Girls Don't Deserve It

“Blurred Lines” is undeniably catchy. I do a little shimmy to it in the car every damn time it comes on. But “Blurred Lines” is also undeniably sexist. I’ve only watched the video in full once, because watching dudes in suits preen while nearly naked (or in the unedited video’s case, plain-old naked) women strut for their pleasure is too much for my little feminist heart to take no matter how catchy the damn song.

Granted, a lot of music and accompanying music videos are sexist. But there’s something about the sexism of the “Blurred Lines” video – especially the orgy of objectification in the unrated version where it’s literally just topless girls bouncing around while Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams leer at them – that makes my skin crawl. Look, I love naked ladies – a lot. A LOT. But respect is at the heart of that sometimes blurry line between objectification and appreciation. And I don’t think a song where men brag about being “big enough to tear your ass in two” really respects the women it sings about. Even worse, it plays its casual sexism off as so, so cool – like objectification chic. Plus don’t get me started on all the douchey hashtags.

So over the weekend I was happy to hear about a great feminist parody response to “Blurred Lines.” About time some gals tweaked (not twerked, dear God, not twerked) the concept. And my, did they tweak. The video “Defined Lines” is by a group of University of Auckland law students - Olivia Lubbock, Zoe Ellwood and Adelaide Dunn. The parody was part of the Law Revue show, which included some 40 other comedic skits. Fantastic, no? Also, it’s good for us gals and our gay boy friends. So much beefcake in white briefs. Turnaround, fair play, all these things.

Of course, this being the man’s world the ladies sing about, the video was briefly banned from YouTube because it was deemed “inappropriate.” Never mind that both the PG-13 and R-rated versions of Thicke’s original video are up and have never been banned. Luckily, the parody video was restored and can now be viewed and enjoyed in full. I mean, how can you not love a song that includes the words “misogyny,” “chauvinistic,” “emasculate,” “vibrator,” and “castration?”

Of course, again, this isn’t the first time YouTube’s seemed blurry on the concept of a double-standard. Another gender-swapped parody of “Blurred Lines” posted back in July got slapped with an age inappropriate filter (which since has been removed, thankfully).

So now, when “Blurred Lines” comes on the radio, I’m still going to shimmy. But I just might change the lyrics. So we can fuck this man’s world, indeed.

You down with R.B.G.

It’s badass ladies of a certain age week here at Surrenders. So it’s already a true fact that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is a certified badass. The 80-year-old (R.B.G. if you’re nasty) has been on the highest bench in the land for 20 years and in that time she has been a champion of women’s rights, abortion rights, gay rights and voting rights. If you recall, she asked the epic question during the DOMA hearings about skim milk marriage:

They (the 1,000-plus benefits offered to married couples under federal law) touch every aspect of life. Your partner is sick. Social Security. I mean, it's pervasive. It's not as though, well, there's this little federal sphere and it's only a tax question. ... And so he was really diminishing what the state has said is marriage. You’re saying, no, state marriage [is] the full marriage, and then this sort of skim milk marriage.

And she was, of course, among the majority who overturned DOMA and found the Prop. 8 proponents did not have the standing to bring the case and essentially overturning the proposition as well. And this weekend she became the first Supreme Court Justice to officiate a same-sex marriage. On Saturday she presided over the wedding of Kennedy Center President Michael M. Kaiser and economist John Roberts. Factoid: R.B.G is a huge fan of opera and close friends with Kaiser. Another Factoid: R.B.G. will be conducting another same-sex wedding this month. Counter Factoid: Justice Clarence Thomas performed (one of) the weddings of radio windbag Rush Limbaugh. Yeah, now you’re even more down with R.B.G.



Also, you’ve got to love the snarky precision of some of her arguments. In writing the dissenting opinion of the Court’s gutting of the Voting Rights Act she wrote:

Throwing out preclearance when it has worked and is continuing to work to stop discriminatory changes is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.

And when asked a couple of years ago how many women on the Supreme Court would be enough, she answered – naturally - nine:

Also, have I mentioned she beat cancer twice, has a penchant for lace gloves and has her own dedicated Tumblr blog called – what else – Notorious R.B.G.

Not what the Doctor ordered

Boring. Perfectly acceptable choice, perfectly fine actor, perfectly predictable result. No spoilers, just another white male Doctor Who. Like I said, boring. I mean, sure, instead of being a young white dude this time we have a slightly older white dude. Huuzah! Because middle-aged white men get so few breaks in this business, you know?

But it’s no so much the news from this weekend about 55-year-old Scottish actor Peter Capaldi taking over as Doctor Who that’s upsetting. And, yes, I know he’s a very good actor and very funny and very all of those good things. It’s that once you’ve been offered a glimmer of hope at a smorgasbord of endless wonder, to be given the same – albeit slightly older – dish seems a terrible disappointment. Really, mashed potatoes, again? I mean, I like mashed potatoes – who doesn’t. But, again?

That’s the thing about the world, the more we see the more we grow. And the more we’re exposed to, the more we want to see. I want to see great shows with great diversity because it opens the door to a whole new world. More can mean more interesting. Sure, not always. Sometimes less is more. Sometimes. But more gives us the chance to tell a different kind of story. A female doctor, a doctor of another race, a LGBTQ doctor. Anything, something. Just not more of the same. Same can be quite good, but it will never be more.

I watch shows like “Orange Is the New Black” and “The Fosters” and, yes, even “Glee” and I see racially, culturally and sexually diverse casts not led by a single white male and it is glorious. But they are still the exception, not the rule. NBC’s new fall lineup is entirely shows built around male leads. Time yourself and try to name 10 shows on broadcast primetime TV with non-white and/or non-male leads (that are not primarily a large ensemble show without a definitive lead) in less than a minute. After Shonda Rhimes creations, it gets damn complicated.

Look, TV producers, the time is now. The world is big. Take a chance, be different. Stop giving us mashed potatoes and expecting us to keep getting excited with each subsequent dish. And stop insisting it’s us ladies who keep telling we will only accept mashed potatoes (Really, Stephen Moffat, really?).

What I lament in the latest Doctor Who announcement isn’t the actor, who I am sure will do a fine job. But the missed opportunity to give us something so very new and so very exciting. Just like our taste bus, our minds need new flavors to stay alert. In a world that’s always bigger on the inside, why keep giving us the same superficial outside? Seems a shame, sweetie. A damn, damn shame.

p.s. I for one think they should have bent space and time and made River Song the next doctor. I mean, they fly around in a blue police box with a swimming pool in the basement, anything is fucking possible.

Gravity of the Situation

It’s not too often I get excited about a movie that I’m almost certain will fail the Bechdel Test. But in the new space thriller “Gravity,” I just might be. It’s been another predictable summer of dudes blowing up shit at the box office. Superheroes, soldiers and spectacularly stupid stuff have crammed the theaters. The two movies I was most interested in seeing (“The Bling Ring,” “The Heat”) I missed because I’d rather spend my weekends supporting shows with amazing female casts (“Orange Is the New Black,” “Orphan Black,” “The Fosters”) that are the rule, not the exception. Don’t worry, I’ll catch those movies on Red Box of Netflix or whatever some lazy Sunday afternoon in the future. p.s. I did see “The Conjuring” in the theater which was quite good with an amazing cast and did pass Bechdel’s Test because talking with another woman about a demonic ghost totally counts.

But for now only one trailer has me most mesmerized and ready to perhaps head back into the theater. It’s “Gravity” a lost-in-space drama about two astronauts literally adrift. If you check out the on-screen cast it’s only Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. Like, no kidding, those are the only two characters in this piece. The film is from director Alfonso Cuarón, the man behind “A Little Princess,” “Y Tu Mamá También,” “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” and “Children of Men.” And fucking hell trailer makes it look like your worst nightmare. If it’s possible to feel claustrophobic in the endless expanse of space, these clips do it.





At Comic-Con, Cuarón told the press he got predictably sexist pushback from the industry about having a female lead. Like, why do we even need one? This is a movie about space, chicks don’t need to be in space. A report from Women in Hollywood quotes him as saying:

When I finished the script, there were voices that were saying, 'well, we should change it to a male lead.' Obviously they were not powerful enough voices, because we got away with it. But the sad thing is that there is still that tendency.

You know, of all the genres, women have actually done quite well for themselves in science fiction. Think Ripley in the “Alien” franchise, think Sarah Connor in “Terminator” franchise, think Dana Scully in “The X-Files,” hell, Princess fucking Leia!

So while this movie more than likely will fail Bechdel’s golden rule about having two named female characters who take to one another about something other than a man, I think it will still advance our presence on that final frontier.

Quarterback Rock Star

Anyone here old enough to remember the movie “Quarterback Princess?” Helen Hunt, high school football and big-league sexism. Having not seen it in 30 years, I’m naturally rather fuzzy on the details. But from what I recall from watching it as a kid was it was pretty damn cool. Yes, yes – I know, they had to tack on the “princess” part. Yet 30 years later, the “quarterback” part is still pretty damn rare. But the good news is even though quarterback princesses continue to be the exception instead of the rule when it comes to people’s perfection of football, there are plenty more Tami Maida’s today who can’t wait to put on the pads and hit someone – hard.

Take, for example, Sami Grisafe. She is the quarterback of the world champion USA All-Star Team for the International Federation of American Football. That’s tackle football, people, women’s tackle football. Team USA beat Team Canada to take home the 2013 Women’s IFAF championships earlier this month. This is the second time the women have competed for the championship, the first time was in 2010 when Team USA won the inaugural event (it’s played every three years).

Before the game,QB Grisafe busted out the National Anthem. And before you roll your eyes, she was good – really good. It helps that she also sings professionally. And did I mention she’s an out lesbian lady? Great arm and a great voice and a great big gay? Better bring a helmet, ladies, there could be some pushing and shoving in line to buy her a drink.



p.s. For more on the USA All-Star Team, visit their documentary site The Tackle Girls.

One Woman Army

After a weekend of revelry, comes reflection. There’s so much fight left – not just for marriage equality, but for all of the fights. The fight for our basic voting rights (oh, hadn’t you heard, racism is over according to the Supreme Court) and for our right to control our own bodies (oh, hadn’t you heard, men know what’s best for women according to men) continues. But never let it be said that one woman cannot make a difference.

Davis’ epic 12 and a half hour filibuster, and stirring people’s filibuster that followed, was one of the clearest demonstrations of the citizenship’s ability to speak truth to power. The hundreds in the Texas statehouse and hundreds of thousands who stayed up into the wee hours of the night to watch the drama unfold online bore witness to the as one woman, Texas State Senator Wendy Davis. She stood without sitting, eating, drinking, leaning, using the bathroom or anything other than speaking in an effort to kill SB5, a radical anti-abortion bill. The bill would criminalize the procedure after 20 weeks and force all but five of the state’s abortion clinics to close their doors. That’s five clinics for more than 26 million people. So in essence, they all but eliminated women’s access to safe and legal abortions in the second most populous state in the union.

The Republican-led legislature did everything they could to shut her up. So many men deciding if a woman could speak about laws affecting all women’s bodies was exactly the problem. In the end they ruled talking about sonograms during an abortion debate was off-topic as her final warning. This while state after state tries to force women to have invasive sonograms before getting abortions. Off topic, indeed. But the people revolted, first chanting “Let her speak,” and then roaring when with minutes to go they tried to conduct a vote. (Special high five for bad-assery as well for Texas State Senator Leticia Van De Putte, who raced from her father’s funeral to fight for women’s rights). Then after they tried to claim the bill passed, even though the vote completed after the midnight deadline, we knew better because we were watching.

But despite everything Wendy prevailed, we prevailed. Of course the very next day Gov. Rick Perry called another 30-day special session to try to pass the bill again. This is the second special session he has called to pass the bill, at first you don’t succeed and all. Each special session, it should be noted, could cost voters up to $800,000. So for two that’s $1.6 million. Gee, is there anything else more useful taxpayer dollars could be going to? Nah, definitely just legislating women’s bodies.

In doing so, Texas lawmakers showed their profound misunderstanding of the concept of government of the people. Because instead of listening to their constituents’ righteous ire, they dismissed it. The Lt. Gov. called them an “angry mob” and the Governor described it as a “breakdown of decorum and decency.” Meanwhile people who come armed to the teeth with loaded assault rifles to peaceful rallies filled with mothers and children are true patriots. Got it.

To add insult to injury, on Thursday Perry went and explained Wendy Davis’ mistakes in life to her at the National Right to Life conference. Saying as a child of a single mother and teenage mother herself it was “unfortunate that she hasn't learned from her own example.” Oh, thank you, sir – you really do understand the female experience so much more thoroughly than us females.

In the end, the horrendous Texas bill may pass after all. No one can filibuster for 30 days straight. The Republican legislature certainly has more than enough votes to force it through. But what Wendy did, what the people did that night, will not be in vain. vain. It mattered. They may pass this bill, but we are all watching now. And we’re angry. We’re so angry. And we fucking vote.

How a Hart beats

I’m not even going to. I just wanted to share. I can’t begin to set-up. You know what, just press play. Press play and when you’re done laughing and hitting replay and laughing again, we’ll talk.

[Appropriately long pause to allow for laughter, replaying and more laughter.]

Yeah. I know. Right, so that was Hart, who also goes by Heartbeat, who is a young gay comedian from Southern California and is, as you can clearly see, very funny. Also pretty fearless. Also very, very funny. Also loves watermelon. And has adorable dimples. Yeah. I know. That just made my whole damn week, possibly longer.

Want more? Subscribe to Hart Beat’s YouTube channel right here.

Hold a candle

I, like countless other gays, watched the Liberace glitztravaganza “Behind the Candelabra” over the weekend. Part of it was because who can resist that much rhinestone. And part of it was to see how one of the world’s most famous postmortem gays lived his life in the closet. And, OK, part of it was to see Michael Douglas and Matt Damon kiss. But I found myself having another interesting reaction to the film. This reaction at first may seem contradictory considering yesterday’s post, but – if you really think about it – is actually complimentary.

I wish they’d shown more sex between Douglas and Damon. Most of the sex scenes were the standard-issue kiss followed by the fade-out and finished with the sweaty roll off into crumpled sheets. You know, Movie Sex*. Sure, we saw a bare tush here and lots of man pecs there. But there was no full body shots of them engaged in anything sexual and only one fleeting in flagrante scene that served mostly to as a plot point to highlight how Damon’s Scott started out firmly against drugs only to later descend completely into them courtesy Dr. Startz**. It was, all in all, pretty tame. Though keep in mind this is a film made for HBO – a network currently reveling in the exposure of “Game of Boobs and Butts Thrones.”

So does the double standard remain? In mainstream and mainstream-celebrated films, does lesbian sex and gay male sex get the same treatment? If you compare reports from “Blue is the Warmest Color” and evidence from “Behind the Candelabra,” the answer would still be a hard “No.” Same-sex sex between women is celebrated and same-sex sex between men is still makes folks squeamish. Maybe this is because straight men – who are all too many of the creators and also consumers – also get off on lesbian sex, but shrink from the idea of two fellas getting it on. Also female nudity – gay or straight – has always been more casually accepted than male. Sure, you’ve got your Harvey Keitels and Michael Fassbenders who gave us the full monty. But it’s almost easier to count the actresses who you haven’t seen naked than those have. Le sigh.

It’s about time that cinema – literally and figuratively – nutted up. It’s 2013 and if a critically adored movie can feature “impressive scissoring” by on-screen lesbians then it can also feature impressive love-making for the fellas, too.

* We could talk for weeks about how bad, unrealistic, misleading and often unsexy all Movie Sex is in the first place. But, heavens, who has the time. Fade out.
** I would, however, watch an entire movie of Rob Lowe’s plastic surgeon/nightmare factory Dr. Startz.

A different kinds of Blue

For the first time ever a lesbian drama won the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival. Over the weekend the three-hour French coming-of-age film “La Vie d’Adèle” (“Blue Is the Warmest Color” for English audiences) won the Palme D’Or, a prize that was preceded by gushing reviews from critics and frequent breathless mention of its 10- to 15-minute graphic sex scene that made the audience stand up and applaud when it was over. Reviewers of the scene in question have, generally speaking, done the literary equivalent of rent a neon sign that read “HOT LESIAN SEX” and turned it on for all to see. My friend Heather had a nice round-up of reviews of Le Scene over at AE yesterday.

To sum them up:
“writhing, moaning erotic hunger,” “fingering, licking, and, as a friend called it, ‘impressive scissoring,’” “undeniably titillating” and “red hot.”

Now, I am no prude. As yesterday’s post might suggest, my sense of humor might run more blue than some and believe you me I like a hot lesbian sex scene as much as the next gay lady. So it’s not the scene so much that has me perplexed, but the focus on the scene. I guess it’s inevitable. Sex sells everything from cars to deodorant, and it’s been a part of the movies since the first images flickered across a screen. So if the sex gets some folks in to see quality drama, maybe it’s worth it. I just wish one didn’t have to be such a selling point to get us to enjoy the other.

Though, to be fair to critics, they didn’t only wag their tongues at the sexysexytimes. Most also praised rich emotional portrayals and dense character journeys in the film (which was based on a graphic novel). And raves have also been handed out to its stars, Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux, who play 15-year-old Adèle and blue-haired art student Emma – two young women who meet and begin an intense relationship. So that alone has me excited for the film to hit American theaters. Though, this being a French movie, I’m ready for inevitable crushing heartbreak. I love you, my French friends, but your movies tend to depress the living crap out of me – but in a good way. Mostly. Just thinking about “The Dreamlife of Angels” makes me eat a whole box of chocolates.

In conclusion: Rich Lesbian Drama + Hot Lesbian Sex = A Whole Lot of People Are Going to Be Going to Reading Subtitles Soon.

Comedy Call

You know how you love all the Jon Stewarts, Stephen Colbert, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Fallon, Chris Rocks and Louis C.K.s of the world, but sometimes – no matter how funny the boys can be – you just want a really funny lady to make you laugh? Of course you do. That’s why we love the Tina Feys, Amy Poehlers, Wanda Sykes, Melissa McCarthys, et al of the world. Well now add another one. Get ready to get “Inside Amy Schumer.” Comedy Central’s newest sketch show is the perfect antidote to all often too Testosterone soaked humor on the network. There are only so many riffs on dudes getting hit in the junk, exposing their junk in humiliating ways and/or consuming disgusting junk that can be made before you yearn for a more feminine touch.

This is not to say that women must be stereotypically feminine to have this feminine touch. (Or that all dudes revel in junk humor). But I say that because women bring a feminine perspective to humor that is all too often lacking. And that’s what I love about Amy’s new show. While I haven’t loved every single sketch, most of them are refreshing and – most important – hilarious. It’s not that it’s “chick humor” as if there is such a thing. Women can be just as crass and crazy and craven as the fellas – if they want to be. It’s that when most our representation of humor is being given from a male point of view, we’re missing a whole lot of funny. That’s it’s important to get more female comedy writers on shows. And why it’s important to get more female comics in the spotlight. Because more perspectives ultimately means more funny. And isn’t that the whole damn point in the first place?

“Inside Amy Schumer” airs at 10:30 p.m. Tuesday nights on Comedy Central. Set your DVRs ladies, and discerning gentlemen. But don’t take my words for it.




Also, have I mentioned out comic Tog Notaro writes for her show? Yeah, told you you’re definitely going to want to watch.


p.s. More on Tig later. So much more.

Vacation Vixen: Angelina Jolie

So much has been written and gossiped and mythologized about Angelina Jolie over the years it’s hard to remember sometimes that she is a real human person leading a real human life. But yesterday, at midnight, when her essay about getting a preventative double mastectomy posted to The New York Times, it was impossible to think of her as anything but human. A real, honest, brave human.

I have known women who decided to have preventative double mastectomies because they carry the so-called breast cancer gene, BRCA1. And I know it is a very difficult, very personal, very courageous choice. Women should never be judged for wanting to control their own bodies or trying to save their own lives. The sad reality is too few women have the option Angelina had. The test for the gene is expensive and the surgery and breast reconstruction afterward even more so, if your health insurance will even allow it. Or if you have health insurance in the first place. But all women should have the opportunity she had. Shouldn’t a smart health care system want to prevent fires before they start instead of only rushing in after we are engulfed in flames?

What Angelina Jolie did was her choice. Though when you hear that having the procedure made her go from having an 87 percent to an under 5 percent chance of developing breast cancer, it seems like a no brainer. Still she did not have to tell the world of her decision, but did so to raise awareness, create change, express solidarity. So much of our body image as women can be wrapped up in our breasts. But our bodies never define us, only describe us – and even that is just the superficial that the eyes can see. We are, all of us, just humans. Humans who want to stay healthy and be around for the people we love and who love us for as long as we can. Even one of the most beautiful, rich, famous women in the world. Only human, also brave.