On the heels of the Women In Film event last weekend, I had the chance to watch a few red-carpet interviews with attendees and honorees. One thing that stood out to me was that while everyone was quick to point out how far we’ve come, they made sure to mention how far we still have left to go.
The “how far we still have left” is what caught my interest most, because I haven’t been doing this long enough to really understand how much has changed. And the subtle discrimination I have seen in the short time I’ve been working in this business has been enough to harden me into a staunch supporter of women in film.
For one thing, I never thought of myself as a feminist until I came to work in Hollywood. I’m part of a generation and class of women who were reared on the rhetoric that we could grow up to do anything. At no point did gender figure in as a limitation, and the idea that it would for anyone who might judge my capabilities seemed completely ludicrous.
It was confusing when I heard or read about women's complaints of gender discrimination -- didn't we figure all this stuff out in the ‘70s?
That's what I believed. Until I came to work in Hollywood.
It started with generally dismissive treatment on the part of men I worked with, and it grew into a clear sense of being on the losing side of favoritism. So I put some effort into mitigating aspects of my personality that might seem too "nice" or passive and played up my opinionated, ambitious side.
Instead of flirting with male colleagues, we busted each other’s balls. I quickly learned to tune out the usual locker-room chatter that men in this business seem to think is perfectly acceptable in mixed company, rather than chastising, when I felt uncomfortable. But with all the effort to prove I could hang (because I can), and even in situations when I made good points, it seemed that the men I worked with were still reluctant to hear me out.
And strangely, I kept seeing that the benefit of the doubt tended to be affordedautomatically to my male peers. Why weren’t they being held to the same burden of proof as I was? (Even the ones who consistently demonstrated the most meager levels of competence.)
I used to think it was me. Maybe I was doing something to deserve men’s disrespect. Or maybe it was part of some kind of industry “hazing,” maybe I was being tested. It makes you wonder. And it’s undeniably awkward to try to recover with the guy who just stopped your conversation to watch, mouth-agape, as Bai Ling walked down the hall, pointing out that he'd like to suck on parts of her anatomy.
Luckily, I finally found a niche where I don’t feel like such an outsider. But I’m still frustrated. The work I put in every day to help set up projects that don’t even have a formal feminist agenda, but just happen to portray mildly empowered, mature women in ways that mainstream movie audiences may not be accustomed to has led me to one conclusion: Women need a better rap.
