Ovaries Abound in TV Land. And it is Good

We are officially in the swing of a full-on fall TV season, and it's tastier this year than last. (No shit, I think Nikita is the only show from last fall that I still watch.) A couple of cancellations so far (Playboy Club, NBC's Hank Azaria comedy Free Agents) with more to come in the next couple of weeks, but lots of shows don't suck. Some are even awesome: Person of Interest, Revenge and Hart of Dixie, to name a few, are all great or kick-ass or sweet. There's a little something for everyone.

I've been enjoying a lot of the stuff I've seen from a purely entertainment-driven point of view (it makes me laugh, or cry, or goes all twisty and cool,) but as is my way, I've also started looking at everything from the female-oriented-armchair-feminist angle and have stumbled into a moral quandary.

Do I watch a show with female leads if the show itself is complete and utter crap? If the characters attempt to be three-dimensional, do I owe it to my sisterhood to try to suffer through bad writing and ridiculousness in order to let the network know that I appreciate them putting women in lead roles? I think I know the answer to this (hell no I don't owe anything to anyone and we should never reward crap TV ever ever ever) but the initial quandary made me think of what I want from my female characters and how this year's crop of new and returning shows have depicted such complicated and wonderful (and terrible) women and girls so far.

There are more female leads on TV right now than I can ever remember seeing before, and a wide selection to boot. A lot of the time women are vacant cyphers or used to inspire envy or lust, or they're supporting players who exist to stroke the male lead's, er, ego. They're saintly grandmas, teen vixens, or (on the reality TV side,) shrill, gold-digging harpies with no discernible talent or skill (Real Housewives, I'm looking at you.) But in this season's scripted fare we have rich girls, broke girls, cops, flight attendants, talk show producers, surgeons, teachers, spies, moms, bartenders…all of our inimitable facets are represented, for the most part, except for the over size 8 crowd. Sorry, my beloved Melissa McCarthy, one overweight woman starring in a sitcom does not a fair playing field make. Especially when the gimmick of the show is that the leads are fatties.

You are amazing. I miss Gilmore Girls.

But I digress.

So I like to watch women on TV, and I want them to be as complicated and assured and occasionally insane as myself and every woman I've ever known. They can be hotter than anyone I know, because it's TV and that's how it rolls, but they must also be smart, or caring, or ambitious, or devilish, or all of those. I want women who are modern and independent -- women the Taliban would, like, totally go all sharia on. And I want them to be shown making decisions that women make, every day. 

With these standards in mind, I took a look at the women on my small screen this season and tried to figure out if it's positive progress for my gender or if the show runner has ever even heard of the Bechdel Test.

Grey's Anatomy is a show created by a woman, a rarity in TV, and seems to have an easier time  making its female characters complex. This season the bar has been raised, though, since (SPOILER!) Christina Yang actually followed through with an abortion. When main characters get pregnant on TV they either have a baby or a miscarriage, period. Even in 2011 abortion is too alienating for the mainstream, but to have Yang (a driven, ambitious surgeon with no desire to have children) come to term would have been so far out of character that it would've undermined everything we faithful viewers know about her. The fact that Yang's onscreen husband supported her no matter his desire for a kid, well, I don't know if men like that really exist. But it was done brilliantly.

Parenthood is a quieter, less showy family drama that assembles an amazing cast, but the standouts are Mae Whitman and Lauren Graham as daughter and single mother. Their relationship is codependent and real. Erika Christensen's portrayal of a career woman who can't have a second child is heartbreaking, Monica Potter's balancing act of work, unemployed husband, teenage daughter, autistic son, and newborn baby is superhuman.

They're BFFs. With weaponry.

Nikita is one of the rarest breeds of all -- an actiony/spy thriller with women at the head. The two lead spies: women. The head of the shadowy black ops organization Division: woman. The mouthpiece for Oversight, the politicians who keep Division in check: woman. Maggie Q (Nikita) is an action star in her own right, and she kicks the crap out of people in her own stunts. Lyndsy Fonseca is Alexandra, Nikita's protege and current enemy, and their relationship is the heart of the show. Nikita has a boyfriend, sure, but their romance is back burner stuff. The really gripping emotion comes from the women and their dysfunctional interaction. Like when Nikita breaks Alex's arm and shoots her (for her own good.)

Fringe has the distinction of having a female lead strong enough and compelling enough that she played three different characters last season. THREE. This year she's playing two, sometimes in the same episode. FBI Agent Olivia Dunham is repressed and icy with almost everyone, but she's also professional and smart and very, very good at her job. Actor Anna Torv gives Olivia the smallest hint of vulnerability, but not enough to ever make her a victim. JJ Abrams launched this show, the way he launched Jennifer Garner in Alias -- he seems to have a gift for writing deep women.

The Good Wife has plenty of male characters, but the most intriguing interactions are between Julianna Margulies, Christine Baranski, and Archie Panjabi. When Baranski's liberal attorney makes time with a conservative hotshot and makes no bones about her politics: awesome. When Margulies rains hell down on Panjabi for sleeping with her husband: delicious.

NEW SHOWS!

There are only a few weeks to go on with these new programs. With some, like Charlie's Angels, I can't stomach the thought of watching any more just to see if the women are likable. I got exactly 9 1/2 minutes into the pilot before lines like "I didn't know my heart could hurt this much" made me turn it off and throw my remote at the screen. That show is, in fact, the reason I wrote this post in the first place. First class terrible, but did I owe it a full episode before I dismissed it? I'm going with no. I always give new shows two full weeks, sometimes three, to impress me or repel me. Always. I just could. not. do it. Luckily there are plenty of promising programs full of women with the potential to be authentic and compelling.

I like the hat. Suck it.

Prime Suspect has been a fantastic showcase for Maria Bello. She's closer to middle age than post adolescence, unlike most female stars on TV, and that alone is enough to make me watch. But then she's is dead sexy with her deep voice, fuck-you attitude, and general irritability. And it's all shot in New York, so, bonus.

Pan Am is about flight attendants in the '60's, sure, but this ABC show has depicted less sexism than the set-in-present-day Prime Suspect. While that may not be realistic, and the lessons Pan Am tries to teach about women's lib aren't exactly subtle, the women ARE the show. And aside from their lily whiteness (a problem 90 percent of TV shows share) the women show a decent range of personalities. And it's fun.

Revenge pits the Madeline Stowe's vindictive matriarch against Emily Van Camp's vindictive daddy's girl in a glossy, soapy showdown in the Hamptons. The backstabbing and plotting is like an 'roid rage version of what actual women do to each other on a regular basis. We should stop that.

Ringer stars Sarah Michelle Gellar as the TWO leads, a challenge to which she rises admirably. But this show loses points for making the only other regular female character a woman whose husband is cheating on her. With her best friend. After she gave him babies. Maybe a future episode has her setting their bed on fire.

Dr. Hart tends to a local--it's tick paralysis!

Hart of Dixie stars the lovely Rachel Bilson as a surgeon whose ambition got the better of her and kept her from developing any bedside manner whatsoever. So she ships herself off to Alabama to learn how to be nice to people. Refreshing to see a woman who doesn't fit into the "caring, communicative, sweet" category that stereotype dictates. Even if she is punished for her lack of empathy. And while her main rival is a woman, she also goes out of her way to treat patients who are girls, while subverting the good ol' boys network.

New Girl is cutesy and goofbally, but Zooey Deschanel makes her character Jess an individual with no real desire to impress anybody. A woman who would like to date but doesn't want to stop wearing yokel teeth for fun is an excellent example of a modern woman who doesn't make me want to gag. Unless she's singing to herself, because that grates. Take a point away for having Jess' best friend be a model, as if Deschanel were an ugly duckling.

Suburgatory has two cool girls in it so far, but the rest are pushy busybodies, Barbie-pink-fake-boobed-soccer-moms or their vapid offspring. Seriously, do high school girls still call other girls "lesbian!" for wearing military boots? Really?

Charlie's Angels. Don't know if these girls are awesome and layered like onions. Don't care. There are too many other shows to watch that have held my interest and gotten writers who were over the age of eight to craft their dialogue. Sorry.

I know I'm forgetting shows. A lot of them probably, since I haven't even touched cable. Women this year are rocking the bejeesus out of the small screen, and although there is zero improvement in female employment behind the scenes (boo) the world is seeing more even-handed and intriguing representation of women now than they were last year. Nothing bad about that.

"Fat Person" is Not a Career Path

I have a real problem with Carnie Wilson. Not just the regular issues with her that everyone has—I have an issue with her being professionally fat. For the last 10 years she has been on countless shows, in countless magazines, relating her struggle with weight. Celebrity Fit Club, a new reality show, Carnie Wilson: Unstapled…And this week she’s on Dr. Oz, talking about how to lose her extra weight “forever” this time. Seriously? She’s the only C-lister you could find who has extra jiggle? She’s one of millions of Americans who have this same problem, and millions of people would give their right arm to have access to the nutritionists, doctors, and personal trainers that her money can provide for her. Thousands of people apply for the chance to be on “The Biggest Loser” every season, but Carnie’s the best you could get? The neediest person? No.

So to watch another interminable segment with her crying, talking about how she screwed up after her gastric bypass (also something millions of people wish they could afford) is just too much for me to take. Carnie! You can sing. You can write a book. But you should be taking responsibility for your own mistakes, not trotting them out on national television. How much longer are we supposed to care about your inability to follow directions? Do you want us to feel sorry for you? I don’t feel sorry for recovering drunks who fall off the wagon and crash their car into someone’s house. So you get nothing.

Is That a Lesion?

Navigating the waters of the uninsured has turned me into the most disturbing kind of hypochondriac--my husband’s sinus pressure is really a festering infection that will pop his eye out of its socket; the black spot on my molar is a day away from sending me into septic shock; every little sniffle is the first step on the way to pneumonia.

“But Christine!” you say. “You live in San Francisco! Public health care and hippy-dippy herbalists abound!” And you’d be right. I used Planned Parenthood as an idiot teenager to gain access to birth control, and it cost practically nothing. Like five bucks. But I walked in to PP a month ago and was told that I should be able to afford almost $400 to have a strange doctor invade me with a cold speculum. I exist in a gray area that isn’t quite poor enough for assistance and can’t afford to dole out the cash for private health coverage. Birth control, full price: $80 a month. Asthma meds, over the counter, which don’t work that well: $100 a month. Every time my husband rides his bike to or from work I have to pray that he doesn’t get hit by a car, because a broken limb would mean us moving in with my in-laws. In Fresno.

So while we try to save up a few extra bucks to join the Healthy SF program, I’m convinced I shouldn’t leave my house for fear of contracting an insidious bacterial strain of the disease du jour—swine flu, rickets, scurvy, whatever. What if I get shingles? Or scoliosis? What if Brandon’s tennis elbow is really a tumor? What if everything we hope isn’t a tumor IS a tumor? So as politicians worry about abortion getting federal money and wealthy insurance companies going broke, there are people like me who slip through the cracks. Public health care must exist, if only so I can go outside for a walk without worrying that I’ll get hit by a car and get parked in a hallway at SF General.

Your Kids Need to Masturbate

A teacher in Utah (figures!) is under fire for "crossing a line" in her 8th grade sex-ed instruction. While the school won't give any details about the alleged misconduct, a parent is quoted as saying his kid learned about "anal sex, oral sex, masturbation, mechanical instruments to enhance masturbation and historical instances of self-abortion with a hanger." Are 14 year olds too young to hear any of this? Recent statistics have shown that oral sex amongst junior high students has risen meteorically in the last decade; so they're already familiar with the concept. And even when I was in junior high there was always the girl that was kind of slutty and did things other girls wouldn't. Don't you think that if kids (especially girls) were taught the truth about the exchange of sex for power they would be less likely to make bad decisions? They might be less likely to try to keep that hot guy by objectifying themselves and giving away the cow for free, so to speak.

Now, I'm not really sure why the discussion of anal sex would come up in 8th grade, other than to tell the girls that it's not true that women like it or that it's not really sex. This "not really sex" attitude can be directly tied to the proliferation of abstinence-only education, by the way. Telling teenagers that intercourse is a sin and will either saddle you with a baby or give a disease that will make your parts fall off only leads their underdeveloped brains to think, "Well, then, I'll avoid real sex, but stick whatever I want wherever else I want and it doesn't count!" And if the majority of this country is so hot and bothered to reduce the number of abortions women get, wouldn't historical instances of the terror of illegal abortion help them make up their minds about risky sex? If they were getting proper birth control education, also, we would have a real chance to reduce abortion rates. Instead you get idiot girls who just learned to shave their legs having babies that are doomed to grow up and repeat the cycle. These are the people who end up on Maury Povich, you know.

And the masturbation information? AWESOME. Boys get a crash course from the minute they hit puberty, obviously; but girls are left twisting in the wind when it comes to honest discourse about their bodies and what we're built for. Masturbation is just as important to girls and it has been to boys since time immemorial--more so, I think, since girls are usually the ones prostrating themselves for approval and using sex to get love. If all teenagers spent more time fondling themselves at home instead of groping in a car or wherever they do it nowadays, we'd all be better off.

Originally written 6.08

I Grossed Myself Out Today

KGO topic: the clap. There is a marked increase in cases of chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis in the United States, and Gil asked the fundamental question: why are we wasting money on abstinence-only education? Federal money is actually preventing children from getting accurate safe sex and birth control information. Federal money goes to programs that hope-to-God teenagers don’t figure out how their bodies lock together. Federal money is NOT preventing junior high girls from having oral sex in record numbers. And as a feminist aside, someone needs to tell these little boys the meaning of the word reciprocation. You see where I’m at on this subject. So I needed to book a guest who was all about the “purity” and waging war on popular society and its slutty, slutty ways.

It happens rarely, but sometimes I have to call an organization that runs counter to everything I’ve ever believed in. I booked that crazy family member from the Fred-Phelps-Church-of-Abhorrent-Behavior not long ago; I had to be nice to John Bolton when I talked to him; and today, I booked Leslee Unruh. She is the head of an abstinence clearinghouse, as well as a true-believer in the anti-choice movement. Planned Parenthood practically has a dossier on her. I’m inherently mistrustful of females in the business of legislating other women’s bodies. Men who do it are just ignorant idiots, but women who do it are missing a piece of their soul. The fact that this woman is also a homophobe is just icing on the bile-cake. But I needed her to talk to Gil about her side, the foreign side, the side I will never ever get. And she did a good job, objectively speaking. But it disturbed me on a profound level that I had to be conciliatory to someone like that. That I had to use my phone voice and that I had to waste my effervescent wit on her. Those were jokes I’ll never get back!

But people like her need to exist in order to provide me with contrast. Without that side’s promotion of shame and restriction and close-mindedness, I have no context. No one to be the wrong to my right. No one to inspire me to arm myself with the knowledge I need to be an able foe to my ideological nemeses.

Wow. I’m like Buffy The Ignorance Slayer.

Originally written 11.07

Hillary Clinton and I Are Not Your Bitches

From Stanley Crouch: "On TV, Clinton seems by turns icy, contrived, hysterical, sentimental, bitter, manipulative and self-righteous. In short, dehumanized by the mysterious dictates of technology, she takes on qualities that most people hate."

 She has been called a ball-buster, a whiner, an ice queen; her suits are mocked, her displays of non-robotic behavior are mocked; Chris Matthews has thrown away whatever journalistic integrity he might have clung to before by being openly biased against her.  Under the guise of a tough political race, Hillary Clinton is being defined by her gender.  I don't care if you don't believe it.  When women like Camille Paglia go so far as to chastise her for not connecting with today's feminists, and women across the country are still pissed off by her decision to stay with her husband after he cheated on her, we are not playing on a level field.

And I'm over it.  The first time I was ever called a bitch I was ten years old.  Not because I was mean to someone, or malicious, or rude; but because I spoke.  I have always been unabashedly opinionated.  I have never suffered fools, or b.s.  Even at the age of ten I was defiant in the face of societal gender traps, and expected everyone else to follow suit.  I am not defined by my gender, I am defined by my intelligence.

I've been called strident, obnoxious, loud; the favorite of my high school peers in the '90's was "dyke."  (Short hair, skater clothes, and avoiding dances could really set you back at that time.)  Girls are not well rewarded for being independent thinkers, not if it comes with a forthright personality.  You can be smart, but don't be all flashy about it.  You can have opinions, but not too many, or you're uppity.  You can be ambitious, but don't aspire to jobs men already dominate.  I get called agressive, when a man would be called assertive. 

Hillary Clinton is perfectly qualified for the Presidency.  She's smart, savvy, and well-connected.  She's already two up on the current President right there.  Her choice of pantsuits is irrelevant.  Her decision to stay with her husband is irrelevant.  If I hear one more person refer to her voice as shrill, I'm going to lose it.  And my voice doesn't do that upper register thing, so it's nothing but irate verbal evisceration if I get that mad.  Anyway, Bill Maher and Chris Matthews are often shrill, and never get called on it.  And President Bush is practically illiterate.

Don't define me, or Hillary Clinton, by our lady parts.

Originally written 9.08

Carrie Prejean - Ridiculous.

It's not like gay marriage comes up in my entertainment reports often. And it's not like this issue is really about gay marriage. But, for the record, I'm a big supporter. Like, I think it's ridiculous we even have to debate a person's civil rights. Duh. She's definitely not representing me as a Californian. But I digress.

Her stance on gay marriage is NOT why Carrie Prejean should have her Miss California sash ripped off her body faster than you can say "Your nipple's showing!" She needs to have her crown, her sash, her cash award, her cache, her all-of-it taken from her because she lied about two separate sets of "semi-nude" pictures AND she's using her status as Miss California USA to endorse a political movement that wasn't approved by the Miss USA pageant.

I'm telling you right now--I don't care about her answer to Perez Hilton's question. Hilton is a bad example of your everyday gay person that lives all across the US. He's shrill and over-the-top; he's also a hack gossip columnist who gets off making other people feel badly about themselves. So he was baiting Prejean, make no mistake. And yes, she could have been more articulate, but she's allowed to think whatever she wants--this is American. And she is totally, completely hot in her pictures. Not the point. What I DO care about is that slimy Trump character commenting that the pictures she took when she was 17(!) and in her underwear were "in many cases, absolutely magnificent photos." He made no comment at all about the second set of pictures that were released that showed her entire breast, nip and all, and were taken a year before the Miss USA pageant. Then what the hell is the contract for in the first place? If he is going to allow the girls in his pageant to violate their contracts multiple times and still keep their title, what message is that sending? If Carrie Prejean had less attractive breasts, or was a brunette, or had NOT stirred up such a firestorm with her politically incorrect answer on stage, would she still have her crown? How exactly is it OK that a runner-up has now stolen all of the spotlight from the actual winner (Miss North Carolina, if you forgot)?

Miss Nevada 2006, Katie Rees, had her title stripped after pictures showed up of her kissing girls at a party--let's ask her what she thinks about Prejean and her charmed life right now? "An accurate word to describe me is irate."

At least everyone's little girls can grow up with the knowledge that they can, indeed, get a boob job paid for by someone else, pose "semi-nude," and breach a contract as long as they're hot and Donald Trump is still a perv.

Originally written 4.09

What Kind of Son Are You Raising?

On a show a year ago, Gil featured two young women, April Grolle and Lauren Chief Elk, who (along with a third girl) intervened in the rape of a minor at a DeAnza College baseball team party. The women, along with their attorney, Jim Hammer, came in to the station to talk to Gil about the decision made by prosecutors NOT to bring charges against any of the guys from the party.

Go to the archives and listen to the hour. It'll turn your stomach. The 17 year old girl, unconscious or nearly so, with someone else's vomit on her face. The horseshoe of guys, standing around a mattress on the floor. Don't turn away from the images in your head right now. You need to see them. If you're a woman, you need to resolve that you will never allow this to happen to another woman if you can help it. If you're a man, you need to see the girl on the mattress as your wife or your daughter or your sister and resolve to never ever think for a moment that there is an excuse for this sort of behavior.

And can I say, just this once, that I am consistently floored by the sheer number of idiot men that exist? I should assert: I am floored by the sheer number of idiot men who call in to the show. Listeners aren't the same as callers, and the callers can be a rather unique cross-section of society. Men who laugh at rape, for instance. A male caller suggested that the 17 year old victim may have actually been paid for her services. Seriously. I just threw up in my mouth a little. Who is raising these people? Who is raising the baseball players from DeAnza College? How do their mothers look at them without being ill? How do you live with having raised a boy, a disgusting vile boy who can watch an unconscious girl be violated over and over? Wake up and look at your sons.

Do I sound angry? Good.

Originally written 5.08

It's Not All About Tits, You Know

We, as a nation, are fiercely protective of our image. Most of us hate the fact that other countries think we're currently being run by an idiot. The ones who don't care what others think of us are isolationist freaks with no perspective beyond their itty-bitty bubble, and we don't care about them. The point is that Americans are image-conscious, for better or worse, and this obsession extends into every aspect of our culture.

Cars, clothes, handbags, cell phones, mp3 players, organic food; these are all symbols of image consciousness. Pets are now genetically engineered hybrid dogs-- Labradoodles and Cockapoos are apparently better companions then the mutt at the pound that only costs 20 bucks and little snip-snip. Swarovski is a brand name familiar to millions of people; idiot-drunken-slut celebrities are accorded more respect because of their image than the Peace Corp volunteer that can't properly apply liquid eyeliner. The Peace Corp's just not sexy, man!

And speaking of sexy-- Victoria's Secret's CEO has decided that the company may have become too "sexy," and rejected the "ultra-feminine." First of all, what the hell does "ultra-feminine" entail to the CEO of a lingerie company? Secondly, and I mean this with as much derision as the web can muster...DUH!

Of course your brand is way off its path! Of course women over the age of 15 don't shop there! Why? Because for a decade now, every commerical, model, print ad, TV special, and promotion has been targeting masturbators of the male variety. Why do I give a flying you-know-what about what Giselle looks like in those panties? I won't look like that, and I don't know any women who will, so why in the sam hell am I going to buy that bra that pushes my girls up to my earlobes? I'm not a Renaissance Fair serving wench, for pete's sake.

What other companies have been able to remember is that the majority of their profit is coming from women who buy their own stuff. They advertise accordingly-- with pretty, girl-next-door types, who actually refer to the function of the underwear once in the commercial. They don't promise to turn you into an angel, or that you'll be the smoking-est babe on the cul-de-sac, or that you'll be ripping your bodice by Tuesday. Victoria's Secret has managed to turn what should be a self-esteem booster, lingerie shopping with a partner, into an impenetrable wall of male-targeted sex fantasy with barely any recognition of reality.

So, V.S. CEO Sharen Turney, you DO need to change your image. And make more bras in a D.

Originally written 3.08

People Think I'm Too Liberal

We did a delightful hour on rapists at KGO once. Sexual abuse and rape are such light, positive topics, what could really make it any better? How about adding castration to the mix? Chemical and physical castration were in the news again, and Gil was trying to get to the bottom of recidivism rates and rehabilitation.

And this is where I go all crazy-gun-wielding-warrior-feminist-avenger. Convicted rapists and child molesters waste my money. Your money, too. Our money keeps these people safe and warm and well-fed, when I myself have barely more than peanut butter in my apartment. Maybe they can't mix with the general population because of the whole "honor amongst thieves" credo, but this makes no difference to me. If it were up to me, and it should be, rapists and molesters would be subjected to a firing squad immediately following their (one) appeal. I'm not joking, either.

Some people on this planet are born evil. Not biblical evil, with Satan and horns and hellfire. Human evil-- with darkness in their hearts and no conscience. People who don't see the value in other human beings beyond what that person can provide, like sex or drugs or money or control. These people are habitual criminals, beyond rehabilitation, and cutting their balls off isn't going to keep them from wanting to hurt women or children. So eliminate the problem. I'd apply for the job of executioner myself. And this isn't some secret conservative side of my personality. It's forced evolution. Population control.

Originally written 12.07