rebecca LANDO

Everyone’s gushing about this article/op-ed in Esquire, and how great it is. So I read it. And I’m pretty pissed off.

I rarely think hard about feminism, because I’ve always sort of trumpeted the individual over the collective, gender aside. I was too young to be a riot grrrl and too punk/jaded to get into girl power. I think it should go without saying that everyone - black, white, male, female, gay, trans, rich, poor, whatever - should be treated equally and that the best way I could help that was to be Awesome, self-empowered, and to forge on like nothing could stop me. Power in attitude.

Let’s forget all that and talk about what’s going on in this article. Christina Hendricks is here to reveal the vast, cryptic, and guarded secrets of how we women see men: what we like about them, what we expect from them, how they don’t know what they make us feel. The Holy Grail of hetero relations in one neat Esquire article. That should be kind of interesting, maybe a little funny or insightful or inspiring, if not outright empowering, right? But here are some choice quotes:

We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women…It’s about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.
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We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad.
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When we come back from a date, we feel awkward about that transition from our cute outfit into sexy lingerie.

All these things strike me as offensive and gross. The blatant superficiality, the self-doubt, the lack of confidence, the bland self-misogynism. Off-the-cuff, it strikes me as a sad confirmation of what so many people - men and women both - think about gender relations. The woman Christina Hendricks presents is not unintelligent, not unmotivated - but she is clingy and needy. She defines so much of herself through her boyfriend/husband/lover; sees so much of her world through her perception of him. This woman finds her worth in her appearance (and the cultivation thereof) and in sex. I don’t know how to relate to this woman, and I don’t like how it makes me feel about myself, as a woman. It’s embarrassing. It’s demoralizing. I am not this. Do not see me like this.

But what if this is a sort of feminism in itself? If this is un-self-conscious honesty, is that an act of empowerment? If Hendricks doesn’t see what she’s admitting to, is it actually brazen? If she does see what she’s admitting, is that bravery? “I am woman - hear me be imperfect, narcissistic, uncertain.” Is it possible for the lack of empowerment of her message to be empowering in and of itself? And can there be empowerment in a lack of such?

 I actually do think that in the right context and format (i.e., not a men’s magazine) discussions about body-identity and frankness, especially by sexy celebrities, about their body-related insecurities, are well worth discussing and can hold a lot of ‘sisterhood’-redeeming weight. Again - not here, not now, but yes, there is the potential for much merit in our bodies.

 All I know, is this woman doesn’t define me. It doesn’t come anywhere close to how I feel about men, sex, or myself. Frankly, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure nails gender relations better for me: be excellent to each other. The furthest Hendricks’s op-ed gets from embodying or suggesting excellence is when she tells guys that we like it when they remember really basic shit about us:

Remember what we like. … I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.

This, more than the self-consciousness and feelings of inadequacy wrapped up neatly in the above quotes, is the most depressing pointer in Hendricks’s article. Of course there are men who don’t pay attention to what women, even the ones they love, have to say. But do we really still have to point out that it means a lot to us when guys remember information about us as basic as our interests and tastes? Just think of all this statement implies: this woman needs to tell her lover/boyfriend/husband that it means a lot to her when he pays attention to her interests. People do this every day; we call it friendship. But here she’s super psyched about it and taking it as a sign of love. I might be making an unfair oversimplification, but this is how it reads to me: men, any interest you take in any part of us beyond our bodies is cherished and valued and makes us swoon.

Maybe I’m being overly harsh of a young woman who has quickly attained fame, as much for her bombshell figure as for her on-screen talent. Maybe Hendricks’s op-ed will give tons of women a sense of pride and encouragement because they feel this way, too, and have never seen it put in words. But I doubt it; and, frankly, I hope not. I am as self-critical, self-doubting, and self-aware as anyone (maybe more?) but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a shit ton of self respect. I am excellent, and anyone with hopes of being my lover/boyfriend/husband had better not only know that, but be excellent, too.

This is not being excellent to each other, much less ourselves.