She’s the Man. Or is She?
In the teen flick She’s the Man (2006), Amanda Bynes plays the likable Viola, a young girl who is passionate about soccer and willing to do just about anything to play her favorite sport. When her high school cuts the girls’ soccer team and the coach refuses to let her try out for the boys team (“Everybody knows girls aren’t as fast or strong or athletic as boys”), Viola decides to impersonate her brother Sebastian and try out for a rival school’s boys’ team.
Not surprisingly, many women and feminists have hailed the movie as pro-feminist, and there are several scenes in the movie that support this contention: When Viola’s boyfriend fails to support her, she immediately dumps him; she resists external influences that attempt to coerce her into a typical feminine stereotype; and she doesn’t shy away from competition. In fact, she seems brazenly comfortable making her own choices and she is not afraid to go after what she wants, no matter how challenging. But in our excitement over finding a fun, spunky, independent female lead, have feminists overlooked some of the traditionally stereotypical and sexist messages found in She’s the Man despite its obvious “girl power” theme?
From the outset, the film creates two separate worlds that Viola is meant to inhabit: the girl’s world versus the boys’ world, debutante versus soccer player. As such, the film immediately creates a conflict between male and female gender roles. This conflict is highlighted early on when Viola dreams that she is running on the soccer field in a big, flowing, cumbersome white dress as the boys run circles around her. She feels panicked and confused, and doesn’t know which direction to choose. Her need to remain feminine proves awkward and she literally trips and falls on her back. As we will see throughout the film, although Viola is willing to explore gender roles, she is oftentimes burdened with an unnecessary dose of gender confusion.
As if to reassure the viewer of Viola’s own latent femininity, she is surrounded by a staple of feminine friends. Her two closest female friends are uber feminine, and remain a constant reminder of the world to which Viola truly belongs. Her best male friend is also overtly effeminate. And though he himself seems to challenge traditional gender roles he is not burdened with the same gender confusion as Viola. His ultimate role is to act as the gatekeeper between both worlds: as a man he helps Viola create her male identity and gain access to the boys’ world, but as a feminine, homosexual man he is able to stay in the girls’ world without causing disruption. And every time Viola’s friends appear to provide her with assistance in her transition from female to male role, the film reminds us time and again that Viola hasn’t completely deserted her feminine role. She has simply taken a break.
The film seems to suggest that girls can don both male and female roles but they shouldn’t abandon their femininity altogether. Or in other words, it’s fine for a girl to dabble in the boys’ world as long as she understands and accepts that she will not be able to stay on permanently. This message, and its implications of separate spheres for the male and female, does not actually challenge gender stereotypes; it cements them by positing masculinity and femininity at opposite ends of a clearly defined spectrum. This is further demonstrated by the fact that no one else in the film strays from traditional gender roles. The girls remain very feminine while the boys behave like typical, macho guys. Viola is the exception, not the rule. For this reason alone, she fails to pose any real threat to the established order of things. None of her female teammates follow her lead. And at the end of the film, the men “let” her play with them. Granted, this is preferable to refusing girls and women access to man’s world simply on principle, but it treats Viola’s talent and skill in a typically unthreatening manner. In this way, the male viewers are reassured that she is not a typical girl and that it always remains up to the men to decide whether or not she plays. The power, then, still rests securely in the man’s world.
This inequity between the two worlds is never fully examined in the movie and it fails to seriously question the lies and injustices inherent in gender stereotypes. In fact, it seems to actually reaffirm and support these stereotypes. The film is satisfied that an exception has been made for a uniquely talented girl but it does not wish this allowance to be made for all girls. It is simply taken as fact that most girls never would or could achieve the same level of success that Viola has attained. Again, she is the exception. And, ironically, by accepting her as such, we also accept the gender stereotype that boys really are better athletes.
Likewise, when Viola’s love interest, Duke, confides in *Sebastian* that he longs for a truly intimate relationship with a girl – as opposed to a purely sexual one – he immediately threatens Sebastian (who is really Viola) into silence. It is clearly understood that although Duke may be as sensitive as any woman, as a man he should not express his feelings. And the film is content to simply leave it at that. When Duke learns of Viola’s deception, initially he is repelled and hurt. But, of course, and more than a little predictably, he accepts the reasons behind her falsehoods. He even expresses gratitude for the strange circumstances under which they met. But, he says, “It would be a lot better if you could just stay a girl from now on.” And within a few moments, Viola is a debutante in a beautiful dress with a handsome, young man on her arm.
This same story is told in Sydney White (2007), Amanda Byne’s most recent film. In this new film, she plays a girl without a mother who has grown up in a man’s world surrounded by her father and his carpenter friends. In fact, Sydney herself is also a carpenter. But early in the movie she is sent to her mother’s college with the hopes that she will reconnect with her mother through the resurrection of her latent femininity. Of course, and much like Viola in She’s the Man, Sydney feels awkward in the feminine world. It doesn’t seem to fit her. She ends up exiled and living in a run down house with a group of campus outcasts. And yet, despite her years of experience in carpentry, she never fixes the house. It’s as if she is never really permitted to fully embrace her masculine skills and abilities. She is only meant to dabble in the man’s world. She truly belongs in the woman’s world no matter how alien it feels to her.
Ultimately, by separating the male and female into two separate and antagonistic worlds, both of these films fail to truly examine what it means to be feminine or masculine, or even whether these two qualities are individually attainable. Instead of choosing to question the value of gender lines and to examine why it is that men and women feel compelled to behave according to a set of largely outdated gender rules, both of these films appear to accept, even embrace, the stereotypes. All they seem willing to consider is that perhaps we should allow girls some room in which to explore, providing, of course, that they find their way safely back to the girls’ world.
Copyright © 2007, C. C. Ley