10 Years Since Easy A; a Retrospect

It's been ten years since Hollywood has graced us with the glorious movie that is Easy A. Starring one of our favorite "not like the other girls" Emma Stone, who's not afraid to be goofy or silly, women everywhere saw it instantly as a smart film that was feminist, charming, and sweet. Obviously, it would never come close to beating Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, but it did it's best. It was a movie that challenged slut-shaming, that opened up new discussions about sexuality and relationships, and was a refreshing alternative to the battered and worn out hero of Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada (if she even IS the hero...) and our ironic love of Mean Girls and Clueless.

The moment I saw Easy A, I loved it. I loved that first tongue-in-cheek nude shot of Olive at her best friends Rhiannon’s parents house. I loved the lazy southern california vibe, which nestled in its comfortable arms teenagers that were way too cool and fashionable to actually be teenagers, and all of whom lived in houses that we could only dream of. I loved the witty dialogue, the parents that were cool beyond belief, and Olive's adorable awkwardness that all of us could only too easily identify with. It was gorgeous, full of light and life, with cultural nods to polyamory, swinging, exploring sexuality, and adopting. It felt like a movie made in Berkeley, and with a main character who becomes the heroine because she lets boys tell everyone that they've slept with her, it seemed eons away from the slut-shaming in such beloved films as Grease, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Juno (although this is one of the very rare films that lovingly and tenderly breaks down slut-shaming and teenage pregnancy to make the beloved heroine one of the best loved characters in modern teen films). But now, 10 years on, I find myself wondering if it was really just a film about fauxpowerment, and that maybe I shouldn't have been so enthusiastic.

For all of it's hilarity and silliness, the film's true themes are dark and dismal. While it starts out in good fun (who hasn't spent a weekend doing absolutely nothing while screaming Pocketful of Sunshine at the top of their lungs?) it quickly goes to dark depths. While Olive uses an innocent enough lie to get out of a weekend with her best friend, she realizes that it also comes with some positive male attention. For the first time, some of the guys at school are looking her way, and she kinda likes it. And it's through an act of the most generous kindness that she helps her friend Brandon out, by pretending to sleep with him at a classmate's party. The reaction to both is swift, and the punishment for Olive is almost immediate. While Brandon is instantly elevated in social status and is finally welcome to join the guys, Olive finds herself alone, and the temperature of the attention has shifted. Now it feels judgemental, and crude. She doesn't feel good about herself anymore, and the only thanks she gets in return for helping Brandon out is a gift card. Sex and sexuality is presented as something that can only benefit men, and while women are encouraged to be sexual, once Olive "crosses the line" she is perceived in a negative light. What then transpires is a classic example of slut-shaming, in which she is ostracized by many people at the school, while simultaneously men were still entitled to the privilege of easily taking advantage of her to improve their own social status. Their rise is directly correlated to her fall, so yea, fuck sexism and the double standard of patriarchy.

Olive leans into it, and as many of us can agree, even if it's a fake one we've all had some sort of slutty phase. Afterall, if we can't beat them, why don't we just join them? All my life I was told to wear conservative clothing, to lower my eyes when men stared at me, to smile when I was told to smile, and more. If men are going to sexualize me, didn't it make sense to at least control the narrative? That way, when men harass me for being sexual, at least I can pretend that I am inviting it. And while women such as Leora Tanenbaum write that the only way to counteract slut-shaming in our current cultural climate is to dress more modestly and try to not aggressively or openly 'ask for' harassment, and while some forms of fauxpowerment play right into patriarchy's hands by 'giving us permission' to be sexual objects, by carefully thinking about our intentions we can find a careful balance by which we are empowered and safe.

While I secretly loved that Olive gets paid for her labor through various gift cards and coupons, the shame that comes with being a sexualized woman also runs rampant and in the end, the cost is higher than the gains. The terrible cousins of slut-shaming are blackmail, coercion, and victim blaming and disbelief, and Olive finds new lows in which all the friends she's helped out are nowhere to be found. But in her female community, she does find support, enough to tell-all in a webcast, and ride off with her stunning male lead into the perfect Ojai sunset.

We are all meant to leave this film feeling good, but while the real villain of the movie is the sexual double standard that elevates men for their sexuality while putting down women for their sexuality, the more obvious and visible villain is the members of the christian abstinence club on campus. They're a foil that convinces us that religious conservatism is to blame instead of institutionalized whorephobia and sexism. The movie itself is even a bit of a shallow scam as well, because while we walk away feeling good and cute about everything, our heroine didn't *actually* have to sleep with anyone to gain her reputation. Get it guys, haha, it was just a joke. Don't worry, I'm still chaste and sexually pure, I'm not an *actual* slut.

Maybe this realization was a bit too deep for most people who watch this move, but nevertheless it exists and we should be careful about idolizing movies that actually reinforce negative stereotypes against women who want to have pleasurable sexual experiences. Along those lines as well, we should probably also extend an olive (forgive me the pun) branch to people who *don't* want to have sexual experiences too.... Marianne, Olive's enemy and head of the abstinence group, is vilified for being prudish and sexually chaste, but as Jaclyn Friedman points out in her book Unscrewed, not wanting to be sexual should be just as empowering and valid as choosing to be sexual, and that it's the sexual double standard that has us seeing both options as equally bad.

So where do we go from here? I do think the climate of feminist film is slowly changing. Movies like Booksmart and Animals are at the forefront of exploring female friendship, sexuality, and relationships in ways that are empowering, free, and safe. I've loved Euphoria and what that's done to explore the complexities of young adult relationships, particularly through the toxicity of high school. More than anything though, as we consume our media it's important to ground ourselves and ask, how does this make me feel, and who does this make me want to be? In a world that punishes women for being cold and punishes them for being slutty, find out what makes you feel good, and defend it with your life.