She
then finished off by suggesting Twila start by letting one of
the other women French braid her hair, because “It feels
nice to have someone else French braid your hair." Meanwhile,
all the other women looked on and said nothing (at least, it
was edited to look that way).
There
is much that is good about Survivor: Vanuatu's
portrayal of women. It's rare to find women like Twila on TV—women
who embody traits that are more associated with masculinity
in our culture—and Ami is a welcome challenge to the all-lesbians-are-butch
stereotype that is so pervasive in our culture. Throw
in older lesbian contestant Scout, who is a rancher/entrepreneur
somewhere in-between the other two on the femininity scale,
and heterosexual contestants like sheep farmer Dolly, real estate
agent Lisa, and finance manager Mia, and Survivor:
Vanuatu offers a more interesting and diverse representation
of what a woman, and a lesbian, looks like, than most reality
shows. The fact that the women's group includes conservative
Christians and lesbians working well together side-by-side is
also encouraging.
But while Scout and Ami challenge stereotypes
about lesbians for Survivor's millions of viewers,
Ami's attempt to encourage Twila to be more feminine, however
kindly meant, is problematic. It's one thing to embrace femininity
yourself; it's quite another to propagate the idea that all
women should embrace their "feminine side"—that
we are all ultimately "just girls," who like to do
"girly stuff."
Although
many lesbians adhere to the traditional standards of
femininity encouraged by our culture, there has historically
been a certain amount of tolerance among lesbians towards women
who choose not to do so—at least, more tolerance than
you're likely to find among your average group of straight women.
Lesbian and bisexual women, in fact, have usually been on the
forefront of standing up to conventions that keep women in narrowly
defined roles (like the right to vote, or to wear pants), since
it is easier to challenge a patriarchal system when you are
less dependent on that system for financial and social survival.
Ami
is hardly suggesting that Twila wear corsets and fan herself
while men do the real work; her idea of being "girly"
is still a modern one which includes room for being a strong
competitor in physical and mental tasks, as Ami has clearly
demonstrated herself to be. Ami's point that Twila also needs
to make an effort to get to know the other women is a valid
one, and Ami was right to call her on that.
But
her comments became problematic when they turned to a suggestion
to be more feminine. When lesbians begin actively policing femininity,
even a little, and in such a public forum, you have to wonder:
who will be left to ensure that women feel free to express themselves
in a diversity of ways?
Lesbian contestants on reality shows like Survivor
and Battle of the Sexes
2 who challenge the persistent assumption held by heterosexuals
and lesbians alike that most lesbians are butch is helpful since
it's not only inaccurate, it makes many lesbians who don't fit
that stereotype feel detached from and marginalized by the lesbian
community. But we should be careful not to go to the other extreme
and start exhibiting the same deleterious behavior towards butch
women—gay or straight.
This
scene on Survivor is only a few minutes of
a single television show, and it's not likely to leave a lasting
impression on the majority of its viewers. But it's indicative
of a trend towards publicly marginalizing butch women that appears
to be increasing on television as lesbian visibility does, manifesting
itself through comments like the "hundred-footer"
one on the first season of The
L Word (as in "you can tell she's a lesbian from
a hundred feet away"); the humorous rejection of a butch
woman's advances, as in the lesbian-themed episode of Fastlane;
and all the small jokes about how butch women look like men,
like the one on Friends
about Ross mistaking Carol and Susan's friend Tonya for Huey
Lewis.
Television
is increasingly taking pot shots at butch lesbians for entertainment
value, with the double purpose of reminding all women of the
consequences of not being feminine enough.
Making fun of butch women isn't new—heterosexuals
have been doing it for years on film and television—but
it's increasingly lesbians taking the shots these days, as demonstrated
by the lesbian-penned episodes of Fastlane and The
L Word (although to be fair, The L Word has challenged
conventional standards of femininity in other ways). Although
Ami wasn't making fun of Twila for not being feminine enough
(in fact, she was clearly trying to be helpful, not hurtful),
her comments communicated a similar message: that Twila—and
women like her—don't quite measure up.
Just
like you don't have to be a person of color to understand that
racism has a negative effect on people of all races, you don't
have to be butch to appreciate that reinforcing standards of
femininity ultimately limits all women. We may not
be able to stop the overwhelming social pressure to conform
to traditional standards of beauty, but let's at least not contribute
to it.
