Our attitudes toward sex tell us just about everything we need to know about ourselves. Go ahead and open a book, put on the TV, pop in a DVD or turn on your iPod. It’s all about sex. Even the stuff that isn’t explicitly about sex (Especially the stuff that isn’t explicitly about sex). And while the people creating the art are doing so to get paid, everyone konws they want that money in order to get laid. So that pretty much covers all the bases. Or does it?
What does our contemporary attitude toward sexism tell us? About who we are; who we were, and who we will be? That we tolerate prehistoric opinions about a woman’s role in the world is revealing. (That we in the U.S.A. are, in many ways, the most advanced nation on earth in terms of womens’ rights and opportunity is clearly cause for concern in this regard.) That sex sells confirms that most people are thinking about sex; it’s not all that complicated. Even the people who have other things on their mind usually don’t mind seeing a beautiful woman (or man) on the cover of a magazine or in a movie.
But what does it say about our collective culture that sexism not only sells, but is utilized as a virtually foolproof sales mechanism? Is it mostly in good fun? Is it always in poor taste? Is it acceptable if women are in on the joke? Is it different if women are writing the jokes? Are we too uptight? Not uptight enough? All of the above?
We could turn to Freud (ugh); we could turn to Oprah (ugh!) or we could consider the deep thinkers of Spinal Tap, who presciently had their finger on the pulse almost thirty years back:
Bobbi Flekman: You put a *greased naked woman* on all fours with a dog collar around her neck, and a leash, and a man’s arm extended out up to here, holding onto the leash, and pushing a black glove in her face to sniff it. You don’t find that offensive? You don’t find that sexist?
Ian Faith: This is 1982, Bobbi, c’mon!
Bobbi Flekman: That’s right, it’s 1982! Get out of the ’60s. We don’t have this mentality anymore.
Ian Faith: Well, you should have seen the cover they wanted to do! It wasn’t a glove, believe me.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. The latest outrage, courtesy of Burger King, manages to be almost as offensive as the food they serve.
Beer commercials, of course, are the sine qua non of sexist advertising. Most are so obvious they are almost easier to ignore. Others, perhaps, are a tad more subtle. Or not?
Not much gray area here. (Some might say not much gray matter, either.)
Nevertheless, we’ve still come quite a long way from the bad old days, have we not?
(In regards to the famous grapefruit smash, my boy Shieldsy very astutely points out that this scene is not sexist so much as it’s violent; there is nothing here celebrating Cagney’s act, or condoning it in any explicit way. But let’s not kid ourselves: this was, and still is, considered one of the ultimate cinematic–and pop cultural–moments of a woman being forcibly put in her place, so it endures as a misogynistic touchstone.)
This entire scene (hell, this entire movie) is a case study, but the 7.40 mark is where the depths of the depravity are revealed:
From my boy Meatbull, this site is a one-stop shop for lists of every conceivable criteria. Naturally, there is a compilation of vintage sexist ads. Check these out.
Exhibit A: Wow.
Exhibit B: Wow!
Exhibit C: WOW!!
Here are a few other “classics”…
Looking at these old ads with fresh eyes, and understanding the prevailing mores of the time (appalling as they were) does that make today’s slicker, more subtle ads better? Or worse? (Both? Neither?) My bet is that so long as it’s selling, commerce will always dictate content.
Once again, Spinal Tap is instructive here (and this scene is like the movie itself: the jokes are right there on the surface, but the material is so intelligent and amusing, the commentary manages to mirror reality on deeper levels, no matter how shallow the subject matter):
Derek: You know, we’ve grown musically… I mean, listen to some of the rubbish we did early on, it was stupid…
Marty: Yeah.
Derek: …you know. Now, I mean a song like “Sex Farm”, we’re taking a sophisticated view of the idea of sex, you know, and music…
Marty: …and put it on a farm?
Derek: Yeah.
I remember at some point in my early teens I (finally) understood that if one simply replaced the word “rock” with “fuck” virtually every song was about…you know. And that’s fine; that’s rock and roll. But what about the songs (then, now) that promulgate, or celebrate, outmoded or otherwise unacceptable attitudes toward women?
I began to think: What are some of the more shameless (and stereotypical) songs from the 20th Century?
All styles are embraced, except rap and heavy metal (a more appropriate list might include the ten songs in those genres that aren’t sexist…just kidding–sort of) and I won’t include “Lady is a Tramp” or anything else by Frank Sinatra simply because he represents the alpha and omega of Neanderthal gynophobia and, he was a big prick to boot. And he wore a wig. That putz. So this list is anything but definitive, but I endeavored to steer clear of the obvous cliches and pick some that might be a tad off the radar. I welcome all suggestions and submissions (again, let’s not insult each others’ intelligence by picking anything but Motley Crue or Guns N’ Roses or Snoop Dogg, et cetera. I did include one by Kiss, but that’s just because they, arguably, raised the cliche of cock-rock mini anthem to its own semi-retarded art form. And, unlike some of their younger brethren, they actually could play their instruments. And, you know, they wore make-up).
And the obligatory bonus cut from our favorite misunderstood band…
How can I leave this behind?
What he said.
