The Sex & The City 2 Crash: A Feminist Hangover
I feel let down. I put my foot right into my mouth justifying why women want to watch Sex And The City 2. This despite the first movie having been such an epic disaster. The second SATC movie wasn’t just bad, it was mortifying! I’m tempted to suspect the misogyny brigade for sabotaging pop culture’s most famous feminist zeitgeist. Did cis men script it? But credit where it’s due (or blame in this case). The SATCmania has spiraled downward into a place where even your best galpals don’t want to follow, or indeed be associated with.
Whininess, cheating (and being condoned), shameless ignorance of and blatant disrespect to other cultures, spoilt-princess behaviour – okay, none of these was ever on the agenda for women’s lib. I feel like I should apologize to all the men I’ve been preaching to over the years about equality and empowerment. This, ah, this wasn’t what I meant.
At another level, I feel like this movie mirrors my attitude shift in recent times. A close guy friend (yes, there is such a thing even though he’s straight) said something interesting.
“You know what the trouble with you women these days is? You’ve got your grades and then your promotions. You’re taking care of your families. You’ve got great careers and fabulous lives. And so you believe you’ve achieved everything and that you’re invincible. You know, you still do fall sick, you still need other people too. Everyone does. It’s not a man or a woman thing. But all of you act like no one else matters, run over anyone who cares about you because you think that’s how a powerful woman is supposed to behave.”
I didn’t like hearing that at all. But there was truth in what he said. He was thinking about his ex who was sacrificing her health for career and lifestyle and refused to listen to his concerns over it.
But I was thinking of my workaholism, my arrogance and ruthlessness. I cultivated all of it thinking I needed it to survive in these times. Well, maybe that’s true or maybe it’s not. But it’s also left me with an unhealthy level of cynicism, I’ve lost several good friends over the years, there’s judgment where there used to be connection and oh yes, the health has suffered too. I’m not condoning chauvinism or saying equality was a bad idea. But that’s why this is so difficult. Toughness has meant losing gentleness, caring and indeed some of the most wonderful things about being me, being us.
The other side of feminism was supposed to acknowledge that men had emotions too and could be just as nurturing and caring. But somehow it spiralled into a blame game, an ugly, vindictive ‘up-yours’ crowing over. It’s not about equality anymore, it’s one-upmanship (upwomanship?). All of us are losing.
My friend is as torn up over his breakup as I’ve ever been over mine. I just fear his lady is as well but she doesn’t know it or won’t acknowledge it. Remind me again how this is good for any of us. It takes two to build a relationship. How do we proceed when one of us is hungover on power, sado-masochism and inaccessible?
I had another thought about the classic equation of relationships – men trading love for sex and women trading sex for love. At that oversimplified level, all these years were about men reneging on their side of the deal by taking sex without paying back with adequate love while women withheld sex till love was forthcoming. It was a business and it worked with all the bartering, the bad debts and the constantly fluctuating scales on both sides.
Today though, it’s women saying they’re not interested in shopping at this market anymore. Why pay for love when you can get its substitutes (power, fame, respect, attention, awe) far more easily? And there are the women who decide to infiltrate the competition and take over the business. Enter the Samantha Jones prototype – a woman who trades for sex the way men have been thought to do.
I’m not going to judge what anybody wants and how they go about getting it. But I do wonder about the fabric of our society, based as it is on the warp and weft of both sexes, the constant barter and transfer of emotions and sex, of needs and provisions.
This is the morning after the party and we’re hungover on that potent mix of power, glory and attention. I don’t think most of us are thinking straight any more. Who’s going to rescue the world now that Superwoman has ousted Superman and killed the collaboration?
