I’m Taking His Name, But Not Because You Told Me To

Does changing your last name automatically make you a bad feminist? I don’t think so.


I recently read an article in the Hairpin about a hetero couple who gave their child the wife’s last name, and it’s making me feel like a bad feminist, similar to my feelings about not being a scientist (Will I ever learn to stop feeling guilty for being myself?! My guess is no.) I’m taking my future husband’s last name, going from Shepard to Shields. And of course I shouldn’t feel guilty. And of course I still do. So let’s talk about it.

It’s well-established that feminism is about choice, not about bra-burning. You can wear makeup and dresses and work in the home and be Mrs. Lastname and the great thing about feminism is that those are your choices now, not your duty. In the US, at least. And you can do all those things and still be a feminist, because a feminist is not defined by their choices, but by their belief that men and women deserve equality.

And yet. It still feels like taking my soon-to-be husband’s last name is not the feminist choice. If I were The Right Kind Of Feminist, I’d be kicking down doors as Ms. Emily Shepard ‘til the day I die, and I would dub my children Meryl Shepard and Susan B. Anthony Shepard and the three of us would ride our horses into the sunset, shooting our pistols into the air and cackling with power.

Hang on, sorry, have to write something down…totally unrelated. One second.

Okay. So, sure. I’m taking Joe’s name. But it isn’t for lack of thought. In fact, I’m taking his last name for lots of reasons. Let me break it down.

1. Since I can remember, I’ve been told I would take my husband’s name one day. So I’ve always considered my name to be impermanent. Is this a good reason to then take your husband’s name? No, I don’t think so. If anything, it’s an argument for telling girls early on that they will have choices in their future. But it still establishes, for me, that I have never had the attachment to my last name that others do.

2. My last name isn’t tied to a culture or history that I am involved with or know much about. My ancestors came to America a long time ago; I have ancestral ties to the Salem witch trials to prove it. Joe, on the other hand, is very close to his last name’s history. He is third generation Irish and has visited family in Ireland. The Shields family cares very much about the Irish heritage their last name represents.

3. My last name is often spelled wrong, sometimes by people very close to me. More often, it’s done by people who are transferring my name from one place to another and at some point in the transfer just start adding Ps and Hs wherever they please. I’m never offended by this—exasperated, yes, but not offended. But eventually it just gets old. I would love a name that people can spell on the first try.

4. I don’t feel strongly about the alternatives. While there are lots of other options for people who want the same name as their partner (turning last names into middle names, making up a name, hyphenating), none of these solutions calls out to me. And our last names combined are Shelds or Shiepard. Or maybe Shelpards. Or Shipyard? Not great, although autocorrect could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

5. Joe’s last name is very similar to mine. Making the change doesn’t feel like an identity crisis. My initials don’t even change. But if Joe’s last name were something really different, with a really different heritage than mine? Emily Kowalszowskistein might be a harder transition—nothing against the Kowalszowskisteins, of course.

6. Emily Shields is a pretty badass name. Emily Shields can fight crime. She can TCB, if you know what I’m saying.

7. Changing my name is my choice. I don’t feel pressured into it. This is something I am doing on my own volition. Nothing makes me more obstinate than doing something that isn’t my idea. Just ask my mom about trying to buy me my first bra.

8. I’m keeping the Ms. and you can’t stop me. Because if no one has to know Joe’s marital status by his name, I believe you shouldn’t have to know mine. So my name will still have a bit of feminism mixed into it, even with his last name.

9. Our names may not be equal, but our marriage will be. And that’s the important thing. I proposed to him. He and I are equal partners in planning our wedding (in fact he might be doing more work than me but shhh, because I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.) And if one of us ever decides to stay home with the kids, it would be him. Our big life choices aren’t made without thought. And that’s the point of feminism, after all: the freedom to do what’s best for you.

In the end, this is our choice and no one else’s. I’m not suggesting that anyone needs to take anyone’s names. If anything, I’m saying we should only take someone’s name after consideration and only if it feels right. I want people to make their own choices, and I would love if less people took their husband’s names—I just want to be part of the minority of people who do. I want people to make their own life with their own names of their own choosing. For me, that last name of my choosing will be Shields. Emily Shields. Crime fighter. Avenger. Eyepatch wearer. Sword-wielder. Shields.

For more thinking about changing your name, head over to A Practical Wedding. They talk about changing your last name as a feminist choice, about the general decision to change or not, changing your name in the age of Google, men changing their last names, and mostly related but also just good to read: “Being Black, Feminist, Thoroughly Girly, and Conflicted”.

The Least We Can Do

The only way we can stop sexism in TV and movies is to notice (and then stop giving them our money).


Orange Is The New Black. Original show title: “Hey look, women are different! Who knew.”

Dear women (yes, all of you),

It’s not up to us alone to fix sexism. But we can do our part. The fact is: there are fewer women cast in TV and movies, and fewer starring roles for women. And that’s because we allow it. We women watch male-monopolized television and movies in droves. As 50% of the population, if we didn’t watch that stuff, they wouldn’t make enough money to continue creating them. But we keep giving them our money and we don’t say anything when women take a back seat to men. And sometimes we don’t say anything simply because we don’t notice.

Before we can do anything else to change how media portrays women, we have to notice. We have to notice when movies don’t pass the Bechdel test (two women talking to each other about something besides a man). We have to notice when there aren’t women being represented, or represented fairly, and we have to stop putting up with it. We cannot be placated by one kickass female character surrounded by a sea of males. One Scarlett Johansson does not a feminist movie make.

Geena Davis talks about this phenomenon (and by phenomenon I mean constant occurrence) of women being mysteriously absent from films, even as extras in a crowd scene. We have to stop allowing women to be outnumbered. We have to notice that HBO’s Silicon Valley has a women problem, and instead of shrugging our shoulders and saying they’re just reflecting reality, we need to remember that a fictional show can do whatever it wants, including recreating a (still realistic) start-up that employs female humans, not just regular humans.

Grey’s Anatomy could have cast almost all men and made a “reflecting reality” excuse, spouting numbers about the ratio of men to women in surgery, but instead they created a better world where women hack into bones and men care about babies. However you feel about Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t matter—the fact is, it can be done. We aren’t going to get more equality in the workforce if people can’t imagine themselves doing it. As Ms. Davis says, “You can’t snap your fingers and suddenly half of Congress is women. But there’s one category where the underrepresentation of women can be fixed tomorrow: onscreen. In the time it takes to make a movie or create a television show, we can change what the future looks like.”

Sometimes I start to feel guilty for sounding like a broken record when, after yet another movie, I point out that no woman spoke to another woman for 2 whole hours. Everyone thought the movie was good, I argue to myself, why rain on their parade? But then I remember that it’s the film’s fault for needing to be called out, not mine. If you want me to shut up about the unfair treatment of women in TV and film, I’m happy to. Just treat women fairly in TV and film.

We need to call bullshit, or nothing is going to change. If you want to do something about the way women are represented, there’s actually a lot you can do (besides becoming a writer or director, which–please do that, too). Here’s what you should be watching for, and what to do when you notice something fishy:

What to watch for:

1. What’s the ratio of male to female? Not just in the lead characters, but among the supporting roles, and even the extras. Who gets to speak around here, and what kinds of things are they talking about?

2. Watch out for people who claim something is “just reflecting reality” and don’t put up with it. You are watching a fake world, and they can add women. Even if the show is about science nerds or tech nerds or cops, that show chooses their cast.

What can you do once you notice?

1. Say it out loud. Make it ok for us to talk about how frustrating it is to have to watch men all the time. (Personally, I’m not sure I can make it through one more all-male fight scene. Who cares? Just tell me who wins so we can move on with the story.) If someone asks you if you watch {insert popular male-centric TV show here}, don’t be afraid to say that you don’t because of feminism. Because as soon as you say it, you force everyone else to notice it, and to think about it.

2. Say it with your eyeballs. Don’t watch shows that treat women like commodities. And do watch shows where women take the stage. Show the networks and the movie studios what you care about. Because in the end, they’ll do whatever makes them money. This has been looking up lately, but we can do better.

3. Say it with your keyboard. Make a stink. Post something on Twitter. Comment on Facebook. Write your local congresswoman—whatever. Let them know that it’s not ok. Or if you’d rather focus on the positive, use those channels to show them how enthused you are by Frozen and Mindy Kaling and Beyonce.

Let’s make it clear that Hollywood can’t just cast a while male lead and expect us to fall in line anymore. We don’t want to be led out of the mire by a knight on a white horse—we want to pull ourselves up out of the mire: mud in our hair, grass in our teeth, and not taking their sexist bullshit.


If you’d like to know what TV to support with your previously-mentioned eyeballs, here are a few of my personal favorites: The Mindy Project, Girls, Orange Is The New Black, Broad City, Inside Amy Schumer, Scandal…hmm. What else?

How I Became a Manipulative Bitch Without Trying

Let’s talk about why women don’t ask for what they want directly, and why it’s causing me to fight with Joe about lamps.


It was only a matter of time before Meryl made her way into this blog.


When girls and women ask for what they want, they’re labeled a bitch. Imagine saying something like:

“Hand me that pencil.”
“Stop tapping your foot.”
“I want Chinese food tonight.”

Oh God. I feel itchy just imagining being so direct. Who am I, Sigourney Weaver?! Please. So, like many women, I have learned to imply or to beat around the bush when I have a request.

“I have nothing to write with!”
“That tapping is annoying.”
“How do you feel about getting Chinese food tonight?”

That way, no one gets hurt by my demands, right? Well, not so much. Sadly, I have recently realized that this doesn’t stop you from being seen as a bitch. It just makes you a manipulative bitch. Now you’re just a girl who gets her way by trickery.

So what have we learned? Never ask for what you want. Blog post completed, everyone go home.

Kidding. Certainly there are nice, in-between ways to ask for what you want. But this takes time, practice, and stealth. It’s not just a matter of adding “please” and “thank you”—your tone must be perfect, your wording exact. And it’s hard and annoying to constantly pay so much attention to the way you’re speaking. I’ve learned through conditioning that it’s easier to get what I want with the indirect approach, never really realizing why I did it, but understanding that asking more directly would make me “pushy,” “bitchy” or (dun dun DUNNNN) “bossy.”

This is how women get this stereotype of being manipulative, or expecting men to read our minds. For example, if the heater isn’t on and I’m cold, I might say, “I’m cold!” when what I really mean is “Joe, can you please go turn on the heater?” I’ve only recently realized how ingrained this is. Not only do I ask by implying, I often assume that Joe is doing the same. Here’s an example:

Yesterday we were in the kitchen and Joe said, “I hate how this floor mat moves around all the time!” I used my silly lady ears to hear his indirect request: “Emily, please make it so this mat doesn’t move around all the time.” Turns out, that’s not what Joe was saying, because Joe hasn’t been conditioned to make indirect requests like I have.

This is one of our #1 fight-starters: Joe says something that I take as an indirect request, and we both end up hurt and confused. Sometimes I work hard to fix his (not actually real) indirect requests, which leaves me resentful. For example, about two years ago, Joe would complain that he doesn’t like grocery shopping. I took this as an indirect request that I should do it alone. So I did, because I wanted him to be happy and it felt like an easy way to show him that I cared about him. Cut to me having a mental breakdown after a few months of dragging groceries home by myself.

But lately I’ve been doing more thinking into what it means for us to be equal partners, and making sure that we both feel like we’re doing equal amounts of work. So what happens more often now, instead of trying to fix his (again, not real) request, is that I turn it around on him. When he says, “The lighting in here is weird,” I think, why do I have to fix everything in our home? If he wants better lighting he should get some fricken lamps, and I say to him (slightly more annoyed than I should, considering the situation) “Then buy some lamps!” And suddenly we’re fighting about lamps and Joe feels baffled at my annoyance when he thought he was just making a casual statement about mood lighting.

I haven’t learned the secret to fixing this discrepancy, but I’m hoping it’s a good step that I’ve noticed it. It’s likely we need to just talk it out when it happens. Which is annoying, because who wants to sit and calmly discuss their feelings about a moving kitchen mat? Not me, certainly.

I’m not totally sure the best way to respond when Joe complains. But I think it’s the same as what I would want from him: “That is frustrating. Can you add it to our shopping list and we can pick out a new one?” Or maybe it’s as simple as clarifying what he means: “Are you asking me to do something about that?”

I don’t believe men are right and women are wrong in their approach. There’s plenty to be said for softening your requests at appropriate times, and being aware of how harsh you’re coming across, which a lot of men could benefit from. What’s more important to remember is that 50% of people do things one way, and 50% do things another way. Both sides need to understand that they say and hear things differently. If we can remember that, even when tensions are high, it helps us keep the lamp fights at a minimum. Although he was right, the lighting is pretty weird in here.

What do you think? Have I hit on something? Or am I all alone and you guys are like “Shyah, I am Miranda Priestly, hear me roar, I ask for what I want!” *z-snaps*

I’m Not A Female Scientist, And I Feel Guilty

While we lament about the lack of women in STEM, I always wonder where I went wrong.


This is what you get when you Google “woman scientist.” Stock photography is…the worst?

Dear Emily,

It’s okay that you aren’t in the field of math or science.

We spend a lot of time encouraging more girls and women to stick with STEM (science, technology, engineering and math) fields—and that is fantastic. Women are underrepresented in those fields.

But that’s not your fault.

So you’re a writer. Guess what? Women writers are underrepresented, too. But without even worrying about that—I just want you to know that it’s okay. I know, you want to beat the odds. You want to be the woman fighting, not the woman joining the throng. And when people talk about how girls are discouraged away from math and science and go into softer fields, you feel guilty, and start looking around suspiciously at the adults in your life, wondering which one of them did this to you—which one of them turned you into a pathetic, girly writer?

Was it Dad? The nights he stayed up reading aloud with all the voices? Or maybe Mom? Who read everything you wrote and announced that you were the most creative person ever? Was it Mrs. Dvorak? Who gave you creative writing prompts that made you so excited and yet so mad because your fourth grade writing comprehension level didn’t have enough words to describe the story you had smoldering in your brain? Yes…yes. That must have been it. They’ve ruined you. They’ve done this. It’s their fault you always loved writing.

You’re actually not bad at math, it just seems like you’re bad at math now because you’re bad at tipping, which is the only math anyone has to do as an adult: mental math. Then again, you’re also bad at the equivalent in writing—that is, writing something in your head on the fly while people are waiting. Whether it’s numbers or words, you’ve always needed to see the thing laid out. Your brain is a terrible place for organization—it’s a confused, disorganized mess that doesn’t remember anything. Why would you want to do math up there?

So you’re not a computer engineer or a microbiologist or some other male-dominated occupation. There’s nothing you can do about that now. (I mean technically you could go back to school but ugh.) Maybe it was all the encouragement from the adults in your life that made you a writer. Or maybe there was subtle, internalized discouragement that steered you away from STEM. But I seem to recall hundreds of conversations where people told you “women aren’t as funny as men” that you didn’t believe and you didn’t listen to. So maybe you listened to the things you wanted to hear, and followed your heart. Maybe for you, science was never in the cards.

That doesn’t mean you can’t encourage more girls and women to do those things. You can still support them and give them as much respect as the men in their field. And if you have a daughter one day, you can read her books in all the voices and tell her how creative she is, and buy her beakers for her at-home chemistry set. And then let her decide what makes her happy.

Dear Guys: It’s Okay If You Don’t Like ‘Girls’

It’s also okay if you don’t like girls, but that’s a different blog post altogether.


I’ve heard it a few times recently: straight guys lamenting that they don’t like Girls and they just don’t get it. Ladies lamenting that their boyfriends find the show boring.

So here’s what I want to remind those guys: It’s okay that you don’t like Girls. Girls isn’t about you, and it isn’t for you. But that doesn’t make it boring. That just makes it boring to you.

I know these girls. I was these girls. My friends have been these friends. We’ve said these things and we’ve made these mistakes and we’ve felt these feelings. And it’s okay if you’re not that into it, but don’t call it boring–recognize that you aren’t the target and move on.

Most shows and movies and books are centered around straight white guys, and that’s why they’re interesting to you. I have had to watch those same movies and TV shows—not by force, but by lack of options. Do you think Wolverine is that interesting to me? Or Big Bang Theory? Or Die Hard? Or Major League Baseball? I’m not the actor in those stories. I’m not the hero. I can’t put myself in those plot lines and pretend they might happen to me. I don’t see myself reflected in those people. But for what may be the first time ever in my life, I do see myself when I watch Girls.

When Lena Dunham takes off her shirt, it’s not for you. She’s taking it off for me—okay, hear me out. It’s not for me to ogle, but it’s because women in real life take off their shirts every day in a non-sexual way, simply because they need to change. And their hair doesn’t cascade down their back as they do it, and it doesn’t happen in slow motion, and their body jiggles back into place when they put their arms back down. She does it for me, because I’m a human being, too.

Girls is not about you, and that’s okay. You don’t need to like it; all you need to do is recognize that I watch shows all the time that aren’t about me–it’s the way of life for me. And recognize that a show written for someone other than you sometimes frustrates you, and think about that feeling, and think about how other people—gay people, women, people of color, feel while they watch shows with a straight white male hero.

When I told Joe about this post, he responded that it wasn’t that he doesn’t like Girls. It’s that he almost likes Girls and it’s frustrating because there’s just something about it that it lacks. I suggested that it was lacking a straight white male main character. We mulled over Adam and Ray for a few minutes and decided they didn’t really count because they were still mostly there for the female characters. Then Joe hit on something: it’s not that it lacks a proper straight white male character, it’s that it lacks a truly likable female character–no love interest. There was no Zooey Deschanel or Mila Kunis or Jenna Fischer. Every lady on the show has major flaws. It’s a very good point. Of course, I can say that real women have flaws and then point to Knocked Up or Billy Madison and say that women constantly watch movies and TV without a viable love interest for themselves, but I think you guys are already ahead of me there, right?

Some guys like Girls. That’s great. Some ladies don’t like Girls. That’s okay, too. Everyone doesn’t have to like everything, because different shows speak to different people. And that’s the point.

Why I Demand A Woman Cave

The idea of a Man Cave is problematic. But all that goes away if we can also create Woman Caves (or something more clever-sounding).


The library from Beauty and the Beast…aka, my dream Woman Cave.

I assumed everyone already understood why “Man Caves” are lame and sexist. But it turns out I’m wrong.

I just discovered a Pinterest board (created by Pinterest themselves) called Man Cave Essentials. Here’s the description: “Every man needs a place to unwind and hang out with friends. From chilled pint glasses to fancy remote controls, we’ve got all the tricks to help customize your own man cave.”

I get it, Pinterest. You’re trying to prove that there’s a space for men on your site, which I agree with and which we can talk about later. But I want a board called “Woman Cave” (or, you know, something more clever-sounding).

Why the Man Cave is sexist
Here’s the big reason that the Man Cave is problematic, from Unapologetically Female:

“The concept of a man cave in a home is a sexist concept in itself…its perceived necessity derives from the traditional notion that the home (and all the work within it) is entirely the woman’s domain.”

Agreed. But then someone commented on that post and said this:

“I think women are missing the point that in most relationships the woman takes over and delegates design and decoration choices for the entire house. Supposed Frat-boy items and decorations end up in storage while frilly girly crap fills their former spaces. Also, given the choice a woman would be satisfied with 19 inch Tube TV.”

First of all, heck no I would not be satisfied with some crappy TV. I want to watch my Scandal in high def, son. Or whatever. Pixels? Look, I may not know that much about TV specs, but that doesn’t mean I’d be happy with an old TV. It just means I would need to do research before I buy my next one.

But I actually agree with you, Anonymous commenter, that sometimes women take over the decoration of their house and choose a bunch of “frilly, girly crap” their partner doesn’t like. I personally admit that our home has a few things that are too girly for Joe (my wrought iron phase was very real and it was very intense, let’s leave it at that). But we try. In my opinion, if you don’t feel like your home is yours, that’s a problem. That being said, it’s both people’s responsibility to make sure a place feels right for them as a couple, so if you’re leaving all the decoration work to your partner, it’s not their fault when their style works its way in.

Saying a man needs his own space because the rest of the house “belongs to the woman” is horrible. You mean I get stuck with boring practical things like curtains and silverware, and Joe gets a giant TV and a keg? I don’t thinks so. As you already know, I refuse to let the practical decision be my desire while the fun things are his.

Women need to recharge, too.
If one person has their own space but the other doesn’t, that’s bad for both people. It means she has to share everything, without a space to call her own. And despite conventional wisdom, women need to be alone and recharge, too. Sure, lots of us work through our problems by talking to other people and that can make us seem more needy. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve quiet time. Even Shosh needs quiet time. And a woman who never has any time or space to recharge is not a fun woman to be around—trust me, I’ve been that woman. Wide-eyed and on edge, oh yes. I’m a ball of gas at that point. But having a space for retreat could be a great way to feel refreshed and come back ready to be a better, more supportive partner.

So what’s the solution?
Let me be clear: there’s nothing wrong with a man wanting his own personal space. I just ask for equal opportunity alone time. I need to unwind, too. I have friends, too. That’s why I demand a Man Cave and Woman Cave.

In case you’re still confused and can’t imagine what a woman’s solitary space might look like (“Isn’t that called a kitchen? Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.”) (Ugh), here is what I’d put in my Woman Cave:

1. Wall-to-wall books, Beauty and the Beast style.

2. A giant TV, with surround sound please and thank you. I want to hear Betty Draper sigh from every corner of the room.

3. Soundproof wall panels, so I can listen to whatever song I want on full blast—including the times I listen to one song on repeat all day. It happens.

4. One of those window nooks like all the imaginary princesses have for reading and drinking tea and looking longingly out the window when it rains.

5. Since I don’t care about sports, I’ll have shrines to the things I do root for: a framed jersey for Team Meryl, a video loop of Jennifer Lawrence meeting Jack Nicholson, and a pennant that just says, “Christina Yang.

6. A whiskey bar. As Ron Swanson says, “Clear alcohols are for rich women on diets” and he is not wrong and I am not on a diet. Speaking of which:

7. Cheese. Lots of cheese. Just…constantly there is cheese somehow.

The downside to a Woman Cave
The problem with my demand for equal alone space is obvious: who has the money for two extra rooms in their home? Not many. Not me, currently. So what do you do if you don’t have two extra rooms? Do you give up? (“NO!!!” yells the enraged mob I’ve assembled in the town square) Do you use only one extra room as a place you could take turns in? (“MAYBE!!” yells the mob.) If you have no extra rooms, do you just—gasp!—both try and be aware of the other when you decorate your co-spaces? (“THAT SOUNDS REASONABLE ALTHOUGH NOT NEARLY AS FUN AS THE TWO ROOM CONCEPT!”)

Okay but now I’m seriously asking. What can you do? How can you make sure you both have your little spaces? What kinds of spaces do you have already? Or, ladies, if you have a Woman Cave (real or imaginary), what’s in it? Oh no, I just realized how dirty the phrase “Woman Cave” is. Ugh, it’s a stupid phrase anyway. Anyone have a better suggestion? Lady Space? Woman Domain?

Christmas Movies and The Bechdel Test

At some point this year, I learned about The Bechdel Test. And now that I know about it, Christmas is ruined. Well, the movies anyway.

The Bechdel Test gauges gender bias in movies. For a movie to pass the test, it must meet three simple requirements:

  1. The movie must have at least two female characters in it
  2. These women have to talk to each other
  3. The conversation has to be about something besides a man

It’s a laughable list, which makes it all the more sad when you realize how many movies—including current movies—fail the test. As my friend Emily said, “The point is that the female characters are not decoration, are not foils or objects. They have agency, autonomy, and lives that clearly exist independently from the male characters on screen.”

So with this in test mind, I’ve started watching my annual Christmas movies, and I’ve been amazed at how many movies don’t make the cut. From the classics to films from this century, almost every Christmas film either fails the test or barely skates by.

Christmas movies that fail the Bechdel Test

1. It’s a Wonderful Life

It's A Wonderful Life5

Unsurprising for how old this movie is, and the fact that the entire movie revolves around one man. But considering how many women are in this film, it’s a little silly that none of them speak to each other. Mary, George’s mom, that blonde hussy, George’s daughters…none of them. And Mary becoming a librarian spinster? I mean REALLY.

2. A Christmas Story

shoot your eye out

Unless you count the mom and teacher cackling “You’ll shoot your eye out!” while dressed as a witch and jester. Which I don’t.

3. Elf


While this movie is amazing, as far as this test goes, it’s a miserable failure. Along with Love Actually, it’s the newest film on either list, at (prepare yourself) 2003 (I warned you). Until the mom starts singing with Zooey Deschanel at the end of the movie, no two women even look at each other, let alone have a conversation.

4. Love Actually


Granted, it’s theoretically hard to have two women talk to each other when the movie is about heterosexual love, so I ALMOST give this one a pass. But then you remember all the conversations that men have with each other in this movie–Billy Mack’s radio interview, Mr. Bean creating so much more than a bag, Billy Bob as President Clintbush—and it’s a lot less okay that no women speak to one another.

5. A Charlie Brown Christmas

charlie brown christmas

Lucy passes out roles for the play, and the girls respond to their roles. But these are not conversations, they are interactions at best.

6. Any version of A Christmas Carol, including A Muppet Christmas Carol

piggy christmas carol

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the Muppets, and this movie is my absolute favorite Christmas movie, possibly my favorite movie of all time. But the only conversation between two women in Muppet Christmas Carol is between Miss Piggy and her daughters, Belinda and Betina. They discuss when Tiny Tim and their father (Kermit) is coming home. It pains me to put this movie in a disparaging list of any kind, but I can’t in good conscience say that it passes the test. I would blame Dickens, but this is a movie with two Marleys. They could have made it work.

7. Home Alone

Home Alone 1990 - Catherine O'Hara screams

The only conversation between two women happens when Catherine O’Hara tries to get back home. These conversations revolve around her son, a male character.

8. The Santa Clause

Tim Allen and Paige Tamada in The Santa Clause.

The first one is a flop (Bechdel Test-wise, of course). The second and third installments might do better, but I really don’t feel like watching them to find out. Anyone want to enlighten me on those?

9. Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer

Rudoph Mrs Donner Clarice women

I assume Mrs. Donner and Clarice have lots of conversations during their hunt for Rudolph. Sadly, we don’t get to hear any of them.

10. Frosty The Snowman


Poor Karen. No other girls to talk to, and her only friend is murdered in front of her eyes by a magician. Seriously, this movie has bigger issues than the Bechdel Test.

11. White Christmas

white christmas

There are three brief conversations between women in this film:
1. A conversation between the sisters about the men, which evolves into calling Rosemary Clooney a mother hen who worries too much.
2. Mary Wickes tells the women that the hotel won’t need them to perform.
3. Judy tells Rosemary Clooney that she should eat something before bed, a trick to get her to see Bing Crosby in the kitchen.
It’s a debatable one, but I just couldn’t count any of these three as a real conversation between two women about non-men. Also, Bing Crosby mentions dragging the women off the train by their hair. It has nothing to do with the Test, but it doesn’t help their case.

Christmas movies that pass the Bechdel Test

1. Little Women

little women PM

This movie is the only one on this list that really, truly passes the Bechdel Test (the rest are at D-levels), and some may argue it’s not even a Christmas film. Marmee essentially summarizes the entire point of the test: “Do you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that some day you might find yourself believing it’s all that you really are. Time erodes all such beauty. But what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind. Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage. These are the things I cherish so in you.”

2. Emmett Otter’s Jugband Christmas:

ma otter

This Muppet movie does make the cut: Ma Otter has a couple conversations with other female Muppets.

3. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

christmas vacation

This one passes the test thanks to the one conversation between two women: the mother and daughter have a conversation about how the extra house guests are ruining the daughter’s life. Although this conversation mentions four different men, so, you can decide if it should pass.

4. How The Grinch Stole Christmas (with Jim Carrey)


This one is also debatable, and I’d love to hear you weigh in. Now, the cartoon Grinch isn’t on either list–since there is one tiny exchange in the entire movie, I’m leaving it neutral (although I guess technically it fails according to the Test). But the feature film has a few added female characters and more opportunity for conversation. There is one brief exchange between Martha May and Molly Shannon about their Christmas lights. Is it enough to count? That’s for you to decide.

5. Miracle on 34th Street (both versions)


Another near fail for both versions. The mother and daughter speak almost exclusively about Santa Claus. And the lawyers, the judge, and the businesspeople (beside the mom) are all men. There are a lot of conversations between men. But in both movies, the mom and daughter do speak about faith, a concept arguably bigger than Santa as a man. What do you think? Does talking about believing in Santa count?

So What?

For those keeping score at home, that’s 11 fails and 5 passes, with only one strong pass, Little Women. Maybe unsurprisingly, Little Women is also the only film in either list with a female as the main character (except for Love Actually, which has no main character). Something to ponder.

And so what? Are Christmas movies really ruined? Does it mean we can’t watch the movies that don’t pass? Absolutely not. You can take away Muppet Christmas Carol when you pry it from my cold, dead hands. And even then, I would really prefer to be buried with it. But what the Bechdel Test means to me is awareness. Awareness of how women are viewed in a given movie, and the roles they’re allowed to play. Who is giving them a voice, and what does that voice sound like? How much worth is being placed on women and the things they have to say? And what can we do to make sure every movie, not just the Christmas ones, passes that simple test from here on? That’s what this test is all about, Charlie Brown.

For those  interested in further discussions about gender inequality in film, check out this infographic or this article by Geena Davis.

What Guys Need To Understand About Street Harassers


From the Stop Telling Women To Smile project by Tatyana Fazlalizadeh

My fiancé and I were in a cab on the way home from the bar, in the right lane of a one-way street. Our cab was stopped in traffic, and we were going nowhere.

To our right was a group of women waiting to cross the street, dressed up for a night out.

A black SUV pulled up to our left, and a man with a big beard leaned out the back window to catcall the women, sandwiching our cab between him and them.

Joe, who enjoys friendly mocking drunk idiots, decided to take the opportunity. “Are you talking to me?” he said to the bearded man. I tried to shrink in my seat.

Not understanding the joke, the man said to Joe, “I was talking to those attractive women.” (Insert a million eye rolls here.) Determined to get the man to notice the joke, Joe said, “You don’t think we’re attractive?”

I adjusted the collar of my coat around my jawline and looked away. Joe didn’t know. He hadn’t dealt with these guys his whole life. I would have told him not to bother, but now it was too late—now he’d brought me into this man’s life.

The man turned his attention from the women and peered into our cab. “You’re fine; I don’t go for men.” He looked at me (I assume, although I was trying my hardest to become invisible and therefore wasn’t looking at him). “Maybe her. Is that your wife or girlfriend?” He didn’t give Joe a chance to answer before he said, “She may be too old.”

Joe laughed and repeated what the bearded man said, as though maybe there was a sound barrier that had kept me from hearing it. This man, who is leaning out of his car window to harass women on the street, has now been invited to harass me. Did I ask for his opinion? No. I don’t want to know, nor do I care, if this asshole thinks I’m attractive or “too old” (which, for the record, I’m 28 so let’s just straighten that one out right there. And even if I was older—screw you, dude.)

Our cab driver rolled down his window and said something to the man in Arabic. The man in the SUV said something back in Arabic, and his car drove away.

Our cab began moving again, and the cab driver explained to us that he had basically said “shame on you” to the bearded man. The driver told us that the man was growing his beard to try and look like a good guy, but then acting shamefully. I can’t speak to that culture, to the symbolism of beards in that culture and what does and does not produce shame and to whom. But that is how the story ended and I think it’s worth noting, not because speaking Arabic made the bearded man any more of a threat, but because my cab driver stood up for me and for those women and Joe didn’t.

Although he did take the harasser’s attention away from those other women, Joe ended up accidentally diverting it to me. I was mad at him after this happened. Boiling mad. When you ask a street harasser if he thinks your fiancé is attractive, I imagine we got off easy with “she may be too old.” No body parts mentioned. No sexual acts described. What would Joe have done then?

But after thinking about it from his perspective, I’ve stopped being mad. As a man, Joe sometimes experiences the world very differently than me. So rather than expecting him to magically know what it’s like to grow up as a woman, I’m cutting him some slack and trying to help him understand my point of view, so he can be better armed for next time.

If the bearded man had seemed threatening to him, I feel confident that Joe wouldn’t have said anything to him. But they were on equal footing for height, weight, and the fact that he was also in the back of a car. But for me? A stranger in a dark SUV who is bigger than me and calling out desperately to women he doesn’t know? That person is threatening to me. Joe hadn’t thought about that, because he’s never had to. It’s not second nature to Joe to ignore a street harasser simply for the fact that you don’t know what they’re capable of, but it’s second nature to me.

I haven’t known Joe his whole life, but I imagine he’s been taught a few ways to protect himself as a guy: fight back. Use humor. Walk away instead of letting yourself get angry. Tell an adult.

I have been taught different ways to protect myself: walk home with a friend. Keep your eyes on your drink. Keep your keys between your fingers in case they attack you. Buy mace in case they attack you. Don’t let them follow you home. Don’t get too drunk. Don’t wear a ponytail because they can grab it and pull you into an alley. Don’t stay out too late. Wear clothes that cover yourself (but not too much, prude.) Here is another article about a girl who was attacked. Here is how likely it is that you’ll be raped. Here is a list of things you can say to someone to stop them from raping you. Here is your rape whistle.

When these are the lessons people teach you, you learn very quickly that when someone calls out to you on the street, you don’t call back. I wish I had never been taught to protect myself because we had already taught everyone not to harass and attack people. But that’s not how the world is.

By himself, Joe has never had to worry about the strangers he chooses to interact with. But when I’m around, he does. I’m not saying he has to protect me in a superhero-movie-poster way. But he needs to consider both of us before he talks to aggressive strangers, and he needs to understand what “aggressive” means to me.

Since Joe’s experience with street harassers is so much different from mine, I needed a way to help him walk in my shoes. How do you explain exactly why a street harasser makes you feel unsafe, when technically they haven’t touched you and are “complimenting” you (not Joe’s words, just a general excuse harassers use)? Finally, I ended up with this:

Someone who you don’t know, who is stronger than you and who might have a gun, calls out to you in public to say they’d like to have sex with you. Do you feel safe?

Joe would never call out to a girl on the street, or even consider it. But his experiences haven’t taught him how to react to street harassers in the way that my experiences have. I’m so used to trying to ignore and avoid harassers, I don’t give it a second thought. Joe doesn’t give a second thought to the harassers in the first place. Hopefully now he does.

If you’d like to help stop street harassment, check out Hollaback! They aren’t paying me to say that, I just think it’s awesome.

On Feminism And Proposals

So now that you have the nitty-gritty of how the proposal went down (short version: I asked, he said yes), I wrote a little something for RoleReboot about the fact that lots of people have been calling me a badass lately. Click the image below to read more!


How To Propose To Your Boyfriend

A few weeks ago, in his favorite place in the world, I proposed to my boyfriend and he said yes.


For a long time, I wanted to be the one who was proposed to. The proposee. I wanted to have that big, surprise romantic moment and the butterflies in the stomach. Have I been taken in by the media? Absolutely. But I still wanted it. The way I see it, the proposal might be the last time you get those romantic butterflies. Sure, once you’re married there can be a million other great romantic moments. But there are no more nervous will-they-won’t-they moments after the proposal, and I didn’t want to lose my last one.

But with all my waiting for that moment, I started to feel like I had lost control of my life. I’m a planner, and if there was a wedding in my future, it was hard for me to plan the other big events I wanted: buying a house, flying to Europe, bringing my sister’s family out to visit us. I hated feeling like there was this giant life-changing event in my future, and I had no control over when it would happen. It’s my life! I should get a say in how it goes!

Then one day it hit me: I could still have a romantic moment. I could have the butterflies, it’s just that I’d be the one to put them there.

So in the middle of October, we flew from San Francisco to Joe’s home state of Michigan to experience fall (something we don’t really get in SF) and to see Joe’s family and friends. Our first full day there, we went to Franklin Cider Mill to eat fresh, warm cider donuts, drink cider, and feed the ducks while sitting next to a brook. This is where I asked him to be my husband.

I told a lot of people about my plan. Mostly because I was excited and because it seemed like too big of a deal to keep it a secret, but also because I didn’t want to spend my first few days of engagement calling everyone to explain myself. And trust me, it takes a lot of explanations. Not because it’s an intricate plan, but because people have questions. So if you are thinking of proposing to your boyfriend, here are a few questions I can pretty much guarantee you will field beforehand.

1. Have you guys talked about marriage?

I still haven’t figured out why people ask me this one, but they do without fail. My guess is that the subcontext is, “If you’d talked about wanting to be married, shouldn’t he have proposed by now? Maybe he hasn’t asked because he doesn’t know you want to.” Or maybe it’s, “If you’re being forced to ask, it must be because he doesn’t want to be married—maybe you should talk about it.” Or maybe there’s a much more innocent reason everyone asks me this question…I just haven’t figured out what it is.

Yes, of course we’ve talked about marriage—we’ve been dating for four and a half years. Our conversations changed from “if” to “when” a long time ago. In fact, we had a multi-day discussion about the merits of adopting this year, so yes, we have also discussed marriage.

2. Did you get a ring?

I did get a ring. I wanted the proposal to feel official, not like a suggestion. I wanted there to be a big moment of reveal. Some people laughed when I said I got a ring, I assume because they could only picture a women’s engagement ring. But I got him a simple, silver men’s ring.

Fun fact: there is no such thing as a “men’s engagement ring,” at least not on the internet. Only men’s wedding rings. (2015 edit! This is no longer true! Check out Buzzfeed’s “21 Badass Engagement Rings for Men” for starters. And a quick Google search for “mangagement ring” actually turns up some interesting things. I find this extremely awesome.) That’s okay, I’m pretty sure they look exactly the same. So I found a jewelry maker that I love, Turtle Love Co., and a ring I liked. I didn’t know his ring size, and Google is no help on figuring this one out. For one thing, I only found ideas for finding women’s ring sizes (“Ask her friends—maybe she’s already told them.” I can see it now: “Hey, Johnny, what’s Joe’s ring size?”). I emailed Turtle Love and asked about ring sizes. Since Joe is a light sleeper (no sneaking strings around his finger while he sleeps) and he doesn’t wear other rings for comparison, I was at a loss. Turtle Love answered my question right away, saying to choose a ring that could be resized, and try ordering a ring in an average size, which for men is size 9 or 10. Joe is a big enough guy, so I opted for a 10, figuring it would be better to be too big than too small.

I decided to make wearing the ring optional. I wasn’t giving him a choice in being proposed to, but I wanted him to have the choice to wear the ring throughout the engagement. The wedding ring is another story, but the engagement ring is really more about the symbol of my commitment and my seriousness in the proposal. Turns out, Joe loves the ring and the symbolism of wearing it, and as soon as it comes back from being resized, he plans to wear it.

I also got a special ring box, which I found on Etsy by searching for ring boxes with added words like “rustic” and “wood”. If you try to wade through all the ring boxes, you will find a lot of kitch and frills, as well as a lot of boxes that I would have loved for myself but which were just too girly for Joe. But the rustic and wooden boxes showed me lots of great unisex styles.

3. Did you get down on one knee?

No, I stayed sitting. For some reason, getting down on one knee felt wrong. I’m not sure if it’s the role reversal that I’m not comfortable with, or the fact that getting on one knee feels a little too close to begging for my comfort, but I knew I didn’t want to do it. Besides, the place we were sitting was rocky and next to a brook, and I’m clumsy. You can imagine that outcome.

I think people get so caught up in the way a proposal and wedding are “supposed” to go that they forget almost all of it is optional. You don’t have to get down on one knee in order for the proposal to be official. Technically, you don’t even need a proposal at all.

4. What if he proposes before you do?

I decided in January to propose in October. That left a long time for Joe to make a move, and in that time I got this question from people a lot. At first I was glad I was giving him so much time, and my answer to this question was “Then great! And if he doesn’t? Screw it, I’m proposing to him.” Once it got closer to my October deadline and I got more and more excited about what I was going to do, my answer changed to, “I hope he doesn’t, I have a whole thing planned!”

5. What if he proposes at the same time?

As the day got closer, people stopped asking if Joe would propose before me, and considered that he might propose at the same time. Especially once I described the romantic setting where it would take place.

I have to be honest with you: I wouldn’t have minded if he’d proposed, too. Sure, I was proud of my feminist choice to propose. But if he proposed, too, there’d be no question that I’m strong-arming him into something he’s not ready for. I imagined the scenarios where Joe would propose at the same time: that he’d propose and my response would be to pull out my own ring, or vice versa.

It didn’t happen that way. But after some happy tears and a pretty serious public make-out session, Joe did tell me that he had been looking at rings and thinking about what he would say when he proposed, so I still got to hear that speech. When I tell people this, I can see the relief on their faces. It gives a little of the traditional proposal back, and it ensures them that I haven’t forced Joe into something.

I’m not upset that this comforts people, because it comforts me, too. Stepping outside something that is so gendered is hard, and it’s scary. And having this safe place to lurk back to feels comforting. Analyze that how you will, but I’ve decided to be okay with it.

6. Do/Did you have a speech all planned out?

 Yep. And you don’t get to hear it. I told lots of people about the proposal (and now I’ve laid it all out here), but the little things I said? Well, some things get to stay private between Joe and me.


For more info and ideas about women proposing to men, I highly recommend A Practical Wedding. Start with this one, and go forth!