Is Beyonce a feminist?

This excellent article says yes, she is, and a big one at that. In fact, the feminist Ms. Magazine chose her for their cover this month.


Others, however, have disagreed with what’s being called her “fierce feminism,” and it’s worth recapping some of the rather loose ends in the discussion of what, exactly, a feminist role model looks like. How does she act? What does she stand for? And is it enough for her to call herself feminist?

First off, it’s important to note that few famous women call themselves “feminists.” If asked about it, they usually say something along the lines of this, via Taylor Swift:

“I don’t really think about things as guys versus girls. I never have. I was raised by parents who brought me up to think if you work as hard as guys, you can go far in life.”

Pretty neutral and meh, right? Other women feel the need to flat out reject the label, as Katy Perry did when she–wait for it–accepted her 2012 Woman of the Year award from Billboard:

“I am not a feminist, but I do believe in the strength of women.”

Hmmm. Okay.


But in an interview with Vogue UK, Beyonce had this to say about the term:

“That word can be very extreme…But I guess I am a modern-day feminist. I do believe in equality. Why do you have to choose what type of woman you are? Why do you have to label yourself anything? I’m just a woman and I love being a woman.”

So, better. Although I’m not sure about the “modern-day” qualifier. As opposed to what, a 19th century first-wave feminist? A 1970s second waver? I’m certainly not looking to be described as an old, antiquated somewhat stale feminist. I guess it frustrates me that women feel like they have to dance around the issue.


But, perhaps this hesitance is to be expected, because as soon as Beyonce sort of agreed to the whole feminist thing, she received flak for it. According to the Salon article, several feminists had some on-point things to say about the image of her sexuality:

Freeman insists flashes of underboob and feminist critique don’t mix. Petersen concurs, calling the thigh-baring, lace-meets-leather outfit Beyoncé wore during her Super Bowl XLVII halftime show an “outfit that basically taught my lesson on the way that the male gaze objectifies and fetishizes the otherwise powerful female body.” A commenter on Jezebel summed up the charge: “That’s pretty much the Beyoncé contradiction right there. Lip service for female fans, fan service for the guys.”

But there is, of course, the very third-wave argument for Beyonce’s display of sexuality as a symbol of her empowerment. After all, Beyonce faces the same challenge that all women do: we must find success in terms of a deeply patriarchal world. We just have to decide and define our own terms.


It’s kind of like a game, and if Beyonce’s success and self-confidence tells us anything, there is more than one way to win.


Waiting to be heard, in her own words

On Tuesday, ABC aired Diane’s Sawyer interview with Amanda Knox, the American exchange student who was accused of murdering her British roommate Meredith Kercher in Italy. Although she was initially convicted of the crime–and served 4 years in prison for it–a second appeals trial revealed a striking lack of evidence in the case. In 2011, she was acquitted and released to return home.


Amanda Knox

Almost six years later, Knox’s nightmare is still not over. Prosecutors appealed the latest verdict, meaning Knox will be on trial for murder again, likely sometime next year (in Italy, double jeopardy doesn’t apply). In the interview, Knox talks about the new book she wrote detailing her perspective on the entire ordeal, a memoir titled Waiting to Be Heard. In particular, she addresses the Italian media’s unfair (I say ridiculous) fabrications about her life during the trial, and how these lies affected the first conviction.

Simply put, the media tried Knox before the courts ever did. The then twenty-year-old was portrayed as a manipulative seductress who, along with her Italian boyfriend at the time,  killed Kercher in a violent “sex game gone wrong.” Some stories even described the murder as some sort of Satanic ritual. Her behavior after the murder also picked apart. Every move she made was construed to portray her as cold, uncaring deviant. The papers dubbed her as “Foxy Knoxy”–a childhood name that she earned for her stealth on her soccer team–and wrote stories about her fictionalized sex life. They obsessed about how she didn’t seem “remorseful.”

So why all this fascination with Knox? Why this fixation with her personal life, her reactions, her looks? Because the prosecution had a story and a scapegoat that they knew they could sell. Who cared if she was innocent? To them, she was another easy victim. The prosecutors would look like heroes for putting this hated slut away. And indeed, the public fell for it–it seems we still can’t resist the sick hysteria of a witch trial.

Meredith Kercher aged 19 pictured at her Surrey home-796144

Meredith Kercher

Knox’s original sentence was 26 years in prison, despite having no DNA evidence to connect her to the crime scene. Another man’s DNA, however–a drifter and convicted criminal named Rudy Guede–was all over the victim’s body, including inside her. He also left bloody hand and footprints on the walls and floor of the apartment–clear signs that he was the actual murderer.

Guede’s lawyers worked a plea deal that got him a mere 16 years in prison–a sentence less than Knox’s. He’ll be eligible for work release next year.

Even though he’s the convicted killer, I had to search to find his name.

Surprisingly, after everything, Knox still says that she encourages young people to study abroad. Her advice?

“Be careful,” especially if you’re a young woman. Kercher lost her life, but in a way, Knox almost did, too.

“American Novelists” means male novelists, of course.

In a New York Times op-ed last week, Amanda Filipacchi wrote about something strange going on over at Wikipedia. Apparently, editors are moving the names of women novelists from the category “American Novelists,” and putting them in a new category: “American Women Novelists.” Men’s names, of course, remain only in “American Novelists.”

According to Filipacchi,

 “It appears that many female novelists, like Harper Lee, Anne Rice, Amy Tan, Donna Tartt and some 300 others, have been relegated to the ranks of “American Women Novelists” only, and no longer appear in the category “American Novelists.” If you look back in the “history” of these women’s pages, you can see that they used to appear in the category “American Novelists,” but that they were recently bumped down. Male novelists on Wikipedia, however—no matter how small or obscure they are—all get to be in the category “American Novelists.”

Since Filipacchi’s piece, other writers have reported on it as well, and if you visit the Wikipedia pages it seems that they’ve halted this nonsense–for now. It would be one thing if Wikipedia created separate categories for both men and women. This might make sense in regards to simpler searching for a particular author.  But to create a “women’s” list and remove those names from the master list of novelists suggests that women writers are a derivative from the “normal” (read: male) category of writers.


Joyce Carol Oates

So why is this happening in the first place? According to Deanna Zandt in an article for Forbes Woman (which is another interesting derivation–is this happening everywhere?),

“Anyone can edit Wikipedia, but over 80% of Wikipedia’s editors are young, white, child-free men, which means that their perspective is what largely dominates how information is organized, framed and written. There’s nothing inherently wrong with a young, white, child-free man’s perspective, of course– it’s just that there are tons of other perspectives in the world that should influence how a story gets told.”

If Wikipedia truly wants to provide users with neutral, unbiased information, it’s going to need more women editors. Duh. If “male” is the norm–the original category from which all others deviate–then sexism is also the norm. It’s subtle, and for that reason, it’s pervasive. It’s the status quo. And it’s not just up to Wikipedia to fix it. It’s up to us, too.

In the words of Zandt:

“[I]t’s not enough that we create an open system and say that everyone has the opportunity to work on it– we need to make intentional interventions into the status quo that involve raising the voices of those who are not heard as often.”

The truth of the matter? As long as we allow “the norm” to speak for us and to structure how we think about the world, we can always expect to be described in adjectives that reference our “otherness.” And right now, we’re allowing ourselves to be defined in terms of that difference.


The “worthiness” of women’s writings

Michelle Dean wrote an article for New York Magazine this week titled “How to Win at the Women’s Memoir Game.” It examines the critical reception of women’s memoirs, work often reviewed as “oversharing.” For some reason, women’s memoirs are commonly dismissed as attempts to tell silly, sensationalized, or simply much too personal stories.

In regards to personal or “confessional” writing, Dean writes:

“The ‘confessional’ impulse has actually never been strictly a Woman Thing — just look at F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Crack-Up or Robert Lowell’s poetry, for starters. But the accusation that a writer has taken it to extremes, beyond art into sensationalism, usually is leveled at us alone.”

She cites Lena Dunham and Cat Marnell as two women who have recently scored book deals for their memoirs–works anticipated to be highly personal tell-alls.  The confessional nature of their books, however, makes them targets for criticism, especially in conversations about “serious literature.”


Lena Dunham

More seasoned memoirists such as Joan Didion, Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert, however, have managed to escape some of this criticism. Why? Perhaps, Deen muses, because in their books “the sex is less prominent and the focus tends to be on personal tragedies that are more sympathetic to a wider audience.” In other words, in the eyes of critics, they’re not telling stories defined by their gender, or so clearly written for a female audience.

She concludes the discussion of their success with the observation that “there are, actually, degrees of craft involved in writing yourself, as Nora Ephron put it, as the heroine of your own life.”

Deen’s conversation about the type of critical response that women’s “confessional” or “oversharing” memoirs receive reminds me of the impostor syndrome, a psychological phenomenon in which people do not feel like they deserve their success.  It’s a common experience among women, and it causes us to question the worthiness of our work and achievements.

The experience of feeling unworthy or untalented doesn’t come out nowhere, though. Women writers are especially scrutinized, and their work often taken less seriously than men’s. For this to change, women’s writing must be evaluated as writing first. And on that note, perhaps we should stop classifying anything created by a woman as “women’s” altogether.


Stigmas and standards: Pregnancy past 40

Halle Berry isn’t just pregnant with her second child, she’s pregnant with the second child she’s had past 40.  Big news, everyone, or at least you’d think so by all the way-too-excited headlines reporting it. Here’s the rundown: She had her first daughter at 41 with model Gabriel Aubry, and now at 46 she’s expecting a boy with fiancé Olivier Martinez (of Unfaithful fame). Truth be told, I would not know Berry’s exact age if it weren’t for this pregnancy. For some reason, the number is not to be missed.


Okay, it’s not just for some reason. Her age is getting so much attention because, let’s be honest, there’s a stigma associated with women who get pregnant past the age of 40 (and really, even past 35). In 2013. No matter who you are (in this case, a famous actress), how much money you make (lots), or what the state of your physical health is (uh, she looks pretty damn fit/perfect to me), if you’re a woman who dares to have a baby “later” in life, prepare to be picked apart.

I’ve already read too many lines about her diabetes, the risks of geriatric pregnancies, and how she will raise children during her “twilight” years. And in the comments sections, readers are scrambling over how she got pregnant in the first place. Everyone calm down. She’s 46, not 86. Besides, why, really, do we care? Of all the pregnant women in the world, I don’t think Berry needs our concern. And on that note, does any pregnant woman deserve the quick judgement of strangers?

Halle Berry attends 'The Call' Premiere in Buenos Aires

This might be personal for me. I’m more than 20 years younger than Berry, but I’ve already listened to friends talk about when they think they“should” try to have a baby, followed, very clearly, by when they shouldn’t. My objections to these engrained rules are answered with phrases not unlike the ones that come up in articles about Berry’s pregnancy: something about risks and the fear (distaste?) of being an older mom.

Here’s what Berry has to say about it:

“I’m a much better mother at 46–or 41, when I had her–than if I were like 21 or 25. I mean I was just a little baby trying to figure it out–trying to figure out who I was, let alone having the responsibility of trying to help another little soul develop and grow. I’m so glad I waited.”

By the way, I had to search around a little for Martinez’s age. It isn’t automatically listed in every article (and headline!) like Berry’s. He’s 47.

Ms. Jolie, I’m impressed.

I read in the news yesterday (okay it was E! News–but it was an E! exclusive!) that Angelina Jolie recently opened a primary school for girls outside of Kabul, Afghanistan. Jolie, who’ve we all seen in photos for her role as a UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador, plans to fund the school through the proceeds from her new jewelry line, Style of Jolie.

Now, although I don’t know the specifics of her involvement withe school (the above plaque thanks her for a generous contribution), I have to say I’m impressed with the actress. Even though we’ve heard about Jolie’s work around the world with child refugees pretty regularly over the last few years, I’d argue that most of us never knew exactly where she was or what she was doing.

We see and hear more about Brad and her brood of adopted children then we do about the specifics of her actual on-the-ground contributions. And of course, there’s a skepticism associated with any celebrity “goodwill” that’s probably deserved. We’re used to celebrities showing up for photos ops and the chance to smack their names on something charitable.

But the Qualai Gudar Girls’ School is real (and not the first school she’s funded, I learned, through her nonprofit organization the Education Partnership for Children of Conflict) and it’s giving Afghani girls real opportunities.


Bravo, Angelina. I have many questions about how the school was opened, and perhaps more importantly, how it will be kept open as a safe place for girls to get an education. But right now, I just want to say that I’m feeling hopeful. Someone from the most privileged class of American society is making tangible commitments to some of the least powerful, most endangered voices in our world.  And ironically, E! News was the first to report it.

Say something. We won’t judge you (too much).

Although what I’m about to say has definitely been said before, I feel like it’s a feminist topic that needs redress, so here it is: Women judge other women. I don’t like it, but I’ve come to accept that it is, unfortunately, a fact of life. Men judge women, too (and vice versa), but I think we can argue that there is a social dynamic among women based in an active culture of judgement. And whether we realize it or not, we like it. We get something out of it.


A real housewife giving “the look”

An obsession with female celebrities in our society is, of course, a large part of it. We buy magazines featuring catch lines like “Stars without makeup!” and watch reality TV shows like The Real Housewives. We frequent ridiculously critical celebrity gossip sites. For whatever reason–maybe we’re bored, maybe we’re trying to zone out after a stressful day, or maybe we just need some reassurance that all women have physical flaws–we’re attracted to the actof judging.  We’re drawn to the ritual of seeing and evaluating women’s bodies and behavior. The major problem with all of this? (After all, you may ask, do we really care about judging celebrities? Aren’t they putting themselves out there to be judged? Aren’t they making money off it?) Well, the problem is that it subconsciously conditions us to judge all women.

I started thinking about all of this after a conversation with one of my good friends. For some reason we got on the topic of “the Royals,” and then, of course, to the one and only Kate Middleton. First off, let me say this: I like Kate Middleton (Should I be calling her Catherine now? The Duchess?). At least, I like what limited snapshots I see of her in photos and magazine covers. On an imaginary likability scale she scores pretty high. After all, what’s not to like? At the very least, I think we can agree that she certainly does not offend. My friend, however, thinks otherwise. To be fair, it’s not that she doesn’t like her, exactly. She simply describes the Princess as “boring.”

Duke and Duchess of Cambridge 1st wedding anniversary

Boring is certainly not the way I would describe Kate or her life. I imagine to her it’s not boring at all.  Behind that signature smile and those immaculate outfits, I wonder if she’s exhausted. I wonder if she likes the endless duties and image-related obligations associated with being a Royal. I wonder how she feels about being photographed all the time. I wonder how, in a word, she would really describe her mother-in-law.

Still, I can sort of understand what my friend means by “boring.” In this sense, Kate is boring because she seems perfect, because she’s never messed up. But do we want her to mess up? My friend does, but I can’t say I feel the same way. I admire Kate’s image of grace and class. I like that she seems put together and relaxed.  It’s nice to see a female celebrity who’s not on the edge of a breakdown or constantly on the worst-dressed list (yes, I’m guilty of clicking on those photos, too). If boring means stable or reliable, then I guess Kate is quite guilty.


Kate is not a train wreck, and I don’t anticipate her ever becoming one. But for some reason she is still the subject of intense scrutiny and criticism. But why do we feel that we need to judge her–to have an opinion about her? To dismiss her?Why do feel like we have the right to categorize someone who we will never actually know?

To be honest, I do have one criticism of Kate, or a curiosity, rather: I’ve never heard her speak. I’ve never read a quote from her. I have to wonder, is she so likable because she is so silent? I’m sure everything she says and does is highly monitored by Royal family rules and what not, but I’d love to hear the woman say something. Preferably something intelligent or meaningful, but I’d even take something purely candid.  She doesn’t need to be a political expert or a social activist, but I’d like to hear or read something of her thoughts. Why? Because she’s a woman in the spotlight who, among other things, seems to have her life together, and it’d be nice to hear her relate. It’d be nice to know something of her personality, her mind.  More than ever, I think we need smart, sophisticated role models, women who are genuine and if not flawed, at least human.

So why doesn’t Kate publicly speak? I’m guessing she doesn’t say much because she doesn’t want to make herself (and her family) open to negative judgment. But if the world wasn’t so predatory, perhaps she’d have the space to pleasantly surprise us. On that note, perhaps a lot more women would.