Chiara Settineri

Gender and Popular Culture VMS331S

Prof. Lamm

May 2, 2020

Sex and the City: Friend and Foe of Contemporary Feminism

Few cultural products emerging from the 1990s entertainment landscape have been as timeless and widely celebrated as HBO’s hit series Sex and the City (1998-2004), created by

Darren Starr and Michael Patrick King and based on the eponymous book by Candace Bushnell.

Taking place amidst the chaos and glitz of New York City, the series follows relationship columnist Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), and her three close friends, Miranda Hobbes

(Cynthia Nixon), Charlotte York (Kristin Davis), and Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall), as they tackle the dramas of day-to-day life as—for the most part—single women in the city. The show baits viewers (particularly female viewers) with its glamour and keeps them hooked with its raw, unabashed honesty about every aspect of the female experience. Featuring open conversations about topics ranging from hair removal and aging to sexual satisfaction and discrimination in the workplace, its themes were unprecedented within mainstream popular culture.

Through this openness, the show acts as a site of identification for women who had previously not seen themselves represented in popular media. I argue that identification characterizes the show as inherently feminist, at least to a degree. In this paper, I will evaluate

SATC’s relationship with feminism, arguing that it promotes feminist ideals while simultaneously placing certain limitations on feminism. In the subsequent paragraphs, I aim to bring the revolutionary aspects of the show to light, particularly focusing on its emphasis on tight-knit female friendships, financial independence, choice, sexual liberation, and pleasure in self-presentation. While these components of the show are surely groundbreaking, in my assessment, I will also point to the limitations of the show—namely its exclusive white, upper class appeal, its relentless emphasis on heterosexual relationships, its reliance on typologies, and its promotion of hyper-consumption. Throughout this paper, I will demonstrate that the show’s messages are mixed and its characters are complex and will argue that it is this complexity which keeps viewers coming back for more. As the show’s consistent referencing within popular culture—despite its conclusion sixteen years ago—proves, the series left an impression on our cultural consciousness, and because of this, it is necessary to question why the four leading women spurred (and continue to spur) so much conversation, particularly by feminist scholars.

Feminist Identifications

Each of the four women who leads the show has her own set of defining characteristics that allows viewers to relate to her. Carrie is a spunky, Manolo Blahnik-obsessed writer who acts as the show’s witty narrator. Miranda is a driven and level-headed lawyer who grounds the group with her skepticism. Charlotte is an optimistic art dealer who feels destined for life as a devoted mother and wife. Samantha is a confident, sexually liberated woman working in public relations who is never afraid to speak her mind, despite how outrageous her thoughts may be. Due to the portrayal of these different personality types, female friend groups across the country have pegged their traditional, hopeless romantic friends as “the Charlotte” and their more flamboyant and sex-positive friends as “the Samantha,” a practice that has continued as the show has aged.

Women have even gone so far as to describe themselves and their friends as medleys of the characters, i.e. “mostly a Miranda with a splash of Carrie” (my personal identification). Notably, the characters of this series are not aimless twenty-somethings without responsibilities; they are career women in their thirties and forties aiming to negotiate their future aspirations with their current realities. Though the show relies on typologies to an extent, these women are more complex than their earlier TV counterparts (largely due to the security associated with HBO’s paywall), allowing them to offer more accurate representations of womanhood (Arthurs). Through these genuine and (largely) unfiltered portrayals of life as a woman in contemporary society, SATC undoubtedly promotes feminism and its ideals.

The idea that pop culture products like SATC are capable of promoting feminism through their accurate portrayals of womanhood is explored by Andi Zeisler in her book Feminism and

Pop Culture (2008). In her work, she argues that popular culture—particularly American popular culture—influences the ideology of the masses, especially in relation to people’s ideas surrounding gender and feminism, and is, therefore, worthy of academic analysis. She offers a complex argument, similar to my own, suggesting that, while some elements of popular culture uphold sexism and are built around the male gaze, other elements of it are employed to promote feminist ideas and offer new, more multi-faceted visions of womanhood. As part of her argument, Zeisler emphasizes the continuous struggle women face in finding sources of identification within popular media. In her first chapter, she writes:

In examining how feminism has informed pop culture and vice versa, it’s instructive to

look at the way the evolution of the women’s movement has been mirrored in pockets of

popular culture. This evolution has almost never been linear; as with the women’s

movement as a whole, many representations of women in pop culture have stayed

stubbornly behind the curve of liberation expectations. But others have changed with the times, alternately gratifying and frustrating the women who watch carefully, looking for

accurate portrayals of who they are and can be. (Zeisler 12)

The last sentence within this quote expresses the crucial idea that individuals, especially women, yearn to see themselves accurately represented within popular culture. In a media landscape fraught with flat and stereotypical representations of themselves, women pick through cultural products to find fragments of their identities or their experiences. As evidenced by its popularity among women, SATC resolved, at least to a degree, this lack of representation and offered women real reflections of themselves to show them they are not alone.

Within this portrayal of womanhood is the show’s most feminist aspect: its spotlighting of genuine, loyal female friendship. In fact, it can be argued that the main character in the show is not Carrie Bradshaw but rather the group of girlfriends as a unit. Whether at their weekly brunches or chatting over the phone (landlines, of course), the women are each other’s constants throughout the upheavals of daily life. Their support ranges from advice about men and relationships (the most frequent form of support) to attendance at each other’s career-related events, whether it be an exhibition opening at Charlotte’s gallery or Carrie’s book signings.

Importantly, the differences between the four personalities only make the group stronger and more colorful; although they may not agree on everything, these women maintain an unrelenting love for each other.

The strength of their friendship effectively nullifies any real need the women might have to pursue other serious, deep-rooted relationships, particularly romantic ones. Jane Gerhard explores the women’s fierce friendship in “Sex and the City: Carrie Bradshaw’s Queer

Postfeminism” (2005), where she describes SATC as reflecting queerness due to its denial of stable, long-lasting heterosexual relationships and its promotion of postfeminist ideals, such as owning one’s sexuality and finding freedom in consumption. In this piece, Gerhard underscores this feminism by using queer theory to emphasize the way in which Carrie Bradshaw’s relationship with her girlfriends fills the void left by men in her life. In this way, though Carrie and her friends are (for the most part) straight in the series, their bonds reflect the “elective

[nontraditional] family structure” typical of queer communities (Gerhard 44). To emphasize this point, Gerhard writes:

When one tunes into the show, one quickly gathers that these women’s girlfriends are the

most valued people in their lives. And indeed, the show insists that these relationships are

more lasting and trustworthy than those with men or potential husbands. […] Their

conversations are as intimate as the sex with men they enjoy. In many episodes, the

heterosexual sex is akin to jogging or clubbing, but the talk is the true subject, the process

by which the show’s narrative, its knowledge and its pleasures, are generated. (Gerhard

43)

This extended quote essentially points to the show’s emphasis on the women’s ability to achieve personal satisfaction without a man. The “talk” Gerhard describes offers a fuller picture of the female experience, as the women dive headfirst into taboo topics like sex, money, and aging; it is this talk amongst women which audiences grasp onto and hold dearly, as the conversations mirror their own. Though the women spend much of the series talking about their fleeting relationships with men, which is one of its key limitations, the relationships at the heart of the show—the ones the show is most celebrated for—are the relationships among the four women.

SATC (quite literally) broadcasts the discussions that women have been having behind closed doors with their female confidantes to people across the globe. For instance, in Season 4,

Episode 11, Miranda questions whether or not to go through with an unplanned pregnancy. At the beginning of the episode, she tells her friends that she intends to have an abortion saying,

“This is not in my plans right now” (“Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda”). In this scene, she recognizes that having a child would be a detour in her ambitious career path and acknowledges the fact that it is entirely her choice whether or not to proceed with her pregnancy. Another layer is added to the situation, as Charlotte (the most conservative of the four) reacts with anger and jealousy toward Miranda’s decision, seeing as she is personally going through fertility troubles at this point in the series—another underdiscussed issue women face. The episode also features

Samantha and Carrie openly disclosing that they have had two and one abortion(s), respectively, over their weekly brunch, which works to destigmatize the issue further. Although, at the end of the episode, Miranda ends up deciding to have the child, the episode is revolutionary in its discussion of abortion as an issue real women grapple with. Therefore, although feminism is contained in that Miranda does not actually go through with the procedure, it is expressed through the positive affirmation that it is a woman’s right to choose.

The groundbreaking quality of this episode goes hand in hand with Zeisler’s argument about the power of popular culture; in this situation, it works to shape collective beliefs. Zeisler states, “Pop culture informs our understanding of political issues that on first glance seem to have nothing to do with pop culture” (Zeisler 7). This scene works to normalize the political issue of abortion and place it within a context that is known, either directly or indirectly, to all women. Because pop culture is a digestible medium, SATC allows for divisive topics, such as that of abortion, to be handled in a more personal manner through the vehicle of these women’s open conversations.

Miranda Hobbes: The Skeptical Lawyer As suggested above, Miranda does go through with her pregnancy, which results in her having to juggle her friendships, new infant, and demanding job as a lawyer at a prestigious law firm in the show’s final two seasons. Importantly, the show honestly broadcasts the intense struggle and fatigue faced by new single mothers and should be praised for this, but this is not the focus of my analysis of Miranda’s representation as a character. The most androgynous of the four women, her red pixie cut and neutral-hued, masculine wardrobe connote her as removed from societal expectations of performed femininity. Of all the women, Miranda is the first to offer a reality check; she places logic above all else and is not afraid to speak her mind. It may surely be argued that, at face value, Miranda is the most feminist character in the show, seeing as she refuses to subscribe to any gender norms. Even when she takes on the more traditional female role of mother, Miranda does so without a man at her side and refuses to romanticize the experience of motherhood, often expressing frustration about the sacrifices that come with having a child.

Throughout the series, Miranda can be counted on to unveil the inequities involved with being a woman in contemporary society. In Season 5, Episode 3 (“Luck Be an Old Lady”), she is found doing just that. At the beginning of the episode, the women may be seen chatting at their routine brunch. The scene opens with a close-up on Carrie who is ranting about being stood up on a blind date the night prior. As the camera follows the women speaking with Carrie about her frustrations with dating, Charlotte (ever the optimist) tells her that she should keep trying, or else she’ll risk ending up an “old maid.” Immediately, Miranda recognizes the gender-based bias which surrounds singledom and aging; she asks, "Why do we get stuck with 'old maid' and

'spinster' and men get to be 'bachelors' and 'playboys'?" Not only does this scene emphasize the blunt conversations the women have, but it also shows Miranda’s characteristic skepticism and unfailing ability to critically observe societal norms. In this questioning of the way women are judged and men are praised as they grow older, SATC presents a largely accepted double standard for viewers to reassess.

Miranda’s explicit feminism has not gone unnoticed, particularly in our current zeitgeist.

In “If ‘Sex and the City’ Came Out Today, Miranda Would Be the Protagonist” (2017), an article from the progressive online publication Man Repeller, Harling Ross dissects the reasons why

Miranda is the most aspirational, modern character of the four women. She points to her ambition, skepticism, open-mindedness about relationships, and inherent feminism as reasons why Miranda would dethrone Carrie as the central protagonist if the show were to re-premiere today. Ross concludes the piece with the words: “At the end of the day, I’d rather be the

Miranda. Wouldn’t you?” This quote has a dual-function. Firstly, it works to emphasize the potential of identification within the show. More importantly, though, this quote emphasizes the independence and strength engrained in Miranda’s character. Of course, the authenticity Ross speaks to in her work is posed against that of the other three women, pointing to a limitation in the roundness of those characters (or, at least, in their perceived roundness). Despite this, the sheer fact that this publication (whose name plays off its feminist DNA) has written about the series at all—let alone thirteen years after the airing of its final episode—is telling of SATC’s lasting impact on women across the United States.

Charlotte York: The Picture of Traditional Femininity

The most orthodox of the four, Charlotte York is the friend who most desperately seeks to fulfill traditional female gender roles. Coming from a wealthier background, she has always envisioned a future for herself where she falls in love (with an obscenely rich, good-looking man, of course) and starts a family. The first time she gets married, she feels as though she is on her way to achieving this future. In Season 3, her picture-perfect life is contained in the massive

Park Avenue apartment she occupies with her husband, a wealthy doctor named Trey

MacDougal. Once her and Trey have decided they would like to begin their attempts at starting a family, Charlotte hastily moves to quit her long-time position at an art gallery.

Charlotte shares this new turning point with her girlfriends at their scheduled brunch, an announcement they respond to by exchanging silent looks of worry and shock. The ladies subsequently inquire about the decision, egging on a reconsideration. Feeling judged, Charlotte calls Miranda the following morning to explain herself—a choice that underscores her care for her friends’ honest thoughts. She asserts, “The women’s movement is supposed to be about choice, and if I choose to quit my job, that is my choice” (“Time and Punishment”). Miranda— predictably—doesn’t buy it, recognizing that Charlotte is really trying to defend the decision to herself. Charlotte’s words, though, point to an awareness of feminism’s impact on the way women justify their lives. She recognizes that her dream has always been to curate a home and start a family, and here, she feels the need to validate this dream to Miranda, who is the least in favor of a dependent lifestyle. Of course, to be able to choose to stay at home is a highly privileged decision, which reflects the limitations of this show as largely confined to a white, upper class existence. In this way, Charlotte’s defense of her aspirations promotes feminism via the movement’s sheer inclusion in her discussion, while the unrealistic nature of financial dependence as a choice limits it, as Charlotte’s aspirations are not available to most women beyond the Upper East Side.

Samantha Jones: The Sexually Liberated Powerhouse The driven and extravagant Samantha Jones is the oldest of the women, the most sexually liberated, and inarguably the most blunt. She redefines the image of a blonde bombshell, refusing to let her age define her or the way that she manages her life (particularly her sex life). As a public relations consultant, her days and nights consist of glossy parties, five-star restaurants, and brand-name fashion. While she is not exactly a mirror for all women due to her unattainable lifestyle, she does act as a new representation of femininity, unconstrained by norms of traditional, passive womanhood. The following quote from the final season makes this resoundingly clear; Samantha firmly states, “Yeah, I am harsh. I’m also demanding, stubborn, self-sufficient, and always right—in bed, at the office, and everywhere else” (“Pick-a-Little,

Talk-a-Little”). Through these words and her characterization as a whole, it seems as though

Samantha’s interior reflects an aggressive masculinity while her exterior is informed (at least in part) by the male gaze. Though this refusal of typical female traits may be seen as un-feminist, I argue that her unrestricted expression of these typically male traits is absolutely feminist.

Samantha puts herself above those whom she pursues relationships with and is unfalteringly insistent on demanding the reverence she deserves. When considering the modesty and altruism associated with traditional femininity, her qualities are significant. In one instance, when Samantha realizes that the wealthy, attractive man she loves may not be faithful to her, she decides to end the relationship, saying, “I love you too, Richard, but I love me more” (“Luck Be an Old Lady”). The power she wields in this situation is underscored by the physical positioning of the characters in the scene; Samantha is sitting on the coffee table at a higher elevation than

Richard, who is on the couch, looking up at her in disbelief. This assertiveness and enforcing of one’s own standards promotes the feminist message of women’s agency, especially in relationships. These words emphasize that, although Samantha is interested in both sex and excess, she draws the line as soon as she feels undervalued. Therefore, though Samantha exists as a sexually liberated vixen-like character (who is such despite the fact that she is older), she knows her value and is uncompromising about being respected, in the bedroom and outside of it.

Further, in terms of her status as the older friend, her character exposes the complexities of aging as a woman. Throughout the show, Samantha speaks about getting cosmetic surgery done in order to appear younger and frequently denies her age. However, in one episode, after receiving a chemical peel which rids her skin of its top layer, causing her to face to appear bright red, Samantha vocalizes her frustration with societal expectations surrounding women and aging.

In the episode, despite the state of her visage, she makes an appearance at Carrie’s book release party—a testament to her fierce loyalty to her friends. She arrives with a veil over her face, aiming to mask her extreme procedure, but Carrie encourages her to remove it, an act which is immediately followed by looks of surprise muddled with disgust. In response to these reactions,

Samantha securely asserts, “Women shouldn't have to hide in the shadows because they've had cosmetic surgery, which society nearly demands of them” (“Plus One is the Loneliest Number”).

With this feminist formulation, Samantha exposes the societal pressure which drives women to artificially manipulate their bodies as they age. Through this scene, SATC once again prompts viewers to question the unattainable expectations placed on women.

The show’s theme of aging, particularly in reference to Samantha’s character, is frequently discussed by feminist media scholars, in large part due to the unprecedented visibility the series granted the topic. In “‘And Not That It Matters, but I’m 5 F**king 2 and I Will Rock

This Dress’ Ageing and its (Re)Imagining of the Female Body in HBO’s Sex and the City, with

Samantha Jones,” Janet McCabe explores how this concept of aging was repeatedly addressed in

SATC, particularly through Cattrall’s character. McCabe emphasizes Samantha’s impact, writing: “It is important to remember that Kim Cattrall made her reputation in 1998 at 41 years old, playing a character who so visually refashioned the representational fabric defining female sex and sexuality on television” (McCabe 56). These words underscore the groundbreaking nature of

Samantha as an older female character with unbridled sexual drive, particularly seeing as the actress who embodied her was going through the same age-related changes as her character.

Therefore, though Samantha’s character is not very realistic and relies on the vixen typology to an extent, she reconfigured the image of an aging woman to be someone who is self-confident, ambitious, and fearless – which are all feminist ideals.

Carrie Bradshaw: The Nonconformist Consumer

Finally, I turn to SATC’s idealistic, exuberant protagonist, Carrie Bradshaw. She exists in the ranks of the most significant fashion icons on television; her unique and adventurous approach to clothing and accessories is what brought SATC’s costume designer Patricia Field virtually unparalleled praise. It is clear that Carrie dresses for herself. Though at times her sultry and revealing ensembles may suggest otherwise, the other more masculine or campy looks that she dons throughout the series counteract this; it is evident that style is a source of expression for

Carrie.

This idea of consumption as expression of identity is underscored by Kathy Peiss in her work “Making Up, Making Over: Cosmetics, Consumer Culture, and Women’s Identity” (1996).

In the essay, Peiss focuses on the beauty industry in the early twentieth century, specifically, to point to the ways in which makeup offered women the ability to embody a new identity. Peiss refutes the widely accepted notion that makeup is exclusively restrictive to highlight its way of offering women a degree of control over their presentation and perception in society. This argument exactly applies to Carrie’s careful construction of her appearance. In the same way that makeup allowed the women of the twentieth century to assert some sort of control over their lives, SATC emphasizes the power clothing, accessories, and beauty have in allowing women to project the identity they wish to personify. In concluding her argument about the way twentieth century women freely employed consumer products to intentionally constitute their identities,

Peiss writes the following quote:

These commodities offered women a language through which they could articulate new

demands, concerns, and desires: this in a period when women’s relationships to the civic,

economic, and social “public” realms were under renegotiation, a period when social

differences of gender, race, ethnicity, and class were being challenged and redefined. In

this context, external appearances could be manipulated to represent and meditate new

notions of identity. (Peiss 331)

Peiss’s words point to the idea that, through the crafting of their appearances, women could embody new, emboldened senses of self. Each of the women on SATC may be seen thoughtfully honing her appearance for this reason, not solely through makeup but through their clothing as well—Carrie being the character who plays with her external appearance the most. In the same episode she may be seen sporting a burgundy lace top paired with dark green, baggy jeans as well as a chic tailored jacket and sundress combo; evidently, she is not afraid to experiment with the way she looks (“To Market, to Market”). This idea of taking ownership over one’s presentation through style is absolutely feminist, as the manipulation of one’s presentation in alignment with one’s desires is empowering. Particularly due to the forceful morphing of female appearances throughout history and certainly in advertisements, a woman’s fierce ownership over her own image is rebellious; Carrie’s uncontained expression is in line with this idea. However, the obsession with consumption is simultaneously a limitation of the show’s feminism, due to the reality of limited disposable income. Carrie’s $40,000 shoe collection (as calculated with Miranda’s guidance in “Ring a Ding Ding”) is not accessible to the vast majority of American women. Though we do see Carrie struggle to make her rent, these struggles never have any serious stakes; Carrie finds a financial safety net by simply asking her ex or her girlfriends for a loan and lands a high-paying job writing for Vogue with ease, allowing her to neatly solve the problem. Through this situation, the show underscores the dreamy white, upper- middle class existence of these women yet again. Though careers are frequently talked about

(and every episode includes a shot of Carrie at work on her keyboard), money troubles are not a real issue in the way they are for most women, as evidenced by the characters’ seemingly endless supply of designer goodies. Therefore, Carrie’s financial independence is feminist in that she earns her living on her own terms and does not need to tend to others, but the way the show depicts both the acquisition and the spending of these finances is highly unrealistic.

Expanding on Limitations

Despite the liberating spirit the series takes on, the show does have its limitations, as many collaborations between pop culture and feminism do. The most frequent criticism of all is its sheer amount of dialogue surrounding men and relationships. To the show’s credit, even

Miranda notes the absurd frequency in which the women talk about men, angrily departing from the ladies’ brunch table in Season 2, Episode 1 with the words:

How does it happen that four such smart women have nothing to talk about but

boyfriends? It’s like seventh grade with bank accounts. What about us? What we think,

we feel, we know—Christ! Does it always have to be about them? Just, you know, give me a call when you’re ready to talk about something besides men for a change. (“Take

Me Out to the Ball Game”)

In a meta manner, this quote shows how even the characters within the series recognize how often the topic of men comes up. To an extent, this quote in itself is feminist due to its crass language (which is not traditionally deemed acceptable for women) and Miranda’s acknowledgement of her friends’ unrelenting obsession with men—which is in line with her previous characterization as the most explicitly feminist of the bunch. This intensity in Miranda’s words also underscores the fundamental strength of the women’s friendship; Miranda feels that her relationship with her girlfriends is stable enough for her to critically assess the subjects of their conversations; she knows that her friends will be receptive rather than dismissive.

However, the fact that this critique needed to be said at all is an issue. Relationships are certainly a large part of life, but the show disproportionately focuses on them, making it seem as though romance is always on women’s minds when, in reality, women’s minds are occupied by much more. Further, despite the fact that this quote is said at the very beginning of the second season, the show employs no effort to pivot its plot further away from men in the subsequent seasons. Though Miranda is more career-oriented than romantic and Samantha is more concerned with sex than love, both women find themselves thinking about men throughout the entirety of the show along with Carrie and Charlotte. Thus, the show’s feminism is certainly limited, as, in some respects, the show supports the notion that all women are occupied with finding their soulmates.

Further, it is significant to note (once again) that the show spotlights four white, well-off women seeking heteronormative relationships—though Samantha does label herself “try-sexual” in reference to her openness to trying a wide array of sexual partners and experiences (“Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl…”). To this end, the show is not intersectional in its feminist undertakings; the lives of minority and explicitly queer women are not reflected within the series. Therefore, despite the feminist themes surrounding sexual liberation, choice, and financial independence which the show actively pursues, SATC’s feminism is narrow in regard to who it represents, due to its unreflective reliance on both heteronormative and capitalist structures.

Conclusion

There is no doubt that SATC has its shortcomings, but there is validity in the series’ reputation as a feminist landmark. Despite its limitations, the show is revolutionary in its frank exhibitions of female friendships and the issues that many (though not all) modern women face, and for this, it should be hailed as a feminist text—though the show’s creators did not intend for it to consciously be one (Nash and Grant 977). The bottom line is that SATC proves that a show about women and their daily lives could draw the attention of millions and make a lasting impact on the media landscape. In this way, it paved the way for other female-centered shows, such as

Lena Dunham’s Girls, to be produced, allowing for the continuation of the collaboration between feminism and popular culture. Hopefully, future iterations of SATC’s premise will provide even more accurate representations of women of various socioeconomic and racial existences, ensuring that pop culture and feminism continue working together to offer a platform for female voices, in order to progress toward a more equal society. Ideally, these next texts will be more friend than foe of contemporary feminism—the kinds of products that would appease Miranda’s disillusionment with society’s expectations for women.

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