SEX AND THE SHITTY?

The picture that got me so excited!

Amid the Sex and the City movie madness, female journalists all posed the same question: Can a feminist really love Sex and the City? The fact that this is even being asked excites me even more than the prospect of the now confirmed sequel...

Speak to a young woman about gender issues or equal rights, they’d probably preface their response with: ‘I’m not a feminist, but...’, or worse, they’d simply shrug. Even strong, contemporary women are scared of being labelled a feminist, because of the tired, old stereotype of the butch, hairy, angry, man-hating, anti-marriage, anti-pornography, bra-burning, dungaree-wearing lesbian. ‘Feminism’ is a dirty word. Feminism is dead. Or so I thought.

‘What is it about Sex and the City?’, ‘Can a feminist really love SATC?’ and ‘Feminism vs. Sex and the City?’ were just a few of the questions being asked by journalists during the media frenzy surrounding the long-awaited release of Sex and the City: The Movie last year. Refusing to be disheartened by some of the less optimistic conclusions (‘Carrie Bradshaw’s feminism is a sham’, ‘the mutant spawn of casual feminism’ and the sharp yet concise ‘Sex and the Shitty’), I was amazed that feminism was even being mentioned in the same sentence as a phenomenally successful mainstream television series and soon to be record-breaking movie. Feminism was not only being talked about, it was making headlines: Sex and the City had sparked a debate.

Suddenly, journalists cared whether a television programme was feminist or not; it mattered whether the four main characters - Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte - were being represented in a way that was empowering or disempowering to women. In amongst the obligatory and predictable ‘Steal Carrie’s Style’ features and ‘Which SATC gal are you?’ questionnaires were real thought-provoking, analytical and brutally honest critiques of the show, written from a feminist perspective. From independent blogs to full-blown articles in The Guardian, women were talking about feminism.

When SATC first aired in 1998, it was considered shocking, controversial and innovative, after all, it was a programme that had the balls to be about women, for women. ‘Not only is it a programme about women, but one about women who like each other,’ Alice Wignall wrote in her Guardian column. She continues: ‘They identify as each other’s soul mates and provide emotional, practical and moral support. They don’t compete with each other for male attention. They make each other laugh. It is probably the best depiction of the genuine nature and importance of female friendship ever to win an Emmy.’

As you are probably well aware, the show featured four thirty-something, single friends who would often talk openly and frankly about their sex lives. The characters challenged society’s double standards of sexuality, which considers men’s sexuality natural and acceptable, while that of women is deemed sinful and abnormal. Janet McCabe, co-editor of Reading Sex and the City, a collection of essays about the show, says, ‘The way they spoke, and the things they talked about, were revolutionary. And it was also a great study of female friendship. Ultimately, you just feel that it started with the four of them and they will always be together.’

At last, women could see a part of themselves being reflected back at them in their TV screens, whether it was Carrie’s self-obsessive indulgence, Charlotte’s prim, disapproving looks and undying, romantic optimism, Miranda’s sarcastic remarks or Samantha’s unapologetic love for no-strings sex. SATC told women that it was ok to prioritise your career over a man and that you can spend money on yourself without feeling judged or guilty for it (go on, you’ve earned those Louboutins). It flaunted female sexuality, embraced successful, powerful women and celebrated being single and independent with a Cosmo, or two.

However, when the gals called it a day after 94, count ‘em 94, half-hour episodes spanning six seasons, the general, public consensus was that SATC, whilst it was more fabulous than ever, it’s feminist principals that were at the heart of the first series had become somewhat diluted. What was initially a programme about female empowerment sunk into a veritable orgy of consumerism and an obsession with the search for ‘the one’, something that the more traditional, second wave feminists opposed to.

McCabe, along with her co-editor Kim Akass, says, ‘The women are still caught in fairy-tale narratives. The ‘right’ couple were signalled in the first episode [in which Carrie first meets her on-off lover known only as Mr Big] and in some ways the entire show has just been about them getting together - which, of course, has to be endlessly delayed or you don’t have the driving force behind the story.’ Mr Big (whose name is finally revealed in the closing scenes of the last episode to be, rather predictably John, John James Preston to be precise) is an archetypal New York businessman: arrogant, egocentric and unspeakably rich. Yet we have to watch Carrie go back to him, time after painful time. ‘It does make for quite uncomfortable viewing,’ says Professor Imelda Whelehan, author of The Feminist Bestseller: From Sex and the Single Girl to Sex and the City. ‘How do we respect her? And Mr Big is such an interesting element. Even his name is masculine. He is like this phallus at the centre of it all.’

Frustratingly, towards the end the most significant story-lines were about the characters’ quest for a man and a long-term relationship. At the conclusion of the television programme, all four women - even Samantha, who was never interested in finding love - are all happily paired off. ‘It does seem that, in the end, it had to come back to a traditional view,’ suggests Whelehan, ‘that the future for most women means marriage and children.’ And they all lived happily ever after... which is almost as annoying as ‘and then they woke up, and it was all a dream.’ But, as Akass asks, ‘Is it the case that a strong women can’t desire a husband?’ Of course not! Heterosexuality is not a crime against feminism.

Among all of the man-hunting and Manolos, it is easy to lose sight of the ground-breaking plot-lines that the show tackled, such as mental illness, bereavement, adultery, single motherhood, sexual discrimination and divorce. Some journalists argued that these potentially hard-hitting issues were issues masked by fluff and glitter in the shape of gratuitous sex scenes and ostentatious fashion moments. They also argued that the representation of Carrie and co. as ‘Barbie dolls recessed in the handbag of contemporary white-collar women’ was unfair and hugely disempowering for women. However, because there are so few television programmes purely about women, Sex and the City bears the burden of representation. As Akass elaborates so brilliantly: ‘No one expects The Sopranos to encompass the experience of all middle-aged Italian-American men.’

Whether Sex and the City, the television show, was feminist or not, what most commentators of the programme are overlooking is that feminism is not about being single or breaking free from the so-called ‘restrictive, oppressive shackles of femininity.’ As Linda M Scott says, in her book Fresh Lipstick: Redressing Fashion and Feminism: ‘Wearing high heels and using hair curlers does not deny you the right to seek advancement, empowerment, and equality.’ A sentiment that the SATC movie very much echoed, including over 300 glorious outfits for the four main girls alone, courtesy of legendary stylist Patricia Field.

Personally, Sex and the City: The Movie was two-and-a-half hours of pleasure, albeit of the guilty kind. Aside from the trivialities, the film discussed serious topics such as ageing, happiness and infertility, all dressed up in an haute couture Vivienne Westwood bridal gown, accessorised with an inexplicable turquoise bird fascinator.

Towards the end of the movie, the four girls toasted their Cosmopolitans to Samantha’s 50th birthday and her new found singledom, challenging preconceived notions of gender and the down-right sexist idea that unattached women are old, lonely, past it, has-been ‘spinsters’, something that is undeniably a feminist issue. Whilst SATC’s brand of feminism may not be perfect (it promotes consumerism, capitalism and, ultimately, you can only ever be truly happy if you conform to societies rules) ‘it seems churlish to be bitter about the fact that Carrie et al do not offer a fail-safe model for emancipated womanhood when nor, frankly, has real-life feminism’, Wignall helpfully points out. She concludes that she is a both a feminist and a fan of Sex and they City: ‘Not least because if you’re about to start letting political doctrine arbitrarily dictate which bits of the culture you respond to you may as well give up now and submit to the patriarchy. But mainly because the programme is funny and clever and it thinks women are important.’ Hear, hear.

However, not everyone was quite so complimentary. Rachel Longhurst wrote in Australian feminist magazine Lip: ‘There’s always going to be the argument that it’s not real life. Here’s the no brainer: I don’t think it’s meant to be. But my question is: are we betraying the things feminism has worked hard for by indulging in such stereotypical fantasy?’ Whilst a blogger on businessweek.com wrote: ‘these women’s career success seems largely predicated on the ability to navigate an exciting web of power struggles and sexually charged innuendoes. All in stilettos!’

Perhaps these naysayers should look beyond the shallow side of SATC and learn from the moral of the movie. Laced throughout the film, was the message: ‘Don’t label one and other’. It questioned the rigid stereotypes that are widely accepted in society and suggested instead that we accept people for what they are (complex and, yes, sometimes contradictory) and stop worrying about pigeon-holing everyone. Carrie and Big were perfectly happy before they allowed society to judge their relationship and question why they weren’t married, as Carrie realises as the film concludes: ‘Maybe some labels are best left in the closet. Maybe when we label people “bride”, “groom”, “husband”, “wife”, “married”, “single” we forget to look past the label to the person... I couldn’t help but wonder: why is it that we are willing to write our own vows, but not our own rules?’ These feminist reviewers, bloggers and journalists seem obsessed with labelling and categorising films, magazines and even behaviour as ‘feminist’ or ‘non-feminist’, ‘empowering’ or ‘disempowering’. Why are they so insistent on labeling what is essentially, just another Hollywood blockbuster? Is it a chick-flick or a post-feminist masterpiece? Both: the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

I suggest that these so-called feminist journalists take on the message of Sex and the City: The Movie. Stop compartmentalising everyone into neat little subsections of society. Don’t worry if something fits into a preconceived and out-dated ideal of ‘pro-feminist’ or ‘anti-feminist’ like an OCD Nazi. Play with fashion, dress exactly how you like, then go out and smash a few stereotypes by being being a feminist and proud. Be a wonderful pick ‘n’ mix of a person; a glorious patchwork; an interesting, multicoloured feminist. Be a walking contradiction. As Kathleen Hanna, singer of riot grrrl rock band Bikini Kill, said in her fanzine Jigsaw Youth: ‘To be a stripper who is also a feminist...These are contradictions I have lived. They exist, these contradictions cuz I exist. Every fucking “feminist” is not the same, every fucking girl is not the same, okay?’