Retro Women (part 2): The Playboy Club

The story pretty much opens with a helpless blonde in a bunny suit being backed into a corner in a back room by a grabby, large Chicago mob boss in the 1960s. The writing is catchy, if the early episode characters and plot twists are a little convenient. But really, I am not writing these posts as a television critic... rather, I want to look at the women. What is the reality of the culture for women in the 60s, has it changed since then, and are they at all relatable? I mean, these shows are being pumped through the media circuit, so there must be a reason, and I'm pretty sure it's not just about skinny ties and beehives.

The Playboy Club takes on a different spin than PanAm, because while it's still about working women in the early 1960s, these women are much more overtly about pleasure. With some historical accuracy, their names are presented to clients as "bunny" Sue or Anne...a reminder that they are first a creature of fantasy before they are an individual woman. This strikes me particularly in light of a talk I heard the other day about the second Creation account in Genesis. When Adam said he was lonely, God first created the animals. Then he gave Adam the charge to name them all. This showed man's dominance over the animals. But when Adam encountered Eve, his response was not to name her, to dominate her, but to recognize her as one like himself. In the case of Playboy, the title "bunny" reduces these women first to animals, a creature for man to dominate. Only then do they have individual names (and costume colors) by which to be differentiated from the others in the ...warren?

Strikingly similar to Pan Am is the mistress of the group, the "bunny mother" who claims the job in the first episode. This idea of chaperoning single women, overseeing and training them for work, just doesn't exist anymore. The working women, while completely sexualized, are nonetheless treated like naive schoolgirls - girls at least who need overseeing, who have to answer to someone else. This role of mother or madam or mistress is food for thought. There doesn't seem, in either case, or in other related fields, to be a similar role for men. Is the thought that women need to be controlled, to be guided or kept in line? And in lieu of a husband to play this part, it seems single women must at least have some kind of mother figure to keep them straight. Hmmm. Why is it that women need always to be overseen: regarding dress and weight in PanAm, regarding costumes and regulations, even in the liberal world of Playboy?

Interestingly enough, when faced with a contest to be the first bunny on the cover of Playboy magazine, there is a bit of a conversation about what to wear.. and an emphatic consensus from the fantasy waitresses that a bunny is not a playmate. But while the distinction is made, the only real difference seems to be that bunnies work in a skimpy outfit, while the playmates work in the nude. Of course it is a distinction, but no one seems to ask or answer the question of dignity, value, modesty or personhood. All of the women, in both camps, are professional pleasure bringers.

Still, we get no real argument as to Why these women are willing to live a lifestyle involved in entertaining men's fantasies, why they are content in high cut satin one piece costumes with ears and stillettos, how they enjoy life in the mansion where they also dress in skimpy nightwear and bikinis and less in public, swimming with strange men in the grotto and unworried about morals or interactions.

In episode three, in fact, the den mother reveres the club as place where the "girls can have a chance" that was better than their old lives. She tells a female reporter who had infiltrated the club that they are "hard-working girls just trying to make a life for themselves." The reporter admits she was looking for illicit activity, and found none.

Is this true to life? Is this a 1960s perspective on women, or a 21st century defense? Sure, these women got paid money but worked hard, in 3 inch heels, no less. Is there any crime in that? This is how the writers portray these happy, pretty "girls".

But we are watching this in the 21st century, and no one can really re-write history through its original lens. I would like to say that women cannot have a price put on them, and to do so is offensive and wrong- just as wrong if a women is complicit in the interaction, and allows herself to be used. Objectifying people leads to violence, because love is not an issue with things. The only response to the human person - to woman - is love. Not some trumped up fantasy about having cigarettes lit or whiskey delivered by an animalized version of sex.

Is the portrayal of women in the Playboy Club accurate? Sure, women still had limited work options in the 60s,and were certainly regarded as less wordly, in the realm of capitalism, perhaps less valuable. And certainly, since the dawn of time women have chosen to be used to get what they want - and men have willingly obliged. But the overtones that these are just hard workers, with better lives and a happy camraderie- well, that seems to gloss over the obvious truth. We have yet to see tales of abuse, abortion, disease, backstabbing, and the devaluing of women that men of means espouse when using them as playthings. We have yet to see that pleasure is not enough. We have yet to - once again - find the reality behind the fantasy. And I don't know if we will...

I do know that true or not, no woman is a bunny. And no man has a right to regard a woman as more preferable because she devalues her personhood by becoming half rabbit, or in any way half of who she is as a person made in the image of God.

Retro Women: Pan Am (part 1)

My friend Chasing contacted me a while back and asked whether I would be blogging about the roles of women in the new retro genre that is sweeping television. While I had many thoughts already about Mad Men, it hadn't quite occurred to me to put Pan Am and the Playboy Club into a trio of arguments or explorations until she nudged me. So, for what it's worth, I'm going to offer a triptych of blogs, starting wih the least well done IMHO, and moving forward.

I did want to catch Pan Am, and with so much going on in life, resorted to On Demand viewing. This has its benefits, including the fact that I can usually watch one or two shows on my time, when I am ready to be thoughtful. Unfortunately, I don't see this show as being particularly thoughtful itself.

If you haven't caught it, Pan Am is about the wonder of travelling the globe in the exotic world of commercial airlines in the early 1960s. Flight attendants are all female, impeccably attired, subject to personal inspection and weigh-ins, and apparently independent and strong women. The show's faults stem mostly from poorly developed characters and (so far) historical highlights that are so glamorous as to be unrealistic. For instance, two out of three episodes have shown the same crew of Pan Am stweardesses at the Bay of Pigs, and the JFK Berlin Wall speech. I just am not buying it.

But despite my own misgivings about the writers, and the fact that I will probably stop watching altogether (Christina Ricci's resemblance to Sally Fields is unnerving enough to get me to stop), I do want to comment on the times and women.

These flight attendants are a headstrong woman running away from a society past, and her sister who ran out on her wedding - after a panic attack when she realizes the commitment she's about to make. The other two are a French woman who survived Nazi occupation of her homeland, and the above-the-law Ricci, who is a take charge, JFK obsessed manipulator, who is often receiving penalties for flouting the rules.

A few regulations from the 60s seem shocking to a modern mind, and are displayed as such: there is no such thing as a married stewardess, for example, though there is a suggestion that some secret marriages take place to allow women to still work while being married. There is a regulations check-in with a chaperone-headmistress-type who is brazen enough to pull through a women's uniform and snap her girdle, to prove that the girdle is being worn (not wearing one is a dreadful offense). And there is the usual, boring sexual harrassment by the first class businessman, which is fought off by the stewardess and shrugged off or even rewarded by the male co-pilot.

These things are out of place in our modern world, and you may wonder why the harrassment didn't enrage me. Well, the short answer is this: it doesn't add anything to the conversation. We have overly simplistic women in caracatured roles, all perfectly small and beautiful, none with recently awful issues. The French one inadvertently has an affair with a married man, but we sort of expect that. The runaway bride is happier now, with her face the most recent cover of Life magazine. The red headed sister gets a second job as a CIA courier, but it just helps loosely tie in the Cold War setting. We still have no idea why she would get involved, or if they even pay her. I strongly suspect the writers of this show are not only men, but have lived in their basements all their lives. Because these women aren't real. (And yes, I just checked- both writer and producer are men. No news of what kind of interaction they've ever had with women.)

What I would like to have seen: I would like to know why these women are pursuing a career instead of marriage, in a 1963 world. What kind of education do they have? What about flying intrigued them? What does it mean to be used to, or to buck, the rules about dress and ettiquette? How come the French woman trusted the man she was sleeping with? What expectations did pilots and stewardesses at the time have of each other when flying around the world together? Was this actually a way to be empowered, or just something to do to get out of a boring life?

There is no depth in these women, or really in the story. It had potential to bring up the many issues of the women's liberation movement as something more than a fight against minor inconveniences. If I believed that these women were typical of the workers of the 1960s, I am not sure I would have any respect at all for the intelligence and hearts of our mothers and grandmothers... though thankfully, I know better.

So while this blog is mostly a complaint, I guarantee the handling of women's roles in The Playboy Club (yes, I watched it for you, dear readers) and Mad Men (wateched obsessively for myself) are much more complex, and worth a deeper look.

Random Hippies on a Warm Day

My husband laughs at me, because random people talk to me, for apparently no reason other than that I don't look threatening. Which is really funny, because it seems some of the young women to whom I have lectured, or who are working in ministry with me, seem fairly intimidated by me.(I am not intimidating).

So today, when I was compelled to stop and fill up my tank with gas after travelling as long as I dared with the amber "E" light practically screaming at me, I wasn't really surprised. I had given my card to the attendant (I live in New Jersey), and was leaning on my arm in the open window when I heard "How is your day going?"

It was practically a disembodied voice breaking into my beta-mode brain. I was a little startled, and when I looked up towards the voice, I noticed a middle aged "hippie" type leaning against his car. Since he was waiting outside his car for the tank to fill, I assumed he was from out of state. (*and illegally self-serving at the gas station, btw.) The white pony tail wasn't enough of a giveaway. But his friendly, warm smile made me not only answer "um, fine. sorry. thanks." I returned the chatter.

He was from Maine, about 30 miles north of Portland. He had driven the 7 1/2 hours south, and had only an hour left to drive. He was visiting a friend, and was ready for a beer. He does music therapy with disabled and developmentally challenged people. He paid for his gas in cash.

I didn't offer as much. But he wasn't scary - chatty. It was pleasant, and sweet. There was no reason not to be human. There was no reason not to take the opportunity to share the moment, to be friendly back, to find Jesus in him.

I'll never see him again. But the moment stuck with me.

And I think it mostly did because he saw ME as a fellow human being. He thought I was worth talking to. He wished me the best in my life. He honored Christ in me. And it was really beautiful. I never felt self-conscious, or creepy. I had been feeling emotionally drained. I had cried earlier in the day and was pretty sure my eyes were still ugly. And it just didn't matter.

So is this, perhaps, the challenge? To honor the light in others, even strangers - especially strangers? To open the conversation - to be open? To humanize a moment of waiting at a gas station - to act humanly?

Are these dumb questions? Am I the only one who misses the opportunities? Well, I think not. Otherwise this would not be such a remarkable day. And I think, really, that every day and every interaction ought to be remarkable, because in every case we are encountering Christ in others. We just need to take the time to see, to act, to share, to love.