* What kinds of challenges do you think The Runaways faced in the 1970s?
* Is the music industry more accepting of women today, or are women still expected to act a certain way?
* What was unique about the band The Runaways?
What We Think:
In the age of Lady Gaga, Britney, and, of course, Madonna, it’s easy to forget that women didn’t always dominate the music charts. In fact, if you were born after 1980, you may not even realize the stifling sexism that once reigned supreme in the industry. Enter Joan Jett and Cherie Currie. In The Runaways, we get to see what it was really like for teenage girls to take on the chauvinistic music scene in the ’70s. Based on Currie’s autobiography, Neon Angel, the film takes you on the gritty journey the five-girl group took from complete obscurity, to meteoric success, to a devastating downfall. The film doesn’t go out of its way to glorify the girls’ sometimes self-imposed trials and tribulations, and you get a realistic glimpse of the consequences that go along with reckless sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. But make no mistake: the movie isn’t a cautionary tale of what happens when trouble-making girls get to the top. Joan, Cherie, and the rest of the band persevere against intensely ingrained stereotypes to prove that women can rock hard and make history. (by Michelle Konstantinovsky)
* Why would the girls in the video want to dance in order to make Ludacris appear?
* Does Ludacris respect these girls who are “calling” him?
* What product is this video selling?
* What kind of behavior is this video promoting for women?
* How does this video make you feel?
What We Think:
This reminds me of a modern day “Bloody Mary” story. Only instead of a crazy, haunting ghost, Ludacris appears in the mirror, which is equally terrifying. I cannot think of a better example of how women are supposed to get a man by dancing and dressing provocatively. In order to lure Ludacris to come into their bedroom, girls must seductively dance in front of the mirror. Then when the mirror portal is broken, the short guy plus two creepy men in face masks chase the girls down the stairs and magically, yet forcefully, removes the girls’ clothing. So the bonus of getting Ludacris to appear is to be chased around and have your clothes ripped off of your body. . . Interesting. (by Juliet Weintraub)
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Jennifer Heath
Radical Media (the company that produced this video)
Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan get violent in Eminem's "Love the Way You Lie" video
How would you feel watching a domestic abuse victim admit her desire for more pain? What if the cycle of violence were enacted by two celebrities, alternating between scenes of fierce aggression and passionate love?
What if all these images were set to a number-one, radio-friendly rap hit? Would you call it glamorization of a serious issue or a creative public service message?
Never one to shy away from controversy, Eminem recently released the new video for his single featuring Rihanna, “Love the Way You Lie.” Starring Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan in a (literally) fiery relationship, the video is causing a big debate among music fans and domestic abuse prevention experts.
I have to admit, I’m torn on the matter. My first instinct is to scoff at any form of media that attempts to employ Megan Fox in a meaningful way (she, of the eloquent quotes, like: “I resent having to prove that I’m not a retard — but I do.”).
It also makes me absolutely uneasy to watch Rihanna, who repeatedly spoke out about her abusive relationship with Chris Brown, coo to the camera,
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that’s alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that’s alright because I love the way you lie.
And though I can’t deny being a fan of Eminem’s lyrical skills and serious talent, it’s no secret that he’s had his own violent past with ex-wife Kim. The song, allegedly about the couple’s roller-coaster relationship, even includes the disturbing lines, “If she ever tries to f—ing leave again/I’mma tie her to the bed and set the house on fire.”
The thought of MTV’s target audience interpreting the frightening lyrics and engaging images as sexy or glamorous is completely revolting. But to play devil’s advocate, there are some positive points to the video as well.
Though it’s easy to pick on Megan, she performed quite an admirable act by donating her fee for the video to Sojourn, a facility that helps battered women and their children.
And some experts believe that depicting the chilling realities of domestic abuse can help spread awareness. Stephanie Nilva, executive director of sexual assault and trauma resource center Day One, told MTV News, “The most important thing the video is doing is raising the topic of dating violence among young people.”
My own personal jury is still out, but feel free to form your own opinion on the video below:
Blame it on the alcohol. Or the insanely sexist media messages seen in this guy's video.
Jamie Foxx blamed it on the alcohol. About-Face fan Elizabeth Dodd blames it on pervasive sexist viewpoints in the media.
Jamie has the honor of gracing our Gallery of Offenders, and Liz thinks there are plenty of others in the spotlight who deserve to join him.
Read what the New Zealander has to say about show business chauvinism:
Hi,
I just had to say I love your site and I agree with everything you are saying. In regard to the Jamie Foxx song/video: yes, it shows such a sexist point of view.
I feel that the balance of power is always going to be weighted in only one group’s favor: heterosexual men. In videos such as this one, there is often a cross-section of men portrayed that includes types that are “ordinary,” balding, overweight, dressed in silly costumes, etc. But there is usually only one type of woman shown (i.e. a gyrating, curvy, sexy, “hot” one).
This once again gives the message to society that men are okay no matter what they look and act like, while women have to look and act like super-sexy fantasies at all times.
When do we ever see a huge cross-section of women of all ages, sizes, and levels of ordinariness surrounded by only super-hot men?
There is only one group that would want to be in this scenario, and that’s heterosexual men. Only they would desperately want to be in this mix where there is no competition and it’s just them and their goofy mates.
I see this formula everywhere in the media — a huge variety of “acceptable” and “lovable” male characters and only attractive female ones. It’s never made clear that this is only one point of view made up of male fantasy and male sexuality; not fantasy and sexuality in general.
Just had to vent.
Cheers and thanks for your site. )
Liz in New Zealand
Thanks Liz! Check out the video that got this reader riled up:
Beyoncé’s new video for her track, “Why Don’t You Love Me?” has been a hot topic of debate recently on a bunch of blogs we read.
The clip features Beyoncé as “BB Homemaker,” a character that pokes fun at stereotypical depictions of both the pin-up model and the seemingly-happy-but-secretly-unhappy 1950s/1960s housewife.
Beyoncé prances around in the video doing all the activities a housewife or pin-up model might do. Except, as a housewife she is quite inept. At one point she is doing some dusting in a sexy dress, but when you look closer, you realize she is dusting off a row of gleaming Grammy Awards. Then she’s trying to bake some cookies, but she’s actually just throwing flour around in her underwear. She also burns some kind of roast she’s cooking. And gardening seems to be more about looking fabulous than anything else.
It’s hard to criticize this video. My first instinct is to just enjoy and not analyze. But there are a few interesting issues that arise, whether Beyoncé intended to address them or not.
We're used to seeing white representations of 1960s housewives, such as Betty Draper
Over at Feministing, Ann argues that the video is transgressive because it depicts a black woman in two roles typically associated with white women.
Latoya at Jezebel, who responds to the post, claims Ann’s logic is flawed:
If these images are associated solely with whiteness, it’s because the history of women of color has been systematically erased, deemed unworthy of inclusion in the general framework of ‘the way we were.’ There were upper middle class black women in the 50s and 60s, even entire enclaves like Striver’s Row in Harlem. However, one did not have to be upper class, or even upper middle class, to be a housewife.
Although Latoya has an excellent point, Ann’s argument that a woman of color playing these roles is transgressive is still valid; the history of women of color has been systematically erased to the point that women of color are not typically associated with these roles in the mainstream media, so Beyoncé’s portrayal is therefore still challenging stereotypes. Here’s a black woman poking fun at roles the media has typically shut her out of, and doing it gleefully.
Plus, these are roles for women intended largely to please men, and Beyoncé is mocking the hell out of them. Set against the lyrics, this satire becomes even more meaningful.
Let’s take a look:
Now, now, now, honey
You better sit down and look around
Cause you must’ve bumped yo’ head
And I love you enough to talk some sense back into you, baby
I’d hate to see you come home, me the kids
And the dog is gone
Check my credentials…
I give you everything you want everything you need
Even your friends say I’m a good woman
All I need to know is why?
Why don’t you love me?
Tell me, baby, why don’t you love me
When I make me so damn easy to love?
And why don’t you need me?
Tell me, baby, why don’t you need me
When I make me so damn easy to need?
I got beauty, I got class
I got style, and I got ass
And you don’t even care to care
Looka here
I even put money in the bank account
Don’t have to ask no one to help me out
You don’t even notice that
…
I got beauty, I got heart
Keep my head in them books, I’m sharp
But you don’t care to know I’m smart
Now, now now now now now now
I got moves in your bedroom
Keep you happy with the nasty things I do
But you don’t seem to be in tune
Ooh…
…
There’s nothing not to love about me
No, no, there’s nothing not to love about me
I’m lovely
There’s nothing not to need about me
No, no, there’s nothing not to need about me
Maybe you’re just not the one
Or maybe you’re just plain… DUMB
Beyoncé is saying that she “makes” herself easy to love, but the guy doesn’t love her anyway. In the end however, she realizes she is worth loving for all her qualities—smarts, ass, class, etc., and that he is “dumb” for not loving her. In combination with the video, in which the character of BB Homemaker makes fun of all the things she is supposed to do to make her man happy, the message seems to be that the idea of trying to make yourself lovable for a man’s sake is ridiculous.
Of course, the delivery of the message isn’t perfect. There are some mixed signals in the video and in the lyrics. At times, Beyoncé is playing the role of the pin-up quite straight, gyrating in sexy outfits to prove she is a desirable sex object for other, wiser hetero men. Latoya at Jezebel really gets to the core of the issue when she quotes a post on Beyoncé she previously wrote for Racialicious:
“…the woman Beyoncé portrays always defines herself against a man, and any empowerment she receives is from severing herself from one man and into the arms of another or attracting more male attention.”
This is exactly what’s happening in “Why Don’t You Love Me.” Nevertheless, I have to admit that I loved this video and I think that as long as we watch it without expecting Feminism with a capital “F” from Beyoncé, it’s worth admiring for its comedy, its camp and Beyoncés bomb body. Not to mention, of course, her wicked voice.
The other night I was on an endless bus ride to San Francisco’s Richmond District (all journeys to the Richmond seem sort of endless, don’t they?) and the song “Bag of Hammers” by Thao with her band Get Down Stay Down (video below!) came on my shuffle. “Man,” I thought to myself, “Thao is so awesome.” And then, “Why haven’t I written a blog about her?” And then, “I’m totally going to write a blog about her.” And here we are.
I started this blog wanting to talk about how fantastic Thao Nguyen is as a band leader, and how rare it is these days to see quality, intelligent, interesting music being made by female-led bands, and how often women are left out of being leaders of the independent music scene. (There are exceptions, obviously, but for the most part, bands are fronted by dudes, and girls fall back to bassist or keyboardist or something other backing position.) Then I started reading about Thao’s history, and I was blown away.
Thao Nguyen is kind of a hero, and by “a hero” I mean “my hero, but she should be yours, too.” As stated, she’s a brilliant singer, songwriter, guitarist, beat boxer, entertainer, and woman. What I didn’t know was that she formed her first band while she was pursuing degrees in Sociology and Women’s Studies (my heart is beating faster as we speak), that she’s a Sisters on the Planet ambassador for Oxfam America (faster still), and that she’s involved in all kinds of social justice organizations here in the Bay Area and beyond (I might pass out). Her blog regularly contains her thoughts on important and often undiscussed women’s issues, and she’s always intelligent and articulate.
Thao, front, with her band, the Get Down Stay Down
Her music contains interesting stories about relationships, both familial and romantic. On “Body,” she chastises a lover who takes her for granted: “What am I, just a body in your bed? / Won’t you reach for the body in your bed?” In “Feet Asleep,” she sings about her relationship with her mother from her mother’s perspective, expressing the pride and sadness that come with watching a child grow up and leave.
My favorite, though, is “Swimming Pools,” off of her debut LP, We Brave Bee Stings and All. The song is a call for organization and advocacy now in order to create a better world for future generations: “We, we brave bee stings and all / and we don’t dive, we cannonball / and we splash our eyes full of chemicals / just so there’s none left for little girls.”
But even if you don’t like your music political, Thao is still fantastic. Her voice is quirky yet soothing, her lyrics are intelligent, and both of her LPs are just straight-up fun. So do yourself a favor and check out her two full-length releases, We Brave Bee Stings and All and Know Better Learn Faster. You’ll be supporting a great artist and a great woman, and you won’t be disappointed.
Have you heard of Kiely Williams? She was a flash in the pan of my adolescence as a member of girl group 3LW, and later found fame in Disney’s The Cheetah Girls, but now she’s trying to ditch her good-girl past and reinvent herself for an edgier audience. That’s fine; artists do it all the time.
What’s not fine is that for her choice of comeback anthem, Kiely has decided to release “Spectacular,” a song that attempts to be sexually liberated but instead encourages binge drinking, unprotected sex, and rape. Some choice excerpts: “woke up in the morning, couldn’t get out of there fast enough;” “I hope he used a rubber or else I’ma be in trouble;” “I can’t believe I blacked out.”
Sounds awful, right? An experience that you definitely wouldn’t want to re-live? Not in this song: “even though I don’t remember his name, he could have it again if he wanted it.” And why? “Because the sex was spectacular.”
Really, Kiely Williams? This is the message that you are putting out there? Even though you just had sex with a stranger and are maybe pregnant and might have an STD and are, by your own words, ashamed of your actions, you would do it again? Because the sex was spectacular?Really?
Other people started asking those same questions and pointing out that the events of this song sound suspiciously like date rape—you can’t consent to sex if you’ve blacked out!—which prompted Kiely to release this message:
Young women across the country get intoxicated and have unprotected sex. That’s a fact. I recorded the song to bring attention to this frighteningly prevalent activity. It is absurd to infer or suggest that I am condoning this behavior.
Are Lady Gaga and Beyoncé advocating murder with the Telephone video? Of course not. … Is Academy Award winner Mo’Nique a proponent of incest because of her portrayal of Mary in the movie Precious? Clearly, the answer is no.
I wrote Spectacular and made the video to bring attention to a serious women’s health and safety issue. Please don’t shoot the messenger.
The problem with this explanation is that it’s not true. This song and its accompanying video do nothing BUT condone unsafe sexual practices. Comparing the lyrics and images in this video to a performance like Mo’Nique’s or an obviously campy, over-the-top show like Gaga’s doesn’t make any sense. Mo’Nique is clearly the villain in Precious; her actions are framed as unquestionably negative. Gaga and Beyoncé are kitschy; they’re cartoon characters in a make-believe world.
This video, on the other hand, is real. It’s incredibly true to life, and it does nothing to show Kiely’s “character” as a criticism of culture, or even a cautionary tale, or even someone who is making poor decisions. It presents binge drinking and unprotected sex as fun, consequence-free activities.
She’s right that these things happen all the time, and she’s right when she says that they’re serious issues. But she is dead wrong when she claims that this video in any way speaks out against what is a very serious health and safety concern for young women. If anything, it’s contributing to the problem.
Dakota Fanning as Cherrie Currie and Kristen Stewart as Joan Jett in The Runaways
I confess: I didn’t know about the band The Runaways. I’d heard some of their music, but I didn’t know their story—they were finished by the time I was born. So I was grateful to be able to watch the spectacular tale of the first all-female rock band unfold on the screen in The Runaways, director Floria Sigismondi’s first feature film.
The movie focuses on lead Singer Cherie Currie, played by a grown-up Dakota Fanning, and guitarist and vocalist Joan Jett, played by a very un-Bella-like Kristen Stewart. (Stewart’s performance in this film, by the way, is fantastic.)
It’s 1975 and girls don’t play electric guitar, or, as The Runaway’s manager Kim Fowley puts it later in the movie, it’s a time when men only want to see women “on their knees or in the kitchen.” Then all of a sudden there’s a group of talented, kick-ass girls on the music scene—rebelling, experimenting, and rocking crowds.
One of the film’s most interesting focuses is the way Currie and Jett deal with the pressure to exploit their sexuality for the sake of success—an issue still very relevant in the music industry today.The movie opens with a drop of blood splattering on the sidewalk. It’s Currie’s. She’s fifteen, she’s just gotten her first period and apparently, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Two minutes later she is in her sister’s boyfriend’s car and the boyfriend has just found out that Currie is now a “woman”; this revelation prompts the boyfriend to put a hand on Currie’s knee and make a sexual comment. Currie looks disgusted and sort of shocked but doesn’t seem to know how to react.
Cut to the first time we see Jett. She’s in the men’s section of a vintage clothing store. After the clerk points out her “mistake,” Jett points to a guy in a black leather jacket and says, “I want what he’s wearing.”
The real Runaways in 1975
And as different as their characters begin, so do they end up.
From the very creation of the group, band manager Kim Fowley, played by Michael Shannon, asserts that The Runaways are selling sex: The music is just a bonus. He picks Currie out of a crowd at a bar after deciding a blonde is just what the band is missing. She is only fifteen and he is thrilled: “jail-f*&^ing-bait!” he exlaims. And it goes on from there, with Fowley teaching the entire band of teenage girls how to exploit their sexuality for the sake of the audience’s desire. This, he tells them, is the only way they’ll become successful.
Sound familiar?
Jett and Currie react to the commodification of their sexuality in very different ways. Currie buys into it, deciding that the best strategy is to use this sexual “power” to her advantage.
Jett, on the other hand, refuses. She doesn’t conform to set standards of female sexuality, does her best to focus on the music and sees Fowley for what he is–a salesman out to market his product in the most effective way possible. In the end, Jett’s story is one of empowerment and Currie’s is one of caution.
Although I doubt Jett and Currie’s realities were so black and white, I think the contrast in the film pushes the viewer to reconsider how she herself deals with the pressure to exploit her own sexuality.
It also reminds us that we haven’t come very far.
There are still more Cherrie Curries than there are Joan Jetts. And young girls, maybe now more than ever, are enthustiastically buying into the idea that sexual exploitation equals self-empowerment.
OK, About-Face readers, I’ve let you in on a lot of personal stuff in our time together. So now, it’s time for another secret knowledge bomb: I seriously love Drake.
Canadian rapper Drake stays fly while managing to not disrespect women everywhere
I love a lot of things about him—his beats, his flow, the way he carefully appeals to my ultimate hipster music fantasies (sampling Lykke Li, Santogold, and Peter Bjorn & John on one record? Yes please!)—but what I love the absolute most is that I can love him without feeling like I need an apology for his lyrics. It’s not like when I listen to Li’l Wayne and I have to either block out the degrading words or pretend that they’re ironic, or when Akon comes on and I just change it because I can’t handle how disgusting his lyrics are. No. There’s none of that with Drake, and that’s my favorite thing about him: the girls in his songs are actual girls. He has actual relationships with them. As a female listener, I don’t feel excluded or degraded or disrespected at all.
That’s not to say that Drake’s record, “So Far Gone,” is some kind of heroic feminist piece of hip-hop poetry. There are, of course, cursory references to hos (in “Successful,” he longs for the “money, cars, clothes, and hos” that come with being a rap superstar), and, of course, hints that he is a typical player (in “Forever,” he brags about “tellin’ mad girls they the one for [him],” but he isn’t going to call them). But a mainstream hip-hop record like “So Far Gone” would be out of place in the genre without these references. And, unlike the lyrics of many of Drake’s contemporaries, these instances are not vitriolic. They’re not violent or mean or sexually degrading; they’re just mildly unpleasant and reveal the misogyny of the genre as a whole.
Take, for example, the video for his single “Best I Ever Had.” It seems, at first glance, a typical exercise in female objectification: girls in skimpy basketball uniforms stretch suggestively in front of the camera, breasts bouncing and faces impeccably made up. But at the end of the video, something hilarious and amazing happens: the “sexy” girls lose their big champion basketball game to girls who are tall, strong, and dressed for sport. When Drake’s team loses, he seems distraught: “I don’t know what’s happening out there,” he says, confused until one of his team members points out that Drake only taught his team how to stretch.
The video is an awesome bit of commentary on the objectification of women, even if it does ultimately end up rehearsing what it’s criticizing by using women’s bodies to get attention for the male artist. It sort of encapsulates Drake as a whole. He drops these references to getting money and getting women, but spends far more time declaring his love for one girl (“Little Bit”) or talking with love, care, and concern about the lifestyle of the girl he’s in love with (“Houstatlantavegas”), or reflecting on the end of a long relationship (“Let’s Call it Off”).
Drake’s no savior, but he definitely makes mainstream hip-hop that I can listen to without feeling creeped-out, marginalized, or objectified. This is an experience I’ve never had before, and I love it. So, thanks Drake. I appreciate it.
When you look at today’s pop music scene, it’s easy to become discouraged. Women in song, in music videos, and on stage are expected to be oversexualized and Barbie-doll beautiful, and it seems as though talent has taken a backseat to sex appeal.
But in this gloomy musical landscape, a few bright lights stand out. One of these is the brilliant Marian Call, an Alaskan singer-songwriter who describes her style as “acoustic folk funk with a twist of jazz.”
Others, like the memorable nerd anthem “I’ll Still Be A Geek”, deal with being a female geek in a society that expects women to care more about sororities than sci-fi.
Quite a few of Marian Call’s songs express the joys and frustrations of being a woman who is passionately unique, and unwilling to conform to society’s image of what a woman “ought” to be like. The title track of her recent album, “Vanilla” is a good example.
She sings:
I’m not sexy, but I really want to be
I hear that’s normal for my demographic
I don’t look good in skirts, and even wedges hurt my feet
And I can’t keep a straight face and say ‘orgasmic’
Oh, I’m not hip, but I really want to be
All the bands I like you’ve heard of, and I watch too much TV
And I’m not cute, and I think too hard to be sweet
But not enough to get a real job or converse insightfully –
This is the part where you politely disagree.
My virtues are vanilla at best, but you can always call on me.
When asked about the meaning of the song, Call wrote, “I’m grappling with a very narrow definition of sexy here, the shallowest imaginable MTV bad girl diva dancer definition. Have no fears for my self-image; it’s just fine.”
Marian Call is a highly intelligent and talented woman, and she doesn’t have to perform in tiny leather outfits to prove it.
Support talented women in the arts! Visit www.mariancall.com to find out more about Marian’s music and lyrics; you can also follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/mariancall.
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