On June 28th 2008, I took my first steps onto the campus of the College of New Jersey for a cost-free, nine-day intensive study program for high school juniors at New Jersey's Governor's School of the Arts. The application process, which began in November 2007, had been long and rather stressful, but I was still nearly jumping with excitement at the prospect of working with other creative artists, particularly in my division - video and film.
Up until that point, I had never really encountered sexism or misogyny in regards to my future career in filmmaking. My parents have always encouraged me to pursue my dreams, however challenging they might be. Although my mother is slightly uncomfortable with "the f-word" of feminism, she respects my ambitions and has told me multiple times to "go out there and kick some butt, honey." I also consider myself lucky to have a mentor at our local television station who worked for a major network for forty years and has selflessly taken me under his wing. In a matter of a few months, I was directing entire episodes of our community television show - and loving the experience.
I had a vague knowledge that sexism was prevalent in the film industry - the statistics which show that the number of female directors in Hollywood usually hovers around six percent, and the fact that a woman has never won an Academy Award for best direction of a feature film...well, it's hard to ignore - but for some reason my mind avoided the issue. I was complacent, thinking, "Well, it won't happen to me."
With this rose-colored view firmly planted before my eyes, it came as a great surprise when the film counselor at Gov School sat me down and told me apologetically, "You're the only girl in the film program."
In all honesty, I was extremely shocked. They had selected only nine people out of the entire state for the film division, and I was the only young woman? How could that possibly be?
After the shock came a small feeling of gratification. I was fully prepared to "go out there and kick some butt," as my mother had encouraged me time and time again. I was the only girl - so what? I would prove myself more than worthy enough to be there.
Unfortunately, this task proved quite difficult. At first I put on a good show of being confident, a little sassy, etc. I even jokingly introduced myself as "Sarah, the token female." I had this subconscious conviction that in order to be accepted and successful, I had to simultaneously leave my "f-word" at the door and be twice as good as the guys. It's a paradoxical feeling which only increased my confusion, because I felt like I should "know better" as a feminist, but I doubt that I'm the first young future business woman to feel it.
But when the real work began, I realized I was in way over my head.
Nearly all of the young men there were winners of independent film festivals, and at least two of them had completed feature-length films. Most of them had been to other film camps before - a luxury which I could never afford. Their technical and artistic knowledge blew me away, and suddenly my work at my community television show seemed insignificant. In the entire nine-day course, we didn't do any studio work (the environment I'm most comfortable and knowledgeable in) at all, and I felt completely out of my element.
The whole experience was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It didn't help that after I became aware of my own shortcomings in comparison with the achievements of my male classmates, doubt began to eat at the corners of my heart like a fatal disease. I started to wonder... what if they just picked me to fill some sort of quota? What if I did not really deserve to be there? How could I possibly hope to be successful in the industry if I could obviously not even compete with my male counterparts?
There were other doubts, too, which had always been lingering under the surface but were now brought to the forefront of my mind. One problem was that although my feminist convictions helped me stand my ground so many times in my life, I also felt huge amounts of pressure to be absolutely kick-ass (for lack of a better word) and to accept leadership positions all the time. In reality, I have no desire to be the next Scorsese or Spielberg, and I would be more than happy to just have a job - any job - somewhere in the industry that allows me to be in that creative atmosphere in any capacity. The feminist part of my brain, however, challenges my passive attitude towards my future career. It makes me ask myself, "Do you have an aversion to directing because it would be a more difficult path? Because you've been raised by a patriarchal society which manipulates you into thinking that only men belong in important leadership roles?" And I almost feel that as a feminist, I have an obligation to constantly reach for the stars and represent my fellow sisters in this world. Truly, as discussed in Courtney Martin's Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters, when the feminist mothers of the women in my generation told their daughters, "You can be anything," we heard, "You have to be everything."
These deeper concerns of mine were slightly assuaged over the course of my stay in Gov School - surprisingly, by my male classmates. Over all, they accepted and appreciated my ideas and were understanding when I slowed down the project a little because I was still learning. I went from having almost no guy friends to hanging out with eight boys almost exclusively; we worked on our projects in classes together, we ate our meals together, we hung out during free time together. Never once did I feel ostracized, although I did observe that three topics would inevitably pop up in every conversation: film, girls, and lower body humor. The second category was probably significantly less when I was present, but I still felt relatively comfortable.
It surprised me, then, to find that the sexism I anticipated came not from my classmates, but rather from my instructor. One day in class, we were all helping another group brainstorm for their video entitled "Firefly." The group was using the glow and innocence of fireflies to symbolize a relationship; at the end of the film, a firefly is flung to the ground and the relationship crumbles. My teacher, however, suggested that the firefly be used more as a symbol for not just the relationship, but for the girl in the relationship herself. At this point, the little misogyny detector in my brain became quite alert.
"Well, you know, women are expendable," he remarked nonchalantly.
I was sitting not ten feet away.
He went on to say how "cute teenage girls" were like fireflies to boys because even if you lost one, there were always so many left to choose from anyway.
I didn't say anything. I was utterly dumbfounded. Here I was in a purportedly professional setting as one of the top young filmmakers in the state... being told that I was expendable, nothing to care too much about.
It was my first encounter with "real," obvious sexism, and it felt like a slap in the face. And each little remark the teacher made after that - including saying that it was more fun to make his wife get up early and make him lunch before he went to work - felt like another little slap to my dignity and my sense of self. And today, as I watched a young man's most recent video on my YouTube collaboration channel in which he commented that women in the film industry are "bitches," I felt that slap again. Each time hurts just as badly as the first, and I wonder if my heart will be black and blue from all of these blows by the time I finally do make it in the film industry.
And I will make it, if I'm a director or a cinematographer or a sound technician. Because you know what?
I'm not turning the other fucking cheek.
0 TrackBacks
Listed below are links to blogs that reference this entry: I Was a Teenage Filmmaker.
TrackBack URL for this entry: http://www.feministing.com/cgi-bin/movabletype/mt-tb.fcgi/8244
Weekly Feministing Newsletter
Feministing RSS Feed
Good for you! I work in a male-dominated area (Coast Guard) too, and you really do need to have the attitude that you show in your last few lines in order to survive sometimes.
The whole experience was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do...I started to wonder... what if they just picked me to fill some sort of quota? What if I did not really deserve to be there?
I said something similar in a post about Employment Equity that hasn't been put up yet, and I'm really anxious to see how people respond to it. It's a hard thing to deal with, for sure.
I'm pretty sure that teachers can be fired for saying stupid crap like that.
I am studying Media and work with directors/producers and I will say that there are some of them that are extremely sexist. They give the guys special attention and have been known to tell some of us girls that we'll never suceed. I also notice that in our class - there are 25 women and 15 men that even though the women are the majority when it comes to making desicions on what we will shoot, where, who'll do what etc... it is the guys who shout out all the suggestions and they seem to intimidate a lot of the girls whi just say nothing and go along with the guy's ideas.