Living & Arts

Single walking, talking and shopping bundles of nerves

In print | October 9, 2008

The other day I was perusing the television page of the New York Times—a favorite pastime of mine which often takes place in lieu of any sort of productive activity like, say, studying for midterms or hanging out with the charming and intelligent Alex Lerner—when I stumbled across a review of the new CBS show “The Ex List.” Having actually watched the pilot episode (once again, in place of actual work) I decided to read the review, wondering if Ginia Bellafante could shed any light on the show’s bizarre and unrealistic premise.

She didn’t—I don’t really think it’s possible to explain the reasoning behind a show in which the main character is told by a psychic that she must find her soulmate (whom she has apparently already dated) within the next year or else end up alone. Nevertheless, she did give me something to think about; the opening sentence of her review bluntly and succinctly told me something that I had thought about before but had never really been able to articulate.

“Since the mid-1960s the history of single women on television is largely a chronicle of endearing neuroses.” I must admit that these words immediately started a frantic bout of rationalization. “Endearing neuroses? No way. My beloved medium wouldn’t marginalize the plight of the single woman this way!” I searched for counterexamples, thinking of any and every show I know with a single female protagonist and I came to a disturbing, although not entirely unexpected, conclusion: it is indeed the case that single women on television are generally treated as walking, talking and shopping bundles of nerves and insecurities.

At first this seems wrong because so many female protagonists (including several who were name-checked in Bellafante’s review) are presented as successful career women. Ally McBeal is a high-profile lawyer; Carrie Bradshaw is a successful columnist and author; even Betty Suarez, the star of an increasingly over-the-top melodrama based on a telenovela, is an assistant at an important fashion magazine. Yet, for varying reasons, none of these women have the dignity and self-confidence that befit their professions. From Carrie falling on a runway to Ally getting stuck in a toilet to Betty’s truly unfortunate braces and hair, they all act like punch lines to some sort of cosmic joke: the single woman as laughingstock.

The most worrisome aspect of these shows, however, isn’t the embarrassing slapstick that these beautiful women are subjected to; it’s their constant obsession with finding a man, getting married and living out some sort of happily-ever-after. Now, I’m not the sort of radical feminist who won’t allow a date to pay for dinner and doesn’t shave her legs (I’m a broke college student and I value hygiene, thank you very much), but I do worry that portraying marriage as the ultimate goal leaves career success as an afterthought, something that’s nice but isn’t nearly as crucial to a woman’s happiness as landing a man. Even Blair and Serena of “Gossip Girl” worry about getting into college, and they’re boy-crazy teenagers. Shouldn’t Carrie take a moment out of her search for Mr. Right and focus on, I don’t know, the book she’s about to have published?

I don’t think that Ally McBeal was, to paraphrase “Time,” “the death of feminism;” the death of a healthy body image, possibly, or the death of work-appropriate attire, but not of feminism. Feminism is still alive and kicking, and I’m sure Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi would agree. (Sarah Palin might agree as well, but I really don’t think I can associate feminist success with someone who thinks that being able to see Russia from her house counts as foreign-policy experience. Honestly, I think that even a lipstick-wearing pig could explain what was wrong with that statement. But I digress … ) However, Ally and Carrie (and all the voters who think Hillary is a raving hormonal bitch) demonstrate that perhaps our society hasn’t come as far as we would have liked. Women don’t get equal pay for equal work, we’re called sluts when we express a healthy sex drive and we have to put up with whiny, self-pitying characters that are supposed to represent our gender. I personally would rather be represented by Ripley from “Alien,” memorably played by Sigourney Weaver. Ripley was a woman who knew how to balance family and career. Plus, she could kill aliens. This actually gives me an idea …

I think, come November, that I’m going to vote Ripley for president.

Alex is a sophomore. You can reach her at aisrael1@swarthmore.edu.