Sex and the City is a shallow, sexist enterprise. But it does one thing well: it shows men what it feels like to be a woman. And the result is not prettyby Laurie Penny / May 28, 2010 / Leave a comment
Published in June 2010 issue of Prospect Magazine
Six series and two films later, the feminist arguments (both for and against) Sex and the City have been done to death. Shoes, handbags and marriage are not what every girl wants. But why do men hate Sex and the City so much? Is it because it’s a screechy, shallow, dated franchise based on thuggish sexual binaries in which men have no role whatever, apart from as scapegoats or faceless playthings? Well, partly. Though that isn’t the whole story.
In the second Sex and the City film, released this week, it’s clear that the protagonists still view men as asinine, brutal, essentially alien beasts who can be led around by their genitals. “The only place you can control a man is in bed,” says Samantha Jones in the television series. “If we perpetually gave men blow jobs we could run the world.” Hardly a rousing manifesto for gender equality.
Sex and the City sets itself up in cheeky opposition to male power without for a second questioning the premise of patriarchy. It conjures a dynamic in which men are at once the enemy and the object of desire, where any interaction women have with the opposite sex is rigidly policed by an all-female gang of friends. The franchise gives the impression that only women who are rich, attractive, white, western and powerful can win in the gender war—and only by imitating the worst aspects of shallow patriarchal objectification.