You go, girl!
While I freely confess to being a dirty old man, and appreciate boobs as well as the next guy, there is much more to women than their boobs. I think that if women ran the world, and we were a matriarachal society, the world would be in a better place.
I was raised olde skoole chivalrous. I will hold the door open for a woman, help her with her chair, bow over her hand when introduced, etc. I will also happily watch her change her own oil, or rewire the electrical panel. I’ll help if asked, but you go girl!
That being said, I still like boobs as much as the next guy. It’s how I’m wired. If you treat us (men) as dogs, you can’t go wrong. We’ll be affectionate, loving, and loyal til death. But we’ll also piss on the couch, chew your best pumps, and hump anything that smells good. Dunno where I’m going with this.
Thwap me with a rolled up newspaper and tell me to shut up.
This, right here, is what the male gaze looks like; and this, right here, is also why it’s a fucking problem.
Orange is the New Black is a Netflix original show about women in prison. Though not without problematic elements, as pretty much everything spawned by our culture is, it nonetheless stands head and shoulders above so much else on offer in its portrayal of a wide variety of complex, interesting women – women of colour, trans women, poor women, criminal women, disabled women, mentally ill women, queer women, immigrant women, religious women, atheist women – with a depth, compassion and, above all, narrative primacy that exists almost nowhere else on television. It’s a clever, well-written, engaging show, and it’s doing something important.
So, naturally, its value is immediately reduced to being a source of hot topless chicks for straight dudes to gawk at.
I have, as I’ve previously
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