’s more than she had fifty years ago and she should be grateful. The way women are treated is not a new conversation to be had in America. Sadly, the Silence Breakers, while they include men, are shedding light on the fact that women are still not seen or treated equally in American culture. How can we fix this? What is the root cause? The New York Times reported in June of 2016 that on average, Americans watch upwards of five hours of television every day (Koblin). With television being imbibed constantly, it’s no wonder certain values are instilled in generations of Americans. Though times are changing and women are trying their hardest to take on more roles behind the camera, television shows still falter inaccurately portraying the female experience. More importantly, though, inaccurate or generalized images of women on television negatively influence the way a young girl develops her identity.

In an industry riddled with sexual misconduct, it is imperative that more females have roles behind and in front of the camera. This would allow for women to offer input so parts of our lives could be more truthfully represented on television, film and in the media. It is important for all generations, but most specifically for adolescent girls to understand that they don’t have to fit a mold they see on a TV screen to be valued. They do not have to sit idly and forgo their agency to be accepted. I wish I had known at 13 that I could live my own life without being consumed with how women looked on television, especially because I did not and still do not look like them. Truthfully representing the variety of ways women exist in the world creates a more welcoming and inclusive environment, thus forming a safe space for young girls to develop their identity, separate of how American culture dictates they should.

Though it has become easier for women behind and in front of the camera to tell their truths on TV, this wasn’t always the case. A prime example is Lucille Ball on I Love Lucy. This iconic situational comedy from the early 1950s changed the game of television. Lucy Ricardo, the main character, was the now-typical suburban housewife, one half of most perfect couple. But, that’s not what made I Love Lucy, and Lucille Ball, one of the most iconic happenings of the 20th century. The sitcom went against the grain, thus changing the way television operated after its six-season run ended.

While women in the entertainment industry are having a conversation about how to gain bigger roles behind the scenes, Lucille Ball was already having this conversation in the 1950s while making I Love Lucy. In a conversation discussing how women should have bigger roles in writing, producing, and directing, it is paramount to see how Lucille Ball became one of the first women to integrate her pregnancy into the show she was starring on. Even though this is what normally happens nowadays, a pregnancy could have been the end of a woman’s career just a few decades ago. Not only that, but there was controversy surrounding even the thought of having her character Lucy Ricardo be pregnant on the show. Saying the word “pregnant” on television was prohibited by CBS (Bor 465). Lucy Ricardo was pregnant on I Love Lucy for seven episodes and not one character ever said “pregnant,” just that the Ricardos were “expecting” or “‘spectin’” (Bitette). What’s even more powerful is that 44 million viewers tuned in to watch Lucy Ricardo give birth to her son Little Ricky Ricardo while only 29 million Americans watched President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s Inauguration the next day (Bor 464; Davies and Smith 37). Such a large difference in viewership showed television writers and producers that pregnancy was not something to be avoided in scripts any longer.

Lucille Ball incorporating her pregnancy into the plotline of I Love Lucy turned out to be imperative for the future of women on television. It acted as an impetus for more pregnancies to be portrayed on television. Ball took the first steps into the unknown world of maternity on television. She was one of the biggest proponents of including the pregnancy on the show. Even though CBS prohibited Lucy from portraying a pregnancy, Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz and the writers did it anyway (Bor 465). Think about some current television shows. How many characters on those shows are pregnant? Other than a cute Tweet or Instagram post, is there much commotion surrounding their pregnancy? Aside from excitement, not particularly. Now, writers of a show simply write in a pregnancy for the character. Examples of this include Jenna Fisher, known as “Pam Halpert” on The Office, Lisa Kudrow as “Phoebe Buffay” on Friends, and Kerry Washington as “Olivia Pope” on Scandal. Or, if an actress is pregnant and it doesn’t make sense for her television character to have a child at that moment, costume directors get creative with bulky coats or big boxes. Recently, Zooey Deschanel’s character Jessica Day on New Girl was summoned for jury duty so Deschanel could take maternity leave. On Sex and the City, both Cynthia Nixon and Sarah Jessica Parker were pregnant during the HBO series’ six-season run, yet neither made its way into the plotline (Donnelly).

A new conversation has surfaced around Sex and the City. Many people and “modern day feminists” have begun questioning if the show provides the feminist attitudes and themes that it has been applauded for in days past. In her article “Can a feminist really love Sex and the City?”, Alice Wignall tries to answer this question. She makes an important distinction, Sex and the City is based on a sex column and book written by the woman Candace Bushnell. However, the show was primarily written and produced by men. So, a disconnect exists between the storyline loosely based on events Bushnell experienced in real life and how men depicted her experience through the lives of Samantha, Charlotte, Miranda, and Carrie. This disconnect is being discussed in Wignall’s article because in men telling a woman’s story, how it is portrayed strays from reality and presents a flawed reality. Sex and the City is praised by some viewers for showing successful, established women living their lives how they pleased while others are upset that the majority of the four main characters’ conversations were centered around the men in their lives (Wignall). Thus, this leads critics and viewers to wonder, if more women were involved behind the cameras of Sex and the City, would the show have more accurately portrayed the female experience?

While inaccurately portraying the female experience on television, some shows take it a step further by normalizing and perpetuating feminine ideals. Mary McNamara, a Los Angeles Times TV critic, contends that a new phenomenon has become a trope on current television shows: socially enforced motherhood. Upon analyzing the shows Homeland and Jane the Virgin, McNamara has concluded that these two shows rely on socially enforced motherhood while portraying characters. According to this phenomenon, women who become pregnant and are not instinctively ecstatic or did not plan the pregnancy are downcasted by society. Failing to immediately love the fetus is correlated with being less of a woman. Such a concept is perfectly manifested in Claire Danes’ character Carrie Mathison on Homeland. Mathison is a CIA agent who was “…treating her bipolar mania with drugs and electroshock” and did not use birth control (McNamara). In addition to not being mentally prepared to be a mother, Mathison intended to get an abortion, then settled on putting the baby up for adoption and then ultimately decided to keep the baby. Upon finding out that Mathison was ambivalent about being a new mom, her sister told her “‘There isn’t even a diagnosis for what’s wrong with you,’” (qtd. in McNamara). A comment like this admonishes a woman for not inherently reveling in her maternity. It aids in perpetuating the expectation that every female is expected to be naturally inclined to be a mother.

Furthering her argument, McNamara explores how the concept of socially enforced motherhood is portrayed on Jane the Virgin. The show attempts to humorously portray an accidental impregnation of a young woman in her twenties who was determined to avoid teen pregnancy all her life. McNamara sardonically points out that the accidental impregnation of Jane is spun as a “Huge Gift” that she must accept. In getting an abortion, Jane would be disappointing the sterile father or it would be like aborting herself because she is the product of an unplanned teen pregnancy (McNamara). Thus, Jane gives birth and mothers the child, as her female duty and obligation in life. These hit television shows that are nominated during award season are being commended for instilling the idea that motherhood arises out of obligation, not a true desire to have children. What would a young girl make of this? This drives home to young viewers a skewed idea of how motherhood operates, almost stripping away a woman’s agency when it comes to choosing to start a family.

Representations of motherhood like this on television are dangerous, because as McNamara notes, “In a world teeming with overpopulation issues, too many of us still view women who don’t want to have children as broken and/or misguided” (“The tyranny of maternity on tv”). This is not to say that such images are inaccurate, but are based on arbitrary ideals of motherhood cemented as ideal in the 1950s. I Love Lucy is just a prime example of the ideal image of maternity. In my experience, those in favor of the traditional family dynamic often cite, clouded by nostalgia and misogyny, the 1950s image of motherhood as their expectation for motherhood in the 21st century. The representations of motherhood from a time when women were confined to the kitchen should no longer serve as the point of comparison for motherhood today.

I cannot stress how important it is for there to be a wide variety of how pregnancy and maternity are presented on television shows. However, those images of being a mom are rendered problematic if they rely on generalizations or heavily-gendered norms. I feel so strongly about this issue because my own mom is a homemaker. After marrying my dad in 1995, they both decided that my mom would stay home to raise the children. My mom, who initially didn’t want any kids, had four daughters. I feel like I have robbed my mom of her own life. My sheer existence has come at the cost of my mom putting her career aspirations on hold. With each daughter she had, returning back to work was sidelined for a few more years. Eventually, there was no time left. It was 2017 and life was drastically different than when my older sister was born in 1996.

When I asked her why she did it, she told me, “I didn’t want to pick you up from daycare and have a teacher tell me that I missed your first steps or first words. I wanted to be there for the important moments.” This is the quote I have heard moms say time and time again. Additionally, I have heard mothers say: “Being a mother is the ultimate sacrifice.” “I felt so aimless until I was a mom.” “My kids are my life.” “I didn’t realize you could love someone more than yourself until I had kids.” “As a mom, your kids’ needs are more important than your own.” Whether they are moms you encounter in real life, celebrity moms plastered on the cover smutty magazines, or moms on television shows, these statements are practically inescapable. When contrasted to the fact that dads are not expected to give up their careers to raise the kids, this is very revealing. Thinking about my family’s structure, my dad went to work, came home, ate dinner and watched television. Meanwhile, my mom was responsible for transporting me and my three sisters to and from school, doing the laundry, making sure the bills are paid and putting three meals on the table each day. The domestic sphere was my mom’s office. Sacrificing one’s career or sidelining ambitions is merely part of the territory when it comes to being a mother. However, there is more to the female gender than our rearing capabilities. And I am here to tell you, our value as a gender does not derive from our eagerness to raise children, regardless of what television tells us. I am not a better, more appealing female because I comply with the norms presented to me. Stand up. Fight back. Ask questions. Be curious.

So, with more women taking on more roles in the creation of television shows, I believe adolescents girls have a better chance to develop an identity that is not rooted in a patriarchal-based version of motherhood. With more women taking control, more women will benefit. Everyone will benefit from life being more accurately portrayed on television. Because while it impacts how a female develops her identity and interacts in the world, it also influences how men understand gender roles. At its core, this is an issue that impacts everyone. A solution will benefit not just young girls, but young boys, grown women, and grown men.

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