#postfeminism

[jareckiworld]

Lizzie Gill — "Pair of Covered Vases” (acrylic, image transfer & marble dust emulsion, on canvas, 2024)

[muniapolis]

Fleabag and Pornography

Anybody who has lurked on the internet in the past few years is probably familiar with Fleabag (2016-19).

What makes Fleabag special is that her hyper-s*xuality is something we see quite openly. She is not trying to steer clear of that as many female artists try to do because it might cheapen their work or get them sl*t-shamed. Waller-Bridge’s protagonist “stoops” to that level and lives there. Even the name of the protagonist, which is never revealed, is similar to p*rnography where women are “barely-l*gal teen”, “busty m*lf”, and many other things, but rarely a person with a name.

My latest Substack essay "Fleabag and P*rnography" is published now. Please click on the link to read.

[yayfeminism]

In 2007, the sociologist Rosalind Gill theorized that postfeminism was less an ideology than a "sensibility." Its identifying features included the obsessive monitoring of one's own and other women's bodies, a preoccupation with self-discipline and self-surveillance, a makeover paradigm, an emphasis on individual gratification over collective effort, a belief in gender essentialism (the understanding that men and women are intrinsically and naturally different), and a preference among women to present themselves as active sexual subjects rather than passive objects.

from Girl on Girl by Sophie Gilbert

[yssjj]

erasing meaning from gangnam style

Since we’re an Asian-interest magazine, I’m going to assume that you know what K-pop is, if you aren’t vaguely familiar with it. Living through the 2000s has been a very exciting time for Korean identities in the mainstream. One could sense the time dependence of my identity in the US; in elementary school, I mostly interfaced with the American joke wondering if I had come from the North or South, which failed to consider that all of my grandparents had come from the North, and would never see their family or friends again due to US intervention. But by high school, my fortunes had turned around! At this point, we were being accosted in Marshalls by well-meaning parents who wanted to ask us about BTS because their daughter looooved K-pop, which raised another question: how did they know we were Korean in a primarily Chinese community? 

But regardless of my personal bitterness, it’s important (to me) to consider how this happened. And it was a gradual change, to some extent, but really a large paradigm shift happened to change the visibility of the Korean identity in the US, around when I was in 6th grade. K-pop at this point had been what my other Korean friend and I watched on old YouTube during playdates for her to fangirl over, and for me to vaguely stare off into. It’s not like K-pop hadn’t had any international success, but it felt limited to the Korean-American diaspora and niche internet communities. “Gee” by Girls Generation is a song I would like to argue really first crossed the border into mainstream success, but I think that’s wishful thinking for an iconic song I happen to like (seriously, go watch it). 

I don’t think it would be a controversial statement to say that “Gangnam Style'' was a really big deal. Statistically speaking, it topped iTunes charts in 31 different countries, it was the first video with a billion views, and it’s still the 11th most watched video on YouTube. But I’m sure just mentioning it brought you back to whatever you were doing while I was arguing about how stupid Harry Styles and Call of Duty were (I wasn’t a particularly critical-thinking middle schooler). Gangnam style was all over the radio, blessing my 7 a.m. rides to school in my mom’s Corolla, and I’d climb back onto my main after-school activity of the desktop computer to see the thumbnail on YouTube before clicking away and watching two very large buff men put together a mega burger made out of bacon instead.

Not that I had a global perspective of things at the time, but what was interesting about the virality of “Gangnam Style” is that it seemed to originate from completely different reasons across the US and its original target audience in Korea. I sensed this as one does through the American cultural hegemony, another middle schooler friend, who confided to me that it was great that Korea would be seen in such a positive light thanks to “Gangnam Style”. I wasn’t sure. I felt a little uneasy knowing that my cultural diplomat was PSY freaking out over a lady’s ass. 

“It’s awesome,” the guy who oversaw our after-school pick-up told me. 

“Did you know,” I said, pausing my round of Touhou 7 that I would bring in on a USB, “that it’s actually about capitalist critique?” I had learned this after Googling the lyrics because it felt a little rude to not know what a song in my own language meant. I wasn’t 100% sure what that meant, either, but they were words I knew went together according to Tumblr. 

The entire video, really, made me a little nervous. Who was I in the eyes of others at school? PSY? Who even was he?

I didn’t really want to be associated with this goofy Korean man who wasn’t very handsome. I wanted to be taken seriously.

We can chalk this up to the nervous identity crisis and desire for acceptance of any middle schooler, but this difference in understanding “Gangnam Style” wasn’t just personal, but a symptom of cultural differences. Not just cultural differences, but a refusal to translate or understand the spectacle of Korean messaging in the US. We can look at this with post-feminist theory as well as the pervasive use of ironic justification in the 2000s-2010s.

Background history

In Korea, PSY was already known for being a runaway success, starting as an underground artist who began to produce hit after hit, starting in 2001 with the success of his first full-length album because of his non-traditional styling (compared to the extremely polished and conventionally attractive looks of K-pop groups), use of comedic lyrics, as well as vulgar lyrics criticizing Korean society. So “Gangnam Style” wasn’t a far departure from that. 

The lyrics of “Gangnam Style” feature a guy who describes himself as “macho” and wants a girl who “looks quiet but parties hard when she goes to party,” or is “sexier covered up than a girl who is scantily dressed.” This narrator’s thoughts lean into the post-feminist sexism of the idea of a “girl who isn’t like other girls,” but PSY openly mocks the narrator’s preferences through the narrator’s parallel ideas on his own looks and perceived attractive features. This narrator brags that he also “can get crazy passionate” and “has bulging brains instead of bulging muscles.” While not necessarily as applicable in the Korean feminist scene during this time period, in the US this can be understood as the attempt to validate “alternative masculinities” that are not based on the traditions of physical power, but instead “intelligence” that became popular in the 2000s and 2010s. 

The hook, “Oppa Gangnam style,” can be understood as the narrator calling himself a cool guy from the Gangnam district, which can be thought of as posturing that you’re from a rich, high-culture district. The classical comparison is to Beverly Hills, but you can also think of people who brag about going to Harvard, being snotty about New York City, or so on. It mocks the idea of constructed masculinity through materialistic attempts at class mobility with commercial goods (the Mercedes car) and images of lifestyle (lounging at a “beach,” going to high-end spas) by showing these as tasteless, corny, and crass. “Gangnam Style” critiques the materialistic culture of Korean youths, who aspire to come off as rich and upper class through elegance and “taste.” But PSY lampoons this through an overtly corny music video that claims that he is portraying these “elegant” people who ultimately are chasing after masculine ideals of being considered attractive and meeting women who are feminine ideals in aesthetics. These men treat women like objects because they believe that they can achieve their masculinity through materialism and class.

But how many Americans know that “Gangnam Style” is a satirical critique of Korean materialism?

At the risk of being unfair, my two examples certainly didn’t know. Most other K-pop music videos have English captions, including the videos that were released before “Gangnam Style” caused a huge growth in interest in the genre. But “Gangnam Style,” 10 years after it’s been released, still has no translations on the video itself. Which seems strange since so much of the music video is guided by the lyrics. If the lyrics are lost on the American audience, where does the international appeal come from?

International Appeal

The answer is that the themes behind the lyrics were never part of the appeal. Most of the appeal comes from the music video. T-Pain tweeted, “words cannot even describe how amazing this video is...”, which is directly linked to the skyrocketing popularity of the video as news sites began to cover it. So the virality of “Gangnam Style” in the US must be studied through the lens of pleasure removed almost completely from the lyrics. Taking the music video at face value, then, we can get a different reading using post-feminist themes of irony, the choice of objectification, masculinities, as well as the construction of the consumer through advertising and sexuality.

The positive response to “Gangnam Style” has generally been attributed to the absurdist nature of the scenes in the video, as well as the dance itself. The Washington Post claimed that “'Gangnam Style' has made an extraordinarily stupid-looking dance move suddenly cool,” ignoring the fact that the dance was chosen to look stupid in the first place.

The Sydney Morning Herald claimed that the video “makes no sense at all to most Western eyes" and it "makes you wonder if you have accidentally taken someone else's medication."

The deliberate removal of meaning from the video is reminiscent of Adorno’s concept of the culture industry. The video loses the power of “psychology” over the “structure” of the music video. The Western viewers thus avoid the confrontation of culture in the music video by brushing the visual themes aside as “meaningless.” So it becomes “uncritical fun” and viewers can thus transcend the need to even know the lyrics. There is a racial aspect to this as well—the Korean-focused message is brushed aside since it “makes no sense at all” to a Westerner. So the minority Korean message is subjugated and destroyed, made invisible by mocking the silly Asian man doing his silly dance. In this way it becomes pleasurable to an audience that may otherwise be alienated by its themes.

Another way “Gangnam Style'' is understood in the US is through sexuality, as advertisements and other video forms have already created this sexualized “set of images.” It is likened to LMFAO, probably in reference to “Sexy and I Know It” for their satire of the grandstanding of masculinity. But LMFAO creates satire through the focus on male genitalia and body humor. The comparison of “Sexy and I Know It” can be understood by “Gangnam Style'' being seen as a video about a satire on male sexuality instead of consumerism, with American viewers focusing on the nudity and Noh Hongchul’s pelvic-thrusting dance. The latter dance is actually a trademark of Noh Hongchul’s comedy acts, but the American audience doesn’t know this, and thus interprets it in the language of images they are familiar with. As Sut Jhally puts it in “Advertising, Gender and Sex: What’s Wrong with a Little Objectification?”, the viewers are informed through the “system of images'' that are present in American society, and also happen to be obsessed with “gender and sexuality.” The one English lyric in the song is “Hey, sexy lady”—which adds to this perception and leads to a later ironic reading of other scenes where women are sexualized.

So of course there is no closed captioning—PSY understands the appeal for American audiences includes taking the lyrics as nonsensical and meaningless.

Another distinctly American reading occurs for the objectification of women, notably the yoga lady image that became the icon of “Gangnam Style.” With the context of the lyrics, it’s clear that this is a direct critique of the sleazy nature that comes from commodifying women. The women present in the music video are also traditionally beautiful, with the woman who seems to be interested in PSY in the music video being an idol herself. Without the context of the lyrics that deconstruct the delusion of a romantic, classy lifestyle where women only have value from being traditionally beautiful, however, this scene is transformed into the post-feminist “irony” that Rosalind Gill talks about in her paper “Postfeminist Media Culture.” American viewers thus participate in the sexualization of these women by the constructed “silliness” of the music video. By making “Gangnam Style” absurdist and bereft of meaning, PSY’s yoga lady scene is seen as “funny” and “subversive” towards sexism, even though the original critique is on materialism and commodification.

The real absurdity is the American response to “Gangnam Style” as a force to “understand Korea” in the US by Obama, and even as a way to hail world peace by the UN.

Even Noam Chomsky was part of an MIT parody of “Gangnam Style,” partaking in “mindless fun.” I felt a little disturbed at the time that this might be the image of Korea constructed for the American mind as actual interest in the culture was swept away by the exaltation of the video as nonsensical and meaningless. As a 6th grader, this wasn’t how I framed it to myself, but the way the Western viewpoint became dominant over the original meanings of the video signaled to me that my Korean experience would become destroyed and overwritten by the white, American viewpoint. The post-feminist mindset also created a post-racial mindset where irony was used to mock other cultures, setting a white gaze in media much like the male gaze asserted by Laura Mulvey in “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” That’s why so many TV shows were able to partake in blackface (like The Office and 30 Rock, just to name a few) and take pleasure in unashamed racial violence—to the white gaze, it is funny, because the original meaning of racial violence can be stripped away.

 

References

Gill, Rosalind. “Postfeminist Sexual Culture.” The Routledge Companion to Media & Gender, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203066911.ch54.

Horkheimer, Max, et al. Dialectic of Enlightenment. Stanford University Press, 2020.

Jhally, Sut. “Advertising, Gender and Sex: What's Wrong with a Little Objectification?” (1989).

Mulvey, Laura. Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. 1999.

[makjangcandy]

Postfeminism, Choices and our OCs

Yesterday on DA day, I decided to hang out on a Discord VC. On this server, it is notably common practice to hangout on VC to celebrate and/or lament the lack of DA announcements and minimal DA content. As I hopped in on the VC, I noticed that the conversation went to the subject of: “why do we only have choice A & B, and are not given choice C?” “Why don’t we get option X on the character creator?” Some of these are fanfiction writers.

Such questions are not wrong. I myself am annoyed at some of the options the DA games have provided me with.

But those discourses around choices reminded me of a couple of things.

One: It reminded me of that thing that happened in 2012 over the Mass Effect 3 endings. While I was disliked the original endings too, I remembered the gamer outrage over the ending choices—the hashtags, the cupcakes and many others that came out of it. Because gamers were wronged and gamers vote with their money like some kind of pseudo-social movement borne out of neoliberal capitalism.

Two: Writers on postfeminism pointed links to capitalism on discourses of choice. Rosamond Gill (2007) describes postfeminism as a “sensibility” (p. 148). Noticeably, in referring to it as a sensibility, Gill hearkens to cultural studies traditions such as Williams’ “structure of feeling” (2014). These terms come from older studies about cultural hegemony especially on how “common sense” or dominant ways of thinking are almost always in the process of being formed (Williams 2014). Thus, its function is also ideological. As a sensibility, Gill defined characteristics such as:

“the notion that femininity is a bodily property; the shift from objectification to subjectification; an emphasis upon self-surveillance, monitoring and self-discipline; a focus on individualism, choice and empowerment; the dominance of a makeover paradigm; and a resurgence of ideas about natural sexual difference” (p. 147).

There are of course, updates to this. In a more recent article, Gill (2017) also notes how postfeminism intersects with other intersectional issues such as racism, how postfeminism is not exclusively heterosexual, and how postfeminism implies increased self-monitoring and self-optimization.

Regardless, on the earlier piece, Gill (2007) writes:

“Notions of choice, of 'being oneself', and 'pleasing oneself' are central to the postfeminist sensibility that suffuses contemporary Western media culture. They resonate powerfully with the emphasis upon empowerment and taking control that can be seen in talk shows, advertising and makeover shows. A grammar of individualism underpins all these notions -- such that even experiences of racism or homophobia or domestic violence are framed in exclusively personal terms in a way that turns the idea of the personal as political on its head” (p. 153).

I bring this up because there is a pattern on the way many fanfiction writers and large parts of Dragon Age fandom talk about choice as if choice is the end all in discussions about agency.

There are, of course, several things that can spur one to write fanfiction. But it is common to hear someone say, “I wrote [insert title of fanfic] because the game did not give me X choice” or “I wrote this because I want to have Y representation that is not in the game.” Not that there is anything wrong with that. In some fanfiction spaces (Discord in particular), I’ve seen several spaces dedicated to OCs. I’ve seen particular admins deal with community problems with more spaces to talk about OCs as if the ability to talk about one’s OCs is the answer to everything. In some spaces, one of the worst sins one can commit is to imply something negative about another’s OC or represent another’s OC in ways the writer would not want.

When these happen, I try to resist the urge to virtually hurl a volume of Barthes on someone’s head. Regardless, in the world of fanfiction, authors do not seem to be dead.

Of course, in a world where social and cultural capital are easily convertible within our platforms (Postigo 2014), OCs are forms of cultural and social capital. While it may not be as easily monetized, it leads to certain promises of it.

But choices and OCs should not be the end all in discussions of agency and representation. I want to believe that agency is a lot more than that.

This is why I will always cringe at such conversations. Because my agency is a lot more than the choices I make. Because my agency goes beyond these neoliberal structures.

If there’s something I can wish for on Dragon Age Day, I hope that someday, the wider fandom would understand this.

References:

Gill, R. (2007). Postfeminist media culture: Elements of a sensibility. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 10(2), 147-166. https://doi.org/10.1177/1367549407075898

--------. (2017). The affective, cultural and psychic life of postfeminism: A postfeminist sensibility 10 years on. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 20(6), 606-626. https://doi.org/10.1177/1367549417733003

Postigo, H. (2014). The socio-technical architecture of digital labor: Converting play into YouTube money. New Media and Society, 18(3), 332-349. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444814541527

Williams, R. (2014). From Preface to Film (UK, 1954). In S. MacKenzie (Ed.), Film Manifestos and Global Cinema Cultures (pp. 607-613). Berkeley: University of California Press. https://doi.org/10.1525/9780520957411-171

[the-final-sentence]

You and me.

Brenda Shaughnessy, from “Postfeminism”

[20thcenturydreadfullyqueer]

Witness our Lord and Savior, Daina Reid

It’s official. Daina Reid is the Lord and Saviour destined to pull The Handmaid’s Tale out of the shithole and into some prestige drama limbo where there is a shot at a redemptive fourth season. She directed “Postpartum” and “Holly” in the second season, “Heroic” and “Witness” in the third. Hulu, please, let the entire fourth season be directed by her. And I’m not even going to go on a rant about women directors being undervalued since we are (hopefully) in the age of postfeminism where it’s a given that one’s gender is much less relevant than one’s directorial prowess.

P.S. She got an Emmy nod for a hanging episode (”Holly”) so that’s just the cherry on top.

[pxssagat]

LESBIAN ZERO