I've been feeling a little… alienated recently.
First, the Super Bowl. Let's talk about the Super Bowl. I'm sitting there at a friend's house cross-stitching a lovely fairy while drinking a cocktail and gleaning what I can about what the hell's going on with the game. After the first few commercials, which are supposed to be the highlight of the evening, I throw down my cross-stitching with a loud "for fuck's sake" (and am told to be quiet because of the sleeping baby). Each commercial's main character was male; and for the most part, they were searching for a hot woman. Even the goddamn Chevy Silverado commercial featuring an animal portrayed a bull rewarded after a long car trip with a harem of beautiful cows. Et tu, cow?
Speaking of not-human-yet-always-male-leading-characters, have you seen the short film about the motherfucking lonely umbrella? The blue umbrella is sad and lonely until he sees a red umbrella with very long eye lashes. But she gets blown away, so he searches high and low and finds her and is finally rewarded with a kiss. Yeah, classic. I watched that gem as a prelude to Monsters University, after having endured five coming attractions for cartoons featuring male main characters that made me want to get my tubes tied before potentially bringing a daughter into this hot mess. And yeah, the monsters were all male (monsters), and the turkey in that Owen Wilson movie was male (even the freaking turkey!). Naturally, the lead female Lego was hot. Because even toys offend.
But it wasn't until reading a chapter about CEOs with dyslexia in Malcolm Gladwell's David & Goliath a few weeks ago that I finally decided: I'm over this sausage fest. The chapter was pointing out just how many successful CEOs have dyslexia, and he argued that having to overcome that impediment just might be the secret to their success. But not one single female CEO was profiled. What's the matter, Malcolm, couldn't find any successful women? What's the pattern with dyslexic women, do they just whither up and die?
I'll say it again, I am over this sausage fest. An open letter to Hollywood: I am a consumer, and if your next story doesn't feature a strong female lead, I'm not interested.
Ladies, let this be a call to arms.
First, the Super Bowl. Let's talk about the Super Bowl. I'm sitting there at a friend's house cross-stitching a lovely fairy while drinking a cocktail and gleaning what I can about what the hell's going on with the game. After the first few commercials, which are supposed to be the highlight of the evening, I throw down my cross-stitching with a loud "for fuck's sake" (and am told to be quiet because of the sleeping baby). Each commercial's main character was male; and for the most part, they were searching for a hot woman. Even the goddamn Chevy Silverado commercial featuring an animal portrayed a bull rewarded after a long car trip with a harem of beautiful cows. Et tu, cow?
Speaking of not-human-yet-always-male-leading-characters, have you seen the short film about the motherfucking lonely umbrella? The blue umbrella is sad and lonely until he sees a red umbrella with very long eye lashes. But she gets blown away, so he searches high and low and finds her and is finally rewarded with a kiss. Yeah, classic. I watched that gem as a prelude to Monsters University, after having endured five coming attractions for cartoons featuring male main characters that made me want to get my tubes tied before potentially bringing a daughter into this hot mess. And yeah, the monsters were all male (monsters), and the turkey in that Owen Wilson movie was male (even the freaking turkey!). Naturally, the lead female Lego was hot. Because even toys offend.
But it wasn't until reading a chapter about CEOs with dyslexia in Malcolm Gladwell's David & Goliath a few weeks ago that I finally decided: I'm over this sausage fest. The chapter was pointing out just how many successful CEOs have dyslexia, and he argued that having to overcome that impediment just might be the secret to their success. But not one single female CEO was profiled. What's the matter, Malcolm, couldn't find any successful women? What's the pattern with dyslexic women, do they just whither up and die?
I'll say it again, I am over this sausage fest. An open letter to Hollywood: I am a consumer, and if your next story doesn't feature a strong female lead, I'm not interested.
Ladies, let this be a call to arms.
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