Objectification of Women

Recently I’ve been thinking (and posting) about acting roles in adaptations of existing works, especially of comics and animations. A few months ago, I ventured down the YouTube rabbit hole of fan media commentary channels where the topic is a common one. Fans naturally have strong opinions about their favorite characters.

I’ve long said sexual differences make social gender issues more challenging than social race issues (because race is a social construct). The issue of gender swapping is likewise more challenging than that of race swapping.

Here be dragons of objectification, exploitation, and the Male Gaze.

Biology and most of history factor into the equation. Further confounding matters, women, comprising slightly more than half the planet, are not of one mind. (Imagine that. It’s almost as if they’re individuals or something.)

In particular, many women don’t agree with tenets of militant feminism that deemphasize, even disdain, femininity, relationships with men, or being a stay-at-home-mother. Hollywood, however, apparently is giving militant wokeness its day in the sun. It hasn’t been entirely successful for them. (One might even leave out the word “entirely”.)

Recent examples include She-Hulk (2022) and Charlie’s Angels (2019). The basically male Galadriel (complete with sword-penis) in Amazon’s attempt to capitalize on Lord of the Rings seems another. Looking back a bit, the all-female version of Ghostbusters (2016) offers some interesting parallels and contrasts.

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First, though, I want to consider a crucial aspect of gender interaction: the notion of the objectification of women. This is a social icon that political correctness usually weights negatively. On average, rightly so.

Icons are simple, but the notions they encode can be complex and nuanced. Certainly, that is the case when it comes to issues based on sexual differences. The objectification of women requires a lot of unpacking. Much more than I can give it here. Much more than I can give it period, really, since all I have is a male perspective. For whatever that’s worth. (Approximately 50%, I figure.)

Because objectification is negatively weighted, it’s easy to overlook the reality that people are, in fact, objects. We tend to think of an “object” as inanimate, but Wiktionary provides as a first definition: “A thing that has physical existence.” Which people do tend to have. The fourth definition makes the link even stronger: “A person or thing toward which an emotion is directed.” As in the object of one’s affection.

What we usually mean by (correctly negatively weighted) objectification is treating people as inanimate objects in exclusion of their humanity. One extreme of which involves treating women as dolls, chattel, or slaves. It’s the sexual subset of the general evil of treating people as slaves. (As Kant put it, treat people as ends, not as means. Granny Weatherwax simply said, ‘Don’t treat people as [just] objects.’)

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Yet people, men and women alike, are objects. A truth of human society is that, from day one, motivated by basic biology, women have been perceived as objects of beauty and home, whereas men have been perceived as objects of strength and exploration. Both objectified, but differently. Yin-Yang polarities.

More crucially, not necessarily in exclusion of their humanity, abilities, or inclinations. We can, and do, admire beauty and strength in people. As we admire intelligence or ability. There is nothing wrong with admiring excellence. Or natural talent. So long as we understand it as a single attribute of a person. People are more than their best, worst, or just most notable, feature.

Further, attractiveness, especially for women, has long been an important axis for performers — actors, singers, dancers, et al. “Looking good” is part of gestalt. With most performers, though, some exceptions aside, talent and skill ultimately determine success and longevity. (I suspect, generally speaking, ability correlates more strongly than beauty.) Combined, they’re a powerful package.

Then there are (super)models and beauty contestants. Not to mention “strip joints” and “adult productions” (from amateur “fans only” websites to commercial media empires). Generally speaking, the skills and talents required — which can be considerable — involve being as object-like as possible. [Eventually this likely will be mostly overtaken by Virtual Reality — no actual humans involved. Which involves some interesting discussions outside the scope of this post.]

Contributing to this, billion-dollar fashion and beauty industries that depend on women wanting to look good, for themselves, for other women, and for men they favor. [Another reality about beauty: If a bar guy who looks like a Hemsworth tells a woman she looks good in that dress, there’s good chance she’ll be flattered and may even allow further conversation. If someone who looks like me says the same thing the same way, odds are she immediately walks away. It’s not personal; the same thing happens throughout the animal kingdom. And in the reverse scenario, although men often have a lower threshold for rejection of approaches.]

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We consider how much of this is socially constructed and how much might be innate in biological beings — perceived attractiveness and strength do play a large role in the animal kingdom. And between biology and culture, does intelligence have innate perceptions of beauty? Do societies inescapably have spectrums of beauty?

And in any event, is it wrong to admire beauty? I don’t think so. Given we keep in mind the kindergarten lesson about not judging books by looks. What matters is their contents.

I think it boils down to a mutual social contract involving those who want to look beautiful and those who appreciate it. Which seems to me a fairly large segment of society. So long as no one is unwilling, exploited, cheated, or harmed, it seems a Constitutionally guaranteed happy pursuit.

Beauty is power, and power always has two edges, so intelligence must be part of the pursuit. How many times have I said, “The heart drives, but the head must steer.” Our love of beauty is part of our heart (and possibly also part of our intellectual appreciation of symmetry, shape, and color).

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I’ve wandered off the theme of roles for women in movies and TV shows, but I think it’s important groundwork. “Pretty privilege” is a real — and inevitable — social force and a topic I’d like to return to down the road (in contrast to “skinny privilege”, which is fake — an egregious form of goal post shifting).

An element relevant here is the “male gaze” — usually framed as objectifying (in the exclusion of humanity sense). The implication — and general truth — is that the “male gaze” is prurient. Blame basic biology. But basic thoughts, which anyone can have, don’t necessarily reflect our true feelings or opinions. We can have thoughts we don’t intellectually support and would never act on.

In contrast, the “female gaze” (at other women) is seen as intellectual appreciation lacking any prurient aspect. (Gay women aside, perhaps.)

Likewise, any form of “fan gaze” where a large class of people is visually attracted to a single person or single type of person. We might include fans of cars, horses, dogs, airplanes, fireworks, or anything with strong visual appeal. We like to look at things we like to look at. (And ironically, in doing so, can lose sight of them.)

It might boil down to appreciating beauty rather than being obsessed with it. A connoisseur rather than a consumer. (It’s that crucial difference between an idea and a belief. The latter can be so problematic.) Just remember what Granny Weatherwax said.

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A complication is that some women welcome, even seek, the (prurient!) male gaze (at least sometimes from some men), while some fear it, and some disdain it. Ideally, all should be fulfilled, but we may have to wait for Augmented Reality to allow for self-labels (and masks).

Yet another complication is the amount of money to be made exploiting the male gaze. “Fans Only” sites have become popular and have become serious income sources for some women (and, no doubt, some men).

As I’ve said, gender sociology seems a Gordian Knot. One size doesn’t come close to fitting all, and we need to try to tread kindly with each other. Implicit in that is: Don’t work too hard making that a challenge. And also, mind your own business as much as possible and leave others to theirs.

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Again, I digress. Food to chew another time. The question here is objectification in the context of acting roles. Both biology and history infuse culture with male and female gender archetypes. To some extent, objectification involves the archetypes becoming restrictive. “Women can’t do X because women don’t do X.”

This is a false assertion. The only things women can’t do are things women (literally) can’t do. Those are few and far between. As the all-female Ghostbusters showed, when it comes to fictional characters, gender swaps make the can’t fewer and farther.

Literature, stage, cinema, even television, these all have long histories of Strong Female Characters. They may not equal those of Strong Male Characters, but they’ve increased over time (in number and quality). We may currently be approaching parity.

When it comes to kinds of roles for women, I’m not sure anyone is complaining. Too many great counterexamples exist. And I’m not sure the number of roles is much of an issue, either. I think the friction comes from a combination of a zero-sum approach, a sense of anti-male feminism, and a genuine desire for fidelity in adaptations of beloved, often long-established, properties.

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I see a complicated configuration space when it comes to casting previously established characters. In the Netflix adaptation of The Sandman, why does race swapping Rose Walker hardly raise an eyebrow, but race swapping Dream’s sister Death disappoint many fans, me included, of the graphic novel?

More to the topic here, why does gender swapping Lucien to Lucienne (Vivienne Acheampong) and casting Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer seem questionable? [Why did some reject an all-female Ghostbusters out of hand while I found it okay?]

I think it has to do with character importance and connections to other characters. “Importance” here includes in-story and in the minds of fans. (Sherlock Holmes was so important his creator was forced to bring him back from the dead. Because fans.)

Rose Walker and family are a self-contained unit. They could be white, Black, Chinese, Indian, or Russian, without raising in-story questions. Their nationality or ethnicity has no real bearing on the story and is thus fluid. But Dream’s sister Death is a family member and a very popular (even favorite) character. Casting Kirby Howell-Baptiste in the role was jarring (like Faye Valentine’s costume change), and Death, a supernatural being, certainly could be a mellow Black woman rather than the well-established quirky white goth. It’s just that a lot of fans were looking forward to seeing a favorite character. One can’t help but ask “Why?”

In contrast, Lucifer is a minor character in the original. I suspect they intended to expand the role in the adaptation. Casting Christie in the role seems both counter-feminine and counter-male. For one, I’ve rarely seen Lucifer, Prince of Hell, Father of Lies, portrayed as female. I’ve far more often — and generally with good result — seen God, Creator of Everything, portrayed as female (favorite: Alanis Morrisette). Making Lucifer female is an intriguing change.

Lucifer is a fallen angel, and angels — sometimes seen as genderless, sometimes not — are often portrayed by women in order to convey beauty and a sense of the ethereal to the role. Lucifer, the Morningstar, in particular was the fairest and most beautiful of them all. Casting Christie in the role, given her former role as Brienne of Tarth, is an intriguing choice.

Again, one can’t help but ask “Why? What this change?”

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A complicated configuration space indeed. At stake, cultural, critical, and commercial success. These days commercial success often drives the coat-tail riding, virtue signaling, and burger blandness that make many adaptations failures or, at best, forgettable wannabes. Further, adaptations are imitations we inevitably compare to the original — usually a high bar to match, let alone surpass.

Race swaps don’t change the nature of the character the way gender swaps can. A Black Spider-Man, social perceptions aside, isn’t significantly different from the original. A female Spider-Woman, however, implies changes to many other characters. Does Aunt May die instead of Uncle Ben? Who are the love interests and best friends? How does the public react?

In fact, the multiverse allows for Spider-Beings of all types. (I loved the Spider-Verse movie.) And I think that multiverses are well enough understood by the public to offer one option for both race and gender swaps without having to violate canon. Rather than an adaptation, why not tell a similar story but in a different slice of the multiverse?

Another approach is to be blatantly experimental or avant-garde. Such as swapping all the genders. Ghostbusters (2016) offers an interesting example.

Original works seem to offer the best opportunities for roles, though. They’ve always existed, but we’ve become addicted to sequels and remakes. Or we’ve allowed the studio system to get comfortable feeding us that junk food.

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This has gotten long, so I’ll end abruptly and pick it up from here next time.

Stay objective, my friends! Go forth and spread beauty and light.

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